She's on her way home, when the cheesy ringtone she's assigned Regina sounds in her pocket. Her key misses the door and she fumbles for her phone.

I ain't missing you at all…

The song from a movie they'd watched together, awhile back. One of Henry's favorites—about a zombified teenage boy who falls for a still-human girl. They're probably indulging the kid too much these days, but it can't be helped. They almost lost him. More than once.

"I bought wine yesterday, Regina." She says loudly into the phone. No biggie, their wine rack is super full. Oh but Regina wants a particular kind of Chianti to go with the red sauce she's made. "Fine, it's cool, I can stop on my way. See you soon."

The scars of Neverland are still fresh. But because they couldn't bear to be parted for longer than a day—after days and days apart in the weirdest places on earth—Henry and his two mothers are holed up in a house together. For however long.

Thing is…it works. It works, and they're all joined at the hip now anyway. Snow and Regina haven't talked things out all at once or anything, but they tolerate each other. Sometimes, Emma even sees some flash of caring between them.

And anyway, it's not like they all have a choice. Snow isn't even sure that the town wants her to lead the same way they used to. Nobody wants Regina to lead but they tolerate it—the fucked up royals all taking turns signing acquisition forms and throwing fairs, Snow and Regina practically on the same page at times.

Emma had started to figure out what it takes to be a good mom right around the time she started to feel like she was part of a larger family more generally. It became easier to share custody with Regina when they were both living in somewhat close proximity.

That's what she tells herself, from time to time, when she worries about just how long the arrangement will last.

At first, Emma took a place next door to Regina and Henry. But when the neighbors returned from some bizarre year abroad (in such exotic locals as Schenectady, New York, and Timmins, Ontario) Emma had to give up the nearly empty house to the fairies.

"Look what they brought me." She led Regina and Henry to the backyard where a rusted bear-trap (closed up long ago) and a bag of arrowheads sat (still sit) next to a random assortment of logs and driftwood. "Oh, and this." She handed Regina a gigantic whiskey bottle of maple syrup as well.

She's still got all kinds of weirdness in her life—with her parents trying to set her up with every prince left in Storybrooke and the continued attentions of a certain pirate who insists that she sail the high seas with him whenever they go out for a casual beer with one another—but Emma forces things to just stay calm. "I just want peace and quiet and no more wraiths and no more bean stalks and no more…whatevers…anythings…from the Enchanted Forest or anywhere else." She yammers on over dinner with Regina and Henry whenever the kid asks her something about the Enchanted Forest or some damned thing. He's just curious, and it doesn't bother Regina, so sometimes Emma fills in some gap about her adventures.

What's more important is to get Henry to open up about his time in Neverland. They have Archie for that.

And then there's this: it's pretty obvious after some time has passed, that Regina likes having Emma around.

She asks her to do all kinds of little chores. Not just dishes or sweeping or stuff like that, but other stuff, like painting the den with her. They spend a weekend re-arranging furniture in some of the guest rooms, trying to make things more open. "Less old timey." Regina quips, waving a bottle of wine in Emma's direction with an enigmatic smile.

The room beside Regina's bedroom is small, but Emma likes it just fine so she parks herself there. They can share a closet then, after Emma comes home one afternoon to find Regina with a contractor. She's chuffed that Regina chose to give her her own closet door, but sort of annoyed that the muscle-bound carpenter guy is making eyes at Regina. It'd just complicate things, of that she's sure.

"Who was that guy?" She waits until the guy is gone and Regina is happily checking his work over. Feigning innocence, Emma leans against the wall and watches Regina examining the corners.

"Him?" Regina frowns. Then she rolls her eyes. "To quote you, Emma, relax." She sort of sulks for an hour or two after that, until Emma realizes that she hadn't thanked her and finally does so—with a large glass of wine and a pat on the arm.

They don't touch one another much. They've hugged, more than once, and they've touched at times when some terrible thing seemed to be on the verge of happening. But when their son, or their town, aren't in peril, they just sort of stay close. In one another's space, but never making any overt gestures.

It's like they're travelling side by side, working together to make a home and a family, but rarely acknowledging what the other needs. In each other's orbits. In this strange world.

