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There's hair in her mouth. It's too long to be hers and Regina pulls it free from her lips. Her tongue is cotton, half-stuck to the roof of her mouth. Sheets still cling to her skin, even though the sweat has long dried. Arms wrap around her, holding her close. She's never woken up this way before. Graham rarely slept over and Leopold never held her. It wasn't they way they were.
These arms hold her close around her chest, one hand even on her breast. Licking her lips, Regina tries to make sense of her position. The sheets around her aren't hers, not only because the flower pattern is dreadfully cheery, but because she doesn't own anything that feels like this. Her lips taste of sex, salty and ever so slightly foreign. Lifting her head, she realises that her pillow is Emma's very naked chest. She's been curled around her so tightly that Emma had to hold her, just to have a place to put her arms.
There are pink marks on Emma's neck and along her collarbone, some of them darkening into bruises. Hickeys- Regina's exhausted mind supplies the terrible word. She did this. She marked Emma's pale skin. Her sex still aches from Emma's touch and the pleasant soreness of the morning after reminds her exactly what they spent most of the night doing. She remembers the exquisite pleasure of Emma's mouth between her legs, the way Emma moaned when she reversed their positions and the way her teeth tingled when Emma finished her for the second time with the strap-on that's still lying next to the bed.
It's half-wrapped in a towel, as if the silicone too has a sex-induced hangover to sleep off. She took Emma deep and it's been almost a year since Graham. The stretching ache of Emma entering her springs into her memory and Regina pulls back the towel on the nightstand, staring at the deep red appliance. It only vaguely resembles a male organ, and she finds that comforting. It's an Emma shade of red, dark like her jacket, and Regina remembers begging for it to be inside her and how Emma made her writhe beneath her.
She gave herself up. It wasn't just for the pleasure, or to ease her loneliness, she let Emma have control. She never does that. Graham was hers, as she was once Leopold's plaything. She's never been asked what she wanted or allowed to demand. Emma whispered that they could get her one, or she could magic one up.
Emma thought it should be purple, or navy blue and as much as she adores the idea of being in Emma, she's not sure there's another night like this waiting for them. Something has to wear off, to break, to change, because she can't be this happy.
Emma sighs beneath her and reaches up to smooth Regina's wild hair. "Hey."
"Emma, I--" What does she want to say? Does she need to apologise for taking advantage of Emma in her weakened state? Should she just take her clothing and leave before this gets any worse? Right now they could pretend it hasn't happened, couldn't they? No one has to know.
"Don't go," Emma says. Sitting up, Emma kissed her even though she must taste like stale cider and sex. "We can have breakfast."
"You and I?"
"Aren't you hungry?"
Despite eating well last night, her hunger gnaws at her as if she skipped dinner entirely.
"Come on," Emma says, offering her a hand. "I don't have much in the way of breakfast, other than cereal, but I'm sure there's enough for pancakes. Maybe even waffles if I haven't used up all the eggs."
"Waffles?"
Emma's out of bed, fully nude and she doesn't even bother to put on her panties or a bra before pulling on an old t-shirt.
"Don't you eat waffles?"
"Emma, shouldn't we?"
Tossing her a t-shirt that reads 'NAVY' across the chest as if she were a cadet, Emma grins. "Shouldn't we what?"
"Don't we need to talk?" Regina reaches for her bra but Emma pulls it out of reach.
She grabs Regina firmly by her ass, pulling her close. Brushing Regina's hair back, Emma kisses her again, this time hard and wanting.
"Maybe we haven't worked up enough of an appetite." Emma nibbles her lip, then pulls back. "What do we need to talk about?"
"You're charmed."
"You are pretty charming." Emma smacks her bare butt lightly, then passing her an incredibly old pair of sweats. Regina has never worn anything with a hole in the knee, but Emma seems to think they are acceptable clothing.
"Emma."
Taking her hands, Emma sits down on the bed, still naked below the waist and pulls Regina down next to her. "What are you trying to say? I'll listen so you can get it out."
"You're cursed."
"I'm fine."
"Nova and Ruby and the mistletoe--"
"Shouldn't the cloves have cured that?" Emma pulls one of the stray bits of spice out of the sheets and flings it across the room. They brought some of them to bed for other reasons than chasing charms away and Regina's fingers still smell faintly of spice and Emma.
"Yes."
"Unless I'm not charmed and I honestly, truly love you."
"You can't--"
Emma squeezes her hands and refuses to let them go. "Why not?"
"Because I--"
"Are intelligent, passionate, loving, beautiful, funny, really kind of adorable--"
"I am not."
"I love you," Emma repeats.
Regina senses no magic between them, no humming confusion or misplaced emotions. There's no sense in this, but no magic either. If Emma's been tricked, it's something older than she knows.
"Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Why would you?"
"Regina, you're really very loveable. You laugh when I'm trying to be funny. You kiss like it's going to be made illegal. You make this little growling sound in the back of your throat when I touch you--" Emma stops speaking and slides her fingers up Regina's thigh for emphasis.
"I can't."
Emma hugs her, holding her so tightly that it's almost all right not to breathe. "I didn't think I could, or that I ever should. Love hurts and they leave and you're empty inside. I built all these walls and rules to keep that emptiness away, and now it's gone. Maybe that was magic, but I love you without it. I think that you could love me too, no magic required."
Releasing her, Emma strokes her chin. "Come on, you'll feel better once you've eaten and I have coffee."
Surely this is all part of some bizarre dream, yet the hunger in her stomach is real, so is the cool floor beneath her feet. Emma pulls on an even older, more ragged pair of sweats and tosses a pair of mismatched socks at Regina. Her own socks are somewhere in the chaos of their discarded clothes, but it almost feels safer to be in Emma's. Putting her own clothing back on is too much like hiding behind the facade of being mayor. It isn't the mayor Emma loves, not the queen, but her.
Whoever she is now. She wanted to die as Regina, but she's still not sure she has the strength to live as her. Emma tasks her with making coffee and that's simple enough. The beans are even half-decent, if the grinder leaves something to be desired and the apparatus itself desperately needs to be cleaned out.
Emma throws things on the counter with purpose, taking out the hand-held beaters for the eggs. "I think this is everything. Henry and I have made waffles three times now and they've been mostly edible two of those times."
Regina sorts the ingredients, dry and wet and counts the eggs. Emma's taken out more than a dozen and though she's hungry, they hardly need enough waffles to feed an army.
"I don't think we--"
"Mom, Dad and Henry are going to be here in half an hour." Emma gestures towards her phone, lying on the counter. "Might as well have something for them when they get here."
All she has to do is teleport away, take her clothes, take her phone and come back for her car when Emma's safely away. Yet she doesn't. Even with the impending arrival of the last three people she'd like to see her dressed this way and rumpled from sex, Regina doesn't leave. Perhaps Emma makes her brave.
She sneaks into the bathroom and momentarily stares at Emma’s fairly inadequate obviously meant for a child's toothbrush before she smiles at the Harry Potter toothbrush that must be Henry's. He has an identical one in her own bathroom and though she'd rather he used an electric, as long as he keeps up flossing, she's willing to indulge him a little. Perhaps she ought to magically cover his electric in those garish gold and red Harry Potter house colours, just to make him more receptive.
"There's a new one under the sink," Emma says, slipping in behind her. She washes her hands, removing egg from the waffles and traces of Regina from her fingers. How can she be so calm? They're not even on the same side, are they?
"I don't want to take your reserve."
"It's yours," Emma says. Opening the plastic, she plunks the blue and silver toothbrush in Regina's hand. "You can be Ravenclaw, because you're such a nerd."
She ought to know Ravenclaw. Henry's mentioned it enough times. Is that the wicked house? She's not sure she's ready to defend herself from that association, not this morning, not with Emma here. If blue and silver is the house where that terrible wizard came from she'll probably cry.
"Don't worry." Emma kisses her with toothpaste foam on her lips. "Ravenclaw is the house of nerds. Mary Margaret- Mom- has the Slytherin one because she always feels bad for Snape. I think it's just a crush on Alan Rickman, but she won't hear of it."
Emma's toothbrush is yellow and black and it's not the same colour as Henry's. Why isn't she in the same house as Henry? Surely the saviour would be the house of heroes?
Regina tries to brush her teeth, but Emma's toothpaste is cinnamon, not mint, and it's strong, different and very much not her own. She spits because Emma's staring at her and she can't speak with her mouth full of foam.
"What colour is yours?"
"Hufflepuff. I like badgers. Nothing wrong with hardwork, too. Henry goes through toothbrushes too fast, so we've got an abundance of everything but Gryffindor. Dad has Hufflepuff too, and he's definitely that house. I'm really just in it for the badger. See?" Emma holds up her toothbrush to show off the tiny picture of the badger on the handle, then kisses Regina through their toothpaste. "You'll need one here anyway."
"I will?"
"Unless you want me to move in right away." Emma shrugs. "I thought that would be rushing things."
"You, move in, to my house?"
"Yeah." Emma pushes her against the sink, slipping her hands beneath the elastic waist of the sweatpants Regina's naked beneath. She teases the skin of Regina's hips, then kisses the back of her neck. "I can wait until you're ready to ask. I imagine you'll find some sweet way of asking."
"Emma, I--" Regina stops, because her eyes sting and she desperately wants Emma to touch her, to take her up against the sink because that at least makes sense. Moving in together, sharing a bathroom, a bedroom, her life: makes no sense at all. Graham only came when Henry was asleep. Emma would have breakfast with them and take Henry to school and she'd come to lunch, hold Regina's hand in the street, hug her in public and do all the things she hates watching Snow and David do together. Emma wants that.
Regina does too, so much that she can taste it through the toothpaste. She hates herself for wanting that. There's so much weakness just in standing here with Emma that it would be easier to fight, to push her away, but she can't.
She won't.
"You'd live with me?"
"You, me and the kid. It would work, wouldn't it? Two parents is the ideal, right?" Emma splashes water on her face and dries it on a towel before handing Regina the same towel. "Think about it. We'd be good together."
Regina blinks back tears then uses the slightly damp towel to hide them. Good has always been a loaded word but when Emma says it, she wants to be part of it. Not to make Emma happy, not to stop hurting, but because she wants it.
She could be free. She could love without hiding it, without lying or being afraid that it was all going to end. Emma embodies resilience more than anyone else she knows and she loves her. Emma loves her so much that it's bright in her eyes and she can almost believe that this time, she won't be alone. Emma doesn't leave. Her heart can't be taken. She's survived Pan, Cora, Greg and Tamara, even Regina herself.
Loving her could be beautiful, but she doesn't deserve it. She can't. There is no beauty for the wicked, the evil; the bad.
She was never good enough when she was a girl. Nothing was ever enough. Her mother was never happy, never proud of her, never loved her because she's not worth loving. Henry can't love her because she's not worth it, doesn't deserve it. She never has.
Except, a tiny, stubborn part of her says that her mother couldn't love her because she had no heart. It wasn't her fault. She would have been enough for her mother to be happy. It was Cora's fault they couldn't love, that she couldn't, and she runs.
Maybe there are too many endorphins running wild in her brain, perhaps she's over tired, but she leaves the bathroom and grabs Emma tight by the counter. Holding her close, so tight that Regina can hear Emma's heart beating, she tries to imagine a world where Emma lives in her house and wakes up next to her every morning. Could she really be this loving, kind and alive? Something's going to happen, something's going to go wrong.
The door opens inward and Henry and his grandparents hurry in from the cold. They stamp the snow from their boots, shake it off their coats and start hanging them up, all talking about the weather to Emma then they stop, staring.
"Hi mom!" Henry slips from his coat and starts to throw it on the floor before he picks it up and hangs it, as if he can feel her eyes before she even looks.
Emma keeps her arm around Regina's back, becoming a lifeline. Henry throws himself at both of them and Emma lets her do most of the hugging back. Snow and David are staring and they can see what Henry's too young to realise is in front of him.
"Was there too much snow? Grandpa almost got the truck stuck in the snow in the street and the plow hasn't been out yet. When it is I think the snowbanks will be higher than half the cars."
"Maybe. Is it the good kind of snow? Snowfort snow?" Emma ruffles his hair and he switches his hug to her before shyly returning to Regina's arms. Perhaps he senses how little defense she has today but he hugs her again and there's no fighting the tears in her eyes.
Henry struggles out of his boots while David and Snow hang everything up to dry.
"What makes it snowfort snow?"
"It has to be sticky." Emma stirs milk and spices into the flour, making a thick goop that might be edible as waffle if this day continues down the bizarre path it seems bent on. "Can you pick it up and make a ball in your hand or does it fall apart?"
Looking confused, Henry turns to his grandparents.
"Sticky," David says. "I think it's great snowfort snow." He must see the state of both of their hair and realise that Regina would never willingly dress like this. If he knows, he hides it better than she thought he could hide anything.
Snow's shock is written all over her face and she hugs her daughter just long enough to whisper something that Emma shakes off with a grin.
"I'm making waffles, Mom. If you want to help, start beating the eggs. The recipe says stiff peaks, whatever those look like."
"Think mountains," Henry says, taking a stool next to the cooking experiment.
"Your mom has the biggest yard in town," Emma says over the batter, as if planning a conspiracy. "Think we could convince her to let us build a fort in it?"
"Maybe." Henry looks her over.
"Perhaps she'd like to help," Snow says. She knows and it's written all over her expressive eyes. Yet she smiles, extending a hand to Regina and pulling her over to the little group she was backing away from. "Have you ever made a snowfort?"
"No." Regina shakes her head. Snow's hand is warm from being inside her gloves and Regina shouldn't still be holding it but she's either going to run, cry or laugh and maybe it'll be all three, yet Emma will still love her. That light in her eyes isn't a trick or a curse. Emma simply loves her, the way Daniel did, the way she never thought she could be loved again.
"Now, it was never ladylike, but my mother used to love being out in the snow. When she was alive, we'd build forts together and make up stories for the people who'd live there. Sometimes they were huge castles, sometimes they were mazes and dragons lived inside." Snow struggles to keep her smile because speaking of her mother is always hard, yet she manages.
"That sounds wonderful," David says, pulling her in to kiss her. He looks at Snow exactly the way Emma looks at her and even though Regina's jealousy rears within her, all she has to do is look at Emma for it to quiet.
The handmixer whirs to life, turning the eggs to a frothy blur. Snow takes over the waffles, David and Henry helping and Emma retreats to wrap her arms around Regina.
"What do you say, wanna build a snowfort? You, me, Henry and probably my parents, but I don't know how much help they'll be. It's not like anything's going to be open today with all the snow and it'll be fun."
Spending time with the two people she's hurt most is hardly her idea of fun, but she nods because Henry's grinning like mad at the idea and already plotting what it's going to look like.
Regina grabs Emma's hand tight. "You'll be there?"
"Of course."
"And after?"
"After we can have hot cocoa and you can cook something wonderful." Emma leans in and kisses her cheek. The handmixer stops whirring and spits egg whites into the air. David drops the spoon in his hand and Henry stares, mouth wide open.
Emma grins at all of them as if she's discovered something wonderful. "Regina and I are kinda together."
Standing at her side, Regina's both profoundly uncomfortable and strangely safe. Emma's unperturbed by the way Snow has to yank the cord from the wall to stop the mixer. Regina gulps but the words find their way out of her mouth anyway.
"In fact, we've moving in together." Regina's voice is barely hers, somehow strangled in her throat. She's not even sure she's said it, but the mixer is on the floor, David's picking it up and Henry's off his stool.
"Really?" He stares from one to the other. "Emma's coming to our house?"
Regina's heart flutters because he didn't call it her house, but theirs.
"Yeah kid." Emma waves him over and they hug him together. "Can't let all that prime snowfort building lawn go to waste now, can we?"
Snow washes off the beaters in the sink, somehow managing to smile when she turns to them. David wraps an arm around her shoulders and they face off with Henry in the middle.
"Okay," David says. "Do you want the truck to help you move?"
Snow fixes her eyes on Regina and there's no accusation in her smile this time. "Yes, it seems we're going to have some time off because the snow's still coming down. What can we do to help?"
"Save my waffles," Emma says, beaming. "Then I guess I'll need some boxes."
Regina can hardly fathom what's happening, or how it continues over the morning as a snowfort grows in her yard. Snow and David stay for lunch, then dinner, and when they finally leave to go home none of them are uncomfortable with Emma staying in her house.
Emma's moved in by the end of the week. The snowfort has eleven rooms and is starting to expand past her garden into the adjoining yards. She's never played in the snow before, but now she can't wait to get home from the office and add on another addition after work.
Then one morning, eight short days after she first kissed Emma Swan on a Friday night, Regina watches her carefully putting away her clothing in the drawers Regina emptied in her room for Emma's use. She tosses in her clothing lazily and Regina can picture the state they'll be in when Emma takes them out. She'll have to take over doing laundry if that's the way Emma puts anything away.
Emma folds the last shirt neatly and sets it down with a wicked grin. "What?"
"Nothing," Regina says, dragging her eyes up from the shirt.
"Oh?" Emma grins, sitting on the corner of their bed. "Come here, miss nothing."
Regina walks over, taking Emma's outstretched hand. "I was admiring that you actually can fold."
"Can. Usually don't." Emma pulls the last thing from her bag, hiding it behind her back. "Close your eyes."
Regina shuts them and Emma turns her palms for they're facing up, ready to receive something. Emma gently hands her surprise over and it rests cool in Regina's open palms.
Mistletoe.
"I was going to hang it up, but I figured you wouldn't want me messing with your ceiling."
Turning it in her hands, Regina smiles over the little sprig of green and white. "It would have been acceptable."
"Well then," Emma stands, looking for a chair.
Regina stops her, wrapping her arms around her neck. "I love you."
"Hey now," Emma jokes. "That's one hundred percent uncharmed mistletoe. No magic involved."
Regina kisses her, dropping the mistletoe to the floor as Emma's tongue finds hers. "You and I don't need magic."
Emma retrieves the mistletoe and fastens it on a jaunty angle above the bed with magic. "It's kinda fun though." Dragging Regina to the bed, Emma kisses her enough for a whole bush of mistletoe.
In the morning, Regina pulls on Emma's oldest pair of sweat pants and wears them beneath her robe down to the kitchen and there's mistletoe all over the ceiling, as if it's growing there. She lifts a hand to banish it, then stops.
It can wait for Emma to come down. Henry always sleeps late on weekends. Waiting for Emma, Regina makes coffee and takes out everything she needs for apple pancakes with apple and pork sausages. It's her favourite and she's so hungry lately in the mornings that she's allowing herself the indulgence.
Emma kisses the back of her neck, then Emma's up on the counter as Regina kisses her back.
They barely have the coffee done before Henry's moving upstairs and some of the ingredients for breakfast are on the floor, but it's perfect. This is her life how she never thought it could be.