A/N: Not feeling so great about this one. The muse is running out of steam. Or cider, possibly. Mmmmmm.
Every morning, it was decided, Emma would walk Henry to school. Wednesdays she would walk him home and see that he started his homework and then (Because this was too much time alone together, probably) they would have dinner as a group and Emma could tuck him in (And here she wanted to ask really, did a ten year old need tucking in, but it was time, damnit , and she'd take whatever she was given.). Every other Saturday she was permitted to come over and spend a few hours with him.
Emma wasn't sure exactly what constituted a few hours but she wasn't inclined to press Regina's generosity and risk the arrangement being called off before it had begun.
Tuesday when she showed up to collect him, Henry all but leaped down the front steps into her arms and even though they had already basically been doing this, the officialness of her inclusion in his life somehow felt so much better.
They'd made it almost halfway in comfortable silence when Henry asked, "Emma, what do you think of my mom?"
'That she's kind of a bitch.' were the first words that came to mind but Emma curbed the inclination for the sake of innocent ears. "I think she's got some pretty serious issues. She's not all bad though. I mean, you turned out pretty well, yeah?" She cuffed him on the shoulder playfully.
"Do you hate her?"
"What? No! I mean-I don't think... No." Emma shoved her hands in her jean pockets, frowning curiously. "What's with all the questions, kid?"
"Nothing."
Nothing sounded suspiciously like something but Emma had no idea what his angle was.
"I don't think she has any friends. Maybe you being around will be good for her too." he said after several more steps taken in silence.
Ah. So this was more of his scheming, trying to get them to get along. Their fighting must have affected him more than he let on. "Really? You want me to be friends with the Evil Queen?"
He shrugged. "You're supposed to help people, right?"
Huh. That was new. She supposed it was probably a good thing; at least he wasn't calling for her to 'slay' the other woman or something. Maybe he was getting over this fairy tale thing all on his own. "Right."
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The next day saw the Sheriff looking to the evening with something like dread but she kept telling herself it was for Henry. For Henry's sake she could put up with Regina for a few hours. And anyway, there was an upside; The Mayor had evidently decided they would be seeing too much of each other now to come poking around the office. It was amazing the amount of work Emma could get done when she wasn't constantly being interrupted by nitpicky nonsense.
There was something delightfully domestic about helping the kid with his homework. Not that he needed it; Her hovering presence ended up being more moral support than actual guidance. He whisked through his work without issue and it struck her again that he really was an amazing little boy.
When he had finished and Regina still hadn't returned from work they settled into the living room for a few rounds of Mario Kart that had Emma seriously testing her verbal filter and inventing several new child safe expletives ("Mother trucking turtle shells!" being one of the more colorful.).
When the clock struck six and the Mayor still hadn't made an appearance, Emma asked worriedly, "Is she always so late?"
"It's Wednesday." Henry shrugged, taking advantage of her distraction to bump her car off the road. "She goes to the cemetery on Wednesdays."
Of course. Emma vaguely recalled her saying as much before she'd clocked her that one night. She'd been wondering why Regina had picked the middle of the week for her Henry time; The woman must have wanted a little more time for herself.
It wasn't even five minutes later when they heard the front door groan and the unmistakable click-clack of heels in the hallway. Regina checked in on them just long enough to see that Henry was in one piece before disappearing into the kitchen and Emma let herself relax. This wasn't so bad. She could handle this every week.
Dinner was almost a pleasant affair (And damn but Regina could cook). Henry filled the silence with chatter about school- So and so hadn't closed the cage door after playing with the class hamster, after which Mary Margaret had apparently led a pretty lively search party- and the adults managed to ignore eachother and focus entirely on him. It was incredible, Emma thought, how well they could get along when they refrained from speaking to each other.
Finally Regina told Henry it was time to go get ready for bed. He paused before bolting up the stairs, gaze flickering between them. "Emma's staying a while, right?"
Emma quirked a brow at him, wondering just what exactly those eager little eyes were thinking, because they'd essentially spent all afternoon together and surely her presence wasn't still so exciting.
"Yes." Regina turned him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle nudge up the stairs. "She'll be up to tuck you in when you're ready."
She watched him sharply until he'd disappeared into the bathroom and then turned to gather up the dishes still left on the table and ferry them back into the kitchen. Emma collected the glasses she'd left behind and followed.
Regina didn't acknowledge her presence as she deposited the glassware on the counter and Emma hovered, watching the dish soap billow into fluffy bubbles. The brunette was already elbow deep in it, the sleeves of her crisp white blouse rolled up to the bicep, when she made up her mind.
"Let me." Emma slid in beside her, hip bumping the other woman from her place in front of the sink as she pried the plate she'd been scrubbing from soapy fingers. "Silver lining of the kid having another parent in his life? You don't have to do everything alone anymore."
