Coffee To Go: Chapter One

I don't own Once Upon A Time.

Please enjoy.

He had no qualms concerning the use of his most pitiable voice. In fact, he utilised it to the best of his abilities, using it to tug on my heartstrings and make me rethink my immediate 'no'. And he really was forcing me to rethink the no.

"Please?" he whined. I could almost see him, my imagination racing to place him in some dusty office, his hair curling riotously, and his smile warming the room. I sighed. He took advantage of my wavering resolve. "Please, Emma. I would owe you big time."

"Hell yeah you would!" I snapped. I immediately sighed again, regretting the tone.

"Bad day?" That's something I loved about Graham. He was sweet. He backed down from the stand he'd taken as soon as I hinted towards the overwhelming exhaustion I was feeling. Not that I would ever let him know that I was exhausted.

"The worst," I confided cheerfully. I switched the phone to my right ear and balanced it on my shoulder as I finished washing up the dishes left after dinner. "My boss is a real creep."

A pause. "More reason for you to think about my offer."

I groaned and bunched my curls in a hand, scratching my scalp. I'd forgotten, for the moment, that I'd been in the sink and flinched when soapy water dripped onto my neck.

"I have thought about it, Graham. You know I have. And I would accept it in a second if it wasn't for- oh for christs sake-" I flipped my curls and, annoyed, grabbed my hair tie. "Hold on." I tied the curls back, swearing softly when the band snapped onto my hand. "Okay I'm back."

"You alright?"

"This stupid, ugh," I brushed a strand from my eyes and scrubbed fiercely at the dinner plates, "My hair," I said as explanation.

Graham huffed a laugh. "You haven't cut it?"

"I haven't had time. Too busy."

"Right. Sure." He sounded amused and I growled. Dickhead. "So when you said you would accept…" he trailed off. I sighed for what felt like the ninetieth time tonight. "Why won't you accept?"

"You know why, Graham"

"Henry," he said, sounding only a little resigned. And frustrated.

"Don't start with me," I snapped. "He isn't your son. You don't have a kid, Graham, so you don't get to talk to me like that." When he spluttered and tried to apologise, I waved it away even though he couldn't see me. I tried valiantly to explain but at the end of a day like this it was hard to think, let alone put thoughts verbally into words. "We just got here. It hasn't even been a month, Graham, and before that we had an apartment for six months. That's no way for a kid to live. I don't want to yank him around and I really don't want to have my childhood."

"He won't, Em," Graham reassured me in his soothing rumble. Dishes done, I hopped up onto the counter and let my feet swing. My shoulders slumped a little and I leant back to rest my head on the wall behind me. "Know why?" I shrugged and made a noncommittal noise, knowing he'd tell me anyway. "Cause he has the best mom in the world." I smiled faintly, pleased with the comment but knowing that it wasn't true. I couldn't provide Henry with everything he wanted. Hell, I couldn't provide him with anything that he wanted. We were living off microwave food and, in my case, bad coffee.

At a faint crashing noise, I moved into the living room. I paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame, to watch my son drive his little truck up over the couch and propel it through the air – whooshing sounds eagerly accompanying the vaguely non-realistic movements – to land on furniture and walls as he so desired.

"How is the lad?" Graham asked. I blinked at his voice and grinned. I'd forgotten I was even on the phone with my friend, too caught up in watching Henry.

"Better. I mean he's not sick anymore." Last time Graham had called, I remembered, Henry had been cranky and sad – a mean bout of the sniffles had him tucked up in bed for far longer than any child (particularly one as rambunctious as Henry) should be. He'd spoken to Graham for a grand total of one hour and thirty-nine minutes that day, chatting about everything from –ew- the colour of his snot to how many stars he could see out the window.

"And school?"

"He just started a couple of days ago. I can't pull him out now and make him the focus of everyone's attention when he's just dropped into a new school with new kids," I said, softly so not to draw Henry's attention, but sternly so Graham knew I meant business. I would not mess my kid up. "I can't do that to him, Graham. It sucks being-"

"The new kid. I know." And despite the fact that he didn't have a son and he didn't know me half as well as he professed that he did – admittedly, that much was my fault for not keeping in touch – he did know that being new was sometimes not a welcome experience. "But look, Emma, I was there for you once and Henry, I promise you, will be fine. I promise," he said again. I swear for a moment his accent thickened. That's how I knew he was being sincere. "And I mean, school hasn't even started yet here so that's one less thing that you'd have to worry about. If you get here soon, he can make friends before he starts. And the teachers are really nice."

"You really want us to come down," I stated, rolling the idea around in my head. I bit the inside of my mouth lightly as I thought about it.

"Yes. Please," Graham begged again. "I want to see you and I want to see my little Henry and I know that you'll love it here. I really do."

"And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that your dragon lady mayor is breathing down your neck for you to get a new deputy?"

"Not at all."

"Really? Not even because you hate that she wants Sidney to be deputy and you hate him?"

There was a brief pause. "God I hate him," he said in a rushed breath. "But that has nothing to do with it at all." I hummed down the line, not convinced, and he sighed. I could picture his little scowl, all downturned and churlish, when he realised I wasn't going to let him lie to me. "Okay, maybe a little. But seriously – you remember him, don't you? He's a creep!"

I did remember him. Sidney had been a few years ahead of me and Graham and he'd been the editor of the school newspaper and also written the vast majority of the articles. And he'd been such a 'creep' that I'd taken it upon myself to kick him in the groin on one – okay a few – particular occasion.

"How am I supposed to turn you down, Graham?" I asked, playfully mournful. "You make it so difficult."

He sucked in a breath, stunned into ecstasy. "You'll come down?" he asked in an excited whisper that was an octave above its normal pitch.

I laughed softly, glancing into the room where Henry continued to play. God the kid had a great attention span. "I have to talk to the kid about it but I think so. You still have room for us?"

"Yep. More than enough."

"Then yeah. I'll text you Henry's answer later."

"Great! Thank you so much, Emma. You won't regret this!" And he was gone. I clicked the End button on my phone and slid it back into its receiver. I paused, took a deep breath, and nodded. Here came the hard part. Henry.

I waited for a minute or two, trying to muster the courage to tell Henry that, once again, we would be moving. My thoughts were interrupted when a little hand tugged at my shirt.

I peeked down through slitted eyelids at the adorable face looking up at me. "Mamma, my truck broked." Henry's little face creased into a frown as he held up the small plastic truck, the wheels having come loose.

"It broked?" I asked, crouching down immediately to hoist him onto my waist. "Well, let me find some glue and we can fix this up quick smart!" Henry giggled at the expression and nodded, handing me the truck.

"Quick smart!" he repeated, clapping his hands. I grabbed the emergency kit from the kitchen cupboard and then jogged us into the living room – which doubled as a dining room…and tripled as the television room – and dropped him onto the couch, making him squeal. The happy sound sent a bolt right to my heart and I grinned at him, winking. He winked clumsily back and I didn't bother to fight the smile that spread across my face.

"Okay little man." I squinted at the truck. Crap, I need my glasses for this. "You know where Mamma's glasses are?" He nodded. "Grab them for me, will you?" He swung his legs down to the ground and sped off to collect my glasses. By the time he returned, I had figured out where the wheels were supposed to go and I took them from him with a murmured 'thank you'.

"You're welcome," he said back politely and damn if it didn't make my heart sing. He was, without the shadow of a doubt, the best goddamn kid around. Polite, smart, funny – I just wish that I didn't make it so hard on him sometimes. I mean, a woman like me trying to raise a kid like him? He'd have his work cut out for him that was for sure. One thing I could give him was love and I made damn sure that he had it in spares.

I poked my tongue out as I worked. The glue dripped a little but I wiped it off the truck and, as I held the wheels in place, I looked up at my son. "Hey kid," I started. He looked up at me and blinked. "How would you feel about going to see Uncle Graham?"

A smile almost split his face. "When?" he demanded.

"Tomorrow. He asked us to come and live with him for a while."

Henry smiled even wider before he frowned. "So…we won't be living here?" I shook my head no. "And school?"

"You'll be going to school there," I said softly. "And if you don't want to go that's fine. We can go and see Graham and come right back here."

Henry pursed his lips thoughtfully and crossed his arms. "I like Uncle Gray." I nodded but didn't interrupt him. His name for Graham was cute. I liked hearing him say it. Also, he was a pretty precocious kid and liked to babble. "He is nice and one time he let me hold his gun." I felt my face whiten with that knowledge but when I opened my mouth to ask when-how-why-when-what? and began to consider calling up Graham immediately to yell at him a little (a lot) when Henry glared at me. I settled into the couch and made a mental note to yell later. "Also he likes doggies and I like doggies."

All three apparently extremely relevant to the discussion. Uncle Graham is nice; he let Henry hold a gun (I'll seriously maim Graham for that); he likes doggies. Good to know.

"Are we coming back?" he asked.

"If we go and live with him?" I clarified. He nodded. "No. If we go to live with him then we won't come back here." He nodded again. "What about school, Henry? Did you make any friends?"

"No," he said softly. "And my teacher smells like sand." I wrinkled my nose. "And the coloured blocks are sticky. I don't like it there." I smiled. A point in the favour of moving then, I suppose.

"So what do you want, Henry?"

"I want to see Uncle Gray." A flash of fear crossed his face abruptly and I reacted instantly, pulling him into my arms and onto my lap.

"What is it, kid? What's wrong?"

"Can I take my things?" he asked, fearful. "What about Mr Dragon?" I relaxed, leaning my forehead against my sons' head.

"Yes," I murmured. "You can take your things. And Mr Dragon will definitely be coming with us. He can even sit in the front seat with you." Henry pulled away and grabbed my cheeks with two little hands. He looked up at me very seriously.

"Can we go see Uncle Gray now please?"

"Well, Henry, we have to pack and it's night time so we won't leave until tomorrow or even the next day."

"No." Henry stood, just so he could stomp his foot. "Now. I want to see Uncle Gray now." When he saw that his miniature tantrum had affected me very little – please, I deal with criminals on a daily basis, so a child's tantrum, even my child's tantrum, has nothing on that – he softened and widened his eyes plaintively. "Mamma," he said quietly. I groaned. Kid was good. "Pwease can we see Uncle Gray now?" And he even used the baby voice. God damn.

"Fine. I'll pack tonight. But!" I said, waggling a finger at him. "You are going to have a bath and you're going to like it. Got that?" He grinned from ear to ear and nodded eagerly. "Alright then. We have a deal."

He didn't even wait for his truck but raced straight for the bathroom, stripping his clothes as he went. Once I was sure that the wheels of the toy wouldn't come off, I laid the truck on the table and followed him. I left the door to the bathroom opened a crack and yelled in as I passed.

"Behind your ears too, mister!"

"Yes, mamma!"

Packing was easy. I always had boxes in my cupboard and, well, I actually hadn't taken most of my stuff out of the boxes. We'd only been in Boston for a month. Henry was a little more difficult to pack for but I managed in just under an hour, even with the kid poking around and dancing like a lunatic with the tiny portable radio I had bought for the shower. We didn't really have much in the way of possession and I was actually kind of sad about it. I needed to give Henry more, I thought.

Once the boxes were safely stowed in the car, I sent a quick text to the landlord, letting him know that we were moving out and not to expect the next months rent, and another to Graham telling him we were on our way. I shuffled into our bedroom and poked Henry.

"Henry," I whispered. He groaned from his position, spread-eagled on our bed. "Henry," I tried again. But the kid was dead to the world and so, with a shrug, I pulled him into my arms and cradled him all the way down the stairs and into my Bug. I strapped him in with no problems and pulled out the directions Graham had sent me. Storybrooke, Maine, here we come.

So, an AU story (no magic, no Evil Queen – sorry – but obviously still a Regina) about Emma and Regina and a little Henry. He's five in the story, by the way. It's been on my mind for quite a while now so I thought I'd have a crack at it. And I have a faint idea where I want to go with this but, as in all of my stories, I am open to ideas and constructive criticism. Let me know what you think. Reviews make me happy. Super happy. Happy reading, readers :)