A/N: First off, massive apologies for ending a Christmas story in February. It got away from me. But most importantly, here's your ending. It's sappy, but also a sweet and hopefully fulfilling conclusion to this little Swan-Mills Family adventure.

For anyone interested, I can be found on Tumblr as sgtmac7

Thanks for reading!

Emma doesn't wake up like most people tend to on Christmas morning; this is a woman who has had very few of these in her life, and so the day is largely just another one that exists on a calendar. One that she's often glanced at with a degree of unmistakable sadness (and yes, bitterness, too) but then pushed herself past. Because it hadn't ever mattered before – hadn't ever meant anything real.

This year, it does.

This year, she has a reason to wake up early and with energy and enthusiasm (of course, she was up terribly late with Henry and Regina laughing in the kitchen, but these are things she will never regret and even the fatigue yanking at her mind means nothing when she has the memories she now has – her arms wrapped loosely around a still slightly out of Regina's waist as the three of him had just…been there).

She rolls in the bed, and then laughs. Because Regina – her typically put together lover who somehow manages to look stunning even when first waking up – looks like she's coming around from the bender of the century. Her hair is splayed out everywhere, her face jammed up and into the pillow and when she looks up, she seems confused and disorientated, her head likely pounding thanks to the lingering effects of pixie dust poisoning.

She lets out a soft whimper, and it's a sound that is hopelessly adorable.

Emma thinks that former Evil Queens shouldn't be capable of that, but then, Regina has never been just that, anyway. Rolling slightly to her side, Emma reaches out for her and very gently pulls her lover closer to her, so that Regina is looking up at her and their eyes are meeting. Regina's are bleary and slightly blood-shot, but she's aware and doesn't seem like she's drugged out like she had been.

Fucking atomic pixie dust.

"Hey, good morning," Emma says, reaching up with her hand and then running her thumb down the length of Regina's jawline. It dips inwards and traces soft lips.

"Is that what this is? Morning?"

"Christmas morning."

Regina smiles sleepily. "I thought we already did that. Beneath the tree."

"We didn't get too far," Emma reminds her, leaning in and kissing her, her tongue lightly running over Regina's bottom lip (she can feel some unusual imperfections there, and thinks that Regina likely bit her lip a few times during her hallucinatory fit). "And we probably don't have time for it this morning, either. But tonight…"

"Promises, promises," Regina replies, a hand slipping down and against the cotton of Emma's red and black plaid pajama bottoms. A finger dips just below the band, and it takes everything Emma has not to go with this, but…but this is Christmas morning.

With Regina and Henry.

And with her mom and dad.

She has spent an entire lifetime wanting this.

Her hand catches Regina's, weaving their fingers together. "Tonight," she promises once again. "Tonight, I'm going to make you see entirely different things than the pixie dust did." She leans in and kisses Regina again, furiously passionate, which quickly becomes incredibly sweet. Deep desire and then honest need and want.

This is love and she's spent her entire life trying to understand it, grab it and hold it.

It always seems to run away from her, leave her, but this one…this one isn't.

This one – this woman – is fighting the same battle to hold on that she is.

She feels Regina's hands on her cheeks, nails lightly tapping at the skin, and then Regina is the one drawing her deeper into the kiss. Soft and tender and so not what anyone would expect from two women who had once been such bitter enemies.

But life is strange and they've been to Neverland, Camelot and the Underworld.

"Shall we do this?" Regina mumbles against her lips, her teeth nipping for a moment.

"Yes," Emma sighs. "But we probably shouldn't shower together."

Regina laughs – her eyes are still pinched, and the headache she has is still apparent, but she's smiling and she's happy and Emma thinks there's nothing more beautiful than that – and says, "Indeed; if we do, Henry might never get to open his presents."

Emma echoes the laughter with a chuckle of her own, and then – after one more kiss - reluctantly rises from the bed, allowing the warm blankets to fall away from her.

"One more thing," Regina says – her voice dangerously liquid in a way that tells the Sheriff that whatever Regina is about to say is not going to be at all proper - as she watches Emma start glancing around, looking for what she's going to wear. "Please do make sure that the coat makes an appearance today. I have my needs…as well."

"That can be arranged."

"Good," Regina drawls and then drops her head back to the pillow, her dark hair once again splaying in every direction as her eyes close against the lights of the room; Emma thinks she could stay and just watch this forever, and tomorrow…

And maybe tomorrow, she will.

Right now – today - it's time for the suit.

Henry's making breakfast for his mothers when the two of them make their way down the stairs together; it's a strange sight for everyone involved because Emma is in jeans and a gray shirt, but she has the Santa coat over the top and neither of them had been expecting Henry to be already up and out of bed. And doing this for them.

"Morning," he grins. He regards the coat with a bit of disgust and a shake of his head (which Emma answers with a smirk and wiggling eyebrow; that gets her lightly slapped on the arm, but as far as admonishments from Regina go, it's unconvincing).

"What made you get up so early?" Regina asks, tucking an arm around him and then leaning up to try to kiss him on the top of the head; it barely works and he's grinning as she has to almost stretch over him. His eyes flicker over her and take in the wet hair and casual-neat outfit of beige slacks and a black rib-knit sweater she has on. She looks better, he thinks, not nearly as crazy in the head.

"You two had a long day yesterday," he answers once he's fully satisfied. "And I figured since you'll probably be cooking later, this could be my contribution."

"She's gonna say it," Emma teases.

"Say what?" he asks.

Regina glares at her and then says, "You being here is the contribution, sweetheart."

"Yep, she said it."

"Shut it, Swan."

Henry doesn't say a word, just watches; he's been worried about both of his mothers for so long – for Emma because every day has seemed like a struggle to believe in anything and for Regina because she tries so hard and still so often seems to lose. He'd never expected them to end up together (he really had thought that the grand love story would be Emma and Hook and Robin and Regina, and wasn't that what had been planned out? It's not like a lot of storybooks talk about the idea of a third chance at love…especially not when both of the people involved are women), but somehow or another, here they are. And they do make a weird kind of sense.

Even when Emma's wearing a ridiculous red Santa Claus coat.

"So," he says, interrupting their little teasing fit (and who would have ever thought that a day would come when he would see Emma almost tickling his mom?). "I was thinking that we'd eat breakfast and then open what we have here and –"

"Head over to my mom and dad's," Emma nods. To Regina, "You good with that?"

"Snow is going to annoy me about last night."

"You were higher than a kite. And I think you said some really odd things."

"You did," Henry tells her. Then, with a frown, "It's all better now?"

Regina puts her hand back, lightly touching the cut back there. She can feel a slight tingle, but it's mild and there are no more colors running through her vision. "Yes. Was I really that bad? I don't remember much of anything. Beyond the tree."

"Ew."

"No, you were fine…and kind of fun," Emma soothes. "Except when you said how many heads our kid had wasn't' entirely relevant. That did worry me a little bit."

"I have the worst feeling this conversation is about to go somewhere strange," Henry mutters, then turns and grabs a stack of plates. "I'll go set the table. Don't…do stuff."

"You'd almost think he's traumatized," Emma notes, watching him leave the room.

"He did see you on top of me."

"Yeah," Emma replies, then leans forward and kisses her; immediately, Regina's arms circle her, and there are times when she's still getting used to how light and easy-going Regina is when she's at home and safe…and happy. This isn't the Queen or the Mayor or the woman who has lost two other lovers (though at the same time, Emma knows that she's all of those things and those things have earned this); here, she's just Regina Mills, the woman who simply wants to be happy with her family.

It's something Emma understands entirely too well.

So much time wondering about being enough and hoping she's enough and then there's Regina nuzzling into her neck and being oddly turned on by the dumb coat.

Emma laughs suddenly.

"Something funny, dear?" Regina asks, looking up.

"I'm in a Santa Claus coat and we're making out."

"Ew," Henry says again, turning right back around with a handful of silverware.

"And that's funny…" Regina laughs then, too. "Okay, it's funny."

"Also, your hair is tickling me."

"Now you know how it feels," Regina drawls. "I wake up with a hairball almost every morning that you stay over." She steps closer. "Which I'd like you to do more often."

"Are you asking me to move in?"

"Only if you're ready for it," Regina replies softly. "And if you're not, then I'm just asking you to spend the night more often. Either way, I like having you around."

"You don't think I want to be here? With you?"

"I think you do, but something is still telling you that you shouldn't be."

"I'm afraid," Emma admits.

"Because –"

"Because I am happy. With you. And that's usually when things –"

"You and me, Emma, we're not like anyone else. Nor is our story." She reaches up and touches Emma's cheek. "I've spent a lot of my life believing I could never and would never be happy, but for the third time, I have found something showing me otherwise. I'm not sure that I deserve it, Emma; I probably don't, but I do know that I have no intention of ever being the one to walk away from you."

"Hey," Henry says as he steps back in. "And I know you guts don't want to discuss this in front of me, but since you're having the conversation anyway, and I'm here, just let me say what I want to say and then I really want to eat my bacon, okay?"

"Go on, Kid."

He looks over at Regina who also nods. "Okay, look; the last couple years have been crazy. For all of us. I mean I got kidnapped by Peter Pan. And got kissed." He grins at that and then shakes his head. "Point is, you two went through all of that together. You were…are my moms. And you're each other's backs. Even when you're pissed off at each other. Maybe you weren't meant to fall in love with each other, but you did. And maybe that whole thing everyone talks about all the time is just crap. Fate, I mean. Don't we make our own? And if we do, then isn't our story how it should be?"

Both of his mothers just stare at him.

He shifts.

"Right?"

"Our kid?" Emma says, looking over at Regina.

"He is her grandson."

"I've never heard her say the word 'crap'," Emma insists.

"Your mother has a potty mouth; she just pretends she doesn't."

"Just like you do," Emma reminds her.

"Guys? Me? Moms?"

They share a laugh between them, and then Regina turns, "You're right," she says. "I've spent a great deal of my life believing in the idea of being driven by fate."

"And I let myself believe the same thing. Fated to be the Savior."

"But sometimes, you have to just…choose to be happy," Regina finishes.

"Is that enough?" Emma asks.

Regina smiles slightly, her eyes crinkling a bit. "For me? Yes. Everything I said this morning to you was true. I love you. Whether I'm enough for you – whether this is enough for you to be happy, well, I think only you can answer that question, Emma." And then she's reaching out and squeezing Emma's hand before letting it go and moving over to where the table is and where the food is set up and waiting for them.

"I don't understand what just happened," Henry says, looking over at Emma.

"She gave me a choice," Emma tells him, sounding almost amazed.

"What choice?"

"What I want to do with my life. Where I want to be."

"And?"

"I know," Emma says and then she's moving past him as well.

Leaving him to wonder if both of his mothers are high on pixie dust.

Breakfast is delicious; his mother has taught him well.

Opening the gifts is a revelation; there have been other Christmas mornings before this one, of course, but Henry thinks now that his mother had never really understood the event in any kind of real world way. It hadn't existed in the Enchanted Forest so he imagines that she was always just putting it together like how the curse told her to thanks to the information it gave her. Now, he can see the difference between what she had been trying to create for him and what is.

The creation had been perfect wrapping paper and everything on a wish-list.

The reality is a few wants and a few needs and one of his mothers dressed in a hideous red and white coat handing out packages while the other snaps pictures and laughs at Emma's playfulness, the whole time watching everything with wet eyes.

The reality is watching his mothers exchanging gifts (a soft light brown leather jacket for Emma, a beautiful bracelet with dark bold jewels in it for Regina) and him sitting there thinking that there are other gifts for each other that they will likely exchange away from him (hopefully not that kind of gift – he's hoping for really more of the emotional kind and now he's just a little bit traumatized again).

He believes that this is happiness, and there might be no better gift than this one.

He just hopes and even prays – as he watches the two of them lean into each other and share a light sweet kiss – that Emma makes the right choice.

"Let me see," Snow says the moment they're in the door, and then she's reaching out and practically grabbing Regina's head (ignoring the threats and demands like this isn't the woman who had once viciously hunted her down) and bending it forward.

"I'm fine," she growls, trying to get away from Snow's probing fingers. The woman might be a teacher, but her bedside manner really does leave a lot to be desired.

"She's fine," Emma assures her mother as she hands over the leather jacket that Regina had given her (she'd considered wearing the Santa coat over, but well, she has plans for it for later). "It seems like it's completely out of her system now."

"Is it?" Snow demands. "Completely?" She waves her hand in front of Regina's eyes.

"Stop that," Regina says as she swats Snow away from her, finally succeeding. "And yes, mostly. Though I am planning on killing that Fairy Bitch tomorrow."

"That's just you being you," Snow assures her.

"Wait? Mostly? Still feeling the headache from earlier?" Emma prompts.

"Not as much. I've had a couple of dizzy spells," the Queen confesses. "But nothing serious. No colors." She offers Emma a warm smile. "I promise you; I'm fine."

"Good, then come help me with the soup," David calls out. "Taste is a bit off, and I need the advanced palette of a Queen." He says the last words with a rolling flourish.

"Your father calls," Regina says, and then she's moving away and joining David over by the stove, leaning over to look into the massive cauldron of Minestrone soup.

"So?" Snow asks, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "How did this morning go?"

"I'm gonna go play with Neal," Henry states, the reality of getting details hitting him; he'd already seen more than enough earlier that morning by the Christmas tree.

"It was nice," Emma replies. "Really nice. She gave me the jacket."

"So you got everything you wanted?"

"That's kind of a loaded question."

"Seems like a straight forward one to me," Snow counters, a hand on Emma's forearm. "You worry so much about whether or not you'll be enough for us, but all of us are wondering whether or not we're doing enough for you. I think it's probably something that we should have all figured out a very long time ago, but none of this works unless all of us are in this together. Unless we all want to be."

"I'm not going anywhere," Emma assures her.

"That's never been my worry, Emma. My worry is…whether you're happy. I'm your mother. I get to care about that. Is all of this enough to make you happy?"

"That seems to be the question of the day."

"And?"

"You think there will ever be a day when I'm not afraid I'll screw up again?"

"You think there's a day when she doesn't worry that she will? That we don't worry that we won't be there for you when you need us the most? Because there isn't."

"We're a mess," Emma chuckles.

"We are. But at least we're not dealing with pixie dust anymore," Snow drawls.

"Thank God.

They share a laugh, and then Snow says, "So…you still didn't answer the question."

"You know Minestrone is one of the things I'm really good at making?"

"Really?" Snow asks, confused by the change in subject but willing to go with it.

"Yeah." She leans forward and hugs her mother suddenly, squeezing her tight. And then she's moving away and crossing over to where Regina and David are bickering and she nudges her father out of the way. "I got this," she tells him with a grin.

"She's got this," David says looking at Regina. "Do what she says."

"Shut up, and go away, Charming."

"It's Christmas. You have to be nice. And remember, we helped you through…last night. You could have been wandering all over town singing Abba songs."

"Snow, are you trying to introduce him to this world's music again?"

"Red bought him an album for Christmas," Snow calls back.

"Fantastic. That's the –" She cuts off abruptly when she feels Emma's arms slide around her waist suddenly. "What's this?" she asks, forgetting about David.

"Helping you cook."

"That's what this is? Helping me cook?"

Emma leans forward and kisses the side of her neck. "No, it's me making a choice."

"Oh," Regina says quietly.

Regina drops a hand back, curls it into one of Emma's and squeezes. Moments like these ones always feel so surreal, but then there's reality of warm arms and all those around them. People who want nothing more for the two of them than happiness.

It's a blissful moment. A perfect moment and –

"That's not how cooking soup works!"

They look over to the couch, where Henry is sitting with his bemused grandparents.

Lord knows they're the last two who can ever say anything about public displays of affection. No, they're just grinning like two offensive punch-drunk happy idiots.

It's annoying.

And then Snow lifts her eyebrow at Regina like she knows what she's thinking.

That's annoying, too.

But strangely, she kind of likes it.

She kind of likes all of it.

He yawns the moment they step back into the house, some time well after ten. His arms are full of bags full of gifts from his grandparents who don't understand the word reasonable, but Regina supposes that that's what loving grandparents do.

"I'm crashing," he announces. "You two kids, stay away from the tree." They both laugh and then move in to hug him and he makes a noise of protest – because he is a growing boy – before he accepts it and hugs them both back. "Today was perfect."

"Yes, it was," Regina agrees. "Sleep well, my little prince."

"Night, Mom. Ma." A kiss to each of their cheeks and he's up the stairs, two at a time.

Leaving them alone.

"So," Emma says immediately. "What should we do now?"

"I assume you have something you'd like to suggest?"

"You did tell me to hold onto the coat."

Regina laughs. Loud and deep. "That I did. But perhaps we do this upstairs."

"I'm good with that," Emma replies before moving in to kiss her again.

"Emma, wait –"

The blonde pulls back, her brow wrinkling. "What's wrong? Are you…is it the –"

"I'm fine. I just…wanted to be clear about what happened earlier. Did you –"

Emma nods. "You wanted an answer."

"It wasn't an ultimatum, Emma. I hope you didn't –"

"It wasn't one from you, but it was one for me. I've spent so much time thinking about the past and what I've lost and what I've done and what I'm afraid of. I'm still afraid of losing what matters to me. You, my parents, the kid. I think I always will be, but, I want this, Regina. I want all of this. I want you." She laughs to herself. "My whole life, I've wanted someone to want me and…love seems easy when they do."

"Love is never easy."

"No," Emma agrees. "But it is worth it, right?"

"I have to believe so."

"I do believe so," Emma insists. "It's taken me awhile, but I do. You and me, we've been connected since the day we met here. Weird path getting to this point, but this is where I want to be. If you still want me here… if the invitation to move in is still out there…then yeah, this is enough." She laughs at that. "More than enough."

And then she's leaning in and kissing Regina hard on the mouth, punctuating her words with as much passion as she can manage. When they finally break apart, both of them just a little bit dazed from the emotion of it all, Regina murmurs, "If you're waiting for an answer to the question of if I still want you here, go put on the coat."

"What are you going to be doing while I'm doing that?"

"Closing up the house. And then I'll be up to answer your question in full."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. And Emma? Just the coat. Nothing else."

Emma snorts at that, and then acquiesces with a nod before heading up the stairs.

Watched the entire time by the woman who had once been the worst of villains.

Who looks around herself, amazed at all that she has – not the golds and silvers and jewels of a queen, but the warmth and love of a family – and finds herself unable to stop smiling. With a chuckle and a shake of her head, she turns the lights off.

-Fin