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Regina tells herself she is not watching.
She knows exactly how long Emma has been at the bar.
Nine minutes.
She knows how many times Killian has leaned in close enough to brush Emma’s shoulder.
Four.
She knows the way Emma laughs with him is not the same as when she laughs with anyone else. It is looser. Easier. It makes something cold settle under Regina’s ribs.
She should not care.
She cares.
Emma tips her head back slightly, smiling at something Killian says, and Regina’s jaw tightens before she can stop it.
It is irritating. All of it. The noise, the lights, the way this town insists on existing in front of her when Emma Swan is standing ten feet away, warm and alive and entirely too focused on someone else.
Regina finishes her drink in one slow swallow.
She does not hesitate.
⸻
Emma sees her coming.
Of course she does.
There is always that strange awareness between them. Emma lifts her head before Regina even reaches the bar, eyes narrowing slightly like she already knows this is about to be something.
“Regina.”
It lands somewhere between a greeting and a warning.
Regina lets her gaze move over Emma, slow and deliberate. Not polite. Not subtle.
Emma shifts.
Good.
“Miss Swan,” Regina says, voice smooth, controlled, like she is not standing here for a reason she refuses to name.
Killian turns, easy smile already in place.
“Your Majesty.”
Regina barely acknowledges him.
Her attention stays exactly where she wants it.
On Emma.
“I trust I’m not interrupting anything important.”
Emma snorts softly. “It’s Granny’s, not a royal ball.”
“I’m aware.” Regina’s eyes flick to Killian, then back. “I meant the company.”
Emma’s mouth opens. Closes. Something flickers across her face, fast and sharp.
Killian laughs, missing it entirely. “I like to think I’m decent company.”
Regina finally looks at him.
The smile she gives is thin enough to cut.
“I’m sure you do.”
It is not a compliment.
Emma exhales through her nose, clearly catching the shift now. “Okay. What is happening right now.”
Regina tilts her head, expression mild. “Must something be happening?”
“Yes,” Emma says immediately. “When you show up and start acting like this. Yes.”
“Like what?” Regina asks, stepping closer.
Emma does not step back.
There is a beat. A very quiet one.
“Like you’re picking a fight,” Emma says.
Regina’s eyes drop, just for a second, to Emma’s mouth.
Then back up.
“Am I?”
Emma’s breath stutters. Barely noticeable. Regina notices.
Killian shifts beside them. “Perhaps I should give you two a moment.”
“No,” Regina says.
She does not look at him.
She does not need to.
Emma glances between them, something like tension tightening her shoulders. “I can handle both of you, thanks.”
Regina’s lips curve, slow and dangerous. “I have no doubt.”
Emma flushes.
It is subtle.
It is everything.
⸻
Killian leaves.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. He lingers just long enough to make it polite, then excuses himself with something about a drink.
Regina does not watch him go.
She feels the absence immediately.
The air changes.
Emma turns to her the second he is out of earshot. “You did that on purpose.”
Regina raises a brow. “Did what.”
“You know what.”
“I rarely do anything without intention.”
Emma huffs, frustrated. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” Regina says softly, stepping closer, “you continue to engage.”
Emma does not move.
That is new.
“Were you busy,” Regina asks, voice lower now, “before I arrived.”
Emma studies her.
For a second, Regina thinks she might lie.
Then Emma shakes her head. “No.”
The word lands differently than Regina expects.
Too quick. Too certain.
Regina stills.
Something sharp and unexpected slides into place.
“No,” she repeats.
Emma shrugs, but there is tension in it. “No.”
Regina watches her carefully.
The pieces do not quite fit.
And suddenly Regina wants to understand why.
“Walk with me,” she says.
It is not a request.
Emma hesitates for half a second.
Then nods.
⸻
Outside, the night is quiet.
Cool air, empty streets, the distant hum of something ordinary. It should calm her.
It does not.
Emma walks beside her, close enough that Regina can feel the heat of her without touching.
It is distracting.
“You’re being weird,” Emma says.
Regina smiles faintly. “That is hardly new.”
“No, but this is different.” Emma glances at her. “You came in there like you had a reason.”
Regina stops.
Emma takes another step before turning back, frowning. “What.”
Regina looks at her.
Really looks.
There is something in Emma’s expression. Something open and guarded at the same time. It pulls at Regina in a way she does not appreciate.
“I did,” Regina says.
Emma’s throat moves when she swallows. “Okay. And what was it.”
Regina closes the distance between them.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Emma does not step away.
Regina stops just inside her space. Close enough to matter. Close enough that Emma has to tilt her head slightly to keep eye contact.
“You,” Regina says.
The word is quiet.
It lands hard.
Emma freezes.
Not pulling back. Not leaning in.
Just still.
Regina can feel the shift. The moment where something unspoken slides into focus between them.
“You’re with him,” Regina adds, softer now, almost thoughtful.
Emma’s brows pull together. “What.”
“Jones.” Regina’s gaze flicks toward the direction he left, then back. “I assumed.”
Emma lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “You assumed.”
There is something in it. Something Regina cannot quite place.
“And I was wrong,” Regina says.
It is not a question.
Emma looks at her.
Really looks this time.
“No,” she says slowly. “You weren’t.”
The answer is immediate.
Too immediate.
Regina feels something twist in her chest.
Of course.
Of course she wasn’t.
Emma and Killian. Predictable. Simple. Easy.
Everything Regina is not.
She steps back.
Just slightly.
“Then I suppose I have intruded,” she says coolly.
Emma’s expression shifts. “Regina.”
“I have no interest in interfering with your relationships, Miss Swan.”
It sounds composed.
It sounds like control.
It does not feel like either.
Emma exhales sharply. “You’re not interfering.”
Regina’s gaze snaps back to her.
“No?”
“No.” Emma steps forward this time. Closing the space Regina just created. “You’re not.”
There is something different in her voice now.
Something steadier.
Regina studies her, suspicion threading through the edges of something much more dangerous.
“Then why,” Regina asks quietly, “does it feel as though I am.”
Emma doesn’t answer right away.
Her eyes drop. Not to the ground.
To Regina’s mouth.
Regina feels it like a spark.
“You always do this,” Emma says, softer now.
“Do what.”
“Act like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Regina’s breath catches.
Barely.
“I assure you,” she murmurs, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Emma steps closer.
Now there is no space between them.
Regina can feel the warmth of her through fabric, through air, through something that has nothing to do with either.
“Do you,” Emma says.
It is not a challenge.
It is something else.
Regina’s hand lifts before she can stop it.
Just slightly.
Not touching.
Hovering near Emma’s wrist.
Emma does not move.
The silence stretches.
Tightens.
Becomes something that demands to be broken.
“You should go back to him,” Regina says.
The words feel wrong the second they leave her mouth.
Emma doesn’t step away.
“He left,” she says.
Regina’s eyes narrow. “Temporarily.”
Emma shakes her head.
“No.”
Just that.
No explanation.
No elaboration.
Regina searches her face.
Finds nothing but certainty.
Something shifts.
Something dangerous.
“You’re lying,” Regina says quietly.
Emma’s lips curve. Not quite a smile.
“Why would I lie about that.”
Regina doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t need to.
Because Emma knows.
Of course she does.
Emma takes another step forward.
Now Regina’s hand is not hovering anymore.
Now it is resting, light but deliberate, against Emma’s wrist.
Emma inhales sharply.
There it is.
Regina feels it all the way through her.
“Tell me to stop,” Regina says, voice low.
Emma doesn’t.
Regina’s fingers tighten.
Just slightly.
Emma’s pulse jumps under her touch.
“You should,” Regina continues. “If this is inappropriate.”
Emma’s breath is uneven now. “Is it.”
Regina leans in.
Close enough that her words brush against Emma’s lips.
“It is if you belong to someone else.”
Emma lets out a quiet, almost breathless sound.
“I don’t,” she says.
Regina pauses.
The world seems to tilt.
“Say that again,” Regina murmurs.
Emma meets her eyes.
Doesn’t look away.
“I don’t.”
⸻
Emma doesn’t move.
That is the first thing Regina notices.
Not the words. Not the meaning behind them. Just the fact that Emma is still here. Close. Close enough that Regina can feel her breath, uneven and warm, brushing faintly against her skin.
“I don’t.”
The words echo between them, soft but steady.
Regina searches her face, expecting hesitation, expecting deflection, expecting something that will let her step back and reclaim control.
There is nothing.
Only Emma.
Open. Certain. Watching her like she is waiting for Regina to decide something.
That is far more dangerous.
Regina’s fingers tighten around Emma’s wrist, not enough to hurt, just enough to feel the shift in her pulse. It jumps under her touch, quick and unsteady.
Emma inhales sharply.
Regina feels it like a spark running up her arm.
“Say it again,” Regina murmurs.
Emma’s lips part. Her eyes flicker, just briefly, to Regina’s mouth before returning.
“I’m not with him.”
Regina exhales slowly, but it does nothing to steady the way something inside her has begun to unravel.
All this time.
All that irritation. That sharp, bitter twist every time she saw them standing too close, speaking too softly.
For nothing.
Or worse.
For something she refused to name.
Regina’s thumb shifts, brushing lightly against the inside of Emma’s wrist.
Emma’s breath catches again, louder this time.
There is no pretending now.
No space left for denial.
“You should have told me,” Regina says quietly.
Emma lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You didn’t ask.”
Regina’s gaze sharpens. “I should not have to.”
Emma steps closer.
There is no distance left between them now. Not even air. Regina can feel the rise and fall of Emma’s chest, uneven and too close to her own.
“You don’t get to act like this is on me,” Emma says, voice low but steady. “You walked in there like you had a problem with me talking to him.”
“I did,” Regina says, immediate.
The honesty lands heavier than either of them expects.
Emma stills.
Regina feels it. The shift. The way Emma’s entire focus narrows, sharpens, locks onto her.
“Why,” Emma asks.
It is not defensive.
It is something else.
Something that sounds like she already knows.
Regina hesitates.
It is brief. Almost imperceptible.
For someone else, it would pass unnoticed.
Emma notices.
Of course she does.
Regina’s grip loosens slightly, her fingers sliding from Emma’s wrist down to her hand. Not holding. Just touching. Testing.
Emma’s fingers curl instinctively, closing the space.
That small, unconscious movement is enough.
“You truly require me to say it,” Regina says, softer now.
Emma’s voice drops with her. “Yeah.”
Regina leans in.
Not rushed. Not careless.
Deliberate.
She stops just before their foreheads touch, her voice barely more than a breath.
“I disliked the way he was looking at you.”
Emma’s breath falters.
“And,” Regina continues, her gaze dropping once more, slow and intentional, to Emma’s mouth, “the way you were looking at him.”
Emma swallows.
Her hand tightens in Regina’s.
“I wasn’t,” she says.
Regina lifts her eyes again.
“No?”
Emma shakes her head, just slightly. “No.”
The certainty in it pulls something loose inside Regina.
Something she has kept contained for far too long.
Regina’s hand moves.
Not careful anymore.
Her fingers slide from Emma’s hand up along her arm, slow enough that Emma can feel every inch of it. Over her sleeve, over the curve of muscle and warmth beneath it, until her palm settles against Emma’s shoulder.
Emma inhales sharply.
Her eyes flutter for half a second before snapping back open.
Regina feels that, too.
Every reaction. Every shift.
“Then who,” Regina asks, her voice quieter now, almost curious, “were you looking at.”
Emma doesn’t answer.
She does not need to.
Her gaze drops again.
This time, she does not look away.
Regina feels it like heat spreading through her chest.
“Careful,” Regina murmurs, though she makes no move to pull back. “You are sending very conflicting messages.”
Emma lets out a shaky breath.
“You’re the one who started this.”
Regina’s lips curve slightly. “And yet you have not asked me to stop.”
Emma’s eyes lift.
There is something in them now. Something sharper. Braver.
“Would you,” she asks, “if I did.”
Regina pauses.
The truth settles, heavy and unavoidable.
“No.”
Emma’s breath leaves her in a soft, almost soundless exhale.
“Yeah,” she says, quieter now. “I didn’t think so.”
The space between them tightens further, somehow.
Regina’s hand shifts again, sliding from Emma’s shoulder to the side of her neck. Her thumb brushes lightly against her jaw, tilting her face just enough.
Emma leans into it.
Just a fraction.
It feels like everything.
“Last chance,” Regina says softly. “You should stop me.”
Emma’s eyes close.
For a moment, Regina thinks she might.
Then Emma opens them again, steady, unwavering.
“No.”
That is all it takes.
Regina closes the distance.
The first touch is not rushed.
Not frantic.
It is slow. Careful. Testing.
Her lips brush against Emma’s, barely there, like a question she already knows the answer to.
Emma answers anyway.
She moves first.
Just slightly.
Enough.
The second contact is firmer. Warmer. Real.
Regina’s hand tightens at the back of Emma’s neck, pulling her closer, deepening it without hesitation now.
Emma makes a soft sound against her mouth, something unguarded and surprised and entirely real.
It sends a sharp, immediate reaction through Regina.
She presses closer.
Emma responds instantly, one hand coming up to grip the front of Regina’s coat, pulling her in like she has been waiting for this.
Like she knew.
Regina had not.
That realization hits somewhere deep and complicated and far too late to matter.
Emma’s other hand slides up along her arm, her fingers curling against her shoulder, anchoring herself there.
Regina feels every point of contact like it matters.
Because it does.
The world narrows to this.
To warmth and breath and the way Emma’s lips move against hers, no longer hesitant, no longer unsure.
Regina breaks the kiss first.
Not far.
Just enough to breathe.
Emma doesn’t pull away.
Her forehead rests lightly against Regina’s, her breath uneven, her eyes half-lidded and searching.
“You’re,” Emma starts, then stops, shaking her head slightly like she cannot find the word.
Regina’s thumb brushes once more along her jaw, softer now.
“Go on,” Regina murmurs.
Emma huffs out a quiet, breathless laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
Regina smiles faintly.
“And yet,” she says, her voice low, steady despite everything, “you are still here.”
Emma’s hand tightens in her coat.
“Yeah,” she says.
Then, softer.
“I am.”
Regina studies her for one last moment.
For hesitation.
For doubt.
There is none.
Only Emma.
Only this.
“Come with me,” Regina says.
Emma does not hesitate.
—————
Regina’s house is quiet.
Too quiet.
The door closes behind them with a soft, final sound that seems to echo through the space, settling into something heavier than silence.
Emma doesn’t move right away.
Neither does Regina.
They stand there, close, breathing the same air, the tension from outside following them in, stretching thinner now but no less sharp.
It feels different here.
More dangerous.
More real.
Regina turns first.
Slowly.
Emma is already watching her.
Of course she is.
There is no hesitation left in her now. No confusion. Just focus. Intent.
It does something to Regina she cannot quite control.
“You’re staring,” Emma says softly.
Regina steps closer.
“I am.”
Emma’s breath shifts. Not quite uneven, but not steady either.
“Why.”
Regina reaches for her again.
Not cautious this time.
Her hand settles at Emma’s waist, firm, pulling her in until there is no space left to pretend they are anything but exactly this.
“Because I can,” Regina says quietly.
Emma lets out a soft sound that feels almost like surrender.
“That’s not an answer.”
Regina leans in, her voice lowering, brushing warm against Emma’s ear.
“It is the only one you’re getting.”
Emma’s hands come up, gripping her shoulders now, not uncertain, not hesitant. Holding on like she means it.
“Then I guess I’ll have to work with that.”
Regina almost smiles.
Almost.
Then Emma kisses her.
There is nothing careful about it this time.
No testing. No hesitation.
It is immediate and sure and stronger than before, like something that has already been decided and is only now being acted on.
Regina responds just as quickly.
Her hand tightens at Emma’s waist, pulling her closer, pressing her back a step without breaking the contact.
Emma follows.
Of course she does.
Every movement matches, meets, answers.
The tension that had been coiled between them all night finally snaps into something else. Something warmer. Something that does not need to be contained.
Emma’s fingers slide up into Regina’s hair, not tentative, not asking. Just there, grounding herself, holding her in place.
Regina feels it all the way through her.
The kiss deepens, shifts, becomes something slower and heavier, less about urgency and more about intent.
Emma exhales softly against her mouth.
Regina pulls back just enough to look at her.
Emma’s lips are parted. Her eyes are darker now, focused and open in a way Regina has rarely seen.
It makes something in Regina’s chest tighten.
“You should still stop me,” Regina says, though there is no conviction in it now.
Emma shakes her head immediately.
“No.”
There is no hesitation in it.
None at all.
Regina studies her for one last second.
Then she lets go of the restraint she has been holding onto all night.
Her hand slides from Emma’s waist up along her side, slow and deliberate, feeling the shape of her, the warmth of her through fabric, memorizing it in a way that feels far too natural.
Emma inhales sharply, leaning into it instead of away.
Her grip tightens.
“Regina,” she says, softer now, like a warning she does not intend to follow.
Regina answers by kissing her again.
Slower this time.
Deeper.
Her other hand comes up to cradle the side of Emma’s face, holding her there, guiding the rhythm, setting the pace.
Emma follows.
Every time.
It is that, more than anything, that undoes Regina.
The way Emma meets her, matches her, like she has been waiting for this and is no longer pretending otherwise.
Regina shifts her grip, guiding Emma back until she feels the edge of the nearest surface behind her.
Emma doesn’t break away.
Doesn’t question it.
Her hands slide down Regina’s arms, then back up again, restless, searching, like she does not quite know where to put them and refuses to stop trying.
Regina stills her for a moment, catching one of her wrists, pressing it lightly back against her own shoulder.
Emma’s breath catches.
“Stay,” Regina murmurs.
Emma does.
Not because she has to.
Because she wants to.
That matters.
Regina leans in again, slower now, letting the moment stretch, letting Emma feel every second of it.
The kiss shifts again.
Less sharp. More consuming.
Emma makes another soft sound, quieter this time, and Regina feels it settle somewhere deep.
Her control slips another inch.
Emma’s hand frees itself, sliding around Regina’s back, pulling her closer in a way that is less about balance and more about need.
Regina allows it.
Encourages it.
For once, she does not hold the line.
She lets it blur.
The world narrows again.
To this.
To Emma.
To the way she moves against her, steady now, certain, no longer reacting but choosing.
Regina presses her closer, feeling the answer in every shift, every breath.
There is no doubt left.
Not in Emma.
Not in this.
Time loses its shape.
It becomes a series of moments that overlap and blur into one another. Hands finding places they do not want to leave. Breath catching and steadying and catching again. The slow, deliberate unraveling of everything Regina has kept carefully controlled for far too long.
Eventually, they stop.
Not because they want to.
Because they have to.
Emma rests her forehead against Regina’s, both of them still close, still caught in something that has not fully settled.
For a long moment, neither of them speaks.
Then Emma lets out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh.
“Well,” she says softly. “That happened.”
Regina’s lips curve faintly, though her breathing has not quite returned to normal.
“Yes,” she says. “It did.”
Emma pulls back just enough to look at her.
There is something different in her expression now.
Not uncertainty.
Not regret.
Something steadier.
“You thought I was with him,” Emma says.
It is not a question.
Regina’s gaze sharpens slightly. “You gave every indication.”
Emma huffs. “I really didn’t.”
Regina arches a brow.
“You were standing very close.”
“He was talking,” Emma says.
“You were smiling.”
“I smile at people, Regina.”
Regina studies her.
Emma meets it without flinching.
Then, softer.
“We broke up.”
The words land quietly.
But they shift everything.
Regina stills.
“When.”
“A while ago,” Emma says. “Before tonight.”
Regina searches her face, looking for any sign of uncertainty, any trace of something that would make this less real.
There is nothing.
Only Emma.
Honest. Certain. Still standing here.
Still choosing this.
Regina exhales slowly.
All that tension. All that restraint. All that carefully contained irritation that had been building for weeks.
For nothing.
Or perhaps not nothing.
Perhaps for this.
“You could have told me,” Regina says, quieter now.
Emma’s expression softens slightly. “You didn’t exactly ask.”
Regina lets out a soft breath that might almost be a laugh.
“That seems to be a recurring issue.”
Emma smiles.
Not wide.
Not careless.
Something smaller. More genuine.
“Yeah,” she says. “It is.”
There is a pause.
Not awkward.
Not empty.
Just… quiet.
Regina looks at her.
Really looks.
At the way she is still close. Still here. Still not pulling away.
And for once, Regina does not overthink it.
She reaches for her again.
This time, there is no hesitation at all.
Emma leans in to meet her before she even has the chance.
And that feels like the most important part of all.