A Christmasbrooke Tale

Five Hours Until Christmas

The sharp bitter air nips at her pantyhose encased legs as she walks the short path from her car toward Granny's diner. Just before she reaches the door she glances up at the gray sky, wondering if there will even be snow this year for Christmas. She has to assume not, with how frigid the temperature is this evening. The sparkling white flakes would have been beautiful descending from the sky with their town glowing in bright lights.

She peeks around the warm lasagna in her hands and watches carefully as she steps up the stairs, her heels clicking loudly against the old, run down wood. The energetic buzz, and booming chatter is already threatening to blow the roof right off this decrepit building, before she even has a chance to make her debut.

The old familiar bell rings loudly, but the crowd easily drowns out the noise. However, the Charmings always seem to have their Evil Queen radar on and all three hastily crank their necks to watch her awkwardly stumble inside.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologizes through a wince and sneak passed a few dwarves to place her dish upon the counter.

"Mom, so glad you could make it," Henry beams as he too, squeezes through the over populated diner.

"Me too, honey. Did you eat?" She inquires as she begins to unwrap her dish.

"I didn't, I was kinda holding out, hoping you would bring your lasagna."

"I make it every year, don't I?" She smiles at her son as he slides onto a stool, patiently waiting for her to cut him a piece.

"I know, I've missed it," he smiles up at her with a cheeky grin that she hasn't seen since he was eight years old. Her heart melts instantly and her hand moves to its own accord, cupping his cheek just to feel the warmth of her son once again.

"Hey Regina, thanks for bringing something." Emma slithers her body between her and Henry, green eyes roaming over the dish she spent all afternoon preparing, while brown eyes rake over the bright red sweater that seems especially tight this evening on Emma. Regina's eyes somehow land upon the tight, black jeans, that she knows must have been magicked on by the way the fabric is clinging to Emma's thighs. "Henry said this is the best lasagna out there, but he's never really had anything to compare it to, so I'll have to be the judge of that," Emma teases as she scoops up a fork nearby, ready to recklessly dive right into the platter.

"Back off, Swan!" Regina scolds, placing her hand over the dish radiating heat. "Why don't you try asking for a slice instead of eating straight from the pan. Other people might want to indulge as well."

"No way, if I like it, I'm taking that whole pan to a booth in the back and loading up on my carbs," the sheriff declares with her infamous shit eating grin plastered across her face.

Regina rolls her eyes at the barbaric nature while their son snickers to himself. "I will cut you a piece," she recommends as she passes Henry the first portion.

Their son quickly dives into the mess of noddles, meat, cheese and thick red sauce. He hums his appreciation while shoveling fork after forkfuls into his mouth. Regina cuts Emma a rather generous portion, then proceeds to slide the piece onto a Santa plate. Emma smiles her way and happily accepts the plate and again Regina's finding herself noting just how cheerful and relaxed the savior really is today.

With great interest, she studies the way the side of Emma's fork slices through the noddles and green eyes light up with anticipation. She always had a special kind of love for food. The sheriff raises a forkful of lasagna to her mouth and moans around the mouthwatering dish.

"Oh my god, Regina," she mumbles around her generous mouthful. She even holds her hand in front of her mouth to keep any contents from flying out. "This is so good."