The first time Regina kisses her, it's in her study, by the low light of the fireplace.
It's wholly unexpected, at least for Emma – not that she hadn't thought about it before. Not that she hadn't wanted it, not that she hadn't spent more than one night wondering what it would be like – it's just.
She'd never thought that Regina might want it, too.
It's quick, messy, under the influence of wine and hours of easy conversation and the clock reading three twenty-five a.m., and it's also everything.
At least, it's everything to Emma.
Regina's lips are soft. She's taken off her makeup for the night – she'd scrubbed it off somewhere around midnight, disappearing and returning with her hair tied back in a ponytail and her sharp outfit replaced with soft pajamas. She'd offered Emma a pair, too, and Emma had just magicked herself a set.
"Magic is serious, Emma," She'd scolded, though her eyes had been soft. Fond. "You shouldn't be using it just to change your clothes."
"I'm getting good though, right?" Emma had grinned at her, and Regina had just rolled her eyes, though she'd returned Emma's smile with a wry one of her own. "C'mon, you're impressed. Tell me you're impressed."
Regina had just plopped back down onto the sofa. "You're getting better," She'd conceded, and that alone had made Emma's heart glow.
Nothing like it is now, though.
Emma lets out a whimper as Regina kisses her. Her hand rests on Regina's knee, and she sinks against the other woman. She doesn't even remember what they'd been talking about, what had triggered this.
It's nothing like when Regina reaches forward, cupping her palm against Emma's cheek to draw her even closer. Nothing like when Regina falls back against the arm rest and Emma follows her right down, and that brings her on top of the other woman, except –
Regina pushes her back, the hand at her cheek dropping to her shoulder and pressing until Emma breaks the kiss. She meets Regina's eyes, brow furrowed, and finds the other woman staring back at her with an expression that is carefully closed off, even in her inebriated state.
Emma sits back on her heels, clearing out of Regina's personal space. She tries to ignore the way her heart squeezes painfully beneath her ribs.
Regina shifts her back up against the armrest, catching her lower lip in her teeth before she meets Emma's eyes. She turns and grabs her glass of water off the coffee table and downs half of it before she speaks.
"I'm drunk," is all she says, eyes dropping away from Emma's as soon as the words come out.
It's a half-hearted excuse, one that doesn't even touch on the reality of the situation, and they both know it.
"Right," Emma responds, trying not to let the deflated feeling make its way into her voice. She's caused Regina enough grief as it is. "Me too," She adds with a little laugh, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit. It doesn't work, even though her words are true. Regina purses her lips, avoiding her eyes, and Emma deflates. "I'm just…going to go to bed. Is it still okay if I take the guest room?"
"Of course," Regina replies, and then takes another drink of her water. "You…you know where I am, if you need anything."
"Right," Emma says. She lingers for just a moment more, hoping that…hoping…she doesn't know, actually. She nods, and then stands, only glancing back once when she reaches the doorway. Regina is still in the same spot, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater as she watches the fire. "Goodnight," Emma calls, and she doesn't wait for a response before she ducks out of the room and into the hallway.
Neither of them mention it in the morning, and really, Emma thinks, that's just as well.
No need to tempt fate, after all.
The second time is a technicality, but Emma still counts it. A happy accident, she thinks. An awkward, humiliating, happy accident.
It's dinner at her parent's loft, and it's not even December yet, but Mary Margaret's already hung a mistletoe in the doorway. It just so happens that Regina and Emma are at the doorway at the same time, and Mary Margaret cheerfully points to the little plant, insisting that they have to, it's tradition! And Regina does this kind of awkward shuffle, drops her eyes. Emma's heart does a backflip.
She remembers Regina's lips on hers, tasting of bitter wine and the grapes she'd brought out for snacking and the little pieces of chocolate that she'd pulled from her desk with a finger at her lips, a giggle on her breath as she said don't tell Henry they're here, he'll eat them all –
But everyone is watching them, and the last thing that Emma wants is to seem conspicuous. And so she turns to Regina, who is already leaning in, shyly –
Regina had been going for the cheek, she's pretty sure.
