Chapter three

The closer they got to Chicago, the stranger Henry thought Regina and Emma were acting towards each other. He'd hoped their night in the same room might push them just that little bit closer together, but from their sideways glances and forced smiles, he wasn't sure it had worked. He decided it was time to take drastic action.

"Hey, moms?" he said casually after some pretty aggressive texting from the backseat. "You know Josh?"

Regina glanced at him in the mirror. "Your friend from camp?"

"Yeah. He's just asked if I want to go for dinner with him and his family tonight," he said. Technically Josh had asked, but only after some not-very-subtle hinting from Henry himself. "And said I can stay over after. Then his mom can drop me off in the morning and we can explore the city all day tomorrow." There was a pause. "Does that sound okay?"

His mothers looked at each other, and then Emma shrugged.

"I suppose," Regina said eventually. "At least this means we'll spend the whole day together tomorrow."

Henry smiled. "So I can go?"

"Of course. Just get the address and we'll drop you off when we arrive later."

In the meantime, they were approaching Toledo, which would be their last stop before they hit Chicago and turned back around again. Regina had specifically requested to stop there for lunch because she wanted to visit the art museum, after which they would drive the last four hours into the next city. Since she was doing all the driving, Henry and Emma hadn't really complained, but as soon as they'd parked and approached the museum steps, their hearts both sank.

"This looks really bad," Henry muttered to Emma. She sighed.

"I know. We can get through it together, though. Maybe they'll have penny press in the gift shop."

Henry looked blankly at her. "A what?"

"Oh, no. I've finally shown my age." She looped her arm around Henry's shoulders and guided him in the direction Regina had just vanished.

At once, they regretted agreeing to this. Not that Emma was quite the philistine Regina always accused her of being, but the building was deathly quiet and mostly deserted, and it made her feel nervous. Henry groaned as soon as he saw what was laid out in front of him.

"I don't get why Mom likes this stuff."

"Because she's a snob," Emma replied vaguely, spotting Regina walking into the next room. "But look - there's a glassblowing demonstration upstairs."

Henry looked blankly back at her. "Glassblowing?"

"It could be interesting."

"Yeah, I doubt that. I might just go to the cafe," Henry said, gesturing to the stairs. "You coming?"

Emma paused. She could still see Regina in the next room, and there was a peaceful look of concentration on her face that was stoking something in her chest.

"I think I'll go bug your mom," she replied, handing him 10 dollars. Henry raised his eyebrows and said nothing, watching with amusement as Emma trailed after Regina.

She found her staring at a painting made up of various different stripes of colour. One glance at it could have told Emma everything she needed to know, but Regina was gazing into it like it contained all the secrets of the universe.

"Hey."

Regina looked round at her, unsurprised to find Emma alone.

"Did Henry wander off?"

"Yeah. I think he needs feeding again."

Regina laughed faintly and turned back to the painting. She could feel Emma's confusion from beside her, and it made her tense up.

"I don't..." Emma said after a few moments of silence. She swallowed. "I don't get these."

She wasn't surprised when Regina turned to glare at her. "You don't get these?"

"I'm not trying to mock them," Emma clarified nervously. "I'm actually kind of jealous."

That immediately took the wind out of Regina's sails. She'd been expecting Emma to say something much more sarcastic.

"...jealous?"

"I mean - you obviously see something in it that I don't, right?"

Regina nearly slipped sideways. "Wait - you mean you're jealous of me?"

Emma's cheeks blushed furiously. "Well, not exactly."

They both fell into silence again as Emma stared resolutely at the painting. Regina felt slightly taken aback. She'd been expecting Emma to joke about how any toddler could paint these, but instead she'd found her humbly admitting that she'd like to understand them better. She thought back to what she knew about Emma's childhood and realised it probably hadn't contained many cultural museum trips.

She took a breath and stepped closer to her side.

"I can't see anything that you can't," she said quietly. "I just find it interesting to look at how they were built up, and think about what the artist meant by it."

Still prickling with embarrassment, Emma forced herself to ask, "Meant by what?"

"Well. A lot of people's criticism about modern art is that it doesn't 'do' anything. It doesn't look like anything we can immediately recognise. People wonder what the point of it is if it's just a few stripes of paint on a canvas. Right?"

Emma hesitated. "Right..."

"But that's what makes it interesting - to me, at least," Regina continued, gesturing to the bottom right corner where the paint was slightly darker. "Why did the artist do that? He obviously meant something. He was getting something out. So why the sudden change in shade here? What was he trying to say?"

Emma looked wildly at the corner where Regina was pointing. "I... have no idea."

"Neither do I. But that's why I enjoy it."

