A/N: The end! (Later author's note: the next chapter was added as an epilogue a year later, both in the fic, and for me writing it.)
Well, this has been crazy good fun, and thank you all for sticking with me! I realise that this chapter is almost entirely fluff, but fuck me do they deserve it! I really wanted this one to just be about how far they've come and include a few mentions of post-curse Storybrooke in there too. I know not every single question has been answered, but, that's life :) The idea is that this is the beginning of a new chapter for both characters, so there's no reason why lingering issues wouldn't still be seen to and dealt with in the future :)
That said, I'm sorry this has taken so long- and that we are celebrating Christmas in March now...- I had originally wanted to go through the entire fic and edit all of the grammar/ spelling mistakes and remove the ever-apologetic A/Ns, as well as finish a front cover kind of thing I'd been working on for fun, but, I really wanted to complete this fic before the new episodes aired so ended up biting the bullet.
I've changed the status to 'complete' for this, but I'm aware that the story description is pretty useless! If anyone can offer me a better one/ help, that'd be much appreciated as I suck at them!
Thanks again, and please review :)
"What's Emma's favourite animal?"
"Penguin."
Regina informs her son absentmindedly; rather preoccupied as she pulls back the lid of a large pot bubbling on the stove to inspect its contents.
"Really? How do you know that?"
Henry asks with genuine curiosity from his seat at the kitchen table. Glancing over at him, the Mayor sighs; deeming the ham to be in need of at least another ten minutes, before leaning back against the counter with her hands neatly folded inside the pocket of her apron.
"She thinks they're hilarious. Why? I don't know, but then that goes for so many things the Sheriff does and says."
She answers with a rolling of her eyes that suggests she's of the opinion that she might well be enamoured with a woman several crayons short of a pack.
In truth, she's just a little surprised to find that she knows the answer to Henry's question.
Pulling herself together - her heart threatening to begin that telltale rapid pumping she has grown to associate with the blonde having moved in - she reminds herself that this isn't some romantic tryst out of her son's fairytale book, and that the reason behind her now fairly extensive knowledge of the Sheriff's thoughts and interests lies in the fact that it's the holidays, and that Emma and Henry have spent the last three days threatening to drive her slowly mad as they've chattered away about seemingly every topic known to man.
And several more besides.
"Why?"
She asks curiously, turning to the cabinet above the sink and fetching herself a glass. She fills it halfway up with white wine, before placing the bottle neatly back into the well-stocked fridge and topping it off with sparkling water.
"I'm drawing them in the space I have left."
Henry explains as his tongue darts out between his teeth and he returns his attention to the painstakingly inscribed place settings the brunette had requested he make for their dinner tonight and tomorrow.
Her request had received an impish smirk from the Sheriff who had been sat with her legs dangling down from the counter at the time, and Regina had barely resisted the urge to give her a sharp smack around the ear as she'd chuckled darkly at the formality of the idea.
If it had been up to her, she would have had the blonde doing much the same thing; desperate to find the other two things to do in order to keep them from running maddeningly around the house.
For this reason, when Emma had come up to her about an hour ago clad in her coat and a woollen hat, opining that she felt she ought to drop by Mary Margaret's for a while, she had sent her off gladly; imagining Henry's excitement has somewhat been feeding off of the blonde's.
Smirking down into her spritzer, she shakes her head and takes a break from cooking to go sit beside her son and help him with his drawing.
In all honesty, the irritation she's suffered over the last few days has been of the welcome variety. Sure, it has been building steadily as time has passed and has correlated directly with the Sheriff's increasing dizzying excitement...
But, she gets it.
This is the blonde's first real Christmas, and first real family.
In a way, she feels like the same could be said for herself and Henry, but even the boy has yet to jump around so frantically that he has managed to make himself physically sick.
As it is, she had simply rolled her eyes fondly when the younger woman had emerged sheepishly from the bathroom; hugging her fiercely while breathing in the scent of toothpaste and face wash, much as she had held her when the blonde had returned home pale and anxious from her trip to Mary Margaret's to inform her parents of her intent to move out.
