Chapter Text
Chapter 1 : A familiar quiet
Mornings in Storybrooke could be tense, a slow wind down from uneasy, fraught nights of fighting curses, magic and those hellbent on their own righteous revenge. But when the battles were over and no villains surfaced, the calm bled through and mornings could rise in their own quiet comfort.
It was the kind of quiet that sat on windowpanes like dew, thick and still. A quiet fog that rolled over the docks leaving the waters glassy and still. A kind of quiet that lingered between two people who knew each other too well and not well enough.
Regina read through Henry's homework whilst she stirred her coffee absently, spoon clinking against the rim in a reliable rhythm. Across from her, Emma sat perched on the edge of the kitchen island like always, catching the soft morning light in her eyes, not quite blue, not quite green, flickering like something safe but untouchable.
Regina looked back down at the paper in her hands, pretending she hadn’t noticed.
Emma’s boot heels scuffed the cabinet as she listened to Henry rattle off his plans for the school day ahead. Regina flicked a glance her way, just enough to earn a smirk and an eye-roll. She didn’t bother telling Emma off anymore, she was long past pretending it still bothered her.
With her shirt sleeves rolled up, sleep lingered on Emma in the faint line across her cheek from a pillow she hadn't had the patience to smooth. It caught Regina's eye and she smiled into her coffee at the unguarded imperfection.
The zip on Henry's backpack whirred shut as he simultaneously tried to kick his feet into his shoes.
“It's a very thoughtful article,” Regina nodded with a soft smile, handing him back his assignment without further note, satisfied with his work. Henry grinned and uttered thanks, opening and closing his backpack again to include the papers.
“Let me know if you need to stay late,” she called after him as he made for the door. She was fast becoming accustomed to his new role at the school paper making his schedule less predictable.
“I won't forget this time!” He shouted back, already halfway through the front door, “love you moms.”
Emma chuckled, “He absolutely will forget.”
Regina's lips curved with gentle agreement, “And I'll absolutely be waiting in the car anyway.”
Emma hopped down from the counter, hands slipping straight to her back pockets, “Some habits die hard.”
Regina didn't need to respond. She only sipped her coffee and watched Emma as she moved easily around the kitchen like she’d always belonged in it, like each wall had been built with her in mind to fill the space. Emma, without noticing, slid the sugar closer to Regina's hand. Regina never asked for it, but Emma always remembered.
“So Madam Mayor, What's on the agenda for today?” She questioned, noting the particularly crisply ironed shirt, tightly buttoned blazer and flash of red adorning Regina's lips, her own kind of battle armour.
Regina sighed and wrapped her hands around the coffee mug as Emma plopped herself into the chair across from her. She voiced her scheduled day ahead, full of meetings with people she’d rather avoid. Dull bureaucracy with even more dull individuals, but she knew Emma would listen without a word. As she spoke, Regina tipped a trail of sugar into her mug, then slid the bowl toward Emma. Their fingers brushed. Regina’s gaze flicked up just as Emma dumped an ungodly amount into her own cup.
“Really?” Regina was never unsurprised by the amount of junk Emma was able to consume. “I'd rather you didn't die of a heart attack before noon.”
“The sheriff station pretty much runs off sugar and caffeine, you should be used to it by now,” Emma joked. “Don't worry, I promise to eat at least one vegetable at lunch.” Regina watched the dimples appear as Emma grinned at her, “One o'clock at Granny's?"
Regina hummed her agreement, it was their routine more often than not, lunch at Granny’s, maybe a shared walk back to her office, on days the Sheriff station was quiet and Emma was particularly bored, afternoon coffee would come hand delivered to her office and Emma would slump into one of her chairs pretending to be there on business, whilst mostly playing on her phone and being a mild but pleasant distraction.
The two sat in comfortable conversation, speckled with the occasional shared silence. Emma glanced at the clock.
“I should head out. Patrol.” She got to her feet and downing the rest of her coffee, balanced it with Henry's discarded cereal bowl to clear into the sink.
“Of course,” Regina nodded.
“Want a ride?” Emma smirked at her, an offer Regina never took her up on as Emma well knew.
“I'd like to arrive to my office in one piece thank you, which means avoiding that yellow monstrosity at all costs.” Regina challenged Emma to disagree with her, holding the quirk off her lips as much as she could. She had grown oddly fond of the Bug by this point, but would never give Emma the satisfaction of knowing so.
“Ouch,” Emma gave a gasp of faux woundedness, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter and patting it up and down in her hand. Regina watched the movement briefly in her periphery without turning.
"I'll win you over one day,” Emma laughed. Regina breathed a laugh.
“You're more than welcome to try. I wouldn't count on succeeding.” She stretched her fingers around her cup, the only action to belie her calm.
Emma reached over Regina to grab her keys off the table, her hand grazing Regina's shoulder as she turned. A light casual touch, fingertips, knuckles. But it lingered, Regina's breath held with it, just a second too long. Regina went still.
Emma didn't notice, or pretended not to. And Regina, Regina had become good at pretending.
So she smiled, smoothed her hair out of her eyes and said, “Tell your mother if she sends me one more saccharine inspirational quote about ‘moving forward’ I will set fire to my phone.”
“I think she keeps a stash of those quotes. Like emergency glitter bombs for your soul,” Emma laughed.
“That sounds... disturbingly plausible.”
Emma’s hand found Regina’s shoulder, this time solid, grounding. Regina had to remind herself not to lean into it.
“Seriously though, you okay?” Emma asked, quietly now. All the humor drained to something gentler.
“I have to be,” Regina said, the smile fixed. It had been three months. The ache lingered, though it felt more like absence than grief, absence of rhythm, of a life shared.
If she was honest, painfully honest, she wasn't so much grieving Robin himself anymore. He’d been a good man. She had loved him. But what she missed was hope of a happy ending, the togetherness of someone steady at her side. But that shape, had it ever really fit? She wasn't so sure anymore.
And more and more she found herself drawn to another shape, the shape of a sugar bowl pushed close without asking, to fingers brushing hers in passing, to the one person she could never afford to want.
“You don’t have to be anything,” Emma murmured. “You know we’re here, right?”
She gave a slight nod, gaze faltering under the weight of Emma’s sincerity. “Days are getting easier.”
Emma gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before stepping back. The moment passed. Regina folded her arms, tucking the thought away where Emma wouldn’t see it. Some truths she still wasn’t ready to speak aloud.
“You're going to be late,” Regina nodded towards the clock, “I'm sure Leroy is waiting for you to drag him out of a gutter somewhere,” Regina smirked.
Emma rolled her eyes and breathed a laugh in the easy way she always had.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“Thanks for not drinking all of it this time,” Regina retorted as Emma turned to leave.
Soon the door clicked shut behind her and the kitchen was still again.
Regina stood in the centre of it, arms folded across her chest. She looked at the chair Emma had left, still feeling the warmth on her shoulder where Emma's hand had laid.
She didn't move.
Granny’s was half full when Regina arrived, its familiar clatter and chatter humming in the background like an old, reliable tune. She slid into their usual booth, already knowing Emma would be five minutes late and fully intending to admonish her for it.
It had been a long morning. Too many meetings requiring too much patience. It would be easy to forget how many rulers and dignitaries had been cursed into more mundane roles in this town, until in the room with them, when they still bore the airs of believing the world should still cater to their whims.
Ruby approached with a coffee pot.
“Same as always?”
Regina nodded. “Yes. And the usual for Sheriff Swan.”
“You ordering for her again?” Ruby grinned.
“She’s predictable,” Regina replied smoothly, not bothering to deny it. Though her eyes narrowed at what looked like a knowing smirk from the waitress. She took a sip of her coffee and settled in. Glancing out of the window, the street was already littered with the crisp brown and gold of fallen leaves. Right on cue, the Bug lurched into view.
Emma stepped through the door in her red leather jacket, wind-tousled and grinning, already looking toward their table before anyone else. Regina didn't let herself smile, not openly. But something settled in her chest like an exhale.
Emma waved a lazy hand at Granny, then flopped into the booth across from Regina without preamble.
“Tell me you ordered grilled cheese.”
Regina didn’t even look up from her coffee. “You’re lucky I didn’t order you a salad.”
“You’ve tried. I’ve resisted. Our eternal struggle.”
Regina made sure to give an extra dirty look toward the plate Ruby had just placed in front of Emma, in pure defiance.
“The fact that what passes for food to you is ninety percent grease makes me worry for our son’s nutrition when he's with you.”
“Good thing he’s got a second mom who alphabetises her kale recipes,” Emma snarked with a grin, taking a handful of fries from her own plate and sliding them onto the side of Regina's salad.
“What are you…” she began before Emma cut her off.
“Same as yesterday, actually sharing so you don't have to keep pretending you don't want them and then stealing them when you think I'm not looking.”
Regina sighed, not bothering to deny it as Emma reached for the ketchup. She slid the bottle toward her without looking. Emma grinned at the gesture and nudged Regina’s foot under the table in thanks, lightly, like she always did. Familiar. Easy.
They ate for a moment in companionable silence, broken only by the clatter of dishes and the low murmur of other diners. Then Emma leaned back in the booth, her voice a little softer.
“Ruby says we’re basically married.”
Regina arched a brow. “Does she?”
She tried to refrain from shifting in her seat and held herself stiffly, too upright.
“Apparently, ordering my food before I get here makes us domestic.”
Regina hummed noncommittally, focusing a little too intently on her plate.
“Well,” she said, taking a delicate sip of her drink, “if I were married to you, you’d have better table manners.”
Emma laughed, bright and unabashed. “Untrue. I’d just corrupt you instead.”
Regina smiled despite herself. “I am a queen, you wouldn't stand a chance.”
“That’s what you keep telling yourself.”
They paused when Emma’s phone buzzed against the tabletop. She flipped it over lazily, but her eyes skimmed the message with a brief furrow of her brow. Regina didn’t miss it.
“Hook?” she asked, keeping her voice light. It was always Hook.
“Yeah,” Emma replied. “Just checking in. He’s out helping David with the perimeter this week.”
Regina nodded, schooling her face into something neutral. She’d never quite understood what Emma saw in him. Beyond the stubble and swagger there was very little she could see of any worth.
“How gallant.”
Emma snorted. “He’s trying to be. It’s… good.” She paused and Regina didn't care to offer any praise for the man for the simple act of trying, she didn't even feel he was.
“They get along and yeah…” Emma paused and Regina couldn't read her eyes, “he likes feeling in charge of something.”
“How thrilling.” Regina offered a thin smile, hoping it looked somewhat genuine. “No romantic lunch date then?”
Emma looked at her, eyes lingering just longer than Regina could hold, before glancing away to focus intently on her food. Setting the phone down, face unreadable she said, “He’s not really a ‘Granny’s for lunch’ kind of guy.”
“No,” Regina said mildly. “He strikes me more as a rum and pillage type.”
Disparaging remarks about the pirate were far too quick to slip from her tongue and she knew she should feel bad about it. Emma loved him and that was enough, that should be enough. But she couldn't help the words spilling forth when she saw how Emma's smile dimmed when he messaged, how she seemed so much smaller in his presence.
Emma huffed a laugh. “That sounds about right.”
Regina looked down at her half-finished plate, then up at Emma again. “You don’t have to keep saying it’s good.”
Emma blinked. “What?”
Regina shook her head lightly, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Never mind.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “Regina.”
Regina met her gaze with practiced ease and shrugged, voice casual “You don’t need to convince me. I’m not your mother.”
“Thank God,” Emma muttered.
Regina smiled, “Though I imagine she might be more forgiving of your table manners.”
“Nah,” Emma said, but she smiled sheepishly. The kind of smile that looked like it had learned to live alongside disappointment.
And Regina hated that she knew it well.
“Anyway,” Emma said, nudging Regina’s foot again, “don’t pretend you aren't considering ordering a side of onion rings.”
Regina gave her a look. “I'm considering banning them from the menu.”
“Okay, your majesty, compromise, one day you’ll cave and eat pizza with me on the couch like a normal person.”
Regina held her gaze. “I do. Sometimes.”
Emma blinked, caught off guard by the honesty, then smiled. “Yeah. You do.”
Emma leaned forward, elbows on the table now, chin in her palm, playful but watching her closely. “You’re in a better mood lately.”
Regina shrugged. “Maybe I’m just well caffeinated.”
Emma didn’t bite. “No, really. You seem… lighter.”
Regina looked out the window. “Not lighter. Just... steadier.”
Emma nodded, quiet now. “That’s good. I want that for you.”
The words were simple, but they ached. Not pity, Emma never spoke from pity. But kindness. And something else, a softness that made Regina want to lean closer and back away all at once.
“I know,” Regina said.
Emma offered her another fry, like a peace offering, or maybe just a distraction. Regina took it without comment.
The silence that followed was different. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just full. Regina felt it settle between them, the safety of knowing each other too well, the danger of wanting more.
After a while, Emma stood, tossing a few bills on the table. “Walk you back?”
Regina hesitated, barely a second, then nodded. “Sure.”
They left the booth together, shoulder to shoulder, neither speaking as the door swung shut behind them and the sound of the diner faded.