Emma doesn't notice it until she's already there – they'd been pretty close to start, after all, and Emma can't be expected to have incredible reflexes so really it's not her fault. She turns, and Regina catches her halfway across the mouth, instead. Her eyes fly open as their lips meet, even if it's only partially, only by accident – she steps back, her free hand flying to her mouth as her eyes dart to Emma's. Emma's are just as wide, and she just blinks. David clears his throat, and Regina ducks her head, pushing past Emma to deposit her casserole on the counter. Emma finally looks up and finds their entire family staring at her, questions written on their faces that she doesn't feel prepared to answer.
And so instead she just raises her container of cookies, following Regina inside and setting them down with the rest of the desserts.
It's not until after they've eaten, when she and Henry have been assigned to the dishes, that he asks.
"So," He begins, and Emma's grip on the soap laden sponge tightens. Little foamy bubbles squeeze out between her fingers. "What was that?"
She opts for nonchalant. "What was what?"
"Ma." It's all he says. Emma looks up at him and he's got this disbelieving look on his face, like he can't believe she'd even try it.
Evidently, nonchalant has failed, and so she moves on to denial.
She rolls her eyes. "It was an accident."
Henry just watches her for a moment, towel squeaking as he dries a pan. "Okay." It's all he says, and Emma's frown deepens.
"It was just a kiss. It was barely a kiss," She amends, and Henry does that twisty thing with his mouth that Regina always does when she doesn't quite buy something. The kid may have her genes, but it's Regina who he's taken after. "It's not a big deal. Your mom and I are friends now. What's a kiss between friends?"
"You're getting defensive," Henry says, and Emma pouts.
"I am not. There's nothing to be defensive about."
He tilts his head to the side, eyes widening and brows raising in a skeptical expression before he says, "Alright. If you say so."
Emma, in a bout of admirable maturity, flicks soap bubbles at his face.
They retire to the couch after the clean up is done, and thankfully, nobody mentions it, especially not Regina. Emma finds herself glancing at the other woman periodically, hoping that maybe, just maybe – she'd acknowledge her. That they could somehow address what had happened between them weeks earlier. But she doesn't, and so Emma just sinks further into her parent's couch, and listens to them drone on about Henry's grades.
Mary Margaret doesn't bring up the mistletoe again. She doesn't even kiss David when they end up beneath it together later on.
She doesn't take it down, though, and Emma's eyes linger on it every time she visits her folks.
The third time is on christmas day.
Regina asks Emma if she wants to stay over on christmas eve, and it catches Emma off-guard. It's the kindest offer she's received in, well, ever, perhaps not because of what it was but because of the sentiment behind it, their history. It's been another two weeks since the mistletoe incident, nearly two months since their first kiss, and Regina's been doing her best to ignore each of the incidents. There's been a tension between them, although neither of them has been willing to acknowledge it, and their family activities have continued as normal.
Emma thinks that's almost worse than a full blown fight.
"So that you can be there when Henry opens his presents," Regina explains when Emma doesn't reply right away, and it's uncharacteristically timid. She wrings her hands together in front of her waist as she asks, and then gestures to the tree that's propped up in the living room. "You can bring them. Your presents for him, I mean. And put them under the tree." She offers Emma a gentle smile, and Emma blinks. She's staring, she knows it, and it makes Regina falter. She's already over-explaining, and it seems Emma's silence only makes her ramble more. "...That is, unless you have a tree back at your apartment. I didn't really think about that, if you'd prefer to have him open yours there I can bring him by in the afternoon –"
"No, that's –" Emma cuts her off, and Regina stops immediately, something hopeful in those dark eyes that makes Emma's heart flutter. It's the first invitation she's had to stay the night since that night in the study, and it feels like…something. A step forward, or maybe even just a reassurance that they can return to what they had. She nods, and the ghost of a smile appears on Regina's lips. "That would be really nice, thank you. I'll just…When do you want me to come by?"
"How does seven sound?"
"Seven's perfect."
