AN: The song above is what I wrote the last scene to. Please listen before, during, or after you read. I love you guys! Thanks for sticking it out with me.

***

Never Stop // Safetysuit

This is my love song to you
Let every woman know I'm yours
So you can fall asleep each night, babe
And know I'm dreaming of you more
You're always hoping that we make it
You always want to keep my gaze
Well you're the only one I see, love
And that's the one thing that won't change

I will never stop trying
I will never stop watching as you leave
I will never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me
And I will never stop holding your hand
I will never stop opening your door
I will never stop choosing you babe
I will never get used to you

And with this love song to you
It's not a momentary phase
You are my life, I don't deserve you
But you love me just the same
And as the mirror says we're older
I will not look the other way
You are my life, my love, my only
And that's the one thing that won't change

I will never stop trying
I will never stop watching as you leave
I will never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me
And I will never stop holding your hand
I will never stop opening your door
I will never stop choosing you babe
I will never get used to you

You still get my heart racing
You still get my heart racing for you
You still get my heart racing
You still get my heart racing
For you

I will never stop trying
I will never stop watching as you leave
I will never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me
And I will never stop holding your hand
I will never stop opening your door
I will never stop choosing you babe
I will never get used to you

***

STORYBROOKE, MAINE, 2020.

Emma pauses in front of the green painted door of her parents' loft, panting slightly as she lifts her limp blonde curls up into a messy bun atop her head. The air on the back of her exposed, sweaty neck is an instant relief, and Emma sighs, looking at the slight pink tint covering the top of her forearms. Summer arrived in Storybrooke, and it wasn't afraid to make its presence known. It's an unusually hot summer for Maine, and while Emma isn't opposed to a nice sunny day, she curses the sweat pooling in her shirt and hates the way her fair skin burns.

She raises her fist to knock on the door even though she has a key, then hesitates. She leans down, unnecessarily retying her shoes. She knows that she's stalling; her heart slamming in her chest tells her so. It's not that she's exactly nervous to talk to her son about what she needs to, but--okay. Maybe she's a little nervous.

She blows a collection of unruly baby hairs away from her vision and knocks with purpose. Not ten seconds later, David opens the door, dishrag on his shoulder and a broad smile.

"Emma!" He booms out, opening his arms. Even though it's way too hot and she's sticky in all the wrong places, she doesn't hesitate before slipping into his arms, reveling in the way he palms the back of her head and wraps around her like a security blanket.

"Hi, Dad," she mumbles into the fabric covering his shoulder, cheek squished into her lips. Almost unwillingly, she steps back, because the body heat radiating off of her six-foot-something father is enough to make her want to pass out.

He chuckles, seeming to understand as he pulls the rag off of his muscular shoulder and wipes his palms. "A little hot for early June, huh?"

Emma groans in response, fanning her face with her hands. She peers around the huge frame of her father to see her mother standing in front of the small kitchenette's fridge. Emma steps toward her, frowning as she thinks it's taking her awhile to grab whatever she needs, when she realizes that's not what the pixie-haired woman is doing. She's crouched, in a tank top and tiny shorts, right in front of the fridge, letting the cold air cool her body. Emma snickers, but at the same time, feels a little jealous.

Without opening her eyes, Snow smirks towards her. "Wanna join?" she asks, because, damn her, she knows.

Emma laughs, telling her to scoot over before crouching next to her and letting the air wash over her.

Behind them, David sighs. "God help the electric bill."

Finally, Snow caves and opens the freezer, welcoming the extra cold blast before grabbing a few popsicles. "Here." she hands Emma a coconut popsicle, her favorite, and Emma hungrily rips the packaging open with her teeth.

Beside her, she hears a quick, playful scoff. "You guys are ridiculous." Emma pivots on her heel to face her son, sucking loudly on the frozen treat.