Unless, of course, there's a problem. Then, someone panics, totally sure that the shit is hitting the fan all over again.

The first ripples appear six months into living together. It's a day like any other, but twenty minutes before she's set to finish her shift, Emma gets an emergency call from Archie's. A young shape-shifter is there, throwing all of the Psychiatrist's stuff about, angry that he wants her to stay away from magic for a week or two. It's a mess and Emma gets caught up and doesn't notice her phone buzzing in her pocket for a full hour.

By the time she gets all twenty messages, Regina is already on her way with Henry. Both are convinced that something is terribly wrong with her and both look close to tears. When Regina storms into the office, slamming the door across the room with the force of her magic, and ties the shape-shifter in a golden rope, Emma has a twinge of fear.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry, it was just chaos here." Emma tries to explain and reassure, but then Henry's got one of her arms and Regina has the other, and she's being practically dragged to Regina's car.

They're quiet on the way back to the house. The kid goes off to shower and Regina sits in the den with Emma, the way they did on that first rainy night, when Emma left Boston for good.

And then Henry comes downstairs, his hair wet, a robe over his pajamas, just like Regina often wears on damp, cool days. Emma feels some stupid rush of affection at the sight of them together, smiling with relief and she just chokes up and has to excuse herself. She hears them talking about her in the den. Regina assures Henry that his other mother is more than capable of taking care of both her job and herself.

For some reason, Emma can't breathe. It's relief and panic and fierce love, all rolled up in one storm of emotion.

She takes the next day off work and makes breakfast for the two of them. Then she spends the day cleaning and trying not to think about the look that had been on Regina's face when they'd gotten home the night before.

The next day is all hers. She sees Regina and Henry off and makes herself a cup of coffee to drink while she reads the paper. During the afternoon, she wanders through the house, sweeping, dusting, washing windows. It's really relaxing. It reminds her of days at one of her better foster homes. When the family would leave and she'd stay behind, doing housework, hanging out…

"That's terrible." Regina snapped when she heard this particular story months ago.

But it all serves to distract her from something she's realized about herself and about Regina—something that worries her more than it should.

Like how good it felt to hear about Regina's faith in her.

Or how awe-inspiring the woman could be in full fledged mom mode, standing up to some ridiculous shape-shifter, standing up for her. For Emma.

It makes her skin feel hot and tight and her heart feel like maybe it's going to beat its way out of her chest.

For how fucking long she's had romantic feelings for Regina Mills, she can't be totally sure. But when the fog lifts, it lifts fast, and it leaves Emma with only this realization: that she's been in love with Regina for a long-ass time by now.

After manically cleaning the entire top floor, Emma throws on a hoodie, zips it up, and makes her way downtown to the grocery store. She's shoveling more wine, some vegetables, and some pasta into her cart, zipping around the store like it's her job, when Missing You comes on the radio that the manager keeps in his office.

A minute later, as Emma stands frozen in the middle of the frozen food aisle, the song plays on her phone as well.

"Huh." She stares down at her phone. Things feel…out of sync. Again. She fights a surge of panic.

But Regina wants fennel for a sauce she's making. Which Emma already has in her cart. She's pleased that Emma read her mind or something because they're having a different kind of pasta tonite. When she comments that they're in sync or something, Emma yelps and says,

"Gotta go!" hanging up quickly.

She drives home slowly, taking all kinds of back roads. When she finally gets back, Regina rushes out to meet her.

"Are you all right?" She calls out from the porch. Emma nods as she walks toward her. In her mind, she can remember some of the lyrics from the song she'd been listening to.

Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath, and I'm still standing here, and you're miles away…

And there's a moment when she considers turning right around and leaving.

Because it's really too much, all of this, all at once.

They've been shoving their fears down and down. Stress, Emma knows, can unravel a person just so suddenly.

But then Regina takes a bag from her hands and brushes her fingertips against Emma's arm. She leans close and says, "If you don't mind, I'll take some of this for the sauce now." Her hair still smells faintly like incense from the night before.

Nodding, Emma peels off her hoodie, earning a confused look from Regina at the state of her flimsy, dirty tank top beneath. Emma's heart aches in rhythm with her feet as they carry her to the kitchen.

"You might want to…" Regina starts, but Emma cuts her off, washes her hands, and gets to work chopping vegetables. She tries again. "Do you want to change?"

Emma shakes her head. But she's distracted when she turns back to her knife and veggies. On her first attempt at cutting some spring onions, she cuts her finger and swears loudly.

It's a matter of seconds, a heartbeat, and Regina is on her, tugging her toward running water and holding her hand beneath the stream. She patches it quietly, hands her hand back and says "there, all better," with that same smile she had on her face when Emma climbed out of that well that time. Back from the Enchanted Forest. And Regina had been happy to see her. Sad, as well, no doubt thinking Henry would leave again.

But damn—no way would she take the kid from Regina. Regina's a good mom. And she's the most beautiful woman Emma has ever seen, in the whole stupid wide world.

And Emma's heart skips another beat. She grimaces. Holds her finger out. Regina rolls her eyes and swipes it away, "I'm not kissing it better for goodness sake." But she's so close and her eyes are the color of amber and for some odd reason, Emma swoops in for a completely unexpected kiss, surprising herself as much as Regina.

If Emma had to make some stupid statement about that first kiss, it'd be in clichés. About the earth standing still and time freezing and her skin just lit up, all afire, and…all of that. Regina's lips are moist and warm. She tastes like mint. And when her tongue sneaks out to touch Emma's, a river of fire snakes into Emma's belly. And they're the perfect height for one another. Emma can cup Regina's face with one hand and hold her hip with the other, their noses touching, their lips meshing for a kiss that makes Emma's toes curl.

Of course when they pull away, Regina says, "We can't do that."

"Why not?" Emma walks away, back to her chopping station.

A few minutes pass in silence. Then Emma feels those same strong hands at her shoulders now. They slide down her back and around her waist. "We can't…" She hears and answers again, "Why can't we?"

"What do you want me to do?" Regina asks in the silence.

"Whatever you want to do."

It's dizzying, how fast they go. Emma's dizzy anyhow. What with those hands suddenly unzipping her jeans, lifting her shirt, and Regina's breath at her ear, ragged and shuddering. Then there's one hand on her breasts, testing, too light and fleeting then firmer when she grips it and presses, the other hand down her underwear, fumbling until Emma tugs her jeans down and leans over…

They hear the door open and Emma immediately yelps. Regina's nails scraped her painfully as they exited and she apologizes profusely, trying to help Emma with her clothing.

"What's going on?" It's Henry's voice, worried, not yet in the kitchen.

"Nothing, I'm just. Your mother cut her finger. I'm just helping to get the blood from her shirt."

"You're not fighting are you?" He's peering in then, but Emma's back is to him.

"No, sweetheart, go upstairs and wash up for dinner." Regina's voice is the one that makes him listen the quickest.

"But…"

"Henry." Her voice isn't a shout but it's authoritative and Henry sighs, shrugs, and eventually gives in.

"Aaaaaaall right. But I have news. So don't kill one another while I'm gone." He bounds up the stairs and they can hear him throwing his backpack on the floor somewhere.

Regina does Emma's jeans up for her and they're in the clear.

It takes a load of time for the kid to get to his good news, but apparently, his science project, a chemistry set co-created with Regina, is going to be used in science lessons in future.

"You two are geniuses. I'm very proud." Emma's voice sounds squeaky and annoying to her ears. And then she starts to get stupidly moist, like her eyes tear up and—dammit. Ridiculous.

"It's ok." Henry pats her hand and smirks. "We're pretty amazing, but we're not that amazing."

Regina rolls her eyes but mimics his smirk. They both stare at Emma like she's a special, rare thing. They also do all of the clean-up themselves, letting Emma relax with a glass of wine in the living room.

By 10pm, Henry is done for the night. He snickers about something on his way upstairs, glancing over his shoulders to where Emma and Regina talk quietly on the couch, their heads close together.

"Is he gone?" Emma can't help but whisper.

"What are we, teenagers? Yes, he's gone." Regina grasps her shirt—the blue one because she thankfully changed before dinner—and yanks her close.