Against all odds, the tea turned out to be a curiously nice time for both of them. In fact, Regina invited Emma again. And again. And then it became a habit. Once a week, while Henry was out for his music theory lesson, Emma and Regina had tea together. Emma was usually greeted by the delicious smell of Regina's fresh pastries. Her apple turnover was nothing short of a miracle. When Henry came home about an hour later, Emma played the guitar with him. Then, more and more often, Henry would ask Emma to stay for dinner, and Regina's eyes would tell Emma that it was okay. Emma always left after dinner, generally to play at the club. But even if she didn't have to, she left anyway. She was a guest in this house, and didn't want Regina to think that she was trying to force her way back into her bed.
Indeed, after such a heated start, things had curiously stopped being physical between them. The attraction was still very real to Emma, but spending time with Regina was not about sex right now. Of course, Regina was insanely hot, but it was obvious she wasn't ready to deal with whatever was drawing them to one another right now, so Emma did her best not to let her own attraction sidetrack her. They had to get along for Henry's sake, and if to do so, Regina thought best not to fool around with Emma anymore, it was…surprisingly okay for the time being.
The fact was, since the day Emma had walked up on Regina playing her heart out in her studio, things had changed between them. Was it Regina who had changed, or Emma's look on her – she couldn't say. Maybe a bit of both. Regina was still that cold, scornful and snappy woman, but now Emma could tell how much more there was to her. She perceived the sweetness, the generosity, and yes, the warmth carefully hidden underneath Regina's protective layers of aloofness and restraint. It was as if Emma had just met her. Regina was brilliant, extremely perceptive, and had a twisted sense of humour. Being with her was never boring for a second – everything about her was fascinating, as there seemed to be simply nothing she couldn't do to perfection. The more Emma spent time with her, the more she enjoyed her company.
One day, Emma realized that they were becoming friends. She had never been so close to another woman before – especially one so different from her – and it felt unexpectedly good. Besides, Emma was aware that it was much more difficult to become friends with Regina than to spend a few hours in her bed before being kicked out never to be seen again. It felt like a rare privilege to really get to know her – the amazing and so loveable side of her that she mysteriously preferred to keep to herself.
There was the attraction though. At times, Emma had trouble ignoring Regina's perfume, which reminded her untimely memories. There was the softness of her skin, when their fingers accidentally brushed over a teacup or a plate, and her full lips, so tantalizing – sometimes, Emma was so entranced with experiencing the physicality of Regina next to her that she didn't hear what she said. Damn, the woman was hot. But Regina didn't make the first move, and Emma was determined not to be the one who'd break the charm.
Emma was pretty sure that the first time she played the guitar for Regina was a desperate attempt to keep temptation at bay. As she was not very focused at first, the scene was a bit hazy in her memories. Desperate for a way to express herself, feeling powerless to translate half of what she felt into mere words, Emma just grabbed the guitar case she always carried to play with Henry afterwards, and improvised. It was a bold move, since Regina was not an easy listener. But Emma was confident that she was better at expressing herself with music than with words.
Regina listened to her for a few moments, amused by Emma's nerve. In her eyes, Emma could read a measure of approval, moderate at first, but growing as she kept playing. Regina started humming a tune to match Emma's improvisation, her body swaying slightly in rhythm. She got up, left the room and quickly came back holding her violin, on which she echoed Emma's tune.
The violin was naturally much louder than Emma's acoustic guitar, and Emma played more energetically to match Regina, who in turn played more gently so that she could still hear the guitar. Emma improvised a new theme. Regina echoed her and elaborated on it, adding decorations and variations, while Emma provided a bass before introducing a new theme as a counterpoint.
Regina was a classical musician who hardly ever played without a score, even if she was no stranger to Baroque and traditional music, in which there was room left for a measure of improvisation. Emma could hardly read a score and only played by ear, but then she could play just about anything she heard. They were a perfect match though, seeming to read each other's mind and decipher together the same invisible score. It was incredibly exhilarating, as if they had always been meant to play together – as if they had been doing so for years.