When Emma arrives on christmas eve, she's laden with presents, and Regina's brows shoot up as she takes in the scene she's just found on her front porch. Emma's brought cookies, too, homemade sugar at that, and also soup, and she's had to make several trips from her car and back to get to this point. Somewhere in her she knows that she probably could have just knocked and asked for help, but.
Here she is, anyway, haphazardly wrapped gifts stacked in her arms and a pyrex of hearty vegetable stew on the concrete.
Regina shakes her head. "Wow, Emma." And then she just stares, still hovering in the doorway with one hand against the frame, and Emma pokes her head out from behind the largest of the boxes.
"Can I come in?" She asks, and Regina jumps aside.
"Right, of course. Let me help you. Henry, come help your mother!" She calls the words over her shoulder, squatting down immediately to move some of the items out from in front of Emma's feet and clear her a path.
Emma trudges inside, barely catching a glimpse of a wide-eyed Henry over her armful. He thumps down the stairs as Emma passes, heading for the doorway, and she hears him breathe out a "woah," before Regina loads his arms up with items, too. Emma deposits the presents on the floor of the living room. They tumble out of her arms onto the hardwood, and she breathes a silent prayer that nothing's broken as she begins to stack them beneath the tree.
Regina's wrapped dozens of items for Henry, each tagged with a little sticker that reads his name. She has them piled in front of the tree, but she's left a space for Emma's as well. And there, off to the side and wrapped in silver paper instead of red, is a rectangular little package reading Emma. She stares at her name, written in thick black sharpie, in Regina's precise handwriting.
And that's just…well. If Emma tears up a little, she blinks them away before either Henry or Regina can see.
She sets her present for Regina right beside it. It looks scraggly next to Regina's precise, crisp wrapping job, but it's charming. And it's under the same tree, and if that doesn't describe their little family she doesn't know what does.
She's just placing the last box when Regina pokes her head in, appearing in the doorway with brows knitted.
"Emma," She asks, "Did you make the soup? And the cookies?" Emma nods, and Regina adds, "I didn't know you could cook. You didn't have to do all that."
Emma shrugs, a little embarrassed.
She doesn't have much to do these days. Storybrooke has been quiet, and, well. She's single, now. When Henry isn't staying with her she's in that apartment all alone. She had to find something to pass the time, and cooking seemed as good an idea as any.
"I wanted to," Is all she says, and Regina offers her a grateful smile.
"Thank you."
It's genuine, and it makes Emma's heart flutter. She doesn't think she's ever going to be over the way Regina can do that to her; The way she can make her melt with just one little smile, with that warmth in her gaze that she usually reserves for Henry and Henry alone. Regina leans her head against the doorframe, eyes flickering to the little box that Emma's set next to her own present.
Her eyes linger on it for several moments, and then she asks, "Have you eaten yet?" Emma nods, and Regina replies, "Okay. Do you want cocoa, then?"
"Sure." Emma reaches out, adjusts one of the boxes so that it's less likely to fall, and then stands. She wipes her palms on her jeans before she nods and makes her way towards the kitchen. Regina barely steps aside for her to pass, and their shoulders brush as she enters the kitchen.
Emma takes her bag up to the guest room as Regina prepares the drinks. She drops it on the floor, eyes lingering on the bed that she's spent the night in several times now. It looks exactly the same as it always has: Thick gray comforter, far more pillows than Emma will ever use on her own. If she pulls the blankets back, she knows that she will find those same light blue sheets.
Lonely. That's what she feels, when she looks at it. It's familiar, and it's lonely.
She shrugs it off, kicking her overnight bag farther out of the way before turning to head back downstairs.
They pass the rest of the night playing board games. It's nice, that – Regina's a bit of a sore loser when it comes to monopoly, but it's kind of adorable, the way she pouts when her little horse piece is sent to jail for two turns. Emma doesn't think she's ever participated in a game of monopoly that actually went long enough for somebody to win, but when things finally fizzle out, it's Henry who's got a massive pile of money in front of him. Regina's practically dozing off at the table at this point, chin resting in her hand, and even Henry is starting to yawn. Emma's the one who finally says they should head to bed.