Regina leaned back into the counter with her hips and folded her arms snugly about her own rib cage. She watched Emma scrub with a scowl twisting at her lips but made no move to intervene. "You are not his 'other parent'. You're just-"
"What? You really got a better way to define this thing? Fine, call me the 'glorified babysitter' then, if it makes you happy. Doesn't mean you can't let me help out."
Regina let out a heavy breath. "I don't need your help."
"I know you don't. You've managed to raise an amazing kid while balancing a full time job as complex as running an entire town. You've more than proved your self sufficiency. I don't know how you do it, honestly." Emma smiled sideways at her, rinsing off the glass she'd been attacking with the scrubby sponge. The tips of her fingers were already starting to prune and the scalding water had turned her skin red. "Not needing help doesn't mean you can't accept it. 'Sides, you cooked. It's only fair that I clean. Just say 'Thank you, Emma' and make us some coffee or something."
"Fine." Regina huffed and glowered but then she was leaning across the blond to fill the kettle with water and Emma grinned to herself. That was the closest to acceptance she was likely to get.
And if she enjoyed the brief contact, well, it was only because she was admiring the brunette's perfume. It was pleasant, whatever it was, but so subtle Emma hadn't noticed it before. Impossible to ignore now, though, with Regina's hair tickling at her nose and soft curves pressed against her side and-
'Stop it, Swan. We are NOT perving on your son's adoptive mother. So, so wrong.'
Then she was gone and Emma sagged with relief, scrubbing furiously at a fork that was already clean.
Silence reigned for several minutes too long and Emma chanced a sideways glance at the Mayor to find the woman pensively watching the steady drip, drip, drip of black liquid into the coffee pot.
Emma placed the last dish on the drying rack and turned to lean against the sink, drying her water wrinkled hands with the dish towel.
"Hey." She said gently, brows knit together, and when Regina deigned to look at her offered a smile. "Where'd you go?"
"What?"
"You were doing that thing you do. Where you're a million miles away."
Regina scoffed, her arched eyebrow saying clearly, 'As if you know anything about me.'.
"I was just thinking. A foreign concept to you, I know."
Emma chuckled and tossed the now damp towel onto the countertop with a little more force than she'd intended. It slapped wetly against the smooth tile. "Penny for 'em?"
"It's just... I'm not accustomed to being offered assistance. So, thank you, Emma." It was said with such a sneer and her posture was so stiff and defensive, like she was bracing herself for something, poised to flee or fight, that Emma felt the question forming on the tip of her tongue once more; 'Who did this to you?'
She had no intention of voicing it out loud but before she could stop herself she heard herself asking, "Who hurt you, Regina?"
"I have no idea what you mean, dear."
She'd really put her foot in it this time but it was too late to backpedal and anyway Henry's words were rattling around in her brain, nagging at her; 'I don't think she has any friends...You're supposed to help people...' "Come on. You put on a good show but you don't get so-so broken all on your own. Something happened."
Emma pressed forward and wrapped a hand around Regina's elbow in what she hoped was a comforting gesture-she'd had so little human contact in her life that lacked other motives that she didn't quite know what to do-and for a moment she felt tense muscle melting beneath her fingertips and thought Regina might just relent. Maybe even sink into her, which was somehow an interesting prospect.
Then the walls came crashing down and Regina jerked away as though burned. "I think it's time you left, Miss Swan. You will say goodnight to Henry and then you will get out of my house."
"Okay. Okay." Emma held up her hands in supplication. She almost apologized but really, she wasn't sorry. Just even more curious than before."I know you don't like me. But you can talk to me, you know."
And then she retreated up the stairs because Regina's glare had turned murderous and she didn't quite trust her to not start throwing things.
Henry was already burrowed beneath his comforter when she rapped a knuckle against the door frame and it was from the foot of the bed that he emerged as she stepped into his room for the first time. He had a makeshift tent going on under there she realized, with a flashlight and, of course, the giant book of fairy tales.
It was a cute room, all painted blue and covered with super hero memorabilia. It was littered in comic books and, oddly, clocks (She counted no less than five), but was extremely clean and well organized for a little boy. She wondered how much of that was him and how much his mother's strict influence.
"Look kid, I don't know what it is exactly you're wanting me to do but I don't think-"
"She let you come say goodnight to me. You made her mad but she didn't ban you from seeing me. That's good, Emma. You're already changing things."
He was listening? "Yeah. I guess." She sighed, scrubbing a hand across her forehead. "I should go before that changes. G'Night, kid. I'll see you in the morning."
She kissed his forehead and tucked him in properly ("Sleep! No more reading!") before creeping cautiously back downstairs.
The Mayor was nowhere in sight, already retired to her room or, more likely her study, and Emma let herself out.