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deceptivelycomplex · 3 days ago

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Written for @cinnonym and @shonafee's #sqcrackficchallenge25!

Moodboard credit goes to the moodboard queen herself, my wonderful friend @thatbitchwhowritesstuff 🧡

The day Emma and Regina were doing great, thanks.

(read on ao3)

Emma's halfway through her second cup of coffee when Regina walks into the kitchen, already dressed for work but not quite awake. Without a word, Emma slides the freshly filled mug across the counter—two sugars, splash of cream.

"The budget meeting's at nine," Regina says, accepting the coffee with a sleepy half-smile that Emma's learned means 'thank you.'

"Mhmm." Emma doesn't look up from the morning paper, but she's already reaching for Regina's reading glasses on top of the crossword puzzle she's saved. "Henry's making PowerPoint slides for his history presentation. Told him I'd help before school."

Regina pauses mid-sip. "You're not exactly known for your technological prowess, dear."

"Hey, I can PowerPoint!" Emma protests, but there's no heat in it. She's too familiar now with the slight curl at the corner of Regina's mouth that means she's teasing.

They move around each other in the kitchen's morning light—Emma reaching for the cream Regina needs before she asks, Regina straightening Emma's wrinkled collar without comment. When Henry thunders down the stairs, he finds them sharing the last piece of toast, Regina absentmindedly brushing crumbs from Emma's shirt.

"Mom, Ma, is it okay if—" He stops, noticing Emma's boots by the door, cleaned and neatly arranged. "Never mind. You stayed over again?"

"Your mother was helping me with paperwork," Regina says smoothly. "It made sense for her to use the guest room."

Neither mentions that Emma's "temporary" toothbrush has been in Regina's en-suite for weeks now, or that her favorite leather jacket has somehow migrated permanently to the coat rack by the door.

The domesticity of their mornings bleeds into their evenings, a routine so natural they barely notice it forming, and somehow Emma's presence in the house feels less like visiting and more like belonging.

"Henry, homework," Regina calls from the kitchen, not looking up from the sauce she's stirring. "And Emma, if you mangle those vegetables any further, they'll be unsalvageable."

"I'm not mangling them," Emma protests, but she doesn't resist when Regina steps behind her, reaching around to guide her hands on the knife.

"Like this," Regina murmurs, close enough that Emma can smell her perfume. "Slower. More control."

From his spot at the kitchen island, Henry hides a smile behind his textbook. "Mom, can Ma stay for dinner? We have that math thing to work on."

"We do?" Emma asks, then catches herself. "I mean, yeah, the... math thing."

Regina raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment on the obvious lie. Instead, she reaches past Emma for the salt, her hand brushing Emma's waist. "I suppose you'll need to stay. For Henry's mathematics education, of course."

"Of course," Emma echoes, already moving to get Regina's favorite wine glasses from the cabinet she somehow knows by heart.

Later, after Henry's gone upstairs, they're loading the dishwasher in comfortable silence. Emma hands Regina dishes without looking, knowing exactly how she prefers them arranged.

"Snow asked about our... arrangement today," Regina says casually, too casually.

Emma stacks another plate. "Yeah? What'd you tell her?"

"That we're doing great." Regina accepts the plate, their fingers brushing. "That it's good for Henry to have both his mothers around."

"Right." Emma leans against the counter, watching Regina meticulously align the silverware. "For Henry."

The kitchen's quiet except for the soft clink of dishes and the hum of their magic, growing warmer whenever they reach for the same glass. Emma finds herself lingering over the last few utensils, stretching out these peaceful moments that have become increasingly frequent in Regina's kitchen.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asks, trying to sound casual as she dries her hands.

Regina glances at the calendar on the fridge—the one that somehow now includes Emma's sheriff schedule alongside Henry's activities and her own meetings. "Actually, it's Friday. Movie night."

"Right." Emma's heart does that little skip it always does when she realizes she's become part of their routines. "Want me to pick up Henry's favorite candy on my way over?"

"As if you haven't already stashed some in my study." Regina's mock exasperation carries a hint of fondness. "Just try not to let him convince you to get more. The last thing we need is him bouncing off the walls past midnight again."

Emma leaves reluctantly, already counting the hours until she can return. She spends her shift at the station alternating between paperwork and texting Henry about movie choices, while deliberately ignoring Snow's knowing looks whenever Regina's name appears on her phone.

By the time evening rolls around, she's back at the mansion, arms full of snacks she pretends she didn't carefully select based on Regina's preferences. Henry answers the door with a grin that suggests he sees right through both his mothers' thin excuses for these gatherings.

Movie night finds them on opposite ends of the couch, or at least that's how it starts. Henry sprawls on the floor with his pillows, occasionally glancing back at them.

"You're cold," Regina observes halfway through the film, noticing Emma's slight shiver.

"I'm fine."

"You're obviously not." Regina unfolds the throw blanket from her lap. "Come here before you catch a chill and Henry has to suffer through your dramatic sneezing fits."

Emma hesitates only a moment before sliding closer, letting Regina drape the blanket over both of them. "Thanks."

"Purely practical," Regina murmurs, but she doesn't move away when Emma's shoulder presses against hers.

By the time the credits roll, Henry's half-asleep on his pillow fort, and Emma's head has somehow found its way to Regina's shoulder.

"Mom?" Henry's sleepy voice breaks the silence. "Can Ma make pancakes tomorrow?"

Regina's finger twirls a strand of Emma's hair. "I suppose she'll have to stay, then. For breakfast."

"For Henry," Emma agrees softly, settling back against Regina's shoulder.

"Of course." Regina resumes stroking Emma's hair. "We're doing great at this co-parenting thing, aren't we?"

Emma smiles into Regina's sweater. "Yeah. Great."

They eventually rouse Henry enough to stumble upstairs, though neither of them mentions how natural it feels when Regina hands Emma her usual pajamas from the drawer—not a drawer anymore. Sleep comes easily in the familiar guest room that's slowly accumulated Emma's things: a phone charger, a spare uniform, the novel Regina recommended last week.

Morning arrives with the scent of coffee and the sound of Henry's footsteps overhead. Emma finds herself in the kitchen before she's fully awake, starting Regina's coffee exactly how she likes it. It's become their unspoken ritual on these mornings after—these increasingly frequent mornings after.

"There are reports waiting in my study," Regina says by way of greeting, accepting her coffee with a lingering touch. "Unless you have other plans?"

Emma's already pulling out her laptop. "Nope. All yours."

Morning light filters through Regina's study as they work on their own reports. Emma's claimed the couch, legs tucked under her, while Regina sits at her desk. They haven't spoken in twenty minutes, but Emma knows without looking when Regina needs her reading glasses.

"Left side of the couch," Emma says without looking up from her paperwork. "Under the budget proposal."

Regina retrieves them, pausing behind the couch. "Your signature is needed on page six."

"Already done." Emma tilts her head back, meeting Regina's eyes. "And I fixed the typo in paragraph three."

"I don't make typos."

"Second line. 'Municipal.'"

Regina leans over Emma's shoulder to check, close enough that her hair brushes Emma's cheek. "Ah."

"Told you."

"Miss Swan..."

"Back to 'Miss Swan' now?" Emma grins. "After I made you coffee this morning and everything?"

Regina's hand finds Emma's shoulder, squeezing gently. "The coffee was adequate."

"High praise from Madam Mayor."

"Don't let it go to your head." But Regina's thumb traces a small circle on Emma's shoulder before she moves away.

The quiet settles again, comfortable as an old sweater. Emma watches Regina work, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when concentrating, how she unconsciously mirrors Emma's position when she finally abandons her desk to join her on the couch.

"Henry asked if we could all go hiking this weekend," Regina says, not looking up from her papers.

"Hiking?"

"Apparently it's important for families to engage in outdoor activities together."

Emma's heart does something complicated at the word 'families.' "Did he find that in one of his psychology books?"

"I believe he's been consulting the internet." Regina's foot nudges Emma's under the shared throw blanket. "So?"

"Well, if it's for Henry's psychological development..."

"Precisely."

They work in silence for another moment before Emma adds, "I have boots in the closet upstairs."

"I know. I arranged them properly after you left them in the hallway. Again."

"You could just leave them."

"I could not."

Emma smiles at her papers. They both know she leaves the boots out on purpose now, just to have Regina pick them up. Just to maintain this small piece of their dance.

The afternoon drifts by in comfortable silence until Henry's arrival from school breaks their bubble. His footsteps thunder up the mansion's stairs, followed by the familiar thump of his backpack hitting his bedroom floor.

"Homework first," Regina calls out automatically, not looking up from her work.

"Already on it," Henry shouts back. "But I'm hungry!"

Emma's already standing, stretching out the kinks from hours on the couch. "I'll start dinner prep?"

Regina glances up, a soft smile playing at her lips. "Try not to destroy my kitchen."

"That was one time," Emma protests, but she's smiling too as she heads for the kitchen, knowing Regina will follow once she's finished her last paragraph.

They're in the kitchen again, Emma perched on a counter despite Regina's halfhearted protests, watching Regina prepare dinner with the same precision she applies to magic. Henry's textbooks are spread across the table, and the room smells of garlic and warmth and home.

When Snow drops by unexpectedly, the comfortable domesticity of the scene freezes—Emma mid-laugh at something Regina's said, Regina's hand resting casually on Emma's knee, Henry humming contentedly over his homework.

"Oh," Snow says, taking in the scene with widening eyes. Her gaze catches on the little details - Emma's favorite mug beside Regina's, Emma's red jacket draped over a kitchen chair like it belongs there. "I didn't mean to interrupt your... family moment."

"We're just making dinner," Regina says, but doesn't step away from where she stands near Emma.

"Right." Snow's eyes drift to Emma's sock-clad feet, to the way Regina unconsciously leans into Emma's space. "And you're here because...?"

"Henry had a rough day at school," Emma explains, exchanging a quick glance with Regina. "We thought—"

"Both his mothers should be here," Regina finishes, her hand finding Emma's knee again in what looks like an unconscious gesture.

Snow watches them move around each other—Regina reaching past Emma for herbs, Emma automatically handing Regina exactly what she needs before she asks, Henry watching them with a knowing smile barely hidden behind his book.

"Well," Snow says finally, something soft and understanding crossing her face. "I just wanted to check how everything's... going."

Regina and Emma exchange another look, this one longer, heavier with meaning.

"We're doing great," they say simultaneously.

After Snow leaves, Regina turns to Emma, still on the counter. "That went well."

"Yeah?" Emma's legs swing gently, brushing against Regina's side. "You think she noticed anything?"

Regina steps closer, between Emma's knees. "What would there be to notice?"

Their eyes meet, and something shifts in the air between them, like magic, but warmer.

"Regina..."

"Moms!" Henry's voice breaks the moment. "Can we have ice cream after dinner?"

Regina steps back, but her hand trails along Emma's leg as she moves. "Only if you actually do your homework instead of pretending to read while watching us."

Emma slides off the counter, steadying herself with a hand on Regina's waist that lingers longer than necessary. "I should probably help with that."

"Probably," Regina agrees softly, leaning into Emma's touch for just a moment before they separate, the air between them still crackling with possibility.

The rest of dinner passes in their usual rhythm—Henry chattering about school, Emma stealing bites from Regina's plate when she thinks no one's looking, Regina pretending not to notice. Outside, clouds gather and the first drops of rain begin to tap against the windows.

"Movie?" Henry suggests as they clear the dishes, but Regina shakes her head.

"Homework first, remember? Besides," she glances at Emma, "I have some new budget proposals to review."

"I've got case files," Emma adds quickly, though they both know she could easily review them at the station tomorrow.

Henry looks between them, hiding a smile. "Right. Work stuff. Important."

Emma follows Regina toward the study, their footsteps in perfect sync. Neither mentions that they could easily work separately—Regina in her office at town hall, Emma at the station. But they don't.

The study fire crackles as rain patters against the windows. Emma's been staring at the same case file for ten minutes, distracted by Regina's occasional sighs as she reviews budget proposals.

"You're thinking too loud," Regina murmurs, not looking up.

"Your glasses are slipping again."

"They are not."

But Emma's already moving, crossing the space between them. She reaches out, gentle fingers adjusting Regina's frames. "You scrunch your nose when they slide down. Here." Her thumb brushes Regina's temple.

Regina goes very still. "You notice such things?"

"I notice you."

The words hang in the air between them, too honest for their careful dance of excuses and explanations. Regina's breath catches, just slightly, just enough for Emma to feel under her fingertips.

"Emma..."

"Mom?" Henry's voice drifts down the hallway. "Ma?"

They don't jump apart—they're long past the point of guilty separations. Emma's hand drops slowly from Regina's face, but she doesn't step back.

"In here, kid," she calls, eyes still on Regina.

Henry appears in the doorway in his pajamas, hair mussed. "Just wanted water."

"Of course," Regina says, voice slightly rough. "There's a glass in your room."

"Yeah, but..." He grins. "Never mind. You two look busy. With work. For the town."

After he leaves, Emma sinks onto the couch, and after a moment Regina joins her. Their sock-covered feet meet in the middle, a point of warmth under the shared throw blanket.

"He's not very subtle," Regina observes.

"Wonder where he gets that from."

"Certainly not from me."

Emma laughs softly. "No, you're the queen of subtle. Like how you 'accidentally' bought my favorite coffee creamer. In bulk."

"That was—"

"For Henry?" Emma turns her head, finding Regina already looking at her. "Was it really?"

The fire pops, sending shadows dancing across Regina's face. She opens her mouth, closes it again.

"Regina… Was any of it really for Henry?" Emma asks again, softly, watching the firelight play across Regina's face.

Regina's quiet for a moment, her hand finding Emma's under the blanket. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. "Your toothbrush has been in my bathroom for weeks."

"Convenient," Emma murmurs, but she's smiling.

"You reorganized my entire kitchen."

"You kept reaching for things on the top shelf. It was hazardous."

Regina's thumb traces patterns on Emma's palm. "You're here every night."

"I..." Emma looks down at their joined hands. "I sleep better here."

"Here in the guest room, or..."

"Regina." Emma's voice is soft but sure. "I haven't used the guest room in weeks."

The fire crackles in the silence that follows, but it's not an uncomfortable one. It's the kind of silence they've learned to share, full of all the things they've been carefully not saying.

"Snow asked me again today," Regina says finally. "How we're doing."

Emma shifts closer. "What did you tell her?"

"The truth." Regina meets her eyes. "That we're doing great."

When their lips meet, it feels less like a first kiss and more like coming home. Like every morning coffee and shared blanket and gentle touch has been leading them here, to this moment.

"Finally," comes Henry's whisper from the doorway.

They break apart to find him grinning, his supposed water run forgotten.

"Bed, young man," Regina says, but she's smiling, and she hasn't let go of Emma's hand.

"Sure." He turns to go, then adds over his shoulder, "And just so you know? I haven't needed midnight parenting assistance since I was ten."

After his footsteps fade, Emma laughs softly against Regina's shoulder. "Think we were fooling anyone?"

"Only ourselves, dear." Regina presses a kiss to Emma's temple. "Only ourselves."

#sqcrackficchallenge25 #im very nervous about this #hope you enjoy!#sqfic #swanqueen #myfic

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