She's just about to pull back the covers to the guest room bed when there's a soft knock at the door. She opens it to find Regina, standing there in her own pajamas, with her hair pulled back. She looks much the same as she did the last time Emma stayed the night, and she has to fight to still her heart as she takes in the sight.
"Hi," Regina says, voice soft. She crosses her arms over her chest, purses her lips, and then uncrosses them. She looks nervous, vulnerable in a way that Emma has only just begun to see in her recently. It's almost…endearing.
"Hi," Emma replies, and it feels like an echo of their first meeting, not thirty feet away from where they are now.
Regina's eyes drop from Emma's to her hand. Emma is still, heart racing in her chest, fighting to keep her breathing even as Regina reaches out to take it in her own. She lets Regina thread their fingers together, thumb passing gently over hers as she meets Emma's gaze again and says, "Come with me?"
Emma nods, and there's a ghost of a smile on Regina's lips as she pulls Emma out into the hallway. Emma's breathing stills as she realizes Regina is leading her to her bedroom.
When they get inside Regina closes the door behind them. She turns the light out, leads Emma to the bed – Emma's pulse is pounding now, so loud in her ears she thinks Regina surely must be able to hear it. But when Regina follows her beneath the covers, the other woman just curls against her.
Emma puts her arm around her, and Regina rests her head on her chest, one hand splayed over her stomach. She traces little patterns with her fingers, and Emma swallows, trying to engrave the feeling of just holding Regina like this into her memory. It's just as intimate as anything else, maybe more, and Emma knows that Regina can surely hear her heartbeat now, thrumming against her ribcage with every absent minded pass of Regina's fingers over her abdomen.
She starts to drift off, and just as she's fading, she feels Regina's lips against the skin of her shoulder.
So, okay, maybe the third time Regina kisses her is technically christmas eve.
Emma wakes the next morning to a knock at the door.
She blinks, bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes, and when she finally opens them she finds Henry in the doorway.
The doorway to Regina's bedroom.
The previous night comes rushing back to her, and she reaches out instinctively, trying to tamp down the disappointment that swells in her chest when she finds nothing but cold sheets beside her.
"Good morning. Merry Christmas," Henry says, grinning. His eyes drop to Emma's searching hand, and he adds, "Mom's downstairs. She's making breakfast. She told me to come wake you up."
"...Morning," Emma rasps, voice gravelly with sleep. She doesn't comment on the second part, doesn't acknowledge out loud the relief she feels when she hears that Regina hasn't fled. Not that she'd go anywhere – this is her house, and anyway, it's christmas – She blinks, finally waking up a bit more. "Merry Christmas, kid."
"Merry Christmas, Ma," He repeats. "You gonna come downstairs?"
She nods, throwing back the covers and swinging out of the bed. "Yeah. Uh, just let me…brush my teeth."
"Right," He says, and closes the door slowly. Just before it clicks shut, he pokes his head back in, and adds, "You slept in here last night?"
Emma shoots him a glare. "Not like that, kid. We just – you know what, this is none of your business."
"Hey, hey, I don't really wanna know!" He holds his hands up in a motion of surrender. "I'm just wondering if you guys are, you know. A thing."
Emma frowns.
That's the question, isn't it?
Regina had been drunk when she'd kissed her, and she'd seemed so startled when Emma had caught her accidentally under the mistletoe. And neither of them had broached the subject since. Both kisses remained unacknowledged, and…yet.
Emma frowns, thinking back to the night before. Regina had seemed so…certain. She'd led her to the bedroom with, yes, an apprehension, but her movements had been sure. They'd seemed like a promise, almost.
"No," She settles on, and then amends, "I don't know. I'm not sure. We didn't…I just held her, that's all." She shakes her head, remembers who she's talking to. "Anyway, kid, it doesn't matter. Go back downstairs, I'll be there soon. And then we can do presents."
Henry nods before closing the door, leaving her alone. She scrubs a hand over her face, the memory of Regina's lips pressing at her skin on the back of her mind. She does brush her teeth, and washes her face, too. She steals some of Regina's fancy soap to do it. She also takes one of the bathrobes – one of two, and Emma assumes Regina has one on. Really, how many does one woman need? – from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and pulls it on over her pajamas, hoping that it will help to fend off the winter chill that leaks in through the floorboards.
When she finally makes her way downstairs, the scent of coffee has permeated the kitchen. Regina smiles at her when she appears in the entryway, a genuine, fond smile that leaves her breathless, and pushes a cup of the stuff across the counter. Regina's still wearing her pajamas, but her hair is down now, cascading around her shoulders in messy curls that Emma hadn't known she'd had until recently. It looks like she's showered, and Emma wonders how she slept through that.
Emma slips into a bar stool and takes the coffee gratefully. When she takes a sip, she finds that it's exactly how she likes it – just enough cream, and it even tastes like Regina's splashed a bit of the caramel syrup she likes into it.
She didn't even know that Regina owned caramel syrup.
She looks up to find Regina just watching her, something soft in her expression that makes Emma's heart skip a beat.
"Am I interrupting something?" Henry's voice breaks the spell, and they both jump a little. He's got a huge glass of juice in his hands, and he sips at it as he glances between them.
Regina just rolls her eyes and makes her way towards the living room. "Come on, let's do presents." She doesn't wait for the others, disappearing through the doorway and leaving the others to follow her. Henry shoots Emma a pointed look before he follows.
Regina settles in on a loveseat that faces the tree. She pulls her knees up against her chest, curling into the side of it as she holds her coffee against her chest as if she's trying to soak up the heat emanating from the mug. Emma has to fight the urge to sit down next to her, toss a blanket over them both and cuddle up next to her – to share body heat, of course, she reasons with herself. Regina looks cold. It's winter, after all, and –
And, no, that's not it at all.
She settles on the floor in front of the loveseat instead, and pulls one of the throw blankets from the basket to pull around herself. Henry takes a spot across the way from them, directly beside his mountain of presents.
"Start with one of Emma's," Regina says, and Emma glances back at her in surprise. Regina only smiles at her, before her eyes go back to their son.
Henry tears open his presents one by one, alternating between gifts from each of his mothers. He thanks them after each one, enthusing about each item in turn. It's sweet, even though Emma knows he's just old enough now to understand the importance of being grateful. Regina's gotten him a new gaming system, and Emma knows that's the highlight of the morning, though he praises her gifts just as much. She's gotten him a few games for it, at least, thanks to Regina's heads up.
Henry gets about halfway through his gifts and then he turns to his mothers, flashing a grin before saying, "Alright, your turns."
Regina casts a sheepish glance at Emma before joining her on the floor. She's close, close enough for their knees to brush, and she's still clutching her mug to her chest. Tentatively, Emma lifts the blanket from her lap and wraps it around Regina, too.
Regina meets her eyes, and the look on her face is something between surprised and grateful, and if Emma isn't mistaken, she leans into Emma's side, just a hair.
Before Emma knows it, though, Henry is thrusting their presents into their laps. Regina takes hers, runs her thumbs over the uneven creasing of Emma's wrapping job. She sets it down in her lap, though, and turns to Emma.
"You first, Emma." She says, and the smile on her lips is soft.
Emma takes the gift from Henry, her eyes darting between the two of them. She nods, and then tears off the paper, feeling a little guilty about ruining the careful wrapping.
"I know it's not much," Regina says as the item is revealed. "But I noticed your walls were pretty bare in your new apartment. I was hoping…if you need a reminder that you have people who love you, it will be there."
It's a picture frame.
Emma traces her fingers over the silver edges. There, beneath the glass, is a picture they'd taken at the pier last fall.
Henry'd been the one who'd taken it, Regina's phone held out in front of them and Emma and Regina squished in beside him at either side. They each have little cups of ice cream in their hands. Just barely visible at the edge of the photo is Emma's hand on Regina's shoulder.
Emma remembered that day. Regina had teased her for wanting ice cream on such a cold day, and Emma had responded by bumping her shoulder against Regina's. And Regina had been in the middle of a bite, and the motion dabbed ice cream right on her nose, leaving her embarrassed and Emma and Henry snickering as she'd wiped it off, trying to hide her smile. It had probably been the first day she'd actually thought of them as a little family, the three of them.