She had done so because Emma had done the same for her when she had misinterpreted the source of some of the Sheriff's frustration upon returning from that first, arduous conversation with the Charmings.
"Did you give Emma the card you made for Miss Blanchard?"
Regina asks the young brunet with his nose hovering only inches away from the paper in concentration. She uses Snow's Storybrooke name purposefully when talking to the boy, much as she has learnt to do when talking to his mother. With Henry, it's simply a case of finding it easier to deal with the fact he and her one-time nemesis share a bond if she pretends it is purely educational, marred with an overlapping sense of affection birthed when he had frequently disappeared to spend time with the blonde and her housemate in the past.
With Emma, she has learnt that the school teacher's title simply depends on the younger woman's mood.
The blonde likes to joke about her lineage at the hands - or, rather, the reproductive organs - of the Charmings.
But of Mary Margaret - just plain, old, simple Mary Margaret - she speaks fondly and will allow only minimal venom to pass from the Queen's lips before calling a halt to the conversation.
"Yes, but I didn't know what her favourite animal was."
Henry sighs. Regina chuckles appreciatively at this and shakes her head when the boy looks up at her; visibly hurt.
"I'm sure whatever you decided to draw was perfect, dear."
"I drew her some snowmen."
"Well, there you go, that's very festive."
"One of them had a motorbike."
"Hmm... Well... It's an interesting thing to put with snowmen."
"Yeah, it was Emma's idea."
"Of course it was."
Regina sighs, sipping delicately at her drink.
As if on cue, a metallic thunk of brass on metal greets them from the hall, followed by the heavy thud of the door and the familiar rustle and clump of shoes and a coat being removed and hung up on the hook by the stairs.
A moment later, the Sheriff appears in the doorway; cheeks flushed from the winter wind, and her long hair held somewhat under submission by the hat she has neglected to take off.
"Smells good."
"Thank you- ah!- it's not for now, though!"
The brunette scolds as the younger woman pads towards the pot on the stove with clear intent to remove the lid.
"And please tell me you weren't about to touch that with your bare hand?"
"Okay, we'll say I wasn't."
Emma offers with an easy shrug that the Mayor suspects would be a far cry from her reaction should she have succeeded in her endeavour to sate her curiosity. Responding with a knowing smirk, the brunette pushes herself up from the table and moves to check on the ham herself; pointedly donning an oven mitt.
"You cooked it in Coke..."
The blonde states in surprise as she recognises the dark liquid pooled around the meat, before spying the discarded bottle standing on the windowsill.
"You told me to."
"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually do it. I mean, you wouldn't quit lecturing me about-"
"-I never lectured you. I simply stated my apprehension regarding your decision to drink the entirety of a seventy-odd-ounce bottle of Coke on the coach trip home... Your suggestion to use it to marinade a ham - surprisingly - made culinary sense."
Regina counters; shooing the younger woman out of the way as she takes the pot off the burner. Laying down a heat-proof mat on the far corner of the counter, she leaves the steaming ham to stand with the lid loosely askew.
"Well, I think that's everything. Potatoes and vegetables can go in around six, and then the meat will just need to be heated through."
She offers to no one in particular; Henry engrossed in his drawing, and Emma too busy grinning at her upon noticing the quaint apron she wears. Offering the younger woman a withering look, she sheds the garment swiftly and hangs it back on its hook beside the door. Fluffing her hair, she points towards the fridge as she speaks, before picking up her glass and heading towards the drawing room.
"I put all of the drinks in the fridge. I need to finish off the tree. Can you see if you can start a fire?"
The Sheriff nods and moves to comply, stopping to peer over Henry's shoulder, before fetching herself a beer and padding lightly in the direction recently taken by the Mayor.
"The tree looks good."
She offers as she steps through the doorway into the room - 'The Regina Room', as she imagines she will always think of it - and the brunette turns to smile at her.
"Well, I like pretty things, Miss Swan."
"Uhuh..."
Emma responds with a roll of her eyes, although her cheeks flush a delicate pink as she goes about layering kindling inside the hearth.
"What about the Charmings?"
"What? Do they like pretty things? Funnily enough, it's never come up in quite the same context-"
"-How was Christmas Eve with your parents?"
The Mayor interrupts with a sigh; carefully adorning sweeping branches with the last few ornaments laid out on the table. She's still a little surprised that they'd managed to find a tree so late in the day - not having been quite ready to support the blonde's suggestion that they simply go and cut one down in the woods themselves; having played witness to just how sloppy things had been the last time the younger woman had wielded a chainsaw - but Storybrooke isn't like other towns, and its inhabitants are unlike those from other places. They had needed a tree, so the blonde - the Saviour - had simply called in a favour from the local Woodsman and gotten them one.
Simple.
But then, Regina imagines the man would have agreed to fell half the forest should Emma have requested it; Ava and Nicholas standing on either side of him when she'd gone to ask if he could help them at all.
Full lips forming a wry smile, she turns back to the Sheriff and awaits an answer.
"It was nice. They didn't ask me to change my mind about tomorrow this time, which was good... Though Mary Margaret did remind me several times that she has no intention to touch my room, and that I can come and stay any time I like..."
Emma grins fondly at this and lights a match as the brunette returns her mirth with a humorous rolling of her eyes and takes a seat on the sofa.
"I think they're finding it hard, though."
The blonde confides with a sigh.
"Well, you're their daughter, and I'm the-"
"-I don't mean because of me moving in here. Just in general... Day-to-day stuff. With Ruby, it's different - oh, and she says Merry Christmas, by the way - because she likes working at the diner, and she says it's pretty much the same sort of thing she would have been doing if she hadn't had to worry about, you know, the wolf thing - which, by the way, one of you guys needs to fill me in on before the full moon! - but no, for Mary Margaret and David - well, Snow and Charming - I think it's odd just being normal... I mean, now it's the holidays, but when school starts again... I'm not sure Snow White sees herself teaching kids how to make birdhouses for the rest of her life."
"Understandable, but then she's not alone. Do you imagine I wish to spend the rest of my life playing Mayor?"
"Well, I'm sure you'd prefer 'Your Highness', but the role of Queen isn't so different, I'd have thought?"
"In a way... Though there are fewer beheadings to attend."
Dark eyes sparkle wickedly, and the blonde cocks her head as though trying to decipher whether the Queen is messing with her or not.
"Yeah, that is a shame."
She offers eventually, and the brunette chuckles darkly as the younger woman comes over and falls heavily onto the sofa beside her.
"Oh, I'm supposed to give you this."
Emma informs as she leans to the side in order to pull a crumpled envelope from the confines of her jeans. Handing it to Regina, the Mayor takes it and opens up the card inside with a bemused sniff.
"Interesting that the ink used for my name is a different colour. Almost as though it was an afterthought... Or perhaps someone might have asked for it to be written there?"
She muses silkily, and Emma sighs, her brow furrowing as the darker woman leans forward to place the card dismissively on the coffee table.
"Or maybe they wrote it before they knew I was going to be living here, Regina. I don't know, okay? I didn't ask them to include you. It's just..."
"Awkward."
"Very."
The blonde agrees, before seeming to perk up considerably and leaning over again to access her other pocket.
"I got you something too, though."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
The younger woman grins as she places something small in the brunette's hand.
"Let's hope it fits!"
Regina looks down at the ring lying in her palm for a long time, before finally raising an eyebrow and glancing back up at the Sheriff.
"... Did you get this from a gumball machine?"
"It's the thought that counts."
Emma informs her wisely, and the Mayor chuckles as she slips the child's purple plastic as far as it will go up her index finger.
"I'm fairly sure it was whatever candy accompanied the ring that counted for you, dear."
"I'm hurt! That's twenty-five cents of love right there!"
"Oh, well in that case..."
The Queen murmurs as she leans forward and captures the Sheriff's lips heatedly. The blonde twists towards her, and Regina runs her hand from the younger woman's knee slowly up and around to brush promisingly close to the crotch of her jeans before pulling away.
"Regina..."
Emma scowls irritably as she opens her eyes to regard the Mayor.
"Why'd you stop?"
"Well, my dear, that was all that twenty-five cents will get you!"
The brunette smirks playfully; pushing herself up from the sofa in order to put the oven on preheat and get things ready in the kitchen. Emma watches her go, shrugging as the darker woman glances back at her from the doorway.
"Eh, I'll still take it."
"I can't move. I'm sleeping here tonight."
The blonde states matter-of-factly; squeezing her eyes shut as Henry drags the paper crown resting low upon her curls with a giggle so that it covers her face. Rolling her eyes, the Mayor gives her a hard prod with her foot under the table while she piles their plates neatly one on top of the other.
"Where you sleep is your own business, but right now I want the two of you in that kitchen with a washing-up brush and towel; I'll leave the choice of who does what up for debate.
"You have a washing machine."
"Indeed I do, and you're more than welcome to use it, but not on my crockery."
"Dishwasher. Whatever."
Emma grumbles; pulling the crown off of her face so that it rests at a rather jaunty angle that offsets her sleepy irritation.
"Yes, and that's where you can stack these plates and the cutlery, but the pots and pans can't go in there."
"Sure they can, you just have to tilt them a bit."
"Well... We don't do things that way in this house, we do them properly... Now get up - both of you - and make yourselves useful."
"Fine..."
The Sheriff sighs - although the brunette imagines that her attitude is purely for show - as she makes her way lightly towards the kitchen in spite of her declaration that such a feat might be impossible.
Turning to Henry, Regina smiles as the boy looks up at her beneath the magenta spikes of his paper crown. She imagines that her expression must be pretty similar to her son's, though slightly more subdued with the delicacy of her years, as the boy looks both exhausted and elated. The entire evening has gone by without a hitch, save for each of them suffering from a lack of oxygen as quips and stories had been shared across the table.
Emma's; rather toned down and ad-libbed tales of some of the more interesting and obscure Christmas mishaps she'd played witness to, culminating in an explanation involving a quart of juice - at least, this had been the liquid's alias with the kid at the table - some ice skates, and a scar between her fingers.
Regina's; a description of similar festivities celebrated in the Enchanted Forest in the company of her parents, which had had the other two riveted, and the brunette's cheeks flushing gleefully when her son had asked her for more.
"Go on, there's not that much left to do. Go take these last few things through to Emma, and then get on upstairs; it's way past your bedtime!"
Checking her watch, she raises a brow as she realises just how much truth lies in this statement; the hour getting on for midnight seemingly out of nowhere.
In the old days, such a break in schedule would have irked her greatly - well, no, in the old days, such a thing would never have happened - but she finds, with a sense of genuine surprise, that she's able to simply shrug it off and let it be.
It's Christmas Eve, and they've had a wonderful evening.
"Okay."
Henry nods, sliding down from his seat at the table and balancing the last few dishes carefully in his hands.
"Hey... Mom?"
"Yes, Henry?"
"I-... I love you."
Blinking in surprise, Regina finds herself momentarily at a loss for cognitive thought, before she pushes herself up and takes a step towards the boy to straighten his crown gently.
"I love you too, dear... More than anything in the world."
"And Emma?"
"And Emma."
The Mayor replies simply; deeming this to be a fitting response. Henry seems to ponder her wording briefly, before smiling back up at her with a sunny grin.
"I think Christmas tomorrow is going to be awesome!"
"Good! I'm glad."
She chuckles, bending down to kiss him on the cheek.
"Now stop stalling and get to bed, and don't forget to say goodnight to Emma."
She watches him go fondly, before turning back to the empty table and wiping it down methodically; her full lips forming a slow smile as she listens to the quiet hum of voices from the other room before a dull flurry of footsteps lets her know that her son has made his way upstairs to bed.
Stalking back into the kitchen, the brunette leans in the doorway and watches unashamedly as Emma goes about loading the remaining implements that don't sparkle with soap suds on the draining board into the dishwasher.
"Are you staring at my ass back there?"
The blonde calls her out, and Regina laughs darkly, crossing her arms over the soft swell of her chest as she wets her bottom lip with her tongue.
"The possibility exists."
"Hmm..."
The younger woman offers, swaying her hips slightly as her long hair hides a smirk.
"It's a good angle on you."
"Yeah, well, that may be, but if I stay bent over much longer I think I'm gonna hurl."
Emma grumbles as she finishes up and inserts a tablet into the machine. Turning to face the brunette and pushing her hair away from her face, she smiles as she leans against the counter closest to her.
"Seriously, I don't think I ever want to see another piece of food again... Well, until tomorrow, anyway."
"Yes, well, no one forced you to eat two heaping platefuls of food and wash them down with half a tub of ice cream, dearest."
Groaning at the memory; the Sheriff shrugs in a way that suggests there had simply been no other option in the matter, and she watches as Regina pours the last few inches of wine into her glass so that she can dispose of the bottle.
"Well, you're a good cook."
"Hmm."
The Queen purrs as she moves across the kitchen slowly to stand in front of the blonde
"Flattering, but I've seen enough of what you're willing to put in your mouth to question your standards."
Raising a brow, Emma smirks and plucks the wine glass from the Mayor's hand and raises it to her own lips.
"Actually, I think my standards are just fine... I mean, look at my taste in women, for instance..."
"I suppose you raise a fair point... There are some aspects of life in which you possess a little taste..."
"A 'little taste', huh?"
The Sheriff murmurs invitingly, and the darker woman grins as she closes the distance between them; pressing her hips against Emma's and relishing the dulled tang of the wine on her tongue.
Closing her eyes, Regina moves her hands up into soft curls and deepens their kiss passionately; giving an irritable mewl when the younger woman pushes her away.
"Wait... I want to give you your present."
"We don't do presents until tomorrow, dear."
"I know, but this one you have to open now."
"Okay?..."
The brunette frowns, and the Sheriff grins at her impishly; instructing her to give her a minute before hurrying upstairs, leaving the Mayor to finish her wine with a bemused shake of her head.
When one minute becomes two, and two minutes become five, Regina begins to get impatient; casting a glance up at the ceiling and listening out for signs of life.
Met with silence; she sighs and places her glass in the sink before creeping upstairs.
"Did you fall asleep or something?"
She demands irksomely as she crosses the threshold to their bedroom, but the blonde is nowhere to be seen. Closing the door quietly as she notes a soft glow of light emanating from beneath the bathroom door, she takes a seat on the bed; pondering that promising strip of light curiously.
"Emma?"
"Yes?"
The younger woman replies coyly as she emerges from the bathroom and closes the door behind her.
Turning to face the Mayor, she offers a coquettish smirk as the brunette regards her with an open mouth.
Leaning against the wall in a teasingly wanton fashion, she plays with a section of her hair idly.
Regina swallows, taking in perilously skimpy and almost impossibly sheer emerald lingerie, accented with festive details of red ribbon, before breaking into a wicked smile and willing the lights to lower dramatically; casting them in a dusky haze of shadows and highlights.
"Well, Miss Swan, this is quite the present indeed."
"I'm just sorry it's not wrapped properly..."
Emma muses from her position against the wall; worrying the scant wisp of lace covering her hip with a falsely demure expression.
Smirking sinful scarlet, Regina beckons her towards the bed with a crook of her finger; moving up towards the headboard as she goes.
"Oh, don't fret, dear; I'm sure we can work together to fix that."