Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kissing Emma, when it finally happens, feels kind of inevitable.

They have been leaning on each other since after Zelena, both lonely and miserable, with a child in-between them and in need of a drinking buddy. Regina’s anger over Emma bringing Marian back quickly subdued in favour of bitter disappointment, something in her snarling at the nerve she had when she seriously thought she could have something with Robin, and it was easy to open the door to Emma, for Henry, to sit side by side and talk about their bad decisions and their bad luck and feel a little less alone.

Emma moved in with them in a matter of weeks. It makes sense: sharing a loft with a screaming child is unpleasant, and she wants to tug Henry close even if she has given up on any plans to run back to New York with him.

Each morning, Emma wakes up with only one alarm, but she grumbles all the way down the stairs and looks half-dead until she’s drowned her cup of coffee. Regina has learned to have it ready for her, and every time she fights off a smile at the sight, warmth filling up her chest.

Emma helps her with dinner, but she is never to be left in charge of it, or she will try to spring on them one of those ‘pick whatever you have in the fridge and cook it up in five minutes’ recipes that she mastered as a single mom, and Regina is categorically refusing to allow it. The bickering that ensues makes her forget that she’s ever felt lonely.

Emma looks at her with half-hidden smiles and affectionate eyes, and for a second Regina goes tense, wanting to show her hands in surrender, to prove somehow that she means no harm and she is a better person now, or she’s trying to be, then she remembers that she doesn’t have to, that Emma knows who she is and what she has done and she still was right by her side when she claimed not to have cast the curse this time around—she’s learned that being seen and being accepted rarely go hand in hand, yet it seems that she’s finally had some luck.

Emma says goodbye in the morning with a kiss on Henry’s temple and one to Regina’s cheek, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She presses herself against Regina’s side when they are watching a movie with Henry, she pulls her into tight hugs when they stay awake beyond a reasonable hour, drinks at hand and the words coming out even more easily with only a dim light on.

It feels natural when one of those nights they sit a little too close, stare a little too much, and both set down their drinks within a few seconds of each other. Regina’s hands rest uneasily on her lap, her eyes darting away as she presses her lips together and dares wondering if maybe—

Emma is the one to rush forward and press their lips together, just for a moment, short enough that if they wanted to they could write it off as a momentary lapse of judgement, surely to be blamed on the alcohol. But they are both hardly even tipsy, Regina’s cheeks are heating up for reasons entirely unrelated to what she’s been drinking, and Emma is still hovering way too close for her to even consider putting a stop to it.

Regina is the one to close the distance this time, only taking a shuddering breath before clasping her shirt to pull them back together. Emma melts into it after merely a moment, one hand cupping the back of Regina’s head as she shifts to come closer, pressing her body harder against hers as she makes her way between Regina’s legs.

It’s easy, like they were meant to be doing this. And perhaps it was just a long time coming, perhaps Regina just hadn’t realized how deep her affections ran before she was tasting her, but she feels a little dizzy and her eyes sting.

Emma pulls back just enough to look at her in the eye and smile, almost childlike, lighter than she’s seen her being most of the time since—ah.

For a moment, Regina debates not saying anything, pulling her in for another kiss and forgetting about tomorrow. But they have a kid upstairs, a kid whom they both love very much and who doesn’t need them unable to look at each other in the eye. For him, she’d sacrifice just about anything.

“Are you sure this time?” Regina asks, pulling back only slightly, because Emma’s fingers are still buried in her hair and she loathes to shake them off.

As anticipated, Emma’s smile twists to a frown. Confusion clouds her face for a moment, then comes the understanding, until she eventually settles on a more serious, almost solemn expression.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m sure,” she says, softly. She sounds honest, but Regina is hesitant to believe her.

“We have Henry,” she reminds her, as stern as she can manage to be. “We can’t afford a falling out.”

“I know.” Perhaps the fact that Emma has yet to pull away is to be read as a good sign. “I promise that I mean this, I am not just trying to—to feel something. I promise.”

One of their main topics of conversation that first night they spent drinking together had been Emma’s very poor decision to jump in bed with Hook. It was all good and fun while it lasted, but it was little more than an attempt at a distraction, at feeling something good and not thinking about everything else going on in her life.

Running from grief and unhealthy coping mechanisms were kind of a recurring topic even afterwards, and they joked that at least Emma didn’t turn to murdering or cursing people. It could always be worse.

Regina tries to imagine if she could have been ready, so soon after Daniel, to start something with anybody else, and—and she isn’t sure she could have. There was just too much, it was a wound too fresh, a new relationship would always be too tainted—yet, for Emma it’s different. She’s said it herself that Neal being gone is an ache that she’s had to get used to already, so maybe—maybe it’s real.

Maybe, Regina dares hoping, letting herself be drawn into another kiss, closing her eyes and melting into the newfound warmth. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Rumple brings him back. He finds a backdoor to the Dark One’s vault and he pulls Neal right out, since he was apparently never really lost.

Regina bitterly thinks that death never seems as permanent as it’s supposed to be these days, and that probably doesn’t say good things about her character, but at the moment she is not interested in bettering herself.

She watches as Emma wraps her arms around Neal and buries her face in his shoulder, Henry squeezed between them, and they look like the perfect little family. There’s no vacant space, no need for her to intrude.

Regina supposes it makes sense: Robin’s whole being lit up as soon as he had Marian back, so he went back to her—the same could be said for Emma as she laid eyes on Neal, and Regina gets it, she does, truly, how could she not, after the hours they’ve spent reminiscing?

She knows that Emma thinks Neal might have been – might be – her True Love, on account of Henry’s magic heart and a very durable keychain, and because it feels true, somehow. Regina isn’t going to stand in the way of that, of course she isn’t.

After all, if she could have Daniel back—well, no, maybe she isn’t so sure it would work for her. Daniel fell in love with a young woman longing for her freedom, gentle and bright and so blissfully hopeful, and there is so little of her left in Regina now. She isn’t sure she’d know how to be herself around Daniel. She wonders if she’d long for Emma and her acceptance.

Still, no use in crying over it.

Regina understands, and if she wants to burn the whole world down at the moment—well, she’s learning how to be better than that. Maybe one day it will be enough for her to deserve some happiness.

Emma comes home.

Henry is with Neal, she says, and there’s a smile still lingering on her face. It’s beautiful, and it makes Regina’s chest ache.

It doesn’t take Emma long to notice her discomfort, to ask what is wrong. Regina almost spits out that if she is looking for the right words to let her know that she is a consolation prize and she’s overstayed her welcome, there’s no need, she already knows. The door is over there.

Instead, she says: “You can go to him, I understand.” Progress.

Emma frowns. “I think he and Henry should have some time alone together right now,” she answers, slowly. “Though I get the feeling that is not what you meant.” She steps forward, brushes her fingers against Regina’s wrist and frowns more deeply when she steps back. “Come on, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“You have the one you truly want back, so—you can go.” Regina’s tone is surprisingly even for someone whose very bones are shaking. “I won’t keep you. As I’ve said, I get it.”

“What are you talking about?” Emma sounds genuinely exasperated. “I told you that I wasn’t just looking for a rebound, I—I am not going to leave you just because Neal is back! I’m with you! Me and Neal can be friends, it’s fine.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Regina snaps, almost a snarl. “I know you don’t want that.”

“Oh, so you know all about what I want now?” Emma snorts, a bitter challenge. She almost rises to it, because blowing them both up in a fight – metaphorically or not, she hasn’t decided – feels like exactly what she needs, yet—Henry. There’s Henry to consider.

So Regina takes a breath, shakes her head, squares her shoulders.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t love him,” she says, slowly. She wants it to be even, it comes out bitter. “I am not going to get in the way of True Love and have you resent me in a few months, and since I don’t think he’d be willing to share—”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Emma suddenly interrupts, her increasingly frustrated face turning somehow expectant.

Regina chokes on her own words, feeling like she has missed a step and fallen to the ground, unsure how to get back up. She pushes back a wave of tears, somehow getting out a quick: “What?”

“Share?” Emma echoes, a weird inflection in her tone. “Is that—is that a thing people usually do, in the Enchanted Forest?”

Regina wonders if she’s reading her right when she thinks that there’s hopefulness creeping up on Emma’s face, and her stomach shrinks a little. “It’s—not uncommon,” she says, carefully.

“Oh,” Emma breathes out, her lips twitching into a quick smile. “Oh. Okay, so, putting a pin for a second on the fact that I don’t want to leave you, you are not my consolation prize and me and Neal have been not-together for a decade already, it’s complicated and we don’t have to give it another try—would you be okay with something like that?”

Regina stares, her mouth dry and her head feeling a little too light. She can’t seem to take a satisfying breath, and she has no idea if it’s because she can’t believe Emma’s claim that she’d choose her or because she’s letting the hope that she can keep her anyway get to her.

“I mean…” she manages to choke out, her voice thin. “Yeah…”

And she is.

She is okay with it.

Yet, when she finds out that Neal is on board too, when they have to establish some ground rules and she has to tame the beast snarling in her at the thought of sharing not only Henry but the entirety of the family that she’s built, she is just as disappointed as she is relieved.

This way, she won’t lose Emma: there is no choice to be made, so she can’t be left behind when she’s recognized as second-best, again.

At the same time, part of her almost wanted to test Emma, to see if she would actually make good on her promise to stick by Regina’s side and keep at it, for the next month, year, forever. Because part of her, the somehow ever hopeful part, believes that Emma is different, that she just needs a chance to prove that she loves her as more than a consolation prize.

This way, instead, Emma gets to keep both the person she actually wants and the rebound. Regina will never have to know.

(Half of her rejoices, the other half hates it. Still, she’ll take what she can get.)