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“Emma Swan, I summon thee,” Regina recites, holding up the dagger, and Emma is only too happy to come running, popping into existence right in front of Regina.
“Hey,” she says, rubbing her hands against her jeans awkwardly. She can feel a whole lot of evil impulses around Regina, but most of them involve propping her up onto her desk and sliding her skirt up to her waist. Regina eyes her like she might know that. “I kind of missed you.”
“Emma,” Regina breathes, taking a step forward, and abruptly, Emma is being embraced, held so tightly that she doesn’t even try to cop a feel in the process. When Regina releases her, Emma eyes her lips for a good five seconds at least, attempting to resist all that evil, and then shrugs and dives in for a kiss.
Regina kisses her back, ardent and enthusiastic enough that the Dark One essence is starting to grumble that she isn’t being evil enough, and then there’s a pop of energy and bright light everywhere and the Dark One is silenced.
For good.
Emma touches her skin and feels it smooth beneath her fingers. Regina steps back, eyes narrowed with concern. “Uh. I think the curse just broke.”
“What?” Regina sounds horrified.
“Did you just…true love’s kiss me?” she ventures. “Can we talk about that?” In her imagination, that’s followed by Regina gazing at her in wonder, at more kisses and then maybe that thing on the desk– because that seems like something that she and the Dark One both agree on– and then happily ever after with Henry.
In reality, it’s followed by Regina spinning around, a hand pressed to her temple. “No, we’re going to talk about…of all the foolhardy, irrational plans… How dare you?” she demands, glaring at Emma. “How dare you?”
“How dare I…you did it!” she protests, and Regina glares harder. “Come on. You can’t possibly be angry that I’m not the Dark One anymore. Isn’t that a load off your shoulders?”
“Absolutely not! Why do you think I was summoning you?” Regina is still looking at her as though she’s ruined Christmas, and Emma’s beginning to think that that whole trip to the author’s alternate universe might have muddled her brain a bit. “We needed the Dark One! And now, through your absolute incompetence, we have nothing.”
“My absolute– your true love’s kiss!” Emma sputters.
Regina sniffs in displeasure. “You couldn’t have waited until Henry was in college to try something like that?” She sits on her study couch with a huff. “Several of the local kings are planning a coup, and the Dark One was the only one who might have deterred them.”
“The Evil Queen isn’t scary enough?” Emma says dubiously. “Can’t you, like, curse their firstborns or something?”
“I could.” Regina heaves a sigh. “But I also made the mistake of pushing for a better curriculum for Henry’s school. All he ever talked about was birds.” She looks perturbed. “And King Stefan took over as the junior high teacher, so now they can use Henry’s scholastic excellence as a bargaining chip with me.”
“I care about Henry’s scholastic excellence too!” Emma protests, and Regina gives her a long look, the kind she gets every time Regina is reminded of all the times Emma had aided and abetted in the school-skipping. “You know what? Fine. I can do it.” She straightens. “I can be the new junior high teacher. What do they learn then, fractions? The Constitution?”
“We have only one choice,” Regina barrels onward, and she fixes Emma with a look that has probably killed a few of those birds that Henry brings home from school. “You’re going to have to fake it. As far as everyone outside this house is concerned, you’re still the Dark One.”
They sit Henry down for a chat at Regina’s insistence. “Your parents wouldn’t notice the difference if we dressed you in black and had you wander around with My Chemical Romance blasting from your ears,” she says. “But our son is smarter than that.”
“Regina?”
“Yes?”
“Did you walk around wearing black and blasting MCR before the curse broke?” She ducks and avoids Regina’s swipe.
Henry sits silently as they stumble through an explanation, his brow furrowing. “So, uh, the curse just…wore off, I suppose!” Regina finishes. Emma nods vigorously from beside her. They’re doing the united front thing, and Regina’s so nervous about it that her hand is shaking when Emma touches it comfortingly.
“Curses wear off now,” Henry repeats.
Regina doesn’t give an inch. “That’s right.”
Henry leans back against his chair. “And that massive rainbow burst of magic that nearly bowled me over earlier on my way home tonight was…unrelated to Ma not being the Dark One anymore.”
“Yep,” Emma says boldly. Regina gives her an approving look and Emma preens a little, stroking her thumb against the curve of Regina’s hand.
Henry nods, his face carefully blank. “And it has nothing to do with why you’re holding hands right now.”
Regina snatches her hand away. “I’ll put dinner up,” she says swiftly, leaving Emma and Henry staring bemusedly at each other.
“Sit straight. Cross your legs,” Regina orders, circling the desk. “No, not like that. What the hell are you trying to do? Does that look like weaponized femininity to you?”
“Yes?” Emma’s always been very good at seducing her marks, and she’s kind of offended that Regina isn’t impressed by it. “Look, if I sat in front of…” (She tries to think of the most lecherous guy she knows. Someone familiar comes to mind, from another world with a hand hacked off.) “In front of Dr. Whale like this, I bet he’d be all over me.”
“Exactly.” Regina yanks Emma's thighs together, her thumb dipping between them for a moment. Emma sits up very straight and Regina smirks to herself, satisfied. “You don’t want to seduce anyone. You want to terrify them.”
Emma affects a masculine tone. “'I’m the motherfucking Dark One.’ Shouldn’t that work?” Regina gives her a dirty look. “Fine.”
“Now look down at me like I’m beneath you,” Regina orders, making an imperious face. “These kings are a crowd of stodgy old misogynists. You’re going to have to lay it on thick.”
“How’d you get them to listen to you?”
“I magicked off King George’s royal clothes and had them strangle him while the others watched.” Regina examines her cuticles, bored. “Actually, I also had them dance in circles around the room before returning them. I threw magnificent parties. Midas was a big fan.”
“Teach me how to do that instead.” Emma attempts looking down at Regina, but winds up distracted by the fair amount of cleavage visible.
“You have no precision whatsoever. If you get angry, punch them in the face. It’s one of your few strengths.”
“Is that why you true love me?” Emma tries. Regina puts a finger under her chin…
…And then jerks it up. “Chin up, eyes down. Look at me like you used to during the curse.” Emma can do that. “Not like you’re trying to undress me,” Regina says, frustrated. “Like you hate me.”
Emma tries her best glower.
The door to the study opens, and Henry pokes his head in and says, “Ew. Do you two need some privacy?”
Regina decides that she’s better off sleeping– well, actually, Regina first suggests that sleep deprivation would do some good for her image. “You looked like death for a week before our road trip,” she says, pushing a glass of cider across the table. Emma catches it, gulping down the drink. “At least during my anti-Snow White phase, I recognized the importance of eyeliner.”
“You know, you can lecture me about how villains have an image to maintain,” Emma says, holding her glass out for more. “But at least I don’t have what looked like massive caterpillars crawling across my forehead.”
“Cruella’s look was artistic.” But there’s a tiny hint of a smile on Regina’s face, gentle and almost shy when she watches Emma, and Emma daringly leans forward, dragging a finger above Regina’s lip to wipe away a splash of cider. “We can do you without the eyebrows,” she says. “And I don’t think I’d trust your judgment without seven hours of sleep.”
“Do you trust my judgment otherwise?”
Regina rolls her eyes, the moment passed. “I think we should spread the rumor that you’re living in my vault. I’d suggest the author’s mansion, but it’s better if your home is a little more…unsettling than that.”
“Secret room in the cemetery? I can do that.” She frowns. “Wait, I don’t actually have to sleep there, do I?”
“Do you think I trust you not to snoop?” Regina says wryly. “I’d give it a day before you’re accidentally killed by my Agraban vipers. No, I’ll keep you alive for a little longer than that.”
“Because of our true love.” Emma prods like a sledgehammer, but it does usually get results from Regina. They’re fire and gasoline, setting each other off and devouring the other in the process, and yeah, that kiss had basically confirmed what Emma had already kind-of-sort-of known about them.
Regina sets down her decanter. “Emma, you’re the child of true love. I don’t think– It’s highly unlikely that there was anything more at work than your innate magic.”
Emma’s eyes narrow. “So you think that I have…what, magic kissing power?” It’s absurd, and Regina is shifty-eyed enough when she says it that Emma knows that it isn’t even the kind of absurd that Storybrooke excels in. Regina is avoiding, snippier than usual and blatantly lying to escape the truth, and Emma’s getting tired of it. “If I kiss you now, do I break the asshole curse on you?”
Regina licks her lips, very deliberately, and Emma takes it as a challenge. She’s around the table a moment later, lips on Regina’s and Regina’s tongue in her mouth, and Regina laces their fingers together and lets out a breathy sigh and Emma thinks that this might all work out in the end.
She’s afraid to pull away from Regina and Regina makes no move to retreat, even after the kiss has gone on too long and they’re standing still, breathing into each other’s mouth and their hands limp where they’re locked.
And then there’s a burst of light from their lips and something bangs onto Emma’s head, hard. She goes down, Regina kneeling to examine her head. “I’d forgotten I cursed that light fixture to the ceiling,” she says breathlessly, nimble fingers parting Emma’s hair and stroking the place where she’d been hit.
Emma leans into her cool touch, eyes flickering shut. “You know, I’ve kissed plenty of people and never broken a curse with them. I’ve already broken two with you.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone.” There’s a flash of numbness on the bruising on her skull, and then the pain fades away. “Go to bed, Emma,” Regina orders, sounding tired and stubborn. “Get over it.”
“Didn’t break the asshole curse, then,” Emma tosses over her shoulder as she rises.
Regina rolls her eyes. “Goodnight.”
They decide to do a test run at Henry’s school with King Stefan the next morning. “Subtly menacing,” Regina coaches her from outside the bathroom. Emma’s sifting through her makeup, trying to find something that makes her look sallow enough that she might be able to pass as Gold Lite. “You want him to be afraid, not angry. No chainsaws. Villains do it with class.”
“Please.” Emma straightens, patting down her makeup. She’s a nice shade of brown-gold, with eye makeup blended into her makeup to add a glittery effect. “I might suck at being a villain, but at least I’m classier than Zelena.”
“That’s fair.” Regina’s voice is fading as she heads out of the room and down the hall. “Breakfast!” she calls to Henry, and there’s the sound of pounding feet behind her, the two of them in sync like the perfect little family they are. Emma rolls her eyes, attempts not to dream of anything more, and pats down another glob of the makeup.
“I’ll be right down!” she calls after them, hunting down the black leather outfit that Regina had worn during her own undercover op. It doesn’t quite hug her in all the same ways as it had Regina, but she slides on a black blouse under it and unbuttons a just less-than-tasteful number of them.
She checks herself in the mirror and makes her way downstairs, channeling a swagger on par with a pirate– like, hardcore Blackbeard level. “Morning.”
Regina looks up and nearly chokes. “Get that off your face.”
“What? No! I spent over an hour on it!” Emma says, outraged. She hadn’t been a fan of how she’d looked as the Dark One, so she’d carefully crafted the color by squinting at Gold’s picture in Henry’s storybook in an attempt to look as accurate as possible.
Henry squints at it. “I think it’s kind of racist,” he says.
“I’m evil. I'm not racist!” But she peers in the mirror again and winces this time, noticing exactly how dark she’s made herself. “It might be kind of racist.”
Regina’s eyes have drifted from her face to the straining top button of her blouse. “Yes, do remove it,” she says, her voice distant and hungry. Henry makes a face. Emma makes one back.
Regina opens her mouth to say something cutting, but they’re all distracted by a robin that flutters in through the window as though it belongs there and pecks Regina on the cheek. Emma says, “A robin?”
“Grandma sent it to me,” Henry explains. “She was very concerned that I wouldn’t be learning enough ornithology in school anymore. Mostly it just flies in and perches on the furniture. You’ll barely notice that it’s there after a while.” He lowers his voice. “It loves Mom. We’re not allowed to tell Grandma about that or she might send me another.”
“Right.” Emma adjusts her outfit and glares at the robin, now flying around the ceiling fan as Regina smiles up at it. She’s at the stage of unrequited true-love-admission where she's jealous of a bird. Fucking robin.
She thinks too much about Regina and Get over it while she wipes off her makeup, and stalks back down the stairs with a frustrated glower. Regina beams at her. “That’s perfect. Keep that face on.”
The glower fades as quickly as Regina’s smile had appeared, and Regina sighs heavily. “Is your absolute inability to even pretend to be evil what your parents leeched out of you as a fetus?”
“I spent weeks as the Dark One!” Emma protests. “I just…don’t remember very much of it. I had stage makeup on and terrible heels and I tripped a lot. Did I…?” A memory returns to her, and she presses a hand to her forehead in consternation. “Did I shave off my eyebrows? I think I looked like Voldemort.”
Regina’s fingers brush against her eyebrows, soothing, and Emma freezes. “Your eyebrows are fine now.”
“I don’t remember the darkness,” she admits when she remembers how to talk again. “I guess I blocked it all out? My subconscious…”
“Protecting you.” Regina winds fingers through her hair until it’s loose and wild and Regina hasn’t looked away from her once. “It’s okay.” Regina’s eyes take on a dark cast, mournful and regretful, and she traces patterns through Emma’s hair as though she’s memorizing every inch of her.
When Regina kisses her this time, it’s as though she’s forgotten that Henry’s in the room, and Emma notices just in time when a picture shoots off the wall as though it’s been…well, cursed. She tugs Regina to her, out of its range, and Regina lets out a breathy sigh and wriggles even closer when there’s the bang of the photo on the floor.
Regina jumps, startled, and catches sight of the photo. “Ah.”
“Did you curse every fixture in this house?” Emma wonders.
“What, you think I own a drill?” Regina lifts the photo, squinting at it. “I used to have Marco take care of it, but I haven’t gone to him since…” Her voice trails off, lost in a room where she’d kidnapped a boy to keep Emma safe, and Emma squeezes her hand and hurts on her behalf. “So I use simple sticking spells. And when I’m in a bad mood, I curse them instead.”
Emma bends to retrieve the picture. “Were you in a particularly bad mood when you put this…” She stares at it in surprise. It’s a photo that had been retrieved from Sidney’s stash from her early days, a distant shot of Emma and Henry perched on Henry’s castle on the sand. “Why?” is all she can think to say.
“Henry wanted it,” Regina says swiftly. “He missed you.”
Henry snorts loudly from the dining room table.
Emma strides into Henry’s classroom like she owns it, strutting a little and trying her best to smolder threateningly. “I’m here to check up on Henry’s education,” she snarls, peeking back at Regina at the door. Regina nods approvingly. “If I see any bias or meddling, I swear, I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do.” She manages the cadence of Regina’s voice perfectly.
Not that she’s had that particular gem running through her thoughts for the past four years or anything. She definitely doesn’t wake up some mornings panting with her hand between her legs and Regina’s voice ringing through her ears. Still, her voice is rough and silky at once, and King Stefan looks up at her at last.
“Ah,” he says, blinking at her getup. “You must be Henry’s aunt. I’d heard you were in town.”
“No, I’m not Zelena,” Emma says, irritated at the assumption. “I’m his mother.”
Stefan shakes his head, smiling condescendingly. “I know Henry’s mother.”
“The other one.” Stefan is still staring at her without comprehension. “Emma Swan? The Dark One?”
Stefan’s eyes finally clear up, but his brow wrinkles as he sizes her up. “I don’t think so,” he says, frowning.
Okay, so maybe this whole fake Dark One thing isn’t working that well. She shrugs, bounces back onto the balls of her feet, and then punches him in the face.
“Don’t question my evil persona,” she orders, and stalks back out of the room to the dulcet sounds of furious cursing. And when Regina’s eyebrow quirks in silent approval, it’s the most beautiful thing she’s seen today.
After the Stefan thing, the rumors begin to spread across town, and it’s no shock when Emma opens the door later that day and Mary Margaret launches herself into Emma’s arms. “You’re here,” she breathes into Emma’s ear as David gathers them both up. “I don’t care how evil you are. You’re here and I love you.”
“Oh,” Emma says, momentarily stymied. She’s not supposed to slip up in front of her mother, but she can’t think of a single evil thing to do when her parents are with her, surrounding her with unconditional love.
She hugs them back, wiping carefully at her thick eyeliner, and Regina clears her throat. “Emma’s very evil,” she says pointedly.
“Super dark,” Emma agrees, casting about for something to do that isn’t punching either of them in the face. “Uh…Mom.”
Mary Margaret’s eyes shine. “Yes?”
“I hate your blouse. It makes you look like Big Bird–”
“Right, that’s the point!”
“If Big Bird also accidentally vomited on himself and then put on a terrible hat.” She licks her lips and tries to sneer. In the mirror on the wall, she looks kind of queasy instead. “Also, I’m really tired of doing all the work in our relationship.”
A lip trembles. “Why are you saying all these things? This hat is one of my favorites!” Mary Margaret looks appalled at her cruelty. “You really are the Dark One, aren’t you?” She rounds on her. “Why are you so…glittery?” She turns wildly, eyes landing on Regina. “Do you think being evil made Emma gay?”
Regina says with a remarkably straight face, “No, Snow. I don’t think being evil made Emma gay.”
“Oh. Okay.” Mary Margaret breathes out with relief. “Not that I wouldn’t accept you if you were!” she says hastily. “But I don’t think there are many options for you. We’re a surprisingly heteronormative town.”
Emma, who had spent three years on patrol catching many less-than-heteronormative couples in flagrante, keeps wisely silent.
“There’s been so much love in the air lately,” Mary Margaret says dreamily. “All those minor earthquakes and rainbows…someone out there is powering some pretty strong true love.”
Emma fake coughs so hard that it devolves into an actual coughing fit. Mary Margaret looks concerned. Regina refuses to step anywhere near her. David claps her back until she can breathe again. “Good for them,” she manages. “True love is of course beyond me, as the Dark One, but I hope they treasure it. That kind of love doesn’t come to just anyone.” The robin chirps loudly and makes a mad flutter for Regina. Emma swats it away. Fucking robin.
“Sure it does,” Regina says, glaring at her. “It’s just chemistry. Rumple bottled it and stuck in an egg in Maleficent’s craw once. Even your insipid parents have shared true love.” She turns on her heel and marches out of the room.
Mary Margaret says brightly, “So what do you do as the Dark One, Emma? Is there a lot of MCR involved?”
So Emma’s doing a pretty decent job of it, she thinks. She has to sneak out to a little novelty shop thrice a week to replace her body glitter makeup combo and she drives out to a Hot Topic in Bangor with a thoroughly disgusted Regina one afternoon to finish up her costume. A few confused townspeople have asked her if she’s advertising something. “Some kind of show at the Storybrooke Theater?” Archie is inquiring today as he follows her into Granny’s. Pongo nips at the frayed length of her new boots.
“I’m not– I’m evil!” she says, fighting the sudden urge to stamp her foot. “I’m the Dark One! This is just how I look! I’ll kill you!”
Archie’s face is a picture of mild befuddlement. “Have you considered anger management for your condition?”
This is usually the part where Emma punches people in the face and runs off. She’s getting a reputation for it. Henry has reported that the calls to the station these days are all about her. The Dark One uprooted my garden! The Dark One set my garage on fire! The Dark One is corrupting my children!
Okay, so she’d maybe sat some of Henry’s friends down and had a serious chat with them about rape culture, and yeah, maybe she’d accidentally given three of them the sex talk in overly graphic detail, but that’s just naughty at best. She’s supposed to be evil. There’s no need to whine to her dad about it. Regina had already given her a thirty-minute lecture after.
She treads on Archie’s feet as she walks past him into the diner. Regina and Henry are already seated, and Emma slides in beside Regina and looks longingly at their son's grilled cheese. “No,” Regina says.
“Granny won’t serve me anymore,” Emma says morosely.
“You struck a pose on her counter and then offered autographs to everyone in the diner. You tried to pay with an autograph. You’re lucky she didn’t shoot you with her crossbow.”
“She tried!” Emma protests. “I had to punch Whale in the face to distract her!”
Regina snorts. “I’m sure you were heartbroken over that one.” Emma’s broken two noses in the past week and crushed a couple of toes, too. The kings plotting a coup have finally begun to quiet down, watching her with resentment, and she’s been sending dozens of pizzas to their houses and spelling out elvish words from Regina’s spellbooks in pepperoni. (She’s been cooped up in the mansion all week and she’s been watching Pretty Little Liars in her spare time for ideas. She’d tried sending King Midas a threatening text message and signing it with her initials but Kathryn had called her that evening, confused about what she’d been demanding that he DO.)
Regina is still waiting expectantly for her reply, and Emma tries out her new evil laugh for her. She’s been practicing it in the mirror for days now, and this one had been her best cackle yet. “A-hah-hah-hah-ha!”
Regina captures Emma's face with her hands, her eyes dark and concerned. “Are you all right? Did one of the kings put something in your throat?”
“It’s her evil laugh,” Henry says, smirking into her cocoa.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously!” Emma says, offended. “I spent hours perfecting it! I even went to Gold for help!”
Regina lets her go, throws back her head, and releases a throaty cackle that echoes through the diner. The room falls silent, a dozen frightened glances pointed in their direction, and Emma glowers at them all. “Oh, fuck off.”
She clambers to her feet, punches a dwarf who’s still staring at them, and goes off to have words with Gold.
She wakes up in the middle of the night and the room is on fire.
No, the bed is on fire, flames rising around her on all four sides, and she can’t breathe. She struggles to move, to call up her magic and beat off the flames, but her magic hasn’t been working in the same way since she’d been the Dark One and all she seems to be doing is fanning the flames.
“Regina!” she croaks. There’s no response, and Emma takes in a shallow breath and rolls through the flames. The burn is unbearable, the heat pounding at her head, and she hits the ground and keeps rolling until her clothes aren’t on fire. “Regina!”
When she looks up, Regina is standing at the doorway of guest room. Her hair and pajamas are in disarray and she’s staring white-faced at the bed. “Regina,” Emma manages again. Regina holds out her hands to extinguish the fire.
But even Regina’s magic isn’t working against this inferno. “It’s a curse,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible under the flames. Her fingers are trembling, barely visibly. “Who did you start up with today?”
“I don’t know, one of the kings?” Emma calls back, and Regina dives down to kneel over her and plant a sweet kiss on her lips. Emma can feel the magic swell around them as acutely as she can feel Regina’s hands on either side of her body, Regina on her knees and Emma leaning up to meet her and kiss her back, again and again until Emma tastes salty water on her tongue and she sits up properly to hold Regina.
Regina is still trembling against her and Emma can hear her ragged breath, as unsteady as sobbing, and she whispers, “Hey. What’s…” She cups a hand against Regina’s cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not the idiot who pokes at dragons until they bite,” Regina says, pulling carefully away from her. Her cheeks are wet and she wipes furiously at them. “I told you to make sure you seemed untouchable. No one would have ever started up with me.”
“I started up with you all the time,” Emma points out, and Regina’s laugh catches into a sob.
“I saw that fire,” she admits in a murmur. “I saw you through the fire and I thought it was the dagger all over again.” She shoves tears from her cheeks with ferocious distaste and changes the subject before Emma can speak. “This room stinks of smoke and the bed is ruined.” The flames have been doused by their kiss but the damage is still heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe and maybe making Regina’s eyes water like that.
“I can take the couch tonight,” Emma offers, hasty to make amends.
Regina’s brow creases with displeasure. “Don’t be an idiot, Swan. We need you in top form or you might slip up.” She stands, whirling around, and leaves the room.
Emma follows. “Please tell me I’m not sleeping in the vault from now on.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Regina says again, pausing outside of her door, and when she climbs onto her bed and shifts over to one end, it’s with an expectant glare that dares Emma to follow.
Emma hesitates for only a moment, still not sure if she’s about to be booted from the house for her presumption. She gingerly follows suit, letting her fingers trail across Regina’s arm for a moment before she slides under the covers.
Regina closes her eyes, but her breathing is still uneven when she curls up beside Emma, her head nestled against Emma’s side as Emma wraps her arm around her. “Don’t make this into something it isn’t, Miss Swan.”
“Don’t call me Miss Swan in bed, then,” Emma retorts, and Regina lets out a little hiccupy laugh and says nothing more.
Somewhere outside the room, the sun is beginning to rise and the robin chirps and chirps and chirps. Fucking robin.
It’s Mary Margaret’s idea to have the one person they know who can sail take them out onto the water. “We’ve barely spent any time together since you came back,” she wheedles.
Under Regina’s stern glare, Emma digs deep into her Pocket of Repressed Mother-Daughter Issues and says, “Look, I’m helping keep you safe, and that’s all you want me around for, anyway, don’t you?”
“Boat’s all rented!” comes the call from the water, and Leroy pokes his head up to grin at them. Well, grin at Mary Margaret. He eyes Emma with wariness. “I’ll be your captain for the day.”
Emma steps onto the boat and Mary Margaret says, “This will be nice, won’t it? Just the two of us spending time together.” Regina and Henry are sitting on a bench on the docks, ostensibly reading comic books and keeping a watchful eye on Emma as Emma struggles to keep the vitriol coming. She’s tried to let go of so much resentment that it’s a fight to find it again.
“You run like a platypus on two flippers,” she tries, and Mary Margaret gasps in outrage. “And we haven’t spent time together just the two of us in years. I don’t think I’ve been alone with you since Neverland, and even then we were five feet away from the rest of the group.”
Mary Margaret squints out over the water. “Isn’t that the Hermans’ yacht? Mitchell Herman has also been making a play for Storybrooke.”
Emma sighs. “Cinderella’s father-in-law, right? Another king.”
“He has no right,” her mother grumbles. “And he was a close ally, same as Midas. It’s this whole business with–“ She pauses, glancing up at the dock, and chews on her lip.
“With Regina,” Emma says, the answer dawning on her. “That’s why they’re working with George? Because Regina’s one of us now?”
Mary Margaret gnaws at her lip some more. “There haven’t been many complaints from the town at her becoming mayor again. People know that she’s good at her job, even if they don’t like her. I think it’s just an excuse.”
Emma’s eyes zero in on Herman as he stands on deck, glaring out at the docks where Regina is. She’s talking to Henry animatedly, eyes crinkling into a smile and her hands moving rapidly, bright like the sun. Herman wrinkles his nose in disgust. Emma loathes him.
Mary Margaret says, “Emma?” and Emma struggles through the fog of protect my family protect protect to turn to her, an insult ready on her tongue.
“You know, you’re patronizing and selfish and you make every single terrible thing you’ve done about you.” Everything from killing Cora to kidnapping Lily is tunnel-vision, about Mary Margaret's pain, and Emma feels more resentment bubbling up now that it’s been summoned. “Also, your hair is–“
Mitchell Herman turns and spots her in their little sailboat. Their eyes meet. Emma curls her mouth up into a feral, dangerous smile. (This one had been good enough to wow Regina, and she’s very proud. They’d broken three curses that afternoon alone.)
She doesn’t have any dark magic anymore, but her light magic comes more easily when she’s using it for dark purposes. A beam of light shoots from her fingers to the yacht, and Mary Margaret gasps, “Emma!” as the yacht begins to slide, uneven, onto its side.
Herman shouts something and Regina looks up at last, her eyes widening as she catches sight of the boat. Emma tries out her evil laugh. “Emma, this is no time for rapping!” Mary Margaret says reprovingly. “There are other people on that boat!”
The boat is capsizing and Emma watches, savagely glad about it. Let Herman be terrified for a little while. Let him go back to his damned cabal of kings and get them all to leave town. Let them–
Regina waves a lazy hand and Herman and three others appear on the docks, panting and gasping and still shouting. The yacht sinks lower, lower, below the water. “Do not challenge the Dark One,” Regina snaps, loud enough for Emma to hear her. “And if any of you ever enter my home again to hurt her, I will kill you all.”
She says it silkily, dangerous and with impressive theatrical quality at the same time. She also doesn’t use any contractions when she’s making threats. (Emma makes some mental notes.) Mitchell Herman storms off.
When they make it back to shore, she slips her hand into Regina’s and Regina squeezes it comfortingly. Or… Regina’s breathing hard, her face tight, and when Emma squeezes back, the tightness lifts a tiny bit.
Mary Margaret squints at them and Regina drops Emma’s hand and hurries down the dock, away from them both. “The glitter is coming off your face,” Mary Margaret says, and Emma rubs frustratedly at it.
Henry is watching TV in the living room later that day when Emma walks in. It’s some crappy cartoon with more language spewed in thirty seconds than Emma has managed to expose Henry to in the past four years. “Does your mom know you’re watching this?”
“I don’t think it’s fair that I don’t have magic,” Henry says, ignoring her question completely. “You’re the child of true love, so you got that awesome light magic. I’m also the child of true love. I deserve light magic retroactively.”
“You can take it up with the people who hand out the magic. Don’t you have some kind of writer superpower now, though?” She pokes him. “Seems kind of greedy to demand even more.”
“Says the Dark One Savior.” Henry elbows her back.
She puts an arm around his shoulders and he leans comfortably against her. “Gotta keep that true love talk away from your mom, though. It makes her tetchy.”
Henry studies her for a moment, his mouth settling into a stubborn line. “You know what happened after the darkness took you, right?”
Emma shakes her head. “I was kind of lost inside my head then. I didn’t really come out until the night Regina and I…” She gestures to her mouth halfheartedly. “Didn’t do that.”
Henry does the obligatory wrinkling of the nose. “Yeah, ew. Anyway, Mom was in pieces. She did nothing but research and search for you and she kept having these fits where she’d break…everything, really, and she was just kind of a mess. I looked after her and Grandma did, too, but she spent most of the time alone. She wouldn’t even go near the bird.” He gestures to the robin– fucking robin– perched on the kitchen counter, pecking curiously at a bottle of Pine-Sol. “She was really, really heartbroken.”
Emma sighs. “Henry, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I think you’re…overstating things. Whatever is between us, it’s more onesided than you think.”
“Bullshit!”
“Okay, that’s it.” Emma grabs the remote and switches off the TV. “Being a responsible parent, here.”
Henry snatches the remote from her. “You don’t understand. Mom had Daniel, right? And then you. And she lost you before you ever knew that you guys were in love. So she’s kind of weird about the whole thing now. She’s scared.”
“Your mom isn’t scared of anything,” Emma says. Regina is fearless and sometimes Emma is, too, and it’s why they can be so explosive together. Nothing slows Regina down, and certainly not some perceived love between her and Emma.
“She’s scared of us being hurt,” Henry says. “Why do you think she’s barely left your side since you got back?”
“She’s supervising me. I’m pretending to be the Dark One, remember? And I’m not very good at it.”
“You’re doing fine at it,” Henry says, rolling his eyes. “Ashley’s father-in-law left town today, and I have a substitute at school until they find Aurora’s dad. You’re winning this. Mom is just terrified of losing you again.”
She thinks again of Regina staring at her with horror as the fire rises around her and she says, “She isn’t.” But it isn’t convincing at all, and Henry pats her arm kind of patronizingly as he turns the TV back on.
It’s going well, really. Two kings have already left town in a huff and Kathryn is talking about leaving for law school again so Midas is considering joining her. It’s only George left who might give them trouble, and Emma has been sending him pseudo-threatening bouquets of flower at work. Hope nothing gets in the way of you having a good day :) she writes on the next one, and hand-delivers it to him with a tightlipped smile. The intern at the district attorney’s office tries to stop her and she punches him in the face.
Her knuckles are sore– he’d had some kind of magic shield on him this time– and she’s heading into the house to find a cold compress when Regina calls from the living room, “Emma, would you come in here, please?” Her voice is strained like she’s trying not to laugh, and Emma furrows her brow and makes a sharp left into the room.
And then she freezes.
Arrayed around the room are her parents, her son, various townspeople, and Pongo, sitting patiently at Archie’s feet. “My birthday isn’t for another eight months,” she says, eyes narrowed.
Mary Margaret says, “Emma, we love you and we’re worried about you.” Regina nods very somberly from beside her, her lips twitching. “We’ve come today to–“
Oh, my god. “An intervention?” Emma demands, incredulous. “You’re staging an intervention for me?”
“Since you became the Dark One, we’ve all had some concerns,” Archie says, his voice placating. “All we ask is for you to sit down and listen to your loved ones.”
“Have a seat, Emma,” Regina says, pressing her lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing. Emma makes a fist and rubs her knuckles longingly.
Mary Margaret turns to her left. “Henry, why don’t you go first?” She lowers her voice, not nearly low enough for Emma to miss it. “Remember, we’re sandwiching. Good, then your concerns, then good again.” She puts her hands nearly together, letting them hover apart. “Read Emma your letter.”
“Right.” Henry clears his throat, squinting down at his paper. “Ma, I’m really glad you’re not dead. And it’s cool having you and Mom and me all living together. I like our family. Even if you sleep in the vault,” he says hastily. “But…”
There’s a palpable shift in the room as Henry unfolds his paper, his face serious. “You keep drinking milk straight from the carton.” Regina gasps. “And when you finish the toilet paper, you’re supposed to get another roll! You’re evil, not uncivilized! And if you’re going to do the laundry, you have to start separating the darks and lights better because all my socks are pink. And–“
“Henry,” Archie cuts in. Henry is breathing hard, flushed with righteous anger. Regina reaches over Mary Margaret to stroke his hand comfortingly. “Do you have any concerns about your mother being the Dark One?”
“Yeah?” Henry says, staring at them like they’re all idiots. “I just said them. Don’t talk to me about the Dark One’s evil until you’re stranded in the bathroom at four AM with no toilet paper in sight. Tissues can clog the system.”
“She ordered a grilled cheese last week and walked off without paying,” Granny grumbles.
“I sent the money with Henry after school!” Emma protests.
Michael Tillman speaks up. “You’ve totaled four cars in the past few weeks and those assholes left town and never paid me.”
“You have twelve outstanding library books,” Belle ventures, tapping her shoes against the floor. “Rumple would never–“
“You set the ice cream store on fire!” That last one comes from the only person in town she’s kind of dated– who is now Pinocchio, glaring at her from beside Marco.
Emma stands up, whistling sharply to shut them all up. “I’ve been protecting this town from all those kings! And you know what? I wouldn’t drink out of the carton if Regina didn’t have all those ridiculous rules about washing out a glass as soon as you use it! Sometimes you just want to run in and out, okay?” Pinocchio nods in agreement and she rounds on him. “Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be a whole lot taller now? Dark hair, quotes from the Guy From Your MFA Twitter a lot?”
“August thought you wouldn’t punch him lots if it were me instead,” Pinocchio explains. “And then Miss Blanchard promised me a donut if I came to this meeting.”
“We aren’t your enemy,” Mary Margaret says, her voice placating. “It’s just…all this darkness inside of you. I’m worried about you. And I think that your skin is having a bad reaction to the glitter,” she adds hastily. “It’s all splotchy and purple–“
“That’s not the glitter. I, um…” Emma avoids their curious eyes. “I kind of beat myself up in my sleep. I had a dream that I was King George and it didn’t go well.” Regina had awakened her in a panic and then spent another ten minutes after chastising her for her stupidity. She’d gotten a few frantic kisses out of it, followed by the bathroom sink faucet flying off as though it had been cursed into place (it had) and they’d had to call in a plumber in the morning.
“About the punching,” Regina says, and the hint of a smile has finally faded from her face. “I think you’re overdoing it a bit now, don’t you?”
“See?” Mary Margaret says triumphantly. “Even Regina agrees with me!”
“I liked you more before you and David became one entity. I liked you when you weren’t my mother,” Emma mumbles, standing up. She backs out of the room. “It’s who I am now, okay? I’m evil! It’s a part of me!”
Mary Margaret stands up to walk after her and the rest of them follow her lead, crowding after her to stand in the kitchen. Emma throws up her hands. “Okay. Fine. Be like this.” In a fit of irritation, she yanks the fridge open.
“Don’t do it, Emma,” Regina says warningly.
“I’m the fucking Dark One! I do what I want!” she declares at them all, and opens the carton of milk with a flourish. She tips it back triumphantly and drinks and drinks straight from the carton until it’s dribbling all over her and onto the floor, and Mary Margaret says something like Oh, Emma, and backs out of the room with a sad shake of her head.
After she’s done mopping the kitchen and purchasing new milk from the store, she ventures into Regina’s study. “Can we talk?”
“Well, I haven’t cursed your lips yet, have I?”
Emma squints at her. Is she kidding? Hopefully. “Is that a thing? Do people really curse lips? To do what, fishface?”
Regina lets out a sound that might be a snort, if Emma makes some stretches. “Your mother is…entertaining, but she does have a point.”
“About my makeup?” She checks it in the mirror. It is kind of purplish now, and it’s sort of downplaying the whole sallow-glittery thing she had going on until now. “There must be some magical makeup effects.” She’s seen Regina in the morning, sleepy-eyed and free of any makeup. She has a glow about her when her skin is bare and her eyes are soft, and then she pops into the bathroom for under a minute and emerges fully made up.
“I can teach you something that might work,” Regina concedes. “You think you can handle a spell?”
She tries. She really does, and after she winds up splattering the entire mirror with makeup instead, Regina says, “Curse it on instead. Seek the darkness within you and let that power your magic for now. That should help with the whole…” She waves her hand. “Light magic wonkiness.”
Emma heaves a sigh, but she gets that one on the first try. Whatever goodness her parents had poured into her before she’d been born, it seems to be rebelling now, tainted by the darkness and stubbornly clinging to it now. And she makes a much more passable Dark One with that magic behind her, so she doesn’t complain. Much.
But Regina must see some of the irritation on her face, because she says tightly, “That isn’t what your mother is right about.”
“Do you want me to send a recording of this conversation to her? It’d make her…well, lifetime.” She flashes an unamused Regina a smirk. Regina scowls.
But when Regina takes a breath, her face smoothes over and her eyes get back to that tense, not-quite-frightened place that they’re in whenever Emma is in danger or goes too far. Emma’s been thinking about it as the dagger face and it has the uncomfortable side effect of making her regret every word she’s said for the duration of the conversation. “Emma,” Regina says slowly. “The sleep-punching, the bullying of innocents–“
She twitches. “I’m not a bully. I hate bullies.”
“I know. I used to be one, remember?” Regina does smile at her at last, placating and wistful, and Emma melts a little. “I just worry about the effect that it’s had on you. I don’t want you to get so used to faking it that you forget who you really are.”
It’s surprisingly sentimental for Regina these days. Emma’s the one who makes bold declarations and Regina chastises her and then…kisses her and invites her into her bed and somewhere in there are signs that Emma can read. Regina is nothing if not easily spooked when it comes to her feelings for Emma. Whatever they may be.
“Well, you’re here to make sure I don’t forget, right?” she prods.
And that finally manages to spook Regina. “I’m here to make sure you don’t make any mistakes and screw us all over,” she mutters. “Anything else is secondary.” But there’s a warm tinge to her cheeks and she’s avoiding Emma’s eyes again and Emma finally hits her breaking point.
“Okay, well, who’s the one who’s faking it here?” she demands, whirling away from the mirror to face Regina. Regina rests her knuckles against the back of the couch, her eyes wary. “Listen, I know you’re afraid of this.”
“This?”
“Us. What we can do together.” She waves at a vase they’d shattered last week with a chaste kiss. “Aside from, you know, the destruction of all your property, I don’t know why you think I’m any different.”
Regina is clenching and unclenching her fists, her brow in a long line and her eyes tired. “Emma…”
Emma jerks a thumb at herself. “Commitment-phobe, remember? You’ve been calling me out on it since we barely knew each other.” She remembers the snide enjoy your cocoa as Regina had coolly listed all the ways that Emma had been about to let down the son she’d just met, the ease with which she’d peeled a dozen layers off of Emma in a five-minute conversation. “Better to hide than to lose someone. Better to run than to see them push you away.”
Regina Mills has always had a frightening grasp on how Emma works, and it had taken years to understand that it’s because they’re not dissimilar at all, deep down. “But…somewhere along the line, I stopped caring about that with you. It was more important for me to be…” She stumbles over the words. “…With you. In friendship or in any other way…than for me to be safe.”
She dares a glance at Regina and is caught in her gaze, boring into Emma with the force of a thousand suns. Emma is trapped in her orbit, drawn closer and closer as she circles, and she’s breathless and heated by it. “You’re more important.” She sucks in a breath. “I love you. And I think…you love me too. But if you’re–“
She’s cut off by Regina bolting to her and yanking her to her by the open ends of her jacket, smashing her lips against Emma’s. The vase shatters again and Regina pulls her tighter, kissing her into fierce oblivion. Emma catches Regina’s lower lip between hers and nibbles at it until Regina groans low in her throat and slides a leg between hers.
Emma turns them fluidly, backing Regina up against the wall, and Regina hoists herself up onto the little key table in front of the mirror and wraps her legs around Emma’s waist. Another cursed photo detaches itself from the wall and Emma barely notices, too focused on Regina’s fingers slipping into her leather pants–
–And catching as the pants stick to Emma’s thighs. “Damn, fuck, fuck,” Regina hisses, tugging at them with both hands. “This Dark One bullshit has to end.” Emma only moans in response, angling her body closer to Regina’s hands with burning need. Regina grinds against her in response, her hand gliding between them to trail over Emma’s clothed center, and Emma chokes.
And then, finally, contact, Regina stroking her clit with agonizingly slow movements, and Emma’s face falls to Regina's neck, desperate to move in tandem with the fingers sliding into her now. She kisses a trail down the expanse of skin leading to Regina’s cleavage and moves trembling hands to tear at the buttons at her neck until Regina’s dress finally falls. Emma palms her breasts and Regina’s fingers crook sharply inside her as her thumb rubs Emma’s clit harder and harder until Emma reaches a crescendo and hurtles over it, her body quaking as Regina kisses her swiftly.
Something else breaks. There’s an alarmed chirp from the next room. Everything is silent and Emma can hear it all, Regina’s ragged breathing and her own heart pounding in her ears and the aftermath of what looks like a burst cushion on the couch in the mirror. How many curses had they broken? she wonders languidly, her own hands creeping back to Regina to return the favor and break some more curses.
Regina stops her, hands on hers. “I need to…I don’t…” She wrings her hands and stares at them for a moment, at the moisture glistening at their tips and at the way Emma winds her fingers between Regina’s. “Emma, no.”
She drops their joined hands and pulls up her dress, slipping her arms into the sleeves and pushing Emma away with a gentle, firm shove.
And as she flees from the study, Emma sinks down onto the burst cushion, still boneless and dazed, and she calls after her, “I’m not doing this anymore.”
Regina freezes. “What?”
“Faking it.” Emma musters up enough energy to hurl a cushion at the back of Regina’s head. “Fuck you. Fuck being the Dark One. Fuck King George.” The chirping is back again in full force, and Emma’s head aches. “And fuck that robin especially!” She sags back against the couch and stares at the doorway.
It’s empty. Regina has made her escape.
So yeah, Emma sleeps on the couch that night and ignores the scent of french toast wafting in from the kitchen come morning. She just stalks upstairs and curses on her makeup with extra fury and doesn’t even bother changing her clothes. Which smell a whole lot like sex. Fuck it.
“Aren’t you doing breakfast?” Henry asks curiously when she finally emerges from changing. “Mom put together a whole feast this morning.”
“I’m going to Granny’s.” She refuses to meet Regina’s eyes but sneaks a glance at her. Regina’s shoulders are rigid as she flips pancakes and she doesn’t turn around, but her frame is small and tight today, drawn into herself.
Henry frowns. “Granny’s is serving you now?”
She doesn’t deign that with a response, mostly because she doesn’t have one, and she bolts out the door before Regina can say something biting. (There had been biting last night, and she hadn’t noticed it until she’d spotted a dark purple spot just to the right of the curve of her jaw this morning. Dammit.) Her bug is parked out front and she slams her foot against a tire in frustration before she drives out to the diner.
Mary Margaret is sitting alone at one table, and Emma slides in opposite her, too tired to come up with any more grievances to air. “Hi.”
“Emma!” Mary Margaret beams at her. Her smiles are still wide when she sees Emma and Emma doesn’t understand how one person can be this obtuse. “I was hoping I’d get to see you this morning!”
“Why? So I can insult your…what is that hat, anyway? Are you going for Old Hollywood or American Idol auditions?” Emma demands. “Neither one works for you. And how the hell can you put up with this much moody teenager from me?”
“I like to think of it as living out the years of mothering I never got a chance to.” Mary Margaret is unflappable, still beaming at Emma as though she isn’t bothered in the least. “Do you like the blouse?”
“I hate it. I hate the sweater, too. I hated wearing your clothes when the curse broke because I was so afraid of disappointing you,” Emma grits out. “And you know what? None of this is because I’m the Dark One. I’m not. This makeup is all magic. That curse was broken weeks ago. I’ve been faking it all along.”
She waits for the response, the horror, the absolute rejection that weeks of enduring verbal abuse from her must engender. Mary Margaret has never been subtle about her desire for something more convenient than Emma, easier and younger and simpler, and Emma can only imagine how much she’s broken them now.
Instead, though, Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and says, “Yes, I know. Remind me not to take you seriously the next time you insist that you’re our pro at undercover operations.”
Emma gapes at her, teenage rebellion flitting away. “You did?”
“Of course I did.” Mary Margaret lowers her voice. "I’m not actually as much of an idiot as Regina likes to think I am. I know you.”
She’s still beaming at Emma, not a single crack in her facade, and Emma’s bewildered. Taken aback. “Why didn’t you say anything when I…” She thinks back to a dozen insults freely offered, attacking everything from Mary Margaret’s clothing to her parenting, and she still doesn’t understand a thing.
Mary Margaret shrugs, and the smile gentles into something warm and understanding. “It was important to you that I not know. So I didn’t. And it seemed like you had a lot to say.” She takes Emma’s hands. “I listened as best as I could.”
“Oh.” Emma is flabbergasted and a little terrified. And then there’s something else, creeping up past years of disappointment and resignation. Hope. Maybe even trust, someday. “But…the intervention…?”
Mary Margaret grins at her and it’s positively wicked. “You screw with me, I screw with you.” She laughs, loud and free, and Emma stares at her in wonder.
“I–“
“You have a visitor,” Mary Margaret says, eyebrows wiggling, and Emma turns just in time to see Regina throw the door to Granny’s open, her glare fixed on Emma.
She stands up, unsteady on her feet. “Regina, what are you–?”
Regina strides forward and kisses her again, this time in front of the whole diner. She’s demanding and unrelenting today, her fingers digging into Emma’s elbows and her lips meeting Emma’s again and again and again until Emma finally yanks her mouth from Regina’s. “What the hell, Regina?”
The diner breaks into applause, people hooting around them and a few cries of relief. Regina stands back, a satisfied smile curling onto her face. Emma stares around the room in confusion. “We broke the curse,” Regina declares, running a finger down Emma’s cheek. Emma’s… free-of-makeup cheek. Regina had broken a curse, all right.
But then Regina’s eyes turn uncertain and she whispers, just loud enough for the diner to fall into a hush to hear, “We did it with our True Love?”
Oh. Oh, okay. This is how it ends. “The Dark One’s dominion over us is over!” Mary Margaret says loudly, flinging her arms around them both. The diner cheers again. “A shame that King George departed town just this morning,” she says in a lower tone. “He would have been so relieved.”
“Get your hands off of me or I will make them disappear,” Regina hisses.
“Be nice,” Emma orders sleekly. “That’s your True Love’s mother you’re talking to.” And Regina senses the challenge for what it is and sighs, long and weary, and slides her arms around Emma instead.
All in all, people in this town are used to I was cursed as a valid excuse for anything, and they’re all very forgiving when it’s their savior parroting that excuse. Belle doesn’t even fine her for her overdue library books.
“We all have dark moments in our lives,” Archie says encouragingly when she drops by to return his glasses. “What’s important is to move forward again.” He rubs his glasses against his shirt, smiling out at her expectantly.
And yeah, she gets a lot of that from people now. She’d gone out to the docks and found a pirate to pass the Mills family pet to (Smee had been less than thrilled– I expected a parrot when I replied to that Craigslist posting, he’d said. Fucking robin) and had bumped into Ruby there, and that had been another ten minutes of dodging questions until she’d finally conceded. “Yeah, it’s good.”
Good is an understatement. It doesn’t cover sleepy kisses exchanged while Regina is still curled around her, holding her tightly as though she’s still afraid Emma might disappear. It doesn’t cover breakfasts at Granny’s (second breakfast, Regina reminds her, struggling to keep up a disapproving frown when she goes in for a muffin a half hour after breakfast at home) and Henry swinging their hands on the way to the bus like he’s still a kid holding onto his moms. It doesn’t cover fighting off new threats with a partner and holding Regina back when Mary Margaret oversteps (which is often. Emma’s gotten better at staying out of it. She hasn’t even told her mother yet why it is that her hair won’t grow out again).
It doesn’t cover lunch dates and keeping the peace together and coming home every evening, finding a place and a family and the kind of life she’d been dreaming of since she was a kid. Her parents a few blocks away, her son sprawled out on the floor doing homework, and Regina leaning against her with an arm tucked against her back as she leafs through a book.
“What?” Regina says, and Emma jerks into the present. Regina has looked up from her book and her forehead is creasing into a frown. “Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s perfect,” Emma says fervently, leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss. Regina exhales a peaceful sigh, lingering close to her as the kiss slows and finally ends.
And something’s wrong.
Emma waits, but there are no crashes, no bangs, no transformation of frogs to princesses (and no matter how much Regina had grumbled about that one, Tiana had thanked them for bailing her out, so whatever). The house is silent but for the scratching of Henry’s pencil against his notebook, and she ventures, “We did it. We finally ran out of curses to break.”
“Finally,” Regina echoes.
Emma purses her lips together, her eyes dancing. “So does this mean that we’re all kissed out? No more curses, no more kisses?”
“Fuck that,” Regina growls, launching herself at Emma, and Emma happily catches her and attempts to break some…future curses. In advance. As often as possible.
There’s a banging at the front door, and then the frantic sound of Mary Margaret’s cries. “Regina! What did you do to my hair?”
So maybe they had broken one last tiny curse. Who knows what others might be out there?
Better safe than sorry, Emma decides, and gets right back to it.