A/N: happy Sunday peeps! Enjoy the fluff while it lasts, just saying.

Emma hung back, not wanting to engage with any of the clusters of other waiting people. She wasn't sure why. She just didn't feel like talking. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the large double doors, waiting. Her cell phone told her she had arrived early and there was still ten minutes to go. The crowd grew slowly, the chatter increasingly loud.

A few individuals glanced over at Emma but no one approached her. The folded arms and the fixed gaze displayed her disinterest. She didn't want to appear cold but this wasn't about making friends. This was a big step in her developing relationship and there was only one person she was focused on that afternoon.

When the bell rang from inside the building, Emma stood up a little straighter, craning her neck as the children poured out onto the playground. She moved forwards, not wanting Henry to miss her in the sea of parents. He knew to look for her. Or at least his mother had told him that morning to find Emma after school. But would the six-year-old remember? It was a change to his routine, after all.

She needn't have worried. Henry's eyes locked on hers a few seconds after he appeared and he waved enthusiastically. Emma grinned and waved back, moving forwards to the gate monitor so she could collect the small boy. The woman glanced several times at the list on her clipboard after Emma explained she was here to collect Henry Mills. She waited, somewhat patiently, as the woman radioed to the office to confirm the new pick-up before waving Henry through.

"Emma!" he yelled, even though he was less than three feet away, launching himself into her arms.

"Woah, hey kid," Emma said, catching him as he wrapped his legs around her waist. "How was school?"

"Fun," Henry said. "Mom says you're going to take me shopping. Is that true?"

"Yup," Emma nodded, hoisting Henry into a more comfortable position before they made their way through the crowd. "Me and you are going to make dinner tonight. Does that sound like fun?"

"Yeah!" Henry exclaimed. "Pancakes?"

Emma laughed. "Pancakes are usually a breakfast meal. But I do have two options for dinner. I thought you might like to choose which one you want to help me make."

"What options?" Henry asked as they reached Ruby's car. "Where's your motorbike? Aren't we going on your motorbike?"

"Not today," Emma said. "Remember what your mom said yesterday? We don't have you the helmet or the protective clothing. So I borrowed my friend Ruby's car. It's safer and it's easier to carry shopping in because it has a big trunk. My bike doesn't have a trunk. Look, your spare car seat is here." She pointed through the window to the item she had wrestled into the vehicle an hour earlier when she picked it up from Regina's house. It had felt strange yet pleasant to let herself in using the key she now to collect the car seat.

"So, no motorbike?"

"Sorry, kid," Emma said, putting Henry down so she could open the door. "Go on, in you get."

Henry looked like he was about to argue but seemed to decide against it. Instead, he climbed awkwardly into the car and allowed Emma to secure the seat belt around him.

"Music?" she asked as she climbed into the front seat. "What do you like to listen to?"

"I don't know," Henry shrugged. "Mom always just puts on the radio but they just talk about boring things like the news. I don't listen to music."

"Let's change that then," Emma said, syncing her phone to the Bluetooth system Ruby had installed in her old school car and selecting a child-friendly playlist on Spotify. "Now, the next choice is what we're going to eat for dinner. I thought we could make some pasta with chicken, but with a different sauce to what you usually eat. Or we can make fajitas with chicken and capsicum."

"What are fajitas?" Henry asked as Emma pulled slowly away from the curb, driving carefully past the children and parents still lining the sidewalk.

"Fajitas are a type of food from Mexico. You make something called a tortilla wrap which is a cross between a pancake and bread. And then you cook up some delicious chicken and some capsicum and onion and sometimes a few other vegetables. Then you put that in the middle of the tortilla with some cheese and creamy sauce and roll it up. I can show you a picture when we get to the store."

"If we don't have fapitas, what will we have?"

"I was going to make a simple pasta sauce out of cream and add some broccoli." Henry made a face which Emma caught in her rear view mirror. "I'm guessing that's a no go on the broccoli."

"It smells bad."

"Only when it's overcooked," Emma argued. "But fine. We can do that sauce with other vegetables if you like. Or we can make the fajitas."

"And if we cook something but I don't like it, can I have pancakes?"

"No, but I'll cook some of your usual pasta sauce," Emma offered. "But I think you'll like both the things I have suggested. Which one do you think sounds good?"

"I don't know."

"Which one do you think your mom would like?"

Henry shrugged again. What did that matter? He thought to himself. "Can I see the picture of the fapita and then choose?"

"Sure," Emma nodded. "We'll be at the store in five minutes and I'll show you then."

The rest of the drive was spent talking about Henry's school day. He and Roland had made a tower out of blocks which was the tallest ever and the teacher let them have an extra five minutes of play because they all did well on their spelling test. Once the car was parked outside the store, Emma got out and circled around to free the kid and allow him to climb onto the sidewalk.

"Stay there," Emma said as she reached into the car for her handbag. In the few seconds it took her, Henry had managed to wander five metres. "Henry," she called, as soon as she realised he had moved. "Come here."

The boy turned and willingly walked back to Emma. "What?"

"I told you to stay, didn't I?"

"Yeah but I didn't go far."

"Is not going far the same as staying?"

Henry pouted. "No."

"So next time I ask you to stay, can you please stay? I don't want to have to phone your mom and tell her I lost you."

"I'm not lost. I'm here," Henry said, arms spread wide.

"Not the point," Emma said. "When we're out on a busy street and in a busy store like the one we're about to go into, you need to listen to me. Ok?"

"Ok," Henry acquiesced. "Can I see the fapita now?"

"Fajita," Emma corrected, pulling her cell from her bag. With Henry now waiting patiently by her side, she did a quick Google image search and found the most aesthetically pleasing picture. "Here. It's the tortilla wrap with chicken inside, see? You can add in extra things like salad and cheese if you want but you don't have to. You can build your own dinner."

"Like building a house?"

"I wouldn't want to live in a fajita but yes, the same principle," Emma nodded. "What do you think?"

There was a pause. Henry reached out to take Emma's cell, pulling it closer to his face as if he was closely scrutinising the image of his prospective. "Ok," Henry nodded after a moment. "What do we need to buy?"

Emma grinned. "I've made a list," she said, pulling a slip of paper from her bag. She had made a separate list for the pasta dish too. "Would you like to hold it and then we can work together to find what we need?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically at being given a job. He took the paper in both hands and looked carefully at it, taking in the word at the top of the page. "Flour," he read slowly, recognising the word from the first time he cooked with Emma. "Like in pancakes?"

"Yup," Emma nodded, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder and steering him into the store. "Flour is in the tortilla wraps. Your mom is nearly out because we've been making so many pancakes so we need to buy some more. We should do the vegetables first though, because that's what's first in the store, see?"

She pointed to the bright displays facing them. Emma loved this store for their local produce and she hoped to get Henry interested in fresh, healthy vegetables too.

"There's capsicum!" he shouted.

Ignoring the few stares the duo received from fellow shoppers, Emma grinned as she grabbed a basket. "Exactly. How many does our list say we need?"

"Um," Henry said, eyes returning to the paper. "Red capsicum multiplied by two and yellow capsicum multiplied by one. Why are you doing the capsicum times tables?"

"That's just how I tell myself how many of each thing I need to buy. So we need two red capsicum and one yellow. Can you select me some good ones and put them in the basket?"

Henry eagerly reached out to pick two of the red vegetables and placed them gently in the basket Emma lowered for him. But he faltered as he turned to the tray which was piled with the same food but yellow in colour. "What's yellow capsicum like?"

"Almost exactly the same as red, actually," Emma said. "You can also get it in green but they're a bit more bitter. Yellow, orange and red are the sweetest."

"Orange?"

"Yep," Emma nodded, reaching to select an orange version which was on a higher shelf.

Henry's eyes slid from the two red vegetables in the basket to the yellow and finally the orange capsicum. "So, we need three of them?"

"Yes," Emma nodded.

"Can we get one red, one yellow and one orange? No green. I don't want green."

"Sure," Emma nodded, placing the orange bell pepper she was carrying into the basket as Henry exchanged one of his carefully selected reds with a new yellow version.

"It looks like a rainbow," he remarked.

"It does," Emma nodded. "I love how colourful food can be. Right, what's next?"

Regina slid her key into the lock as quietly as possible, turned it and crept into the house. The moment she crossed the threshold, she realised she needn't have bothered trying to be quiet. The squeals of laugher coming from the kitchen would have drowned out any noise she made. Depositing her handbag on the side table, she made her way to the source of the noise.

"No, Emma, stop!" Henry exclaimed, before a peel of giggles escaped as Emma's fingers attacked his sides once more. The blonde's back was to the door and Regina leaned against the frame, enjoying the sight.

"Never," Emma growled, her fingertips torturing the small boy's ribs even harder.

"I'm gonna pee!"

At once, Emma withdrew her hands, sitting back on her heels and giving the child a break. Henry lay on the floor, panting and chuckling, trying to regain control over his breathing. Rolling onto his side, he spotted his mother watching them.

"Mom!"

Emma turned around as well, smiling broadly. "Hey, how was your day?"

"Good thanks, how was yours?" she asked, walking into the kitchen as Emma and Henry climbed to their feet.

"Awesome," Emma said. "We had fun, didn't we Henry?"

"Emma wouldn't let me buy more jam in the store," Henry said, wrapping an arm around one of his mother's thighs.

"You have a cupboard full of jam," Emma pointed out. "But the rest of the trip was fun, right? We bought all the ingredients for tonight."

"Yeah, we bought red and yellow and orange capsicum and we're making fapitas."

"Fapitas?" Regina frowned.

"Fajitas," Emma explained. "Are you hungry? Everything is ready to be cooked. The tortillas are stacked over there. Henry helped me roll them out after we made the mix. And the vegetables are all cut. Henry did the tomatoes and the red capsicum. All I have to do is cook the marinated chicken and veg. It'll be ready in about twenty minutes."

"And Emma said I was the bestest shoe chef ever," Henry announced. "She let me use the big knife."

Regina's eyebrows rose and she looked at her girlfriend.

"I watched him like a hawk and I showed him how to hold it safely. Look, he still has all his fingers, right Henry?"

Henry nodded and held up his hands. "Ten! I have ten fingers. Well, eight fingers and two thumbs. But together there are ten."

"Glad to see that," Regina laughed. "Ok, give me a moment to get changed and I'll come and help you cook."

"No, this is a date, remember? I'm cooking for you. With the help of my sous chef. Go ahead and relax. Henry and I can handle this."

Regina looked like she might want to argue but decided better of it. "Ok," she said after a moment. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Emma said, leaning over to kiss her girlfriend. "We'll call you when it's ready. Would you like a glass of wine while you wait?"

"Sure," Regina nodded. "There's some rosé in the fridge I opened last night."

Emma went to retrieve Regina's requested drink and poured a glass. Leaving Henry to lay the table, she headed down to the bedroom. By the time she arrived, Regina was already standing in her underwear, work clothes neatly folded on the back of a chair. The woman was perusing her closet, trying to decide on a comfortable outfit for the evening.

"Just wear what you're in now," Emma said as the brunette reached for a t-shirt.

"Yes, because that would be appropriate with my son here," Regina replied as Emma's lips landed on the soft skin where her neck curved to meet her shoulder. "Emma, where's Henry?"

"In the kitchen flambéing chicken unattended with a cleaver," Emma mumbled, her tongue flicking out to taste the sweet skin.

Regina turned and looped her arms around Emma's neck. "Not funny."

"A bit funny," Emma said, kissing the brunette tenderly. "He's fine, Regina. I promise. He's laying the table. I just wanted to come here and give you your wine. And do this."

Their lips met again, soft and slow. It would have deepened if the sound of shattering crockery hadn't interrupted them.

"Um, I'll just go and … deal with that."

Regina nodded, smirking. "I think that would be best."

Unable to resist, Emma placed a final kiss to Regina's lips before disappearing to discover how much damage the small boy had caused.

It took a lot of self-control for Regina not to poke her head into the kitchen on the way to the living room. But she knew both Emma and Henry wanted to cook that night's meal for her and decided it would be best to stay out of the way. Instead, she curled up on the couch, a glass of rosé in one hand and her book in the other. She struggled to concentrate, however, and was craning her ear towards the kitchen, wondering what was going on in there.

By the time Henry came to get her, she had given up on her book and was just watching the doorway. As soon as her son appeared, she sat up straighter.

"Everything ok?" she asked.

Henry nodded. "Emma says you have to wash your hands because dinner is ready."

"Great," Regina smiled, standing and picking up her empty glass from the coffee table. "Let's go and wash our hands."

"I washed mine already," Henry boasted. "I washed them before we started cutting things and then again before we started cooking. My hands are cleany clean."

"How about we make them extra cleany clean?" Regina suggested, leading the small boy down the hallway to the bathroom.

Henry grumbled but washed his hands again, after which Regina washed hers. The duo then returned to the kitchen where Emma was placing a large plate piled with fresh tortilla wraps on the table.

"Hey, I hope you're hungry because I think Henry and I cooked enough for a small army."

"I think you did," Regina agreed, admiring the spread on the table. "This looks amazing, guys. Thank you so much."

"I cutted the red capsicum, Mom," Henry said, hoisting himself up into his seat. "And I grated the cheese. Look!"

Upon closer inspection, Regina realised that the cheese was indeed a mix of very short grated pieces and large lumps.

"Well done," Regina said as she took her seat in the chair Emma pulled out for her.

"Let me get you some more wine," Emma said, taking the empty glass from the table and returning it, seconds later, topped up. "Right, does anyone need anything else? Henry, you've got your juice."

"What about you?" Regina asked. It may be a date which Emma was hosting but that didn't mean the blonde could be neglected, certainly not in the brunette's own house.

"I have a beer," Emma said, crossing to the stove, beside which a half-drunk beer was resting. "Why do you have beer in the fridge, by the way?"

"Am I not allowed to drink beer?" Regina replied.

"Of course you are. You just don't strike me as a beer kinda gal."

"I'm full of surprises," Regina said, dragging her bare foot up the inside of Emma's calf teasingly.

The blonde swallowed thickly. "Um, yes, yes you are."

"How do I make my fapita?" Henry asked, interrupting the moment.

Emma sprang into action, placing a tortilla on the boy's plate before explaining the best order to build his dinner. While she did that, Regina set about creating her own dish. Henry agreed to the chicken and vegetables, which had been cooked in the mildest spice mix Emma could make without compromising on flavour. He rejected the sour cream and turned his nose up at the shredded lettuce. The cheese, however, got his nod of approval and was sprinkled over the top.

"Now what?"

"Now we fold it up and hope the tortilla doesn't split," Emma said, carefully tucking the bottom of the wrap over and then curling in the sides. Henry watched, wide-eyed as his dinner was formed before his eyes.

"Wow," he gasped as Emma finished the presentation. The tortilla hovered in place for a second and then sprang open. "Oh, it broke."

"Yeah, it'll do that," Emma said. "But once you pick it up, you'll be able to hold it closed."

"Pick it up? With my fingers?"

"Yep," Emma nodded. "That's one of the best things about fajitas. No cutlery."

Henry's eyes lit up. "I don't have to use my fork?"

"Nope!"

"Cool," Henry enthused. "What other food can I eat with my hands?"

"Um, potato chips, hot dogs, pizza."

"What are hot dogs?"

"Sausages in bread," Emma said. "You can add tomato sauce and mustard too."

"Mom, can we have hotdogs?" Henry asked.

"One day," Regina nodded. "But how about we eat this meal that you and Emma have so kindly cooked for us now."

Henry nodded, suddenly realising he was hungry. He looked back down at the half wrapped tortilla. He had made that. Well, with Emma's help. Two hours earlier, this was just a pile of ingredients and now it was a meal. That was cool. He folded the edge of the tortilla back into place and curled his small fingers underneath it.

Both women were pretending not to notice his movements. Emma was busy making her own fajita and Regina was already eating hers. Henry, in fact, wasn't remotely interested in whether or not he was being watched. He was trying to work out how to bite into the food which seemed far too large to fit into his mouth. Just dive right in, he decided in the end, opening his mouth as wide as it would go.

Fajita mix splattered onto the plate, table and Henry's lap.

"Oops," he said, orange sauce trickling down his chin.

Emma chuckled. "Don't worry, kid. Fajitas are always messy. Keep eating and we'll clean you up later. And next time maybe we'll make sure you've got a napkin on your lap."

"I think we could count today as a success," Regina remarked as she settled beside the blonde on the couch later that evening. "Henry just told me he wanted to go food shopping with you next Monday as well."

"Really?" Emma grinned, moving her arm up so Regina could snuggle into her side and wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

"Yep, I think you two have a tradition now. That is, if you want to keep it going?"

"I've love to," Emma nodded. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Regina countered. "I can't believe he's actually interested in food and cooking. He ate one and a half fajitas. He hasn't eaten that much in ages. And he didn't complain once the fact that the sauce had carrots and onions in."

"He's doing really well," Emma nodded. "Speaking of which, did you make an appointment with Doctor Hopper?"

Regina nodded. "Wednesday morning at eleven. You have this Wednesday off, right?"

"Yes. That's perfect."

"Let's just hope he's on board."

"And if he isn't?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge on Wednesday afternoon," Regina shrugged. "But I'm sure once he meets you he'll understand that what we have is not a casual relationship. Henry talks about you a lot in our sessions already so he knows you're already in our lives."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I think so," Regina nodded.

"Or it means he's getting too attached."

"Is there a reason his attachment to you is a problem?"

"Of course not," Emma said hurriedly. "You know I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Regina said, burrowing herself even closer to the blonde, an arm snaking across her stomach and curling around her side. "Because I'm not letting you."

A/N: next up, Emma meets Archie …