"You like being confused?"

"Kind of," Regina said simply. She was still looking at the painting, giving Emma an unrestricted view of the thoughtful expression on her face. "It's okay to realise people are smarter than you and wonder what they were trying to say. I find it relaxing."

She half expected Emma to laugh at that, or tell her she was crazy, but when she turned to face her again, she found her frowning at the painting like she was trying to understand another language.

"I'm not sure I'd enjoy that," she said in a low voice. "I feel like pretty much everyone's smarter than me already."

It was a horribly sad admission. Regina had to resist the urge to reach out and touch her arm.

"They're not. They're just louder about what they do know."

Emma looked at her. "You think?"

"Mm. I'm certain there are hundreds of things you'd blow me away with if you stopped to actually tell me them." Regina paused, then smirked. "Even if it's just the names of all the Pokémon characters."

Emma laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the white walls. When she looked back at the painting, her cheeks were flushed again, but it was a different shade of pink to earlier. If she was a painting in that museum, Regina would spend hours looking at her and wondering why that specific colour made her feel so warm.

She jolted and stepped back, moving away from the thought and onto another picture. Emma quietly followed her. To her surprise, Regina found that she didn't mind the company.

When they reached Chicago that evening, they dropped Henry off at Josh's apartment before heading to their hotel. As soon as they arrived at the checkin desk, they realised they had another problem.

"So, I've got three rooms booked for your party," the woman on the desk said, frowning once she realised there were only two of them in the first place.

"Oh. Right," Regina said. "I forgot to cancel Henry's. Is it too late?"

The woman confirmed they could still remove his from the booking, but Regina paused again. Emma knew what she was thinking.

"We already survived one night together without killing each other," Emma said. "And it's kind of a waste to spend double the amount we need to. We could just share again, for tonight."

Regina nodded uncertainly. Emma thought she was about to be overruled, but five minutes later found herself opening the door to the one room they would be sleeping in together.

She stopped so hard in her tracks that Regina crashed into the back of her.

"What's wrong?" Regina asked, peering around her shoulder. She paused. "Oh."

The bed in the middle of the room was large and cosy, but it was, in fact, just one bed.

"Oh, for God's sake," Regina hissed. "I wouldn't have ditched the other rooms if I knew this."

Emma wasn't particularly offended by her annoyance, because she too couldn't say she loved the idea of sharing with Regina. She knew from Hook's previous complaints that she rolled around a lot in her sleep and often thrashed about from nightmares, and she couldn't imagine Regina would accept that without complaint. So, when Regina stormed over to the phone and dialled reception, she said nothing.

There was a long, awkward conversation over the phone before Regina blurted out, "What do you mean, there aren't any twins left?"

"You asked for three double rooms," the woman on the desk replied. "All our twins are already booked for the night."

Regina groaned and opened her mouth, ready to ask for one of their just-cancelled rooms back. But then she saw the way Emma was awkwardly watching her, still holding onto her bag like she was waiting to be sent down the corridor, and sighed.

"Fine," she said. "Never mind."

She hung up and offered Emma an awkward smile. Then, after a heavy silence that neither of them knew how to fill, she said, "You know - I think I need a drink."

Emma visibly sagged with relief. "That, Madam Mayor, is an excellent idea."

Emma was certain Regina would baulk at the dingy little bar they walked into, but instead she threw herself into a chair with the determination of a woman who wanted nothing more than to get very, very drunk. The slightly sticky menu told them they could only order various kinds of fried food, but the beer was cheap and the place was loud. Emma immediately felt right at home.

"Will you judge me if I order a whole beer pitcher to myself?"

"We're not sharing?" Regina asked, making Emma's eyes pop.

"You want to drink beer?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to try and order a Merlot, am I?"

Emma laughed and waved the waiter over. Right away, she noticed his eyes land on Regina.

"What can I get you?"

"We'll take a pitcher of Budweiser. And maybe a plate of onion rings, too - I'm starving."

Barely paying attention to what Emma was saying, the guy scribbled down her order and turned to Regina. "And for you, ma'am?"

Regina's eyebrows shot up. "Do I seriously look old enough to be a 'ma'am'?"

"Absolutely not, but you look like you command respect," he replied, grinning. Emma was disappointed when she saw Regina smirk back at him.

"You're not wrong about that."

"So, can I get you anything?"

"Just the beer and the onion rings for now. I'll wave you over when I've got a taste for something else."

The man's face immediately creased into a knowing grin. "In that case, I have another reason not to take my eyes off you."

He walked off, leaving Regina shaking her head and Emma trying not to dig through her own jeans with her nails.

