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Regina doesn’t even remember creating this bar when she’d cast the curse.
Unfortunately it’s here, and worse, it’s being patronized by one Savior, who she’s temporarily adopted responsibility for. She peers around until she finds a shock of blonde hair, and said mess of a woman spots her back, waving enthusiastically until she heads in her direction.
“Regina!” Emma flashes a brilliant grin, patting the seat next to her. “What are you doing here?”
Regina sidles into the bar seat without so much as a smile. “Here for you,” she says simply. “And I’m not staying. Neither are you,” she adds, and Emma frowns.
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s time to go home .”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Regina rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t matter if you want to or not. We’re going.”
Emma pouts – actually pouts , lower lip stuck out as she gazes at Regina with puppy dog eyes, huge and wet and sparkling. “You don’t want to stay here with me? Just for a little while?” Regina doesn’t reply, just presses her mouth into a firm line, and Emma adds, “Just for five minutes?”
Fuck.
Sighing heavily, Regina deposits her purse on the bar. “Fine.”
Emma whoops, clapping her hands together – and god, she must be worse off than Regina realized – and clinking her glass to Regina’s bag. Regina eyes her with one brow raised, but she doesn’t comment as Emma raises it to her lips and takes a sip.
For all her cheering, Emma doesn’t seem to truly remember that Regina’s there, focused more on tearing her napkin into little pieces than she is on conversation. That is, until she runs out of napkin, and lets out a heavy sigh as she rests her head in her hand and turns towards her once more. She’s got her elbow propped on the bar, every motion heavy as her drooping eyelids. "You should bring the corsets back," she blurts out. “Start a trend or whatever. It’s Storybrooke. It’d catch on.”
Sighing heavily – and absolutely regretting agreeing to pick Emma up in Snow’s place, because the baby had been fussing and Regina’s a sucker – Regina asks, “and why would I do that?”
“You know,” Emma drawls, gesturing vaguely to her own chest. “Because tits. They made your tits look insane. Bouncy.”
Regina just stares at her for several seconds. Gears turn in her head as she tries to process – and no, she’d heard correctly – and in the end all she can say is, “...they're what?”
Emma gives her wide, innocent eyes. “Say what?”
“Yeah, okay.” Regina reaches out and draws Emma’s glass, still half-full with what must be straight liquor towards herself before she gets the chance to down the rest of it. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“That was rude.” Emma scowls, eyes following the path of her stolen drink as Regina pulls it even further from her. “Buzz-kill,” she half-drawls, half-sings. “Why are you here, anyway?”
Regina rolls her eyes. She makes a show of it, too, hardly concerned for Emma’s feelings. “I’m here to pick you up, obviously.”
Emma’s brows fly up. “Oh, really?”
A sinking feeling of regret settles over her. “No,” she says, exhausted. “Not like that. I’m just here to take you home.”
“If you’re trying to take me home,” Emma drawls, wagging her brows in a lewd, ridiculous manner, “you should’ve worn the corset .”
“ Drive you home,” Regina clarifies. “I’m here to drive you home. Okay?”
“Boo. I’d rather you took me home.”
That’s…not as much of a surprise as it should have been, actually. But now isn’t the time or place to acknowledge this thing that’s been building between them for years, and so Regina pretends she’s unbothered. “I’m sure you would,” she deadpans. “If I tell you that’s what we’re doing, will you get in the car? We have a town hall meeting in the morning. I’m exhausted.”
Emma raises a brow, a mockery of an expression Regina knows she’s shot her direction more than once. “Promise to wear the corset to it, and I might. Come on. I’ll even wear one too.” She peers down her own shirt, tugging the neckline with one finger hooked beneath the fabric. “I don’t have much to work with, but I think I could pull it off.”
“Stop that,” Regina hisses, looking around to see if anyone had seen the town’s sheriff appraising her own breasts.
Emma wags her brows. “Why? Afraid you might see something you like?” She pulls her shirt farther down, a lopsided grin at her lips.
“No.” Regina smacks at her wrist before she can do something stupid like pop a button or catch the gore of her bra. “I just don’t want you to have to arrest yourself on public indecency charges. It wouldn’t exactly be a great look. Now – can you just close out your tab so we can go?”
“Boo,” Emma calls, and then, face lighting up – which is never a good sign – she adds, “Mayor Mills is taking me home!”
“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Regina murmurs, ducking her head as several of the bar’s patrons turn to look. “Are you happy now? Let’s go.”
“It’s fine,” Emma drawls, snatching her whiskey back before Regina’s reflexes can kick in and stop her. “Half the town already thinks we’re sleeping together. Actually, half them think we’re married. Hey!” She flags down someone from across the bar, waving wildly and then gesturing to Regina. “This is my wife!”
The patron, who Regina thankfully does not recognize, raises a brow as she makes eye contact with Regina. Regina weaves her fingers together and presses her hands into a fist as she asks, “Did they put anything in that cup besides liquor? Ayahuasca, perhaps?” Emma responds with a loose, sloppy grin, and she adds, “Crack?”
“Just good ol’ fashioned alcohol. You should try some.” Emma flags down the bartender and Regina shoots her down with a wave of her own hand and a shake of her head. Emma scowls. “Spoilsport.”
“I have to drive,” Regina reminds her, none too gently. “You. I have to drive you home, because you are fucking trashed in a dive bar in the middle of the night, and your mother is indisposed. Alright? So if you don’t get in my car –”
“Tits,” Emma says simply. “Bounce bounce bounce.”
“Car,” Regina bites out.
Emma leans back and makes something of a dribbling motion. “Like a basketball.”
“I am going to kill you,” Regina fires back, and a random patron actually looks at her in fear. She glares until the man backs down, and then says to Emma, “now close out so we can -- You know what, nevermind.” She’s got a fifty in her wallet, and she waves it at the nearest bartender before slamming it onto the counter. “Pay me back tomorrow.”
“They have my card, you don’t have to –” Emma protests, but it’s cut off by the thick purple smoke of Regina’s magic surrounding them.
She takes them only to the parking lot. Magical travel can result in nausea even in the most sober of participants, and she’s wary of Emma in her current state, but to her credit she handles it surprisingly well.
“Woah,” Emma says, reaching out to lean against the brick of the bar’s outer wall with one hand. She leans over the bushes for a moment like she might be sick, eyes closed, but after a few deep breaths she straightens and says, “that was crazy.”
“You’ve done it yourself a million times,” Regina reminds her.
“Yeah, but not drunk.” Emma reaches again, this time for Regina’s shoulder, and with a scowl she lets her use her to steady herself. “This is crazy,” she echoes. “Are you about to take me home right now?”
“In the most literal sense of the word, Miss Swan.”
“Ooh. Big guns.”
“Yes, you do,” Regina slips in, unable to resist. “Now get in my fucking car.” She’s been guiding Emma towards it since she’d steadied, and now they’re close enough that she can throw open the door for her, eager to have this over with.
“Yes ma’am.” Emma drops into the seat more than anything.
With a roll of her eyes, Regina rounds the car and follows suit. She manages to start the engine and leave the lot, soft music playing over the radio, in blissful silence. When they hit the road, though, Emma’s feeling chatty again.
“I met you in the Enchanted Forest, you know,” Emma says. She’s staring out the window like she’s having a revelation, like the universe is speaking to her, but somehow Regina doubts it’s anything all that profound. Her doubts are confirmed when Emma says, “Your outfits were killer. Scared me at first, ‘cause you were kinda murdering people, but killer.”
Regina waits for more, but it doesn’t come. As she’s not keen to enter into a discussion on her past transgressions with an absolutely plastered Emma, she responds with a simple, “Thank you.”
“Mm,” Emma hums in response. She’s silent for several heartbeats. “I’d motorboat you so hard.”
“...There it is,” Regina mutters to herself. She’s never seen Emma like this. Sure, she’s been bold, brash, incredibly annoying – all on many occasions. But she’s never seen her this…overtly sexual.
Part of her’s enjoying it. If only she wasn’t fucking hammered, she might be having fun with it.
It’s not until she pulls up outside Emma’s house that she acknowledges her again. Emma tries to make conversation, but she’s drunk enough that most of her comments are under her breath, whatever response she’d hoped to elicit satisfied by her own laughter.
“This is you,” Regina says as she kills the engine.
Emma actually has the audacity to roll her eyes. “Duh,” she says. “I know where I live.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember,” Regina deadpans.
“I’m still me,” Emma says. She pops the door open with that, shifting out awkwardly and swaying as she bends down to peer at Regina through the doorway. “I do mean everything I’m saying, you know.”
Regina raises a brow. “Why don’t we see about that in the morning?” Emma flinches slightly, and she almost regrets it, that harsh edge to her tone. She shifts to something warmer, honeyed, more reflective of her real feelings and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emma.”
Emma practically beams at her. “See you tomorrow,” she echoes, and then slams the door. Regina has the feeling that it’s unintentional.
She waits until Emma makes it into her house – she turns to wave dramatically and drops her keys three times as she unlocks the door – before she drives off, mind swimming with possibilities she’d previously thought impossible.
Regina does not wear a corset to the meeting. Part of her wants to, but in the end she decides that it would simply be too unprofessional.
She does, however, wear her tightest white shirt.
It’s the one with straining buttons that really should’ve been retired after she put it through the dryer, but she couldn’t bear to part with it. Just for good measure, she does one button less than she usually would.
Emma wanders in ten minutes after the meeting had been due to start, sporting dark sunglasses and her blonde locks scraped back into a greasy ponytail.
“Good morning, Sheriff Swan,” Regina calls, too loud. Emma flinches back, raising a hand as if to block the noise, and sinks slowly into the seat that had been saved for her. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Great.” The words are bland as she slowly pulls off her sunglasses and sets them on the table. Her eyes flicker up to meet Regina’s own, a blush creeping over her cheeks that could just as easily be due to her hangover as embarrassment, and they go wide the moment they skim her chest. “Great,” She repeats, a little more hollow this time.
A few snickers echo around the table and Regina doesn’t bite back her smirk. “Happy to hear it.” With that she stands, striding over to the presentation board depicting the month’s budget, savoring the distinct sound of sputtering from behind her that is surely Emma choking on her coffee.
She’d also chosen her tightest pencil skirt for the occasion. “As I was saying, this month’s budget is higher for most of your areas than last. It will likely continue to fluctuate month to month as we begin and complete various construction projects around town. Or, as some of you may prefer to say, bounce.” She turns, locking eyes with one very uncomfortable Sheriff Swan. “Like a basketball.”
The man to Emma’s left – someone whose curse-name Regina has never bothered to commit to memory, but who she recognizes from the bar last night – bursts into laughter outright. Emma’s cheeks flare a bright red, her mouth pressed into a tight, flat line as she bores holes into the table with her gaze.
There are real issues to discuss, though, real problems and projects to tackle, and so Regina lets the Emma Dilemma take the back burner until the meeting is through. She waits as everyone filters out, several of them throwing glances back her way. Emma remains in her seat, arms crossed as she stares Regina down half-heartedly, and Regina has to wave a hand to shoo a few of the onlookers out.
She’s unsure what to say, but she doesn’t have to worry, because the moment they’re alone Emma breaks the silence for her.
“Go fuck yourself,” Emma grumbles, half-pointed, half-desperate.
Regina feels that familiar thrill rise in her throat, the one that she always gets when Emma decides to play into her games, and she lets herself bask in it before she responds. “From what I gathered last night, you’d prefer to do it yourself.”
Emma wrinkles her nose unconvincingly. “Shut up. If I wasn’t so hungover right now –”
Regina leans over the table, bracing her weight on her forearms. The motion makes her tits look great, she knows, and she feels the button that’s barely hanging on by a thread straining as gravity works against it. Emma’s eyes drop immediately. “You’d what?” She purrs, dipping her voice low into the back of her throat. “Do tell. And please, don’t spare any details.”
Emma’s eyes flicker pointedly away at that. “You know what? Nothing. I’d do nothing, because I am so not playing this game.”
“What game?” Regina tilts her head to the side. She lifts one hand, letting that button free with deft fingers, and Emma promptly looks like she’d like to melt into the ground. “Come on, Emma. Tell me,” she insists. “I’m so very curious, now that you’re sober. Tell me all about it, and maybe we can make it a reality.”
“Regina,” she warns, something desperate in her voice. “Don’t do that unless you mean it.”
“Oh, Emma, dear.” Regina purrs. “Last night you insisted we were married. Don’t you know me well enough to read me?” Emma flushes a deeper shade of red and Regina lets out a dark, rich laugh as she pushes up from the table, striding over to place one finger below Emma’s jaw and tip it until their eyes meet. “I tell you what,” she says. “Call me when you don’t look like you’ve just returