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Henry Mills had seen many strange things in his ten years of life. Magic? Sure. A town trapped in a curse? Obviously. But Emma Swan’s flannel pyjamas? Those were quickly becoming the weirdest part of his day-to-day existence.
It all started on a Tuesday.
Henry was in the laundry room with Regina, helping her fold what felt like the 87th load of clothes. It was mostly her perfectly pressed blouses and Henry’s school uniforms, with the occasional rogue sock, Regina would scowl at like it had personally wronged her.
But then. Then.
“Is that…?” Henry squinted as he pulled something soft and plaid out of the basket. “Is that Emma’s?”
Regina didn’t even look up from folding her silk scarf with alarming precision. “Don’t be ridiculous, Henry.”
He held the pyjamas aloft like a knight discovering an enchanted sword. The unmistakable pattern of Emma’s flannel glowed in the light of the laundry room. Well, maybe it wasn’t glowing, but it felt like it was. “These are totally Emma’s! What are her clothes doing in our laundry?”
“Darling,” Regina said sweetly, but with the kind of sweetness that suggested murder wasn’t entirely off the table, “I believe we’ve already established it’s not.”
Henry wasn’t buying it. Not the tone, not the deflection, and definitely not the way Regina’s face went pink as she quickly shoved the pyjamas back into the basket and turned toward the phone ringing on the counter.
“Good morning, Sheriff Swan,” Regina purred into the receiver, her voice a little too high-pitched for someone who claimed to loathe Emma’s entire existence.
Henry froze mid-fold, hands still gripping a pair of his own socks. Sheriff Swan? Was it his imagination, or did his mom just… giggle?
He narrowed his eyes at her as she turned away, leaning on the counter and smiling like some lovestruck teenager. “No, it’s not a bad time at all,” Regina said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a way that made Henry’s stomach feel weird. He’d seen that move before. That’s the ‘I like you’ hair move. That’s suspicious.
And that’s when it hit him: the pyjamas, the weird hair tuck, the sudden friendliness between his moms. Emma was here. In his house. In her pyjamas.
It was like he’d uncovered a secret government conspiracy. Or worse. A relationship conspiracy.
Henry bolted upstairs, flannel pyjamas clutched like evidence in a courtroom, his mind already spinning with questions he definitely didn’t want answers to.
As he stood there, his thoughts drifted to Emma. Maybe she accidentally left them here or maybe, without realising it, this place felt like a second home to her.
Emma Swan rubbed her eyes as she stepped out of the Sheriff’s station, a yawn escaping before she could stop it. Sleeping on the cot in her office was getting old fast. Her neck was stiff, her back was sore, and the coffee maker was refusing to cooperate this morning.
Even worse, Graham’s old desk chair creaked when she leaned back, which made Mary Margaret call her out. “You’re supposed to be the Sheriff, Emma, not some overgrown college kid crashing on campus.”
So here she was, trudging toward Regina’s office at Town Hall, her go-to place when she needed to be told what to do and simultaneously annoyed by the person doing it.
She didn’t expect to be let in, much less helped. Regina was Regina, and scolding Emma was practically a love language for her. But the idea of sleeping one more night surrounded by files, instant coffee packets, and the occasional rat scratching in her apartment walls? Hard pass.
“Sheriff Swan, what a surprise,” Regina drawled as Emma stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She didn’t even look up from the stack of papers on her desk. “Shouldn’t you be out saving kittens or enforcing parking violations?”
Emma rolled her eyes, sinking into the chair across from Regina. “Funny. I’m here because I have a… situation.”
At that, Regina looked up, her expression somewhere between amused and tired. “Go on.”
“My apartment’s got rats,” Emma said, dragging a hand down her face. “Big ones. Like New York Subway big. One ran across my pillow last night. I nearly threw myself out the window.”
Regina’s lips twitched as if she were holding back a laugh. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“Because I’ve been crashing at the station, and Mary Margaret’s been on my case about it. She’s worried I’ll catch some office-related plague.” Emma leaned forward, hands clasped in mock desperation. “Help me, Regina Mills. You’re my only hope.”
Regina rolled her eyes, setting her pen down with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Probably,” Emma said, grinning.
Regina’s cheeks flushed, but she recovered quickly, standing and fetching her scarf from the coat rack. She tossed it to Emma, who caught it midair.
“Stay at my house for a few nights,” Regina said, as though it were a minor inconvenience and not a secret arrangement to spend more time together. “But don’t expect me to play hostess. I’ll be busy.”
Emma grinned, wrapping the scarf around her neck. “Thanks, Regina. You’re the best.”
“Mm, I’m aware.”
The next morning, Henry tagged along to Emma’s apartment, intrigued by the promise of rats and, maybe, a bit of fun. He wasn’t disappointed.
When they opened the door, they were greeted by the sight of Emma, barefoot and still in her flannel pyjamas, standing on a wobbly chair in the middle of the room. She was armed with a broom, which she wielded like an oversized sword, jabbing it at the corner of the ceiling.
“Is she sweeping the air?” Henry whispered to his mother.
“Emma,” Regina snapped, stepping inside, “what on earth are you doing?”
Emma stopped mid-thrust, her eyes wide as she looked down at them. “Uh… hey! Didn’t realise you’d be here so early.”
Regina glared at her. “Get down from there before you fall and break something.”
“Relax, Regina. I’ve got this under control.” Emma tried to adjust her stance, but the chair moved dangerously. With a squeak of alarm, she jumped off, landing with all the grace of a startled cat.
Henry snickered. “Nice landing.”
“Thanks, kid,” Emma muttered, brushing herself off. She quickly leaned the broom against the wall, realising how ridiculous she must look.
Henry, however, was distracted by something else. “Hey, nice pyjamas,” he said, pointing to her flannel shirt. “I’ve seen those before.”
Emma blinked, blushing. “Uh, yeah, probably. I wear them all the time.”
“No, I mean I really recognise them,” Henry insisted. His eyes widened as he remembered. “Oh! Mom, aren’t those the ones we found in the laundry a while ago?”
Emma froze, her gaze darting to Regina, who looked momentarily caught off guard. “Henry,” Regina said smoothly, “why don’t you start with the boxes over there?”