"Wow," she said. She was trying to sound amused, but it came out slightly flat. "Look at you go."

"Excuse me?"

"You've got guys lining up for you already."

Regina snorted. "Hardly. He's just trying to get a bigger tip."

"He's trying to get something, that's for sure," Emma muttered. Regina thought she detected a note of jealousy in her voice and hesitated, but before she could say anything, Emma was piping up again. "So. It's been, what? A year since you and Robin broke up?"

"Something like that."

"I guess it probably is time you got back in the saddle then, huh?"

Wrinkling her nose at the expression, Regina said, "Hasn't it been six months since Hook left?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well - doesn't that mean it's time for you to saddle up again too?"

Emma shuddered. "I don't think so. Besides - the waiter only had eyes for you."

That same strange note of dejection made Regina's cheeks flush. "In that case, we can find you someone better."

For a second, Emma looked right at her, not speaking. There was something new and uncertain swimming in her eyes.

Regina opened her mouth to ask if she was okay, but a nervous jolt in her chest stopped her. Emma wilted. Then the waiter brought over their gigantic pitcher of beer, and the moment was gone.

It was strangely easy to fall asleep once they'd staggered back to the room at midnight. Regina was exhausted from another day of driving and far too much beer, while Emma felt like all her emotions had been tugged out of her, knotted together into a cord and pushed through a mangle. The second her head hit the pillow, she was out. It didn't even occur to her that it was the first time in half a year that she'd gone to sleep with another person in her bed.

Regina was similarly out of it, not noticing Emma's tiny snuffles in her sleep or the fact that her legs never seemed to lie still even when she was unconscious. Instead, she found herself dreaming of a very, very hot room. It reminded her of the cursed place filled with fire that Charming had found himself trapped in years earlier. She was wandering around it, not hurt but getting slightly uncomfortable from the heat, and trying to find the exit. Then there was smoke, but instead of choking her, it just lightly tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze.

Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck and she reached up to swat at it, and in that moment, she jolted awake. She was still burning hot, her shirt clinging to her.

As soon as she tried to move, she knew why.

Sometime during the night, she'd rolled toward Emma and curled up against her side. The tickling against her nose had been Emma's unruly hair. Still fast asleep, Emma hadn't seemed to have noticed Regina's body pressed against her or her arm flung over her waist. If anything, it looked like her shuffling legs and anxious forehead had finally settled.

Dawn light was just starting to trickle in from behind the curtains, and with it, Regina saw all of this. She felt the sweat running down her back from how close she'd been pressed up against Emma's burning hot body, and then, with a jolt of horror, saw that her fingertips had started to creep under the hem of Emma's shirt. Her thumb had just made contact with a rib bone when she'd woken up.

Regina squawked and tumbled back, wrenching herself so dramatically away from Emma's body that she fell off the edge of the mattress and thudded to the ground. Her hip awkwardly hit the carpet and she swore out loud. Above her, she heard a mumbling. There was silence.

And then—

"Regina?"

At once, Regina bobbed up from the floor and smiled manically. "Hi."

Emma had pushed herself upright in bed and was rubbing at her eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked, then noticed where Regina was sitting. "What are you doing down there?"

Leaping to her feet, Regina ignored the second question and replied, "It's a little after five."

"Oh. Are we getting up?"

"No. Not yet."

Emma felt groggy and disorientated and the longer she looked at Regina, the less she understood what was going on. Regina's hair was a mess and her eyes were wide and panicked, and suddenly her body - normally swollen with confidence and self awareness - was twitching and wirey. She smiled again, wider this time. Emma tried not to grimace at how manic she looked.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Regina replied too quickly. "I just... had a nightmare."

"Oh," Emma replied, rubbing her eyes again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A few beads of sweat were still clinging to the underside of Regina's hair, and all she really wanted to do was jump in a cold shower until the memory of what had happened was shocked from her. Instead, she replied, "No. No, not at all. I'll be fine. I've just got to... get back in bed and... you know. Go back to sleep."

When she made no move to do either of those things, Emma frowned and edged further back on her side of the mattress, in case Regina needed more room. A few moments later, Regina reluctantly slid back between the sheets, noticing with horror that they still felt slightly clammy.

No matter how confused Emma was by her behaviour, she managed to fall back asleep within minutes. Regina could tell from the way her breathing softened. She, meanwhile, lay there feeling like a shock of electricity was racing up and down her spine. Wide awake, she stared up at the faintly grey ceiling and tried to stop her heart pounding.

She didn't move, because she was terrified she'd find her way toward Emma again. And yet, for some reason, buried deep in the pit of her stomach, she felt a sick, sad longing for Emma to roll over and need her in her sleep instead.