Something wet lands on the glass, and Emma realizes she's crying.
It's just a little – she'd teared up without realizing, and she gives a little sniff, glancing up to find Henry holding out a tissue for her. Regina's hand is on her thigh beneath the blanket, giving a reassuring squeeze, and she shakes her head as she dabs at her face.
"Thank you, Regina," She says, running her thumbs over the photo once again. "I mean it. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Regina replies, voice barely a whisper, and when Emma looks up to meet her eyes, she finds that same soft smile still at her lips. She bumps Regina's shoulder with her own, much as she had that day, and Regina laughs softly.
"You too, kid. Thank you." She adds, and Henry shrugs.
"Mom picked it out," Henry says. "But you're welcome."
Emma waves to the photo. "You're the one who took the picture." Henry grins, and Emma wipes one more time at her eyes. "Alright, alright. You guys made me mushy," She accuses, and Regina chuckles. Emma gestures to Regina's present. "C'mon, it's your turn."
"Alright," Regina nods. She takes her hand out from beneath the blanket, away from Emma's thigh, and Emma's only a little disappointed at the loss. She's soon distracted, because Regina is tearing at the paper, pulling at the several little bits of tape she's had to use to keep the thing covered, and Emma's heart is in her throat.
She'd had a hell of a time thinking of a gift.
Still, she thinks she found something…meaningful.
The jewelry box makes a little popping noise as it snaps open, and Regina gasps. She pulls the necklace out, holding it in the light so that Henry can see.
It's a simple spinel stone, cut to an oval that catches the light of the fireplace.
"It's nothing fancy," Emma says, and she thinks momentarily about how they'd both felt the need to preface their gifts with explanations. Regina's staring at the gem, twisting the chain and watching how the facets catch the light and reflect it back in a pinkish-red. "I, um, noticed that your magic looks different, when you use it with me." Regina's eyes dart to her own, wide, and Emma continues. "I found this and I thought…it's the same color." She shrugs. Regina just stares at her, and for a brief second, Emma wonders if maybe this was a conceited gift on her part. To give Regina something that was a reminder of her, how she affected Regina – And so she adds, "It's also Henry's birthstone."
Regina leans forward then, one hand coming up to cup Emma's cheek, and Emma feels that same familiar flash of anticipation in her chest, that flutter of her heart that she's come to expect each time Regina lays a hand on her skin. Regina leans forward and presses her lips to Emma's cheek.
"Thank you," She says when she pulls back, her thumb trailing over Emma's cheekbone. Emma sees in her eyes that same vulnerability that Emma had seen in her the night before, when she'd been standing there in her guest bedroom door, reaching for Emma's hand – and now her eyes drop to Emma's lips.
Emma's eyes flutter shut as Regina kisses her properly, lips pressing gently to her own. It's chaste, far more innocent than their first kiss, but it's affectionate, full of unspoken feelings and possibilities and promises.
When they pull back, Regina's eyes are shining, and she presses their lips together once more, just a quick little motion that leaves Emma with what she knows must be a dorky, lovesick smile, because the one Regina returns is a little bit amused.
"I love it, Emma," She says, and then sits back.
Emma's almost too busy staring at Regina to realize that Henry's gone.
They both seem to recognize that they're alone at the same time, Regina turning to glance around the rest of the room. Regina bites her lip, embarrassed, as Emma calls, "Hey, kid, where'd you go?"
"I was trying to give you guys some privacy!" Henry's voice sounds from the kitchen.
Regina ducks her head, a flustered laugh escaping her lips as she calls, "Come back and finish opening your presents."
When Henry returns he's clearly biting back a grin. He sits back down where he'd been before, his eyes darting between his mothers, his eyes locking with Emma's after a moment. And then he can't hold the smile back any more, and Emma just rolls her eyes. His smile is contagious, though, and she can't help her own as she crumples a piece of wrapping paper in her hand.
"Shut up, kid," She says, and tosses it at his head. He bats it away with a laugh, and Emma's blushing even as Regina scolds her for throwing something at their son. "He's all smug!" She defends herself, and Regina shakes her head, expression both fond and exasperated.
"Alright, that's enough," She says, ever the mom. "You're going to hit the tree. Henry, I believe you have presents to open?"
The fourth – fifth? Time that Regina kisses her, well.
It's not Regina who initiates the kiss at all, and really, Emma thinks that maybe she should stop counting, because it's kind of getting confusing.
They'd had established plans to go to Emma's parents for christmas dinner, and as much as she'd wanted to make an excuse to get out of it, to spend the day kissing Regina by the fireplace instead, she's still hung up on the fact that she has a family now, even after all these years. And so, they go, and if Henry catches them hooking their fingers together under the dinner table, he bites his tongue in front of Mary Margaret and David.
Mary Margaret's cooking is surprisingly decent, and they'd all moved to the couches. Henry's dozing off, and Regina's gone to the kitchen to uncork a bottle of wine. Emma rises silently, only flashing her mother a nonchalant smile when Mary Margaret gives her a questioning glance. She finds Regina pouring out glasses when she enters the kitchen.
"Hey," She says, and Regina smiles, without looking up.
"Hey," Regina echoes, and god, Emma could stare at that smile all day.
"Figured you might need some help carrying those," Emma says. It's true, but it's also a flimsy excuse. She'd just wanted to steal a moment alone with the other woman. Regina hums, and Emma steps forward to take one of the glasses in her hands. Regina catches her wrist, though, and Emma looks up to find Regina meeting her eyes.
"Emma," She begins, setting the bottle back down on the table. "I'm sorry."
Oh. Oh, no.
Emma swallows. "Sorry for what?" She takes in a breath, trying to keep her cool. Because sorry means finality, sorry means regret, and if Regina regrets kissing her Emma doesn't know what she's going to do.
Regina runs her thumb over Emma's wrist before she continues. Her eyes drop from Emma's for a few moments, and she worries at her lower lip with her teeth. "I'm sorry for the way that I reacted when I kissed you. The first time," She clarifies, and god, the relief that surges through Emma's chest is enough to make her feel lightheaded. "I haven't had the best of luck when it comes to love, and…I panicked."
Emma blows out a sigh of relief. "Jesus Christ, Regina," She says, and Regina's gaze flickers back to hers, and now it's Regina's turn to look apprehensive. Emma doesn't let her wonder for long, though, isn't that mean – "You just scared the fuck out of me. Don't do that again." With that she breaks out of Regina's grasp, hands coming up to cup the other woman's jaw as she kisses her soundly. Regina sinks into the kiss, a breathy laugh escaping against Emma's lips as she loops her arms around Emma's waist and pulls her closer. Regina swipes her tongue across Emma's lower lip and she parts them in response, bringing her fingers up to thread through Regina's hair instead.
There's a clinking noise as the fridge opens and they jump apart, the realization that they're making out in her parent's kitchen settling over Emma as she sees David rummaging around in the door. He closes it, barely glancing their way as he holds up a bottle and says, "Don't mind me. Just decided a beer sounded better than wine." With that he turns and heads back into the living room.
When Emma turns back to Regina, Regina's got her hand pressed over her lips, a sheepish look on her face as she meets Emma's eyes.
"Oops," Is all she says, and Emma grins.
"...He's going to tell my mom, you know," Emma says. "The whole town will probably know by Tuesday."
Regina just shrugs, finally dropping her hand and reaching down to pick up two of the wine glasses. "You're right," She agrees, and then adds, "Does that bother you?"
Emma regards her for a moment, taking in that little hopeful spark she can see behind her eyes. "Not at all. You?"
"No. No, it doesn't." She skirts around the kitchen table. "Not at all." She presses a kiss to Emma's cheek as she walks by, and then disappears into the living room.
And that's number six, Emma thinks to herself.
Well – five. Kind of. Four? And, okay, she really should stop counting.
It doesn't matter, anyway, not when there are hundreds more to come.