Regina scratches at the fabric under their blouse. Make shift binding, while dangerous (of the risks they were well aware), was also rather uncomfortable, but how can one even begin to be comfortable in clothing when they aren't comfortable with their own body? Regina Mills was not feeling much like a queen today, and this was not the first time this has happened. Some days the queen preferred to don male clothing and present themselves as just that… a male. Unfortunately this was not an easy task.
Upon casting the curse, Regina was not given much variety when it came to wardrobe. The only outfits Regina had were made for women, and the closest they came to anything male was a plain blouse and a straight-leg pant. Even that was far from passing, and Regina felt as if everyone were staring at him. To top it off, today was the day Emma had planned a picnic for them in the park where there were people and animals and other passersby's that would stare at them. At her. At Regina. And they would see just that: Regina, the Evil Queen, a woman. In his angst Regina barely noticed Emma staring at him. "What, Miss Swan?" Regina mumbled shyly but also snappily.
"Nothing," Emma smiled bemusedly, squeezing their conjoined hands, "Just looking at you." Regina's face tightened into a smile. "You're beautiful." As those two words left Emma's lips, Regina's carefully schooled expression fell into a grimace. Emma's face immediately fell. "What's wrong?"
Regina shook his head, taking his hand away from Emma's. Regina began fiddling with the fabric on the blouse, trying to straighten it. Trying to make it look as flat as possible. "Nothing," he muttered softly, eyes filled to the brim with tears. "Nothing's wrong."
The blonde tilted her head in confusion. "When I called you beautiful you flinched." Regina can not get over how perceptive Emma is, and briefly wonders if it is a trait exclusive to the blonde or if all partners were supposed to be this in tune with their significant other and that Emma was just the first person to care enough to look at the brunette. Emma cranes her neck to look into Regina's eyes.
Regina hesitantly meets green eyes. They're shining with such genuine curiosity and concern that Regina can't look away. "I don't necessarily feel very beautiful today."
Emma hums thoughtfully and shifts to look more closely at her partner. "What would make you feel… more beautiful?" Regina raises sharp eyebrows as if waiting for a silly suggestion. The blonde grins in her own charming way and nods, encouraging Regina to say what he feels.
"Well for one, if these damn breasts would go away," Regina finally says, quieter than he intended. Regina had intended to say it louder, as more of a joke, but it ended up coming out timid. Fearing the reaction of his listener. "At least for today," the brunette adds as a qualifier.
"Do you not like having breasts?" Emma asks, her voice suggesting clarification rather than concern. Regina gulps and shrugs his shoulders. "Or you do?"
"It's complicated," Regina started, biting a trembling lip. The blonde continues to wait patiently for more details, but Regina was terrified. The brunette had already told Emma more than he'd told anyone else before. "Most days I wake up, and I'm Regina Mills. I am a powerful woman, a queen, and I know that… Some days, though, I don't feel much like a queen at all." His arms inch tightly across his chest, covering up the most obvious symbol of his female anatomy.
"Some days you feel like…" Emma pauses, gesturing as if waiting for her partner to continue. She reads Regina's body language easily and finishes with, "a king?"
Regina's face falters with disbelief. For such a concept that most people can't understand, Emma was suggesting exactly how he felt. "How did you know?"
"You've been uncomfortable all day," Emma mumbles instead, a frown furrowing her brow. "I don't blame you. I certainly wouldn't feel like a king in that outfit." Regina's faces heats in embarrassment. Emma shrugs off the leather jacket she's wearing and hands it over to Regina. "Here," she says. At the brunette's quizzical look Emma just shrugs. "It's not perfect, but it's more masculine than that blouse."
Regina's face furrows in shame, but he still wraps the jacket around his arms. "Why are you being so nonchalant about this?" Regina asks attempting to sound confused instead of as terrified as he was. All he could think of was how nonchalant his mother was upon passing judgment. You ride like a man. You can't go out like that. A lady does not ride horses all day. God knows Cora wouldn't approve of Regina's lifestyle choices. Frolicking with Snow White's daughter, wearing trousers all the time. Cora would never accept her daughter even considering being a man, if only for a day.
Yet, Emma seemed completely unbothered by her girlfriend suddenly saying she thought she might want to be a boyfriend. Emma just smiled at Regina and shrugged. "I've done a lot of growing up here," she says slightly, "and something I've learned is that I love you, Regina, no matter who you are." Suddenly Emma sits up, frowning. Regina tenses at the no longer casual demeanor on his girlfriend's face. "Do you want me to call you Regina?"
Regina blinked, his mind whirring at his girlfriend's kind words. "I… don't know." He didn't like Regina on these days. Regina was too obvious. Regina was a woman's name. He scrunched up his face. "I don't think so."
Emma nodded and pursed her lips. "Okay, well until you figure out your name, I'm just gonna call you Reg." Regina considered the nickname and couldn't help but smile a bit. Reg. That could be anyone. Male or female or gender neutral. At Reg's smile Emma made to stand up. She reached down to help her boyfriend off the ground. "Come on, let's get you out of those clothes."
Reg felt absolutely mortified to be shopping in the men's section of the clothing store. What if someone saw? What would they say? He'd be even more outcast from this town. "How about this?" Emma held up a nice white button-up with cuffed sleeves. The collar was firm and close to the neck. Emma was the only thing keeping him from fleeing in a puff of smoke. She was poignant on getting Reg into appropriate clothing. Reg was still wearing Emma's jacket around his shoulders, clinging to the rough material like a shield. He reaches for the article of clothing presented to him hesitantly, as if it would burn him. Emma is ever patient, holding it out as long as it takes, not pushing him along. "I think it suits you."
Reg rolled his eyes, grabbing the shirt finally. "It's a white shirt."
"Yeah, you wear those all the time. It's your style." Emma responds, ignoring his attempt at belittlement, perhaps recognizing the snark as deflection. Emma moves to rummage through the pants section. "What's your pant size?"
"Eight," Reg answers softly, still staring intently at the shirt in his hands. He's lost in the loose material, the feel of the cuffs, the stray white string near one of the buttons. He doesn't even notice when Emma looks at him bewildered. After a moment he felt the eyes on him and looked up with a flushed face. "What?"
Emma smiles sympathetically and shakes her head. "Those are women's sizes," she explains. Reg's face falls at the statement, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. Emma's hand on his wrist distracts him, and there's that patient smile she's been wearing all day in front of her. "Let's try you out on a thirty-two. Maybe some jeans?" Reg nods discretely, still awfully ashamed of even the suggestion. What would mother say? She'd always wanted a daughter to become the queen, to marry into power. She certainly didn't want a daughter that pretended to be a boy. Emma squeezes Reg's wrist with concern.
"It's nothing," he says automatically, knowing full well Emma would not accept that answer. His pleading gaze is not enough to deflect Emma's worried expression, so he has to talk. "It just feels like I'm pretending." Emma's face tenses a bit more, and Reg gulps. "I'm not supposed to be a boy."
He looks so small before her, and the use of the word boy lets Emma know exactly where Reg's head is. "Do you want to be a boy?" the blonde asks calmly. Reg hesitates, shifting slightly. "Do you want to be a boy today?" she revises. The man nods so minimally that Emma barely detects it. "Then you're supposed to be a boy today. You're not pretending." Reg exhales slightly in relief, and Emma pulls out a pair of jeans that look so baggy in comparison to the ones painted on her legs. "Want to try them on?"
Cautiously Reg takes the jeans with the shirt and walks mindlessly to the dressing rooms. He flinches when the shopping assistant calls him "ma'am", but Emma tugs him along so to not let him dwell on it. Reg goes into the changing stall and strips slowly, facing away from the mirror. He couldn't stand his body these days. He couldn't cope with the knowledge that his body didn't look how he wanted it to. He pulled the jeans on over the boxer shorts he'd stolen from Emma and buttons them with a slight smile. He can't see the curves of his shapely legs. The baggy material covers his hips, and he loves it.
Next he moves to the shirt, and his smile falls once again. In his brief moment of reverence he had forgotten that he'd have to look at his chest to button the shirt. Though the binder was still in place, it was a reminder that he did in fact have breasts and needed that extra coverage. He sighs and begins buttoning as quickly yet carefully as he can. He tucks the shirt into the jeans and looks over himself. Reg feels a little lighter now. His hourglass figure is camouflaged my the straight design of his shirt, and his breasts are not nearly as prominent as they were in Regina's blouse.
When he emerges from the changing room, Emma looks up with a smile. Her eyes rake over Reg's body admiringly, and when she finally meets his brown eyes she says with a grin, "You look very handsome." The man's confidence bursts, and he stands a little bit taller. Emma leads Reg to the register and tells the clerk "He'll wear this out." Reg's face reddens, uncomfortable at the clerk's glance at him. Still a wave of love soars through him at Emma so boldly standing up for him. She didn't have to do that, yet she called him a him… even though they might be perceived differently.
They leave the store hand in hand, and Reg is beaming. He stops Emma in her tracks and pulls her close. He presses their foreheads together, and with a light in his eyes whispers, "Thank you," Emma smiles and makes to speak, but Reg shakes his head, "Truly." He kisses Emma bravely, finally content in his body for the day.
"Do we have to tell him?" Regina says in a low panic, her voice not wavering, but her eyes deceiving her calm demeanor. She looks up at Emma who gives her a look. "I'm not even Reg today," she adds as if that were relevant to her argument.
Emma tilted her head and sighs. "Yeah, but last time you were him you told me you were ready to tell Henry." Regina purses her lips, deceived by her own identity. "Besides, you've been him more and more often; don't you want to share that part of you with your son?" Regina's heart sank at that. Of course she did. She wanted to give Henry her entire life… but she didn't want to disappoint him either. She's supposed to be his mother; he would be confused. It would hurt him. "He's your son," Emma repeats, tapping Regina's chin to catch her gaze, "he loves you."
Regina took a deep breath and gulped subtly. Emma pecked her on the lips reassuringly before grabbing her hand and leading her to their son's bedroom. They stand outside for a bit before Emma squeezes the brunette's hand. Regina knocks twice and waits in angst for her son to shout 'come in!' When he finally does, she can't make herself reach for the door. Finally Emma helps her and opens the door. "Hey, kid," she says to Henry, "your mom has something she wants to tell you."
Henry looks over to his mother and examines her body image before frowning in concern. "What's wrong?" he asks, sitting up straighter. His face suggested that if he had to fight some more villains for his mom to be happy he'd do it in a flash. The thought of that calms Regina some.
The brunette goes to sit beside Henry on his bed. She offers him a nervous smile, "Nothing, dear." He doesn't believe her. "There's just… something about me I want you to know."
"Are you sick?" He asks, eyebrows shooting to the sky in worry.
Regina shakes her head quickly, coaxing him back from his concern. "No, dear, I'm not sick. It's something about who I am." Henry looks relieved, and he sits patiently to hear what his mother has to say. Regina flounders for a second, mouth open but words refusing to come to her. He's still patient. "Have you ever heard of someone being transgender?" Henry furrows his eyebrows somewhat but nods in confirmation. Regina nods, gulping nervously. She can feel the sweat dripping down her neck. She thinks she might be switching between Reg and Regina at rapidfire. He's going to hate me. He hates me. "D-did you know that transgender is sometimes used as an umbrella term? That it doesn't just mean that you want to change your body to match your brain?"
Henry shakes his head and furrows his brow. "What does umbrella term mean?" he asks with a curious tone. He had no idea what his mother was going to say, so he had no clue how to brace for it.
Regina takes a breath; she could answer that. "It's when you use one term to encompass a variety of different things. For example, a giraffe and a turtle are both animals, but they're not the same. Animal would be an umbrella term." Henry nods, understanding the analogy. "Just as there are many different animals… there are different ways for people to be transgender." Henry still looks confused, still looks concerned. "Some people can be transgender but also identify with the gender given to them at birth." At this Henry furrowed his eyebrows. "Sometimes people can identify with their given gender on some days… and other days they identify as another gender, or many other genders."
"There's more than two?" Henry asks, that adorable furrow of his brow still on his face. The familiar look of her son gives Regina a jolt of confidence.
She nods in response. "Some people feel like a mixture of boy or girl, or only slightly like male or female. Some people feel like they're something other than male or female. Some people feel like they don't have a gender." She pauses and looks at her son as he processes her words. "Some people identify as genderfluid." She's certain by now that the emphasis on "some" has given her away. "Some people feel like their gender changes on a semi-regular basis. That some days they're a woman… but some days they're a man." She feels the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.
Henry reaches forward and grabs her hand. He looks so confused and so much younger than he is. Regina hates that's she's the reason that his world has shattered. "Mom?" he asks softly, "Are you genderfluid?" He at least had the decency to still ask even though she had been anything but subtle. She looks into his brown eyes and feels a tear escape down her cheek. She nods, and time stops for a minute. Then Henry's moving again, his head tilting quizzically. "Do you want me to call you Dad?"
Regina breathes, and she shakes her head as blood rushes back to it. She looks at her son confused but relieved. "Not right now, dear." Although Reg is right at the back of her mind and he's flipping at the thought of his son calling him that. Henry nods, accepting the answer. He's quiet now, but he still looks like he wants to say more. "Any other questions?" she prods, although still cautious.
Henry looks up at her and timidly asks, "Are you… a man now?" Regina shakes her head. "Do I still say she and her when you're a man?"
Regina considers this. On one hand, of course she wanted him to treat her as her true self… but she knew how people in this town could be about anything new and strange. The last thing she wanted was for Henry to get hurt because of her. "Around the house, yes… but not to others if you don't think they'll understand."
Henry nodded understanding. "Can I hug you?" he asks, and he sounds like he's younger, not a freshman in high school.
"You don't ever have to ask, Henry," she says with a smile. He returns the grin and leans in to hug her tight.
"Hey, make room for me!" Emma interrupts, going to join them. She wraps her arms around her girlfriend and son and kisses them both on the forehead. The blonde leans in to whisper in Regina's ear, "Told you so."
It's evening, and he's sitting in the den with his family and a cup of coffee. He's pretending to read a book while Emma and Henry play video games. "Hey, Dad?" Henry calls, eyes not leaving the screen, "Can you get me a soda please?"
His heart soars at the title granted to him by his son. Henry had been nothing but supportive and remembered to ask every morning who he was before greeting him with a 'Good morning, Mom/Dad.' "Only because you said please," He answered standing to go to the kitchen.
"Oh me, too, babe!" Emma calls before he leaves. He gives her a mock glare to which the blonde sends her best puppy dog pout. He huffs defeatedly and rolls his eyes before disappearing into the kitchen. "Thank you, Reg!" Emma calls out, knowing she had won.
Maybe he should tell them, he thinks as he prepares the drinks for his family. He'd been thinking about this for a while now, and while he appreciated Emma respecting his discomfort and not calling him Regina, Reg was beginning to become just as dysphoric. Rather than a gender neutral substitute name, it was becoming in his mind a feminine nickname, and every time he heard it he tensed. He takes the cups back to the room and sets them on the coffee table before his two favourite people. "Thanks, babe," Emma says, looking over to smile at him, but one glance and she knew something was wrong. "What's up?"
He sighed, rejoining his family on the couch. Henry pauses the game and looks over, and the pair are wearing identical worried frowns. "I think…" he starts hesitantly, "I think I've chosen a name."
The tension on their faces immediately wipes away. Emma raises her eyebrows curiously, and Henry smiles excitedly. "Alright, Dad! What is it?" The boy's eyes are so light that it gives his father confidence.
"Simón," he states simply. He waits in silence for their reactions, but they continue staring. "Well?" he asks, self-conscious.
Henry nods immediately accepting the name. "Simón. Cool. When you tell me to do chores it'll be like 'Simón dice'."
Simón chuckles at his son's humor but looks over to his girlfriend with slight dread. Emma's looking at him like he's a delicacy, eyes darkened. In a low voice she vocalizes, "Simón…" Her voice causes a ripple through Simón's stomach, down to his pants. He liked it when she said his name. "I… like it," Emma says, eyes raking over his body before standing and walking in his direction. Henry protests that they haven't finished the game, but his parents aren't listening. Simón is hypnotized by Emma's dark gaze, and when the blonde reaches him, she whispers, "Get the strap-on."
A/N: Hey! Thank you all so much for reading! I've been wanting to write this forever because I love Regina so much, but I'm also really passionate about the nonbinary trans community (probably because I'm a part of it.) Since there's rarely any nonbinary representation, and I'm so sick of reading trans!SQ fics written by cisgender people who don't do the subject justice, I thought I'd share. Thanks for reading. It means a lot (: