they're arguing in henry's tiny new dorm room when it happens.

well, arguing is a strong word. they don't really argue anymore, unless it's about the big things or the big bads, but they are definitely not agreeing with each other. regina thinks his extra long twin bed should be lofted so he can put his desk underneath and free up more storage space, and emma's worried he won't want to climb the ladder every night, especially if he's uh, out partying , which prompts regina's argument that henry is sensible, and sure regina he's sensible, but he's also eighteen years old .

unfortunately, henry also doesn't care either way, and so the decision is left up to them.

disastrous.

he's outside on the lawn, mingling with his roommate, donning one of those free lanyards, and emma can see him from the window, being a normal, regular kid that doesn't have an insurmountable responsibility over several magical lands. here he is laughing freely under the setting sun, surrounded by kids his own age. here he is–

"...probably going to check out a party, responsibly, maybe he'll be the DD and won't even drink, regina, but he shouldn't have to climb mount everest to get to bed!"

regina tucks a plaid corner sheet over his mattress, already properly covered with an anti-dust mites mattress sleeve, and definitely not lofted. she motions for emma to grab the opposite corner, but emma isn't going to give this one up so soon.

"he also should have some space for his books, but it looks like only one of us is actually considering the academic side of college."

and regina, well, regina is very tired and wants to spend time with their son before they have to go home and they'll cry even though they say they won't, curled up together in some diner emma went to back in the day, but she also won't give this one up so soon, and so they continue back and forth, back and forth, the familiar thrum of an argument that's not an argument building up in the space between them. emma forgets her position and helps with the corner sheet, and eventually they move to unpack his desk when–

"sorry, i didn't want to intrude!" it's henry's roommate's mom, gert. gertie? at the door, holding their kids' sets of keys to the laundry room. she laughs. "wow, you two bicker just like jim and i!" she says, rolling her eyes fondly and emma feels heat rising in her chest and regina digs her nails into the suitcase because–

"how long have you been together?"

and there it is. the always question. they struggle over their answer, like always, and it doesn't feel like enough, like always, to express that no, they're not together, not exactly, but that not exactly is seven years worth of something that isn't quite friendship, and yet is the most powerful friendship either of them has ever had, not that they've had many friends between them. they also have friday dinners, but they don't tell gert.

regina is thinking about them, five minutes later when gert leaves. she plugs henry's lamp into the wall, and she thinks about them, and doesn't think about emma, or the way her gaze is greener and brighter now. because of the sun. because someone asked, again.

emma laughs, out of nerves really, out of a realization too late and too soon and she's not quite ready to hold it out in her hands, so she leans against the wall by the window and laughs. regina feels that tucked away heartbreak, the one that's not tucked away enough because it will always catch her off guard at the most unexpected moments. in their son's new dorm room, sweaty hair pulled into a ponytail. emma swan, leaning casually against the wall.

"that was bound to happen, huh," emma says, and hopes regina laughs with her.

regina feels heat crawl up her neck and wants to laugh, wants to brush over the moment and simply enjoy the rest of the day. instead she says, "let's find henry and see if he wants dinner."

"regina..." emma says and reaches forward, emma always says, and always reaches.

regina smiles, still reeling from ancient, ancient heartbreak. she puts her hands in her back pockets. "let's go, emma."

in the car, they can't stop chancing glances at her. it's a highway, so regina is annoyed. emma just wants to stop fidgeting with the souvenir college keychain they gave out to parents. she wants to say something. she wants to put on music, but feels like they maybe they need the silence, but maybe they need to drown it all out.

they don't put on music and no, it may not be the first time anyone asked, but it's the first time their response felt like a real excuse.

for.

"hey," emma says, eyes still very bright. she hasn't thought about it, but she's also thought about it for years. in the inbetweens. after casting a spell together, the magic flowing wildly between thum, thrumming under emma's veins and in regina's heart, carefree like they are when they remember to stop thinking. after dinner, when emma flings herself on the couch and regina laughs instead of scolding her. when regina laughs. "you know i love you, right?"

"emma," regina says, and feels her heart beat and beat, feels like she's soaring and it's not a feeling that can be half felt, and isn't that the issue. "let's just go home," she says, and looks ahead.

but emma swan watched her son go off to college, has survived ogres and portals, and a heart full of fear, of longing, and regina wants so much to settle into her own bones, find a sunny day all for her, grapple in the dark with her hand held, and-

"i love you," emma says again, trembling in her yellow bug. grasping the stupid keychain. "like...you know, like gert said. gertie?"

regina staves off her reaction and (oh her magic, her magic is singing), and veers off the freeway, off the stupid freeway because stupid emma swan couldn't have said that any other time, any other moment in granny's when they're having a stupid cheeseburger or when emma spends the night with her parents and says goodbye to regina on the porch and kisses her stupid cheek sometimes, and she drives into an off-ramp that leads to nowhere and.

breathes. gets out of her car, and looks out into a pink and yellow sky, and then her vision is blocked by emma's yellow, yellow hair against their stupid yellow car, and,

"like gert said," regina says, and emma presses their foreheads together. "like gert said. you're trying to, we're trying to do this right here, right–"

between somewhere new and home, and henry once brought her home, and storybrooke wasn't regina's home for a long, long time. it was a triumph. it was the real curse.

and now she's biting emma's bottom lip, hands in hair, on waists, emma's foot settling gentle between hers and her kisses turn gentle, hands coming up to hold her face too gently, cool metal behind them and her hair is still sweaty, there's a sunburn on the back of emma's neck because she didn't listen before they left, and regina rests her hand at the back of her neck, trembling.

on the off-ramp, on the way back home.

a/n: title is from the poem "dogfish" by mary oliver.