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borg-princess - Your Favorite Enemy

ONCE UPON A TIME - EMMA SWAN/REGINA MILLS

Your Favorite Enemy

borg-princess

Title: Your Favorite Enemy

Author: borg_princess

Challenge 14: Prompt– Chocolate

Characters: Emma, Regina, Henry, Mary Margaret.

Summary: Emma and Henry have a plan. Regina objects.

Word count: 1900

A/N: it’s usually hard for me to write fic, I mean, pulling teeth levels of hard, but this…actually flowed together quite painlessly for me. I’m actually quite happy with it, for a change!

On Livejournal: http://borg–princess.livejournal.com/114196.html

Your Favorite Enemy

borg-princess

“I don’t know, Emma, I don’t like this plan.”

Emma and Henry were sitting on the barstools at Granny’s, nursing drinks– milk, in Henry’s case– as they debated over the details of yet another plan.

“Come on, kid, try something my way for a change, would you?”

“But it’s my mom,” he said with a pout.

“Yes, exactly, she’s your mother, that’s why this is important.”

“You know what she’s like, and you want me to–” he clammed up just as the door opened and bells chimed, announcing the entrance of the very woman they were discussing. “Speak of the devil,” Henry whispered pointedly, “and she appears.”

Emma shot him a reproving glance before addressing the newcomer. “Madam Mayor,” she nodded with a civil greeting, on the off chance that it might forestall any hostilities today. (Not that it ever had up til this point, but if she tried it enough times, surely it’d wear her down one of these days)

“Sheriff Swan,” said Regina with a tight smile, one of a horde of insincere smiles designed especially for Emma.

To Emma’s trained eye, the one Regina sported today merely hinted at veiled irritation at finding her with Henry, with no traces of either smugness at some sabotage conducted against her or maliciousness that indicated the Mayor was spoiling for a fight. All the better, given what she’d just been spending quite a bit of effort coaxing Henry into going along with, however reluctantly.

In the spirit of co–operation, she gave Henry a pat on the back and told him, “All right, looks like it’s time for you to go home. I’ll see you round, kid. Behave yourself, all right?”

“Fine. I’ll think about what you said,” Henry muttered, dragging himself to his feet, giving her puppydog eyes, and taking his time slinging on his backpack.

Meanwhile, Regina’s eyes went back–and–forth between the two of them with a suspicious air. “What new manner of mischief are you up to with my son, Miss Swan?”

“Nothing,” Emma said defensively, then winced as she registered Henry chiming in with the exact same response from beside her, with an added whine thrown in for good measure. Not the best way to convince Regina they weren’t up to anything.

The other woman’s eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer, grasping Henry’s arm tightly and maneuvering him away from Emma.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Emma hastened to clarify, although she was pretty sure Regina wasn’t going to find that reassuring at all.

“Henry, go wait in the car,” Regina ordered, never taking her eyes off Emma.

He hesitated, looking to Emma for confirmation. “It’s fine, just give us a minute to talk, okay?”

At that, Regina turned her head to watch Henry shuffling out of the diner, her lips compressed into bitter lines. “What does he imagine I’m going to do to you, exactly? Poison you in front of witnesses? Turn you into a rat?”

Emma didn’t find it comforting that the only apparent reason against Regina poisoning her was the presence of witnesses. She reminded herself to never again accept anything, be it a drink or an apple, from the woman in the future. “Well, from the looks you give me, I’m sure you’ve occasionally imagined turning me into a bug and crushing me under your heels.”

Regina’s smile was razor–sharp. “I’ve refrained from doing so this long, haven’t I?”

“Yeah…see, it’s things like that which feed into Henry’s impression of you as the Evil Queen. Maybe if you try not to play into that image, it’d help him see you’re not like the fairy–tale villain he pictures you as.”

Regina’s expression turned inscrutable. There was a long silent pause where Emma had no idea what to expect or whether she ought to be bracing herself for another blow from the Mayor (for a woman so guided by her emotions, it was unnerving when she cloaked them so utterly– at least for Emma, who always copped the worst of Regina’s moods).

Her lips parted as though she were about to ask a question, but then she caught herself and that familiar, faintly scornful look was back in place. “Thank you, Sheriff Swan, for your invaluable advice on how to deal with my son. I’ll be sure to regard that with the respect it deserves.”

And then she swept out, heels clicking extra–forcefully, almost like she was imagining she was grinding something beneath her feet.

Emma sank back onto the stool, exhaling heavily.

“That went well,” Ruby remarked brightly, materializing with perfect timing to serve Emma another drink.

Emma gave her a weary smile. “Doesn’t it always?” She raised her glass in a salute and then drained it.

* * * * *

Mary Margaret rose to her feet at the brisk knock on the door. Lost in thought, Emma didn’t pay much attention until a very familiar and completely unexpected voice pierced her reverie.

“Where is she?”

At the door, Mary Margaret was trying unsuccessfully to deflect the Mayor. Wondering with a long–suffering sigh what it could be that Regina was holding her responsible for this time, Emma decided it wasn’t fair to leave her gracious hostess to face the Mayor alone.

“It’s all right,” she said, coming to the door.

Mary Margaret moved away with an expression of relief. “I’ll, um, go draw a bath,” she said quickly. “A long bath.” With that not–so–subtle excuse, she made her escape.

“What can I do for you, Madam Mayor?”

“You can explain this to me,” Regina said, holding up a basket. A gaily wrapped gift–basket with all manner of chocolate goodness inside. (Plus a bottle of wine. Regina always seemed to be drinking when Emma was around…she wasn’t entirely sure if the two things were linked, but it seemed like a good bet for this occasion)

“Oh. I… thought it was pretty self–explanatory,” said Emma, motioning to the giant ribbon proclaiming ’Happy Mother’s Day’.

“My son has never bought me a Mother’s Day gift in his entire life. This wasn’t his idea,” Regina said accusingly.

“Uh, what’s the problem here? Am I supposed to be sorry he’s done something nice for you? Is that part of the maternal handbook that I missed out on, to get all worked up when your kid gets you a present?”

“But this isn’t like Henry. It had to have been you that put the notion into his head. Why? If this is some scheme of yours, trying to make me look like the bad person–”

“Will you give it a rest?” Emma burst out. “First of all, you don’t need any help looking like the bad guy when you overreact to my presence all the time, and second, you can take things at face value sometimes, all right? There’s no ulterior motive here, you don’t have to tear this apart for deep psychoanalysis, for god’s sake!”

Regina stared. “I…don’t understand you at all, Miss Swan.”

“Fair enough, I don’t get you either. Is it that hard to accept something good happening? It’s like you want Henry to hate you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then stop acting like that.”

Regina had that strange look on her face again, like she wanted to ask something but was concerned about what it might reveal about her. Unlike the other night, this time she voiced that question.

“Why don’t you hate me? It’s no secret I’ve wanted you gone since the moment you arrived. And yet here you are, cozying up to my son, you’ve won him over already, and instead of…” she looked away for a moment.

Emma could read all sorts of implications into that. Instead of doing what I would’ve done in your place? Instead of taking him away from me?

“You’ve encouraged him to do this,” Regina said, shaking the basket she held in a tightly clenched fist.

“Look, I know things haven’t been easy with the two of you since I came to town, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on that,” Emma said, quietly insistent. “But despite your paranoia, I haven’t stuck around in order to destroy your relationship. I just want to know my son. Coming between the two of you isn’t in my agenda, and if it’s kinda happened that way, well, I just thought I’d remind him that you were the one who took care of him all these years and gave him the life that I couldn’t. Kids can be…they don’t realize all the things they should be grateful for, and I thought he should think about showing you some appreciation, that’s all.”

Regina gazed down at the basket, concealing her expression from Emma. “I see.”

“But if you’re going to get so upset about it, I guess I could tell him–”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Regina interrupted. “I don’t require you to tell him anything. This gesture was…nice,” she said, sounding like she just barely avoided choking on the word. “But in the future, Henry can decide for himself whether or not to express an appreciation for my parenting. Is that understood?”

Emma raised her eyebrows and bit back the sarcastic response she wanted to make in favour of bringing this conversation to a close. “No problem. Well. Good night. Glad we had this talk.”

“Miss Swan.”

“Yes?”

“Did Henry…” she lifted the basket. “Did he…for you?”

“No. I told him up–front not to worry about it, just getting to know him was enough of a gift for me.”

“Hmm.” She looked down at the basket again with an assessing eye.

Emma was glad Regina kept her mouth shut about any supposed efforts Emma had made to appear like the ‘good mother’ by refusing a present. She’d been more than lenient enough with the woman this far; if Regina pushed it, she really might throw her good intentions out the window and do something unwise.

“Here.” Regina held out a small box containing a few individually wrapped chocolates.

“Excuse me?” Emma eyed it warily, going over her resolution not to accept things from Regina. However, it was unlikely that she’d torn open the packaging, opened up the foil and injected poison into the chocolate before repackaging it all so that it looked in pristine condition…right?

“White chocolate doesn’t appeal to me. You may as well have it. While you failed to hold onto and raise Henry yourself,” and oh, how Emma had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from making an ill–advised comment at that point, “it is Mother’s Day and you did give birth to him.”

Huh. Regina, begrudgingly acknowledging that she was Henry’s mother. In a positive way. Was this a sign of the oncoming apocalypse?

“Go on,” Regina said impatiently.

Emma took the chocolates. She wondered if she should say thanks; on one hand, this was an olive branch from Regina of all people (though she wouldn’t bet on Regina keeping this attitude from one day to the next), but on the other, she was technically re–gifting, so…

Regina solved that dilemma by turning on her heel and striding away without another word.

Well, then. Perversely, Emma called out after her, “Thank you!” Just to see how she’d react.

Her steps slowed, and she came to a halt. “You’re welcome,” Regina said, sounding like she was forcing it out through gritted teeth, before picking up the pace and disappearing post–haste.

Emma grinned victoriously.

~ ~ ~