Henry shrugged. “Sure. But seriously, those pyjamas are awesome, Emma. Super comfy-looking.”
Emma mumbled a thanks, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her shirt. As Henry busied himself with the boxes, Emma sidled up to Regina, smirking. “Close call, huh? Should I start labeling my stuff ‘Property of Mayor Mills’?”
Regina narrowed her eyes and swatted Emma’s arm. “You really think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Oh, come on,” Emma teased, leaning closer. “You’re telling me you didn’t miss me in these?” She tugged playfully at the flannel sleeve.
Regina’s gaze flicked to Henry, who was absorbed in sorting through the pile of boxes. She sighed, her lips curling into an amused, almost fond smile. “Go get dressed, Swan. You’re giving me a headache.”
Emma grinned. “Yeah, yeah."
Saying nothing, Regina turned on her heel and moved toward the kitchen with quiet intention. Her sharp gaze scanned the space, landing quickly on the familiar black scarf draped too carelessly on the counter. She grabbed it and slipped it into her bag without pause, because Henry would have too many questions if he spotted it, and they didn’t need questions. Not now.
Something told Regina that Emma staying over was going to be a lot more eventful than she'd originally imagined. Especially seeing as though she said she was bringing boxes, not her bags. She might as well have moved in, right? And, well... Regina wasn’t far off.
A few days later, the chaos of it all had somehow settled into a strange routine. One Regina wasn’t sure whether to embrace or dread.
She was nothing if not efficient. Her to-do list was already neatly organised by priority as she stood by the door, slipping on her boots. The weather was dreary, threatening rain, so she grabbed her umbrella with one hand and adjusted her blazer with the other.
“Henry,” she called, her voice carrying the perfect blend of authority and affection. “Come here, please.”
Her son appeared almost immediately, cereal bowl in hand, milk dripping close to the edge. Regina’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What have I told you about walking around with food?”
“Not to do it,” Henry recited dutifully, setting the bowl on the counter.
“Good.” She bent slightly to brush an imaginary crumb off his shoulder. “I need to step out for a few hours. Emma will be here with you, and I expect you to behave.”
Henry grinned. “I always behave.”
Regina’s eyebrow arched. “That’s… debatable. But let’s not give Emma any more grey hairs than she already has, hmm?”
“Hey!” Emma called from the living room. “I heard that!”
Regina smirked, turning toward Emma, who was lounging on the couch in baby blue pyjama bottoms and an oversized hoodie. She looked so relaxed, so completely at home, that the mayor couldn’t help but wish for a moment of that comfort herself.
The clouds outside felt like the perfect excuse to skip the town hall meeting, curl up on the couch with Emma and Henry, and pretend for just a little while that the world didn’t need her to be anything other than this.
“I’m counting on it,” Regina replied. She hesitated, her eyes lingering on Emma a second too long before she forced herself to turn away.
“Henry,” she said again, pulling herself back to her usual commanding demeanour, “Please call me if you need anything.”
“Got it, Mom,” Henry said cheerfully.
“Emma,” Regina added.
“Yeah?”
“...Take care of him and yourself,” she said softly.
The blonde gave her a lopsided smile, the kind that made Regina’s heart stumble in ways she didn’t want to admit. “Always.”
After Regina left, Emma sprawled out on the couch, settling into the cushions with a long, tired sigh. Henry, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his tablet, barely looked up.
Through the glass, he saw his mother looking at a shrub he assumed needed to be trimmed. She waved once, a small gesture, but Henry waved back with enthusiasm, as if to say, I’m fine, don’t worry. He watched her car roll down the road before he turned away and shuffled back to his spot on the floor.
“You’re really gonna play that all night?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow at Henry’s focused expression.
Henry shrugged, not even bothering to look up. “Maybe. What are you gonna do?”
“Uh, sit here and make sure you don’t burn the place down,” Emma shot back. “That’s the job, right?”
Henry snorted. “You’re way cooler than the babysitters Mom used to hire.”
Emma smirked proudly. “Thanks, kid,” she said.
They both settled into a comfortable silence, despite the storm outside. The only sounds were the rhythmic tapping of Henry’s fingers on the tablet screen and the occasional clinking of Emma’s coffee cup on the table.
Then, suddenly, the lights flickered once or twice, and then, just as quickly, went out completely.
“The power’s out!”
“No kidding,” Emma muttered, reaching for her phone instinctively. She flicked the flashlight on and waved it around the room, the beam cutting through the darkness like a lifeline. “Okay, no big deal. We’ll just... light some candles. You got candles, right?”
“Probably,” Henry said with a nonchalant shrug, still not fully grasping the gravity of the situation.
Emma sighed, standing up. “Great. Let’s find them.”
She moved to the kitchen, and Henry followed her, eyes still glued to his screen. They rummaged through Regina’s cabinets, knocking over a few stray utensils in the process.
The blonde found a stash of candles, enough to give the room a soft glow. She set them down on the coffee table with a satisfied nod, before plopping back down on the couch.
“I should text your mom,” she said, pulling her phone back out, her fingers flying over the keys.
“What are you gonna say?” Henry asked.
“That her house hasn’t burned down yet,” Emma replied, the corners of her mouth curling up in a smirk.
She sent the first message: “Lights are out. We’re good, though. Found candles. All is safe here. But hey, how’s the drive going? Still raining?”
Regina’s reply came almost immediately: “Of course you did. Keep an eye on Henry.”
The woman chuckled to herself as she typed her response, shaking her head at the familiar way Regina had phrased it. She then quickly sent: “Relax, Mayor. We’re fine. Just checking in. How about you? You doing ok out there?”
As she waited for Regina’s reply, she couldn’t help but smile at the back-and-forth. Emma looked over at Henry, who was busy with his game on the floor.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Henry looking at her. His gaze moved between her and her phone, a curious look on his face. Emma quickly cleared her throat, her fingers hovering over the screen as she tried to maintain a straight face.
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice flat but with a trace of suspicion.
“Nothing!” Emma said too quickly, her attempt to look serious coming off as almost comically stiff. She shot Henry a playful smile, trying to cover it up. “Just... um, checking in on your mom. You know. The traffic lights might be out too.”
Henry didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged and turned back to his tablet, muttering something about her being weird. Emma bit her lip, trying not to giggle.
Then, Regina’s reply came through: “I’m fine. It’s just the drive. Don’t let Henry stay up too late.”
Emma grinned at the text, typing quickly: “I’ll try, but you know how it is... he’s a night owl. Just like his mom.”
A few moments passed before Regina replied with a single word: “Behave.”
Emma’s heart gave a little skip. She smirked, finally relaxing, and pocketed her phone. Henry was still too absorbed in his game to notice her smile this time. It was strange how quickly the house had settled into a makeshift normalcy.
Emma wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she agreed to stay over, but it wasn’t this. She hadn’t expected to feel so... at home.
Not yet, anyway.
“Everything still okay, kid?” Emma asked after a while.
Henry glanced up with a genuine smile. “Yeah. It’s kinda nice, actually. Just... us.”
By the time Regina got home, it was nearly ten o’clock. At first, she thought maybe both of them had fallen asleep, but then she stepped into the living room, pausing to take in the scene.
Emma was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Henry was lying on his stomach opposite her, his face lit with the kind of concentration reserved for competitive Scrabble matches. The candle was still dancing between them as the power remained off; David said something about a powerline that he definitely didn’t need Emma’s help with on her off day.
“Quizify isn’t a word!” Henry exclaimed, pointing at the board.
“Yes, it is!” Emma argued, grinning mischievously.
“It so isn’t!”
Regina cleared her throat, and both heads swiveled toward her.
“You’re back!” Emma said a bit too quickly, scrambling to her feet. She tugged at her hoodie, clearly flustered, but tried to play it cool. “We were just, uh, bonding over some Scrabble.”
Regina’s eyes flicked to the board, then back to Emma. “Is that what you call cheating?”
“Hey, I’m playing by the rules!” Emma protested, hands up in mock innocence.
Henry snorted. “You totally aren’t. ‘Quizify’ isn’t a word.”
“Okay, fine,” Emma admitted, laughing. “Maybe I bent the rules a little.”
The brunette stared at her lover, and the tension crackled like the flame of the nearest candle. “I assume everything went well?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Emma nodded. “Yep. We were really busy. You know, important stuff.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Important stuff.” He even did the air quotes. Rude.
Regina just shook her head, smiling like she knew way too much. “Well, hate to ruin the fun, but it’s past your bedtime, Henry.”
“Ugh, seriously?” the boy groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch.
“No arguments,” Regina said, ruffling his hair like some kind of evil queen. Henry grumbled but started stacking up the game pieces anyway, until Emma waved him off. “I got it. Go on, kid.”
With a sigh that could’ve won an Oscar, Henry dragged himself toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Emma! Goodnight, Mom!”
But then, plot twist, he suddenly turned on his heel and sprinted right back down. Emma and Regina both stopped, watching him like he was about to announce the apocalypse.
Instead, he skidded to a stop in front of Emma, rubbed his cheek against her hoodie like a cat claiming ownership, and bolted right back upstairs without another word.
Emma blinked. “...Okay?”
The next time he saw Emma, she was still in her pyjamas, just as she had been before, though he was starting to feel like the pyjamas were more of a uniform than a state of dress.
Henry had always prided himself on being a sound sleeper, but sometimes, a craving for a late-night snack could rival even his best dreams. Walking downstairs, he rubbed his eyes, the faint glow of the kitchen light spilling into the hallway.
He paused at the bottom step when he heard the unmistakable sound of foil crinkling. His mom must’ve been raiding her brownie stash again, a rare indulgence she always tried to keep secret. With a smirk, Henry stepped into the kitchen, fully prepared to tease her about breaking her no-sweets-after-dinner rule.
Except, it wasn’t Regina.
“Emma?” he blurted, stopping short.
Emma paused mid-bite, chewing guiltily like she’d just been caught committing a serious crime. She was wearing plaid pyjama bottoms and an old T-shirt that looked suspiciously like it had once belonged to Regina, not that he could prove it. She swallowed fast, then waved the half-eaten brownie like some kind of edible peace treaty.
“Hey, kid,” she said, a little too cheerfully. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d… help myself.”
Henry squinted at her, crossing his arms. “Those are Mom’s brownies.”
“I know,” Emma admitted, glancing at the brownie in her hand like it might save her. “But mine fell on the floor earlier, remember? You wouldn’t want me to starve, would you?”
Henry let out the world’s longest sigh, like he was already too old for this nonsense, but ultimately decided to let it slide. He watched as Emma sheepishly wrapped up the rest of the brownies, her ears suspiciously pink.
“I like your pyjamas,” he said suddenly.
Emma frowned. “Uh, thanks?” That was... random. She’d worn this a million times.
Henry just hummed like he knew something she didn’t, then grabbed the milk he actually came downstairs for. He poured himself a glass, side-eyeing Emma the whole time as she stood there like a very guilty statue.
“Goodnight, Emma,” he said, extra pointedly, before heading back upstairs.
Emma exhaled like she’d just survived a high-stakes interrogation. “Goodnight, Henry.”
She listened for his door clicking shut, waited a few seconds just in case, and then tiptoed back toward the living room. She hovered by the couch, glancing toward the stairs.
Then, with a grin, she pivoted on her heel and crept upstairs.
Emma hesitated in front of Regina’s bedroom door, her heart beating faster than she cared to admit. It was ridiculous, really, sneaking into her girlfriend’s room, but after hours of sitting on the couch, pretending she wasn’t itching to see Regina, she couldn’t take it anymore.
Carefully, she turned the handle, cringing as the door creaked open.
“Terrible,” Regina’s voice drawled from the bed.
She stirred under the covers, her eyes still closed, but the smirk on her lips was evident. “You’re terrible at sneaking, dear,” Regina continued. “Were the brownies not satisfying enough, or do you simply enjoy testing my patience?”
“How do you even do that?” Emma whispered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “Your eyes aren’t even open.”
“Magic,” Regina quipped, finally cracking one eye open. “Now, answer the question. Why are you lurking in my bedroom in the middle of the night?”
Emma fidgeted, tilting her head almost childlike. “I wasn’t lurking. I just-” She hesitated, then muttered, “I missed you.”
Regina’s smirk widened, and she propped herself up on one elbow. “Emma, you saw me just this afternoon.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same!” She huffed defensively. “You were all mayor-y and busy. You barely looked at me.”
Regina laughed, the sound warm and teasing. “Poor you. Neglected by the big, bad mayor. Whatever will you do?”
“This,” Emma whispered. “Sneak upstairs and… hold you for a bit. Is that okay or do I need an appointment?”
The woman pretended to think. “Hmm. Normally, I’d insist on a reservation, but seeing as you’re already here…”
Emma didn’t wait for further invitation. She kicked off her slippers and crawled into bed, hesitating only shortly before wrapping an arm around Regina’s waist.
“Don’t make me feel bad about this,” she muttered. “I’ve been dying all week.”
Regina moved up to make room. “Oh, dying? How dramatic. And here I thought you’d storm in with something important, like an actual emergency.”
“This is an emergency,” Emma countered, burying her face in the crook of Regina’s neck. “You’re my emergency. I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m not with you.”
Regina paused for half a beat, her fingers finding their way into Emma’s hair. She stroked gently, “…Oh, Emma. You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Impossible or not,” Emma murmured, her grip tightening slightly, “I’m here. And I’m not moving, so get used to it.”
Regina’s usual smirk faded, replaced by a gentleness that Emma rarely saw as she pressed a kiss to Emma’s forehead. “You’re lucky I happen to love you, or I might have thrown you out with the brownie crumbs.”
Emma blinked, momentarily startled by the words, but her tiredness was already pulling her under. She tried to laugh it off, “I’d have come back. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
The L-word sat in the air, but Emma didn’t let herself think too much about it. Her mind was too clouded, too tired to think about it. Tomorrow, maybe, she’d process what it meant. What they meant.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling. Now, be quiet and let me sleep. You’re warm enough to keep me entertained.”
Emma hummed, half-asleep, holding on to Regina without letting go.
Down the hallway, Henry still lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The milk had been a bad idea. Instead of lulling him back to sleep, it left him restless, he now had thoughts about school, homework, and, most frustrating of all, the girl he liked in his class.
She wasn’t even that nice to him, but she had pretty eyes. She was smart. He always looked for her during lunch, but she was never looking back. He wished she’d look at him the way Emma looked at his mom. Wait. No. That wasn’t-
He shook his head, frowning. No way. Emma and his mother were just friends. He’d said it a million times, mostly to himself, but also to anyone who teased him about how often Emma was around. “She’s staying here because of the rats,” he mumbled, as if saying it out loud would cement it as fact.
Still, he couldn’t shake the way Emma had looked at his mom earlier that morning. It was like… like the way people looked at those couples in romantic movies, he pretended not to like. But that didn’t make sense. They weren’t a couple.
Right?
Henry sighed, throwing his blanket off and sitting up. Maybe walking around would help clear his head. He slipped out of bed, the chill of the wooden floor making him shiver as he walked down the hall toward the bathroom.
He turned the corner, his eyes still heavy with sleep, when something caught his attention.
The door to his mother’s room was slightly ajar, and curiosity got the better of him. He paused, leaning a little closer to peek inside.
What he saw made him stop in his tracks.
Regina was lying on her side, and curled up behind her was Emma, her arm draped protectively over Regina’s waist. Henry blinked, his heart thumping in confusion. This wasn’t something ‘just friends’ did, was it?
His mom didn’t let anyone get that close to her. Not even him when he was sick. He watched them, his eyes moving back and forth between the two. Regina leaned a little into Emma, her fingers feeling around for Emma’s hand, almost without thinking. The sheriff shifted too, her arm tightening just a little around Regina like she was saying she wasn't going anywhere for the night.
Henry’s mind raced. He noticed things now, things he’d overlooked before. Like how Emma always seemed to be smiling when Regina walked into the room, or how Regina had stopped snapping at Emma as much, well, mostly. And the pyjamas.
This was the third time now, and he wanted to be sick of seeing it, but he couldn’t be. “She never lets me sleep like that,” Henry muttered, frowning. “Not fair.”
He watched as Regina murmured something. Emma’s response was instinctive, and she pressed a kiss to Regina’s temple before lying back down on the pillow.
“What?” Henry whisper-yelled as he covered his mouth comically.
He tiptoed backwards, trying not to make a sound. He wasn’t angry or freaked out, just surprised.
In the kitchen, he poured another glass of milk, despite still having a full bladder and being completely restless, leaning against the counter as he stared out into the dark.
“So they’re, like… together?” he said to himself. “Like together-together ?”
He thought back to all the times Emma had been around recently. How often she made him laugh, how she didn’t even flinch when Regina got bossy. How they always seemed to fall into this unspoken rhythm, like they just worked.
Henry tilted his head, considering the idea. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. She does wear those goofy pyjamas. And Mom’s always- wait. Wait.”
His glass of milk hovered in mid-air as realisation hit him. That was why Emma had blushed when he complimented her pyjamas the other night. That was why Regina had snapped at him for staying up too late because Emma was around, and they were both trying not to be obvious.
He finished his milk, rinsed the glass in the sink, and crept back upstairs. As he passed by Regina’s door again, he couldn’t help but look inside one last time.
Nothing had changed. Henry sighed and smiled. At least they looked happy.
“Ok, cool. Moms,” he whispered as he climbed back into bed. “Whatever. I’m going back to sleep.”
He pulled the covers up to his chin, his thoughts finally settling as he closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he’d give Emma grief for stealing his mom’s brownies (not to mention her heart), but for now? Yeah, okay. It was kind of nice having her around.
So... thanks, big New York Subway rats.
The fourth time Henry noticed Emma’s pyjamas was when his mother was sick. A blanket, crooked from Emma’s clumsy attempt at tucking her in, rested loosely across her lap.
Emma walked back into the living room, her socked feet making no sound on the floor as she carried a mug of tea. Her movements were careful, but Regina noticed her right away; she looked excited.
“I’m not saying you should get sick more often,” Emma started, plopping down cross-legged on the floor beside the couch. “But I’m also not-not saying you should get sick more often. You look absolutely adorable.”
Regina raised an eyebrow, taking the mug and eyeing Emma over the rim. "Adorable?" she repeated, voice thick with sarcasm. "You’re calling me adorable when I'm sweaty, miserable, and wrapped up like a child?"
Emma grinned. "Hey, I’ve seen you handle a full-blown town crisis in stilettos without blinking. I think I get one moment to see you as an actual human being."
Regina sighed, closing her eyes as if that might make Emma disappear. "I don’t like this," she muttered. "I’m incapacitated against my will, and I resent you for enjoying it."
The blonde tilted her head, chin resting on the edge of the couch. Her voice dropped into a teasing whisper. "I know,” she said. “But you’re stuck with me, sooo… let me do this, ok? I promise I won’t mess up your pillows again."
Regina cracked an eye open, studying Emma. She hadn’t meant to let Emma into her life like this, but somewhere between co-parenting Henry and saving the town from one crisis after another, Emma had carved out a space for herself that Regina couldn’t quite bring herself to close off.
Before she could retort, the front door opened, and Henry’s voice echoed through the house.
“Mom?”
Regina straightened, pulling the blanket more tightly around herself. “In here, Henry,” she called.
Henry appeared in the doorway, his backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes lit up when he saw Emma. “Hey!”
“Hey, kid,” Emma said, patting the cushion beside her.
The boy bounded over, dropping his bag to the floor and climbing onto the couch. He paused when he noticed Regina’s pallor. “Are you okay, Mom?”
Regina smiled. “I’m fine, darling. Just a small cold.”
“She’s the worst patient ever,” Emma said with a smirk.
Henry laughed, leaning against Regina’s side. “Did you take medicine?”
“Yes, Henry,” his mother said, smoothing his hair. “Emma’s been quite… insistent.”
“Damn right,” Emma said, crossing her arms. “She’s not allowed to boss me around when she’s sick.”
“Language.”
Henry giggled, moving more comfortably against Regina. “You should rest more, Mom.”
Regina brushed her fingers against his chin. “I’ll rest if you do your homework without complaining.”
“Deal,” Henry said, though his eyes were already fluttering closed for an afternoon nap.
After the tea, Regina tried to relax, but her fever left her feeling sticky and uncomfortable. Normally, she wasn’t so risqué, but her body ached, and a bath was the best remedy, right?
She was perfectly calm in her master bathroom. Emma, on the other hand, seemed to be malfunctioning.
This was fine. Totally normal. People bathed other people all the time. Nurses did it. Caregivers did it. This was not weird. It was practical. Necessary.
“For someone who’s supposed to be sick, you sure look like you’re enjoying this a little too much,” Emma muttered, kneeling beside the tub like she was bracing for impact.
Regina leaned back into the water, steam curling around her skin. Her dark hair was piled into a messy bun, a few loose strands escaping, and there was a distinct amount of amusement in her eyes. "I read somewhere that warm baths speed up recovery," she said, letting her toes poke playfully above the water. "Besides, I wouldn’t have asked if I thought you couldn’t handle it."
Emma made a strangled noise, shifting awkwardly. "I can handle it," she shot back. "I just-” She gestured vaguely at the scene before her. “You’re… naked.”
Regina tilted her head and smirked. "Observant as always, Sheriff."
The woman groaned, already regretting everything. "That’s not what I meant! I mean, this is… new. For us. We’ve only been dating a few months, and you’re-you’re beautiful, ok? It’s distracting."
Regina raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Distracting, hmm? Should I feel flattered or concerned that my health takes second place to my… appearance?”
"Both?"
The brunette hummed, sinking a little deeper into the water, still looking far too pleased with herself. "Good to know." Neither of them spoke after that, Emma too focused on rinsing the cloth and running it along Regina’s arm. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, but it wasn’t not awkward, either.
Regina didn’t seem to mind. She tilted her head slightly, letting Emma gently sweep the cloth along the back of her neck.
“You’re good at this,” She purred.
Emma’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second before she forced herself to keep moving. “Yeah, well... it’s just washing. Not rocket science.”
Regina hummed again, that same low, satisfied sound that made Emma’s chest feel uncomfortably tight. She didn’t say anything else, just let Emma work in silence, the quiet broken only by the slosh of water and the occasional sniffle.
After a while, Emma found herself settling into whatever this was. The tension eased from her shoulders, and she even managed a smile when Regina let out a contented sigh, her head lolling to the side.
“Feeling better?” Emma asked, wringing out the cloth one last time.
Regina opened her eyes, a little glassy from the fever. “Much better.” She hesitated, then reached out, resting a cool hand on Emma’s wrist. “Thank you.”
Emma shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way her heart felt like it was definitely doing somersaults. “Anytime, Madam Mayor.”
Regina rolled her eyes but smiled, her fingers giving Emma’s wrist a faint squeeze before letting go.
“Now,” The blonde said, standing and grabbing the towel from the rack, “let’s get you out of here before you turn into a prune.”
Regina moved carefully, water cascading down her body in shimmering rivulets. Emma immediately squeezed her eyes shut, holding the towel out like a shield.
"Ok, I’m not looking," Emma announced. "Just step forward, and I’ll-"
"Emma, honey, wait-" Regina’s voice held a warning note, but it was too late.
Emma misjudged Regina’s position entirely. Still holding the towel, she stepped too close, bumping into the tub just as Regina shifted forward. Warm water sloshed over the rim, drenching her from the waist down.
"Oh, for-" Emma stood, her wet clothes clinging to her in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. She blinked at the puddle now forming on the floor, then slowly turned her head toward Regina, whose lips were pressed tightly together in a valiant but failing attempt not to laugh.
"I tried to warn you," Regina said, her voice breaking into a chuckle.
Emma let out a long-suffering sigh, still holding the towel awkwardly in one hand as she focused very hard on not looking at Regina’s very naked body. "This is not how I pictured this going."
"Really?" Regina quipped, smirk fully intact. "You didn’t imagine being soaked head to toe while rescuing your damsel in distress?"
Emma groaned, cheeks burning. She tilted her head back dramatically, addressing the ceiling. "Why do I even try?"
Regina’s chuckles melted into a cough, and Emma immediately moved closer, steadying her. Her wet clothes squished as she wrapped the towel around Regina without looking directly at her.
"Hold still," She said, zeroing in on Regina’s eyes, the one part of her that wouldn’t get her into trouble.
They moved toward the bedroom, both of them leaving a trail of water in their wake. As they reached the doorway, Emma cast a glance back at the disaster she’d made of the bathroom and sighed. "Next time, we’re getting you a nurse."
"Next time," Regina echoed, her tone downright smug, "maybe you’ll listen when I warn you."
Emma chuckled, shaking her head. "No promises."
An hour later, she adjusted the blanket over Regina’s legs as she settled onto the couch. The TV remote was balanced on her lap alongside another steaming mug of tea, and Regina, bundled in her favourite soft robe, was stretched out with her feet resting on Emma.
"Henry!" Emma called up the stairs. "We’re starting the movie! You coming or what?"
There was a shuffle upstairs, followed by Henry’s voice drifting back down. "What are you watching?"
"Your mom picked it," Emma replied, nudging Regina gently. "It’s not animated, so don’t blame me."
Regina rolled her eyes. "It’s The Princess Bride, Henry. A classic. We need to rewatch it."
“As you wish,” Emma said mockingly.
It was just a joke. Just Emma playing along. Except Regina’s breath hitched, just for a second. Barely noticeable, but she felt it.
Because she knew what those words really meant. "As you wish." In the movie, it always meant I love you. Westley had never needed to say it outright, and yet, every time he spoke those three words, the meaning had been unmistakable.
Regina and Emma had joked about love before, tossed the words around in a teasing way neither of them had been ready to make real. Not that Regina ever needed Emma, her beautiful, stubborn, sweet Emma, to say it. She already knew.
Still, though… it would be nice to hear it. Just once. Just to know what it felt like.
Her fingers toyed with the edge of her blanket, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "Emma…"
"Hmm?" Emma’s eyebrows raised.
Regina hesitated. She was being ridiculous, really. But she still found herself considering it, considering asking for something silly and sentimental just because she could. Because Emma was Emma, she’d probably roll her eyes and say it again just to make Regina smile.
"Would you-"
"Seriously?" Regina nearly jumped as Henry’s voice cut through the moment, standing at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed. "You’re in pyjamas again?" he asked, staring at the blonde like she had committed some unspeakable crime.
His mother pressed her lips together, exhaling through her blocked nose. Immaculate timing, as always.
Emma, oblivious to her near-confession, chuckled. "What’s that supposed to mean?" She wasn’t going to explain to this child why she needed to change. No freaking way.
"It means I’ve seen you in pyjamas more times this week than I’ve seen you in your sheriff’s jacket. Don’t you have a reputation to maintain or something?"
The sheriff smirked, leaning back into the couch. "Oh, so now you’re worried about my street cred?"
"I’m just saying," Henry said, crossing his arms. "If people find out Storybrooke’s big bad Sheriff Swan spends all her time lounging in PJs, it might ruin the whole 'tough hero' thing."
"I’ll have you know these are practical pyjamas. Perfect for lounging and hero work."
Henry snorted as he wandered into the living room, his gaze shifting to Regina, who was awfully quiet, but he assumed she was just tired from the long day.
Fifteen minutes in, and Regina was already knocked out cold. Well, all thanks to Emma shoving a plastic measuring cup filled with cherry-red cough syrup. She wasn’t impressed at all.
Emma carefully removed Regina’s glasses, folding them with precision and putting them on the coffee table. Her other hand brushed against Regina’s temple, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. For a moment, Emma’s expression changed into something unguarded, a look so tender that it made Henry’s stomach do a weird flip.
He didn’t say anything, though. Instead, he stuffed another handful of popcorn into his mouth and turned back to the TV, where they’d changed the channel. He didn’t entirely get why Emma and Regina were suddenly so nice to each other, but he wasn’t about to question it too hard.
"You okay over there, kid?" Emma asked, catching him staring.
Henry blinked and quickly shook his head. "Yeah. Just... trying to figure out if this movie’s actually scary or just pretending to be."
"Oh, it’ll scare you. And if it doesn’t, you can always sleep down here with your mom and her duck socks."
Henry chuckled, throwing a piece of popcorn at her. "Please. I’m tougher than that."
He paused for a moment, popping another kernel into his mouth as the screen darkened ominously. Then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, "But, y’know... if it is too scary, I think I’d be okay hanging out here with you two. Feels kinda... safe."
Emma blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. She smiled and she reached over to ruffle his hair. "Good to know, tough guy." Henry swatted her hand away with a grin, but when a ghost popped out of nowhere on the screen, he inched a little closer, just in case.
The living room was a whirlwind of books, scrolls, and loose papers, evidence of hours spent unravelling the intricacies of the curse. Emma sat on the arm of the couch, her plaid pyjama top rumpled and her hair loose, tumbling into her eyes as she flipped through yet another book. Across the room, Regina, ever poised, stood by the table, one elegant finger skimming a line in an ancient tome.
Emma sighed dramatically, tossing the book onto the pile. "If this curse doesn’t kill us, it’s going to bore us into an early grave."
Regina smiled, though she didn’t look up. "You’re not bored, darling. You’re impatient. And you’re hungry."
"I am hungry! You said you’d make something hours ago, and yet, here I am, wasting away. I might just faint."
Regina finally looked up, her dark eyes twinkling. "If you faint, I’ll simply revive you, with no food involved, of course. I wouldn’t want to reward bad behaviour."
Emma rolled her eyes but grinned, sliding off the couch to cross the room. She stopped beside Regina, leaning just close enough to brush their arms together. "C’mon, Regina. What happened to being nice to me? I thought I’d earned some brownie points."
The mayor set her book down, turning to face Emma fully. Her smile turned mischievous, and she reached up, running a single finger along Emma’s bottom lip. "You think you deserve brownie points?" she teased.
Emma stopped. Her cheeks instantly flushed at the featherlight touch. She was about to respond, something witty, probably, or at least an attempt at wit, when Regina leaned in, "Perhaps you’d like a kiss instead? Or are you too hungry for that?"
Emma’s heart skipped, and her hands twitched at her sides, itching to pull Regina close. But Regina, ever the master of self-control, pulled back just enough to keep Emma flustered and off-balance.
"Gina…" The blonde muttered, her voice somewhere between a plea and a growl.
Regina laughed as she stepped back, retrieving the book she’d been studying. "Patience, Sheriff Swan," she said as though she wasn’t blushing too. "Good things come to those who wait."
Emma opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Henry’s voice called out from the doorway, groggy but curious. "What are you guys doing?"
The blonde jerked back like she’d been caught raiding the cookie jar (again), her cheeks now blazing red. She stumbled a step away from Regina, suddenly very interested in fiddling with the cuffs of her pyjama sleeves. Regina, of course, was the picture of calm as she turned to Henry.
"Just working on the curse, sweetheart," Regina said, her tone motherly. "What are you doing awake this early?"
Henry shuffled into the room, rubbing his eyes. "Emma’s still in her pyjamas? Isn’t it like 6 already?" He gave her a look, equal parts amused and judgmental, as if he wasn’t wearing pyjamas on this very Saturday morning.
Emma threw her arms up, trying to shake off her embarrassment. "Again, with my pyjamas? This is like the fifth time you point them out."
Henry snorted, unimpressed, and flopped onto the couch, launching into a rambling story about how yesterday had been.
Regina walked off to the kitchen, her laughter following her as she disappeared around the corner. Emma stood there, still pink-cheeked and hopelessly flustered.
As Henry chattered on, she tried to listen to his story about talking squirrels (?), but her mind kept replaying the touch of Regina’s finger against her lip and the way she’d walked off with that self-satisfied smirk.
She huffed to herself, biting back a smile as she put away a few books. Regina might have won this round, but Emma was determined.
She’d get her kiss. Eventually.
Emma’s yellow bug came to a halt in front of Regina’s house, and the moment the engine died, Henry wanted to run and hide. He was already standing on the porch, hands on his hips in that all-too-familiar please don’t make me endure this pose.
“Do we have to take your car, Emma?” he asked with mock despair. “Can’t we just take Mom’s? It’s less... embarrassing.”
Emma leaned out the window as she looked at him. “Hey, the bug’s understated. You should feel lucky to be in its presence.”
Henry shot an exaggerated look at Regina, his face practically pleading for her to come to his rescue. “Mom?”
Regina raised an eyebrow, looking at Emma with a slightly amused, almost condescending expression. “For once, I think I agree with Henry. Your car has... charm. But let’s take mine tonight.”
Emma sighed dramatically as she opened the door. “Fine. But just for the record, you two are missing out on all the vintage charm the bug has to offer.”
The ten-year-old rolled his eyes, saying something under his breath as he climbed into the backseat of Regina’s car.
Emma, in a rare burst of effort, had traded in her usual leather jacket for a sharp button-up shirt and tailored black pants, looking almost respectable. Henry couldn’t quite decide whether that was a good or bad thing. He’d never admit it, but he wasn’t a fan of this version of Emma. Too fancy, he thought.
As the blonde slid into the passenger seat, she glanced over at Regina, who had already slipped behind the wheel. The two of them exchanged a smile, and Emma’s heart skipped. She couldn’t help it. Every time Regina looked at her like that, like she was the only thing in the world, Emma felt an embarrassingly soft flutter in her chest.
She shifted in her seat, trying not to be too obvious about it. “You look nice tonight, Regina. That dress? Very Mayorly,” she said.
Regina glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, her lips curling slightly. “And you don’t look entirely like a delinquent for once. How miraculous.”
From the backseat, Henry dramatically covered his stomach, making a sound as if he might vomit. “If this gets any sappier, I’m going to be sick,” he groaned. Emma rolled her eyes. He was so dramatic, but despite herself, she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
The diner was crazy by the time they got there. The kind that felt uniquely Storybrooke. Granny’s was packed to the brim, laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls.
The smell of fresh-baked bread and cinnamon hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sugary scent of glazed donuts that sat proudly on display at the counter. Emma Swan, however, stood on the outskirts of it all, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. David stood next to her, talking about something Emma hadn’t been paying attention to for the last five minutes.
Because Emma’s focus wasn’t on David. It was on her not-so-girlfriend.
Regina stood near the centre of the room, holding court like she always did, even at an informal town event. Only now did Emma get a good look at the dark, tailored dress that hugged her in all the right places, and her perfectly styled hair framed her face as if she’d stepped out of a Vogue cover shoot. She was talking to Granny and Dr. Whale, laughing occasionally at something Granny was rolling her eyes at.
"Emma?" David’s voice cut through her thoughts.
"Huh?" Emma blinked, jerking her head to look at her father.
David frowned. “I asked if you think Regina’s warming up to the idea of these events. She looks… happy tonight.”
Emma looked back at Regina. Happy? Maybe. Polished, intimidating, perfect, those were the words that came to mind. But happy? She wasn’t sure. She’d hoped.
“Sure,” Emma mumbled.
David sighed, but whatever he was going to say next got cut off when Regina excused herself from the group, her heels clicking as she headed toward the back hallway. The bathroom.
Emma pushed off the wall without thinking.
“Where are you going? Killian’s calling us over,” David asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh, bathroom,” Emma said quickly, already halfway across the room.
The hallway was quieter as Emma leaned against the opposite wall, trying to look casual or as casual as you could look when you were blatantly waiting outside the bathroom for your… what was Regina to her, anyway? Girlfriend? She just assumed and never really got around to asking.
Before she could spiral too far down that train of thought, the door swung open. Regina stepped out, the sound of running water lingering faintly as she dried her hands on a paper towel. She stopped when she saw Emma, one perfectly arched brow lifting.
“Were you waiting for me?” she asked, amused.
“No,” Emma lied immediately, crossing her arms.
Regina smirked, tossing the paper towel into a nearby bin. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“When can we leave?”
Regina’s lips twitched. “We just got here.”
“But it’s so boring,” Emma said, dragging out the word. “And stuffy. And crowded. And boring.”
“You already said boring.”
“Because it’s extra boring,” the blonde insisted. “Come on, let’s just sneak out. No one will notice.”
Regina shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Not now, dear.”
“Reginaaa,” Emma whined, stepping closer. “Please? I’ll owe you.”
The woman raised an eyebrow once again. “You already owe me for at least three other things this week.”
“Four, actually,” Emma admitted sheepishly.
“Exactly,” Regina smirked, and then her gaze softened. She reached out, her thumb brushing lightly over Emma’s nose. Emma froze, caught off guard.
“You have glaze on your face,” Regina explained, holding up her thumb as proof.
Emma grinned. “I’m a multitasker. Eating donuts and making bad decisions at the same time.”
Regina rolled her eyes. “And by the way, once we do get out here, no, Emma, you can’t sleep over tonight. Greg called, and your place is rodent-free,” she said preemptively, clearly recognising the look in Emma’s eyes.
“Why not?” Emma whined, stepping closer.
“Because I have actual work to do in the morning,” Regina said patiently.
Emma pouted. “I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“You’re never quiet. And frankly, it’s like I’m not even dating you, but babysitting you.”
“But I am your baby.”
Regina blinked, momentarily thrown by the statement, before a laugh escaped her lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And adorable,” Emma added.
The brunette sighed, glancing at her watch. “Alright. Twenty-five more minutes. Then we can leave.”
Emma’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?”
Regina nodded. “Really.”
Before she could react, Emma leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her jaw, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. “You’re the best.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Regina said, but there was no bite to her words.
Emma took a step back, practically bouncing on her heels. “I’ll go wait by the door.”
Regina watched her go, shaking her head with a smile that stayed long after the sheriff disappeared. "My baby," she murmured to herself, turning back toward the bustling diner.
But of course, Doctor Hopper and a wandering Henry had to ruin Emma’s plans for an early night’s rest.
She’d been so focused on staring at her shoes that at first she didn’t see Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Killian in tow; of course, they couldn’t let Emma off the hook.
“Emma! It’s so nice to see you dressed up for a change,” Mary Margaret said, eyes wide. “I barely recognised you without your leather jacket.”
Ruby grinned, her eyes taking in Emma’s outfit like a hawk. “Yeah, and heels? Whoa. Did I miss a memo? What’s the occasion?”
Killian raised an eyebrow. “You know, Swan, you look downright respectable tonight. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone’s trying to impress a certain someone...”
Emma felt her cheeks burn, but she shot him a playful look. “Very funny, Killian. I just, you know, decided to dress appropriately for once. No big deal.”
But Henry, oh, Henry, he wasn’t going to let it slide that easily.
“Yeah, and she’s not even in her pyjamas for once!” he said, way too loudly, clearly having had too much sugar for the night. “You guys should see her at home. Flannel every time I turn around.”
There was a beat of silence. A maddening silence. Everyone turned to Henry, then to Emma, and then back to Henry. Ruby’s eyebrows shot up, Killian’s grin stretched wider, and Mary Margaret tilted her head in utter confusion.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ruby said, leaning in with a devilish grin. “Emma’s been hanging out at your place, Henry? In her pyjamas?”
Mary Margaret looked between the group and Emma, blinking. “I thought you were staying at the loft, Emma. Why would Henry be seeing you in pyjamas at Regina’s house?”
Emma immediately panicked, flailing her hands in front of her as if she could physically stop the flood of questions. “Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions here! It’s not like-”
Henry, bless his soul, couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire. “She’s always there! Sometimes she’s even there in the morning. Once, she had pancakes with me in her PJs.”
Killian, clearly enjoying this a little too much, laughed. “Oh? Pancakes in the morning? My, my, Swan. Sounds awfully domestic.”
Emma flailed again, her brain desperately trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t involve, ahem, her pyjamas and Regina. “I-I was helping with... curse stuff!”
Ruby wasn’t entirely unconvinced. “In pyjamas? At breakfast? Sounds like pretty cozy curse work to me.”
Just when Emma thought it couldn’t get worse, the boy chimed in again, completely deadpan. “And don’t forget grilled cheese night! Emma burned hers, so Mom made her a new one.”
Regina, who had just joined the group, shot a sharp glance at Emma, her perfectly arched brow betraying a hint of something, maybe panic, maybe embarrassment? It was hard to tell.
Ruby snorted, hand over her mouth, trying to contain her laughter. “Regina. You’re cooking grilled cheese for her now? That’s cute.”
The mayor blushed, but she didn’t back down. “It was a one-time occurrence. Emma is perfectly capable of feeding herself.”
Henry wasn’t about to let that one slide either. “She’s not great at it,” he added, grinning wickedly.
Emma’s head dropped into her hands in pure mortification. “Henry. Please. I’ll buy you ice cream if you stop talking.”
But it was already too late. Ruby and Killian were both bent over in laughter, and Mary Margaret was still blinking in confusion. Killian, still grinning, leaned toward Regina with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, when’s the wedding?”
Regina’s glare could have melted steel. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, pirate?”
Emma could feel her soul leaving her body. She grabbed Henry’s arm and practically dragged him toward the car. “Okay, time to go. Thanks for the lovely evening, everyone. Bye now!”
As they climbed into the car, Emma refused to make eye contact with anyone. Her ears were burning. She heard Ruby shout after her. “Sweet dreams, Emma! Don’t forget your pyjamas!”
The sheriff collapsed in her seat, face buried in her hands. Henry was happily humming in the backseat, oblivious to her misery. Regina sighed, glancing over at Emma with the kind of dryness that only came after way too much awkwardness.
“Well, that went smoothly,” Regina said, her voice deceptively calm.
Emma groaned, completely defeated. “We’re never going to live this down.”
Henry’s voice suddenly piped up from the back. “At least they didn’t ask about the time you fell asleep on the couch with Mom, and kissed her on the lips!”
Emma and Regina both screamed in unison. “HENRY! ”