"Hello to you, too, Kid," she grumbles, reaching out to smack him on the shoulder as he maneuvers around his grandmother to grab popsicles for himself and Charlie. She watches as he carefully unwraps a strawberry flavored one for his young uncle, who looks at him as if Henry's a god. She notices the way he helps him eat it, talking quietly and patiently and making him laugh as Charlie's small fingers wrap around the stick.

Her heart clenches momentarily in her chest. God. The kid--well, not exactly a kid anymore, but calling him that is a habit she's not interested in breaking just yet--is so good with children. Unbidded, her mind floats a few years from now, when Henry might already have a child of his own, and god, that hurts to think about. She shakes her head to clear it, remembering why she came in the first place.

Henry turns back towards her, dark hair curling in the heat and green eyes terribly bright and vivid. "The weather barely reaches 85 degrees and you're all acting like its hellfire."

She sticks her tongue out at him. He may be twenty years old, but he still has every bit of his teenager sass, which she insists is all Regina's fault. "Excuse me, but this town hasn't seen anything but fifty degrees and cloudy, with a chance of rain, for the past three years, so excuse me for thinking it's a little warm."

Henry rolls his eyes good-naturedly, sticking his popsicle between his teeth.

Emma walks towards her little brother and pinches him on the sides. "Hey Squirt!" She enjoys the way he giggles highly and sticks his tongue out.

They finish their popsicles between banter amongst the four adults, and Emma keeps sneaking glances at her son. Finally, as David and Snow leave the room, Henry gives her a mild smirk. "Okay, Ma. Spill."

Emma scoffs, choking on the wooden popsicle stick she's been chewing on. "What?" At Henry's unimpressed stare, she tries again. "Just came to give you a ride home!" She deflects, feet growing cold and her heart racing again.

Henry smiles softly, shaking his head as he approaches her. "Ma. I have a license. And a car. And I drove myself here. What is going on?"

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, a light dusting of pink dusting her cheeks. "Look. Just come with me. Please?"

---

From the driver's seat, Emma watches her son climb in the passenger side, folding his long legs to fit in the cramped space underneath the glove compartment. Once again, her mind flicks over, unwarranted, to reminisce when Henry had been over a foot shorter, all long brown bangs and tiny expensive pea coat and lopsided grins with freckles splashed across his little nose that was often scrunched in curious pondering; to reminisce when Henry used to accompany her on "stake outs" and other outings in this same Bug, while his small legs draped over the leather seats and his sneaker-clad toes could barely brush the floor of the vehicle. Her throat closes up momentarily, and she swallows several times to place her mind back on track.

Had it really been a decade since that same kind knocked on her door in Boston and barged his way into her life and ended up being the best thing that ever happened to her?

As if to echo her thoughts, Henry grunts slightly as he shifts his legs uncomfortably, knees poking up against the underside of the dashboard. "Damn, when did this car get so small?"

Emma snickers, despite herself, and reaches over to smack his muscular shoulder. "Dork," she shoots back, enjoying the way his lips curl up into that same lopsided smirk that hasn't changed a muscle since he was a kid.

Henry allows another laugh before turning to face her, eyes growing serious but almost overwhelmingly warm and knowing and patient. "So what's up, Ma." He states not as a question, and his tone brushes lightly over the words, softening them, and Emma has to wonder when the hell he'd gotten so perceptive of how to speak with a nervous adult.

"Ki--Henry, I--" she breaks off for a moment, sticking the keys in the ignition without starting the engine and shifting in her seat to face him just in time to watch the surprise and masked worry flicker over his face at the discard of his nickname. She takes a deep breath and starts again. "Henry, I--I wanted to ask you something important. But if it's not okay with you, even just a little not okay, then I won't go through with it, no questions asked." She punctuates the last remark by raising her hands in complete surrender, eyes wide to show her sincerity.

Henry's raised brow gives away his suspicion, and he takes a few breaths before answering. "...Okay," he grants, finally, fingers twisting together in his lap and suddenly looking years younger.

Emma's heart begins to pound out of her chest once more, but she closes her eyes for a few seconds and breathes. Finally: "I was thinking--just, your mom and I are really--I mean it's working and I--wanted to ask your mom to marry me." The first few broken sentences are said in a rush, but the last section is said slowly, reverently; filled with purpose and longing. And she means every damned word.

The silence rings after that. When she can bring herself to look at him, Henry's eyebrows are nearly lost in his hairline, eyes wide enough that she can see the entire circle of his irises, identical in color of her own. His mouth is slightly agape, and he opens and closes his jaw a few times, as if he can't decide on what to say, or perhaps he can't find words at all.

He's quiet for over a minute; Emma knows because she counted the seconds and felt the heat in the car heighten and her anxiety spike higher with each passing moment. Finally, she dips her head and clasps Henry on the shoulder, a sad and resigned smile on her closed lips. "It's okay, Kid; I get it. I don't have to do this."

Henry shakes his head, as if waking from a daze and blinks before snapping his eyes open. He closes each of his larger hands over hers, complete sincerity in his eyes. "No--! I--" He stammers, then breaks out in a grin just as Emma's heart remembers how to beat and she feels the blood return to her face and her nerves release. "I want this," He tells her in a tone barely above a whisper, and Emma could swear she could see tears forming in his eyes. "I'm so happy for you guys--this is everything I could've--" he breaks off, choking on his words, and instead squeezes her hand tighter, smiling softly and biting his lip.

Relief washes over the blonde as she stares at the young man she helped raise and feels a seed of pride plant deep in her stomach. She loves him. She loves Regina. God, she loves this tiny family of hers and couldn't ask for a single thing more. She chuckles softly, brushing a thumb over his knuckles, saving him from needing to continue. "Really?" She asks stupidly, her brain fried and stuck on a loop of happy thoughts and what the hell did I do to deserve this?

Henry laughs, releasing her hands and giving her a playful, gentle smack to her bare bicep. "Duh, Ma! This is amazing!"

Emma scrunches her nose at him and reaches across him to open the glove compartment, taking out a tiny box. "Good, 'cause I already bought the ring." She sasses back, flipping open the top and flashing the band of silver at him. It's small but dainty; several small diamonds weave their way throughout the band instead of a giant rock sitting at the top, something Regina would hate. Her heart is in her throat as she desperately hopes she'll impress the brunette with her choice.

Henry's not paying attention. Instead, a smirk is curling on his features and there's a gleam in his eyes that she hasn't seen in many, many years. She's almost scared for what's going to come next. "This needs an operation name," he gazes at her sideways, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other.

A wave of nostalgia washes over Emma and she beams at him, relieved that though sometimes he could look and act like a completely different person, he's still the little shit who knocked on her door and forced her to believe in fairytales. "I never thought I'd hear you say that again," she admits, pushing him lightly on the shoulder, "but I'm relieved. Maybe now with you on my case we'll actually get some shit done."

Henry smirks farther, raising his eyebrows. "Operation: 'Getting Shit Done'?"

Emma glares at him. "No."

Henry sighs, crossing his arms and staring out the windshield. She doesn't have to wait long before he's facing her again, features lit up. "No, I totally got it. Operation Penguin."

"What?"

Henry rolls his eyes. "Okay, first of all? Don't even act surprised, after all our history with operations Cobra, Praying Mantis, and Firebird, to name a few. And this time, I actually have a reason for it, so refrain judgement, Geez."

Emma folds her arms, unable to bite back her fond smile. "So, what's the inspiration?"

"Okay, so, one time I read on the Internet that penguins give the nicest rock they can find to the penguin they wanna spend their life with. How fu--frickin' cute and perfect is that?"

Emma gives him a long look at his quick save, but rubs her hand in his hair before she turns the engine over. "Pretty frickin' perfect," she agrees, cranking up the AC. "Operation Penguin it is."

---

Within the next few days, Operation Penguin is in full swing. On a warm but not sweltering Thursday afternoon, Emma and Henry are on the back porch arguing over a batch of lights.

"I think they should go horizontal by the gutter," Henry gestures with his arms, squinting one eye shut as he looks over their project.

"The railing needs another string. It looks too bare," Emma counters, wrapping an experimental section around the wood.

Henry crosses his arms, cocking his head to the side before rustling through the several bags littering the ground. "You were on light duty; you should've gotten more," He tells her, unsuccessfully masking a smirk when he sees her indignant reaction.

"Excuse me, I have bigger things to worry about," she hisses, gesturing to her empty left ring finger significantly. "I was hardly calculating the number of yards of lights I needed to cover the frickin' gutter."

Henry laughs, holding up his hands in surrender before moving towards the electrical outlet he'd been working on. "Just messing with you," he winks, fumbling with a few wires. "You really outta chill out--Mom's gonna be over the moon about this, and you know it."

Emma looks up from continuing to dress the railing. "If we can get it done in time before tonight," she frets, pretending to glare at Henry's amused expression.

A moment later, however, they both freeze when they hear the faint sound of the front door opening. Henry drops his pair of pliers. "Shit! She was supposed to be at work for another--" he glances at his watch, "--three hours!"

He looks up at his blonde mother, whose face had gone pale and her eyes almost comedically wide.

Full of pity and loyalty, he rises with a grunt and pats her on the back. "I'll cover for you." He whispers before wiping his hands on his jeans and stepping into the house.

He walks briskly to the foyer, biting back a groan when he sees his brunette mother raise her sunglasses to perch on the top of her head before stepping out of her stilettos.

"Mom!" He greets, wincing when it comes out a little too brightly. "What...are you doing home so early?"

Regina turns to face him, smiling in that way she deserves only for him before stepping to wrap her arms around him. Without her heels, she's swallowed by him, and Henry's heart is warm when he feels her burrow her face into his shoulder, her arms tightening around him. Finally, she steps back, frowning as she wipes a grease-like smudge from his chin. "There wasn't much to do at my office, and it was a nice day and I--" she shrugs almost shyly. "Well, I just thought it might be nice to spend some time with my two favorite people."

Henry smiles at the sentiment, but his eyes widen as he thinks of Emma on the porch, wincing at the timing. Thinking fast, he schools his features to give her an adoring smile. He places a palm under her chin, tilting his head to the side. "You look a little tired--how about I take you to Granny's and treat you to anything you want?" He asks her, a soft smile on his lips that becomes completely genuine as he looks at the woman who raised him--thinks of the countless sacrifices she's made for him and how very little she asked for in return--and his heart tugs deep in his chest.

Her lips part and she steps back slightly, eyes watering slightly as she looks up at him with a sense of overwhelming love. "Henry--" she begins, unable to continue.

Henry closes his eyes for a moment, thanking Whoever might be listening that despite all the time they were forced to spend apart, they're still able to make countless other amazing memories. He thinks if she keeps looking at him like he's her entire life just for offering to take her out to eat, he might cry. Blinking past the wetness in his eyes, he places his hand on her shoulder and squeezes slightly. "Let's go," is all he says before he grabs his keys from the glass bowl on the side table next to him and leads her out the door.

---

Henry throws his car in park by the curb next to Granny's and glances towards his mother, frowning at her expression. "What?"

Regina sighs slightly, smiling softly as she fixes an unruly strand on the side of his head. "It's just...what's the occasion?"

He shrugs, pulling the keys out of the ignition. "Does there have to be one? The occasion is: you bought me a hundred chocolate milkshakes before I was twelve, and I can afford to get a damn coffee for my mother." He softens his mild sassing with a dorky grin and leans over to kiss her forehead before opening the car door and ducking out of the vehicle.

Regina shakes her head with a smile that refuses to slide off of her face as she follows him into the diner. She scans the menu, fixing her eye on a grilled chicken caesar salad, before she catches Henry's look.

"Don't eat too much before--" he begins before he can stop himself, and colors as he deploys a dramatic coughing fit. Regina fixes him with a raised eyebrow, trying not to smirk. "Cause, you know, dinner's in a couple hours." He corrects sloppily.

Regina smirks up at him, folding her arms in front of her chest. "I thought I was the mother here," she teases, enjoying the way the tips of his ears tinge pink.

"I learned it from you," he mumbles before raising his eyes to wave at Ruby.

At that, a prideful warmth sweeps through her chest. "You certainly did." She tells him, looking over her son, at the wonderful young man he's become, and her heart pulls in her chest. She orders the smallest salad on the menu and a soy latte, and out of instinct, pulls her wallet out of her purse.

Henry frowns at her, putting out an almost disturbingly large hand--and how long ago was it, really, when his tiny chubby hand wrapped around her forefinger?--and reaches deep into his pocket to fish out his small leather wallet. Ruby hands her a steaming coffee cup as Henry reaches over the bartop, handing Granny his credit card and hastily signing a receipt. Ridiculously, she feels almost lost as she watches the exchange. In the back of her mind, she'd known her son had a credit card, but she'd never seen him actually use it--and she's being an absolutely silly woman, and this is exactly the type of thing she shouldn't tear up about--but she thinks that maybe she won't ever warm up to the idea of taking the "little" out of her Little Prince.

When he faces her again, she's pulled herself together again, and she's grasping both her salad and latte. "Thank you, Baby," she says, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He takes his own black, slightly sweetened, coffee from Ruby before joining her at their favorite booth.

He raises his eyebrows as he takes a small sip. "Anything for you," he winks, but deep in his heart, he means every word. To punctuate the sentiment, he reaches across the table and squeezes her knuckles. She squeezes back.

As she tells him about her day at City Hall, he nods and smiles along, but when he can, he pulls his phone out, and types under the table:

HENRY: the eagle is at granny's. I can probably keep her here for a good hour.
HENRY: i also bought her fifteen dollars' worth of a latte and salad. You owe me.
HENRY: jk. I'm not broke. But still.

A moment later, his phone vibrates in his hand, the prayer hands emoji flashing up at him--and then pings again.

EMMA: i owe you my LIFE.

---

The sun is low and dim in the sky by the time Henry finally pulls into the mansion's driveway. He'd spent the afternoon taking his mother around town, checking his phone every so often for updates. Now, after he couldn't stall Regina a moment longer, his phone pings once more and the screen illuminates the darkened car.

EMMA: Operation Penguin is a go.

Henry bites back his smile and slides his phone into his pocket. "Well," he begins loudly, dramatically throwing the car in park. "That was the girlfriend. Looks like this is where I'll be leaving you tonight," he fibs smoothly, leaning over to peck her cheek.

Regina closes her eyes, letting the affection wash over her as she reaches up and squeezes his fingers. "Thank you, mi hijo. I had a great time."

Henry keeps his lips there a few moments longer before he draws away and searches her dark eyes with his intensely honest green ones. "Mom, you know I love you, right?"

Regina's heart falls in her chest before growing in size. She squeezes his hand tighter and reaches up to place her palm on his cheek. "Of course, Henry. What's wrong?"

Henry just closes his eyes and places his hand over hers where it caresses the side of his face. Then he grins. "Nothing. Just--you and Emma--I'm happy. That's all. Thanks for dragging our city-slicker asses back to Storybrooke when we barely knew you." He winks, ignoring her mildly shocked expression. Then she laughs, and he joins in with her. "See you tomorrow, Mom." He says before kissing her forehead and reaching over to open the door for her.

By the time Regina exits the vehicle and shuts the door, she's smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. She'd thought his behavior was slightly strange as the evening wore on; he pushed her to visit shop after shop and glanced at his phone every several minutes, but his words in the car stay with her, warm her, and ground her. She can hardly believe the way Henry offers affection to her so freely, and though she'd just spent the entire afternoon with him, she misses him as he speeds away.

But her mansion's lights are on, the inside looking warm and inviting, and she finds her chest warming as she thinks of who waits for her. No more does she come home to a cold, empty, silent home after she finishes work in the office. No more does she sleep alone in her Dark Castle bedroom, the mattress cold and hard.

Emma.

She smiles, jogs up the front steps in her heels, and opens the front door. The house is strangely quiet, though the light in the kitchen is on, and she inhales what smells like a spicy Yankee candle. She turns, ready to step out of her heels when a faint creaking stops her. She looks up, and Emma's in front of her in a red dress and holding a bouquet of white roses.

She halts; takes a step forward and crosses her arms lightly in front of her chest. "Emma..."

Emma fidgets slightly, pulling at the skin tight dress, and, after a moment's hesitation, hastily extends her arm and shoves the roses towards the brunette. "Welcome home," is all she says, and Regina's heart stutters in her chest.

Emma's been living at the mansion, and it's been easy and good for over a year, but she's never heard what they have spoken out right until now. Home.

Regina can't hold back her smile as she takes the bouquet and, closing her eyes, sniffs them as the tip of her nose brushes the soft petals. When she opens her eyes, she lifts a sleek eyebrow. "What's this?" She asks Emma, who's practically vibrating out of her skin.

Emma just grins shyly and grasps Regina's hand before nearly dragging her girlfriend through the kitchen into the dining room. The table covered in a white cloth and it's set for two with Regina's special china. Regina locates the source of the spicy sent when she sees the deep red candle in the center of the table, the flame bright and thick and flickering. Her heart caves in her chest.

"Emma," she says again, and she thinks maybe it's the only word she knows how to say anymore. She thinks maybe nothing else matters right then.

Emma herself is positively giddy, smiling wide enough to show most of her teeth and to drive her perfect dimples deep into her cheeks, and she's squeezing Regina's knuckles under her grip. Finally, she releases her hand and pulls out her chair, waiting until the brunette sits before she unnecessarily tells her to stay and rushes into the kitchen.

Regina shakes her head with affection, settling a hand over her heart, feeling the uncontrolled beating within her chest. Emma. Emma, Emma, Emma.

She doesn't deserve this, she doesn't, but a single voice deep within her mind tells her that it's all okay, that she can be happy. For the first time, she listens.

Emma returns from the kitchen, holding a bowl heaped with spaghetti noodles in one hand and another of sauce and meatballs in the other. "It's the best I could do," Emma explains as she sets the dishes on the table, fretting a bit with the candle before sitting and setting her napkin nervously over her lap.

Regina takes in everything--the spread, the china, the food, the dress--and realizes it's all for her, almost in a way that seems like Emma desperately wants to impress her, and Regina's heart beats warm and fast and hard.

"Emma," she says, so the blonde will stop her rambling about how the noodles might be slightly chewy. "It's perfect. I love it so much--I can't even imagine what this is all for," she admits, running her thumb along the silver handle of her fork, before glancing up to meet Emma's warm green eyes. The "what did I do to deserve this" remains unsaid, but  it sits between them thickly and heavily and both of them know.

Emma reaches across the table and runs her own thumb over Regina's white knuckles. "Can't I pamper my awesome girlfriend for no reason?"

Regina quirks a brow, but smiles.

"Maybe I just wanted to show off my sick cooking skills."

Regina laughs, then dishes herself a generous portion of the pasta. "Let's find out," she quips, playing along as she twirls the noodles onto her fork.

Emma leans forward her chair, jesting all gone from her face as she searches Regina's eyes when she tastes the food. "What's the verdict?" She prompts when she can't take it anymore.

Regina makes a show of swallowing and dotting her lips with her napkin before responding. The noodles are, in fact, rather chewy, but she doesn't mind it and the marinara sauce has perfect flavor. She tells her so.

Emma beams under the praise, and for the rest of the meal, they fall into easy conversation, and Regina stops asking why, though she wonders. However, she keeps silent, because she can see the way Emma's staring at her plate, vibrating in her seat, waiting for her to finish. She can gather rather easily that the night is far from over, and she holds her tongue and plays dumb to keep the surprise. Finally, curiosity wins out, and she lays her utensils on her clean plate.

"Thank you, Dear. That was delicious," she tells her, stepping out of her chair and over to Emma to kiss her on the top of the head. Inside, she's buzzing with anticipation for whatever is coming next, and she thinks of upstairs, where her bed lay with fresh linens and a new set of lingerie sits in her top drawer.

However, that is not where Emma leads her when she grasps her by the hand once more. Instead, they're in front of the sliding door to the backyard, and Regina's brow creases as she watches the joy and nerves and anticipation in Emma's open face.

"Emma?" She asks, voice soft and her heart beginning to pound once more. Emma doesn't say a word, just opens the door and allows Regina to step out into the starry night.

Except....those aren't stars.

It's her porch, but transformed, with fairy lights layered and twisted over every surface, and soft cloths draped from the overhead structure. The floor beneath her is littered with fragrant rose petals. "Emma," she whispers again, her voice nearly gone and barely audible as she takes in the scene.

"Emma, what is this?" She asks, spinning around and grasping her by the waist.

Emma just leans forward and catches her in a hungry kiss, disrupting her old lipstick, nearly gone from eating and drinking, and for a glorious minute all she tastes is Emma. She tastes vanilla chapstick and Emma's breath, and she thinks if the other woman weren't holding fast to her, her knees would buckle underneath her own weight. Emma has always known how to kiss her senseless, but this is different. When she pulls away, Regina is left gasping for breath, and her head is swimming and she's swaying in her heels.

All she sees, hears, tastes, thinks is Emma, and finally, she forgets to wonder and forgets to ask and forgets to think whether she deserves any of it all. She just loves.

Emma draws away for a minute to pour her a drink of her favorite red wine that's been set up and chilled on a side table. Beside it is a small collection of speakers, and Regina takes a moment to wonder how long she'd spent on all of this. She can't spent too long on that thought, however, because Emma's back in her view, holding out a wine glass. Regina takes it gratefully and takes a few slow sips as Emma draws out her phone to tap a few quick buttons on the screen.

A moment later, soft music is humming out from the speakers. Regina stops, placing her glass down, and looks towards Emma whose hand is stretched out towards her, her body in a playful bow.

This is my love song to you.

"May I have this dance?" Emma asks, clasping her hand with Regina's, and the brunette shakes her head with a disbelieving exhale of affectionate laughter, barely able to speak.

"Thought you'd never ask," She jests, taking her hands and drawing her into herself.

Let every woman know I'm yours.

Their hips move together, fingers tangling together.

So you can fall asleep each night, babe, and know I'm dreaming of you more.

Regina giggles before kicking off her heels, not heeding for a moment where they land, reveling in how her bare feet feel on the petals beneath her. Emma watches her in awe, watching the girl she was before her marriage to Snow's father, before she became the Queen--when she was just Regina. That's the carefree, stunning woman in front of her, and Emma has never been more in love in her life.

You're always hoping that we make it; you always want to keep my gaze.

Blind in her affections, Emma draws away and extends her arm, letting Regina spin out in front of her. She watches her skirts whip around her, watches her bare feet dance across the petal covered wood, watches her smile and laugh and her eyes shut and her loose dark hair fly around her face and past her shoulders.

Well you're the only one I see, love, and that's the one thing that won't change.

Emma feels her love for the other woman like a bullet to the chest, and she catches her when she finishes twirling, smashing their bodies together and kissing her, hard.

I will never stop trying; I will never stop watching as you leave.

Regina gasps in surprise by the kiss, shutting her eyes and moving her hands to the blonde's jaw, capturing her lips with Emma's, sighing when Emma captures her bottom lip with her teeth.

I will never stop losing my breath every time I see you looking back at me.

They break apart panting, hands on each other's cheeks, staring into the other's irises which are sparkling in reflection of the fairy lights surrounding them. Regina feels dizzy, drunk on something that is certainly not alcohol, and maybe the happiest she's ever been. She opens her mouth, but forgets how to form words.

And I will never stop holding your hand; I will never stop opening your door.

Regina closes her eyes, shaking her head slightly before wrapping her arms around the blonde, resting her cheek against her shoulder. Their bodies continue to sway in time with the music until the song ends.

I will never stop choosing you babe; I will never get used to you.

They break apart, and Regina raises her chin to drink in the overwhelmingly clear sky dotted with stars, laughing as she exhales, feeling more alive than she's ever been. She loses herself in the world above her, only resurfacing when she hears, "Regina," from beside her.

She looks down, and Emma's--kneeling?--in front of her, and then her heart is in her throat and her hands fly to her mouth because she knows.

"Emma," she replies tearfully, watching as Emma's trembling hand opens the lid of the box she's holding, revealing a breathtaking simple ring.

"Regin--Regina, I've never loved anyone the way I love you. I feel it in my head, my chest, my damned toes. I go crazy whenever you just look at me. It's ridiculous; we've been through so much--we've moved the moon together, survived I don't know how many memory portions--and I forget how to form sentences around you. I love you. I do. I fucking love you. I can't think of a single thing I wouldn't do for you. I would give you my life, so--" she chokes a bit, smiling through her tears. "--so, that's what I'm doing. I'm giving you my life, my heart, myself. Regina Mills, will you do me the absolute honor of marrying me?"

Regina keeps her hand clasped over her mouth, tears leaking out of her eyes and running down her fingers. She falls onto her knees, so that they're on the same level, and she finally removes her hand as she nods vigorously. She leans in, kisses her, drawing back just in time to say,

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes, god, yes." She tells her breathlessly between kisses, fingers tangling in her hair.

Emma sighs out a cry of relieved laughter that's halfway to a sob, and she throws her arms around Regina, running her hands up and down her back. "I'm yours," she tells her in a whispered promise, and they sink to the floor, laying on their backs as they watch the night sky.

After a few minutes of silence, Regina chuckles. "Henry knew. Henry knew this whole time, didn't he?"

Emma snorts, turning her head to look into Regina's bright eyes. "Yep--can't keep a thing from that one. He's pretty smart," she jokes, laughing when Regina digs her fingers into Emma's sides. Then, growing serious, she watches Regina as she says, "I told him. I asked him a few days ago to make sure he was okay with it. If I said no I'd--" she breaks off, choking back her suppressed potential disappointment. "--but, what we had going already was perfect. I couldn't ask for anything more. But this..." she breaks off, sliding the ring onto Regina's left hand before tangling their fingers together, "This is heaven."

Regina smiles and captures Emma in another kiss, closing her eyes as she sees fireworks behind her eyelids and feels love burning in her heart, and thinks this really is heaven. She wants to memorize them together exactly like this.

I will never stop trying
I will never stop watching as you leave
I will never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me
And I will never stop holding your hand
I will never stop opening your door
I will never stop choosing you babe
I will never get used to you.

The End.

---

AN #2: I can't even begin to describe what I felt when I typed those last two words: "the end." It's 4:23 A.M., and I'm blasting my 'writing' Spotify playlist, and I just finished writing this crazy-long epilogue for you guys after about a month of on-and-off writing it, and I finally feel ready to finish and send it off with you guys.

Well, that's the end! That's insane. I've officially finished my second SwanQueen fanfic on here after about a year and a half of writing it. I want to thank every SINGLE reader, especially those of you who voted, and a special round of hugs and kisses to every single one of you lovely souls who took time of their lives to comment. That truly, truly means the entire world and stars to me. I couldn't ask for a better audience--readers, voters, commenters alike--and I barely feel like I deserve you guys. I love you so much. YOU made this possible.

I really and truly hope you will follow me to my next focus, Clock Chimes. I would LOVE to see you all over there. I do not intend to stop writing anytime soon. I'm already planning a new one I'll start before Clock Chimes is even over! Also, please send me a prompt that I will write for you in my oneshot book! You can message me anytime.

Again, thank you so much, from the bottom of my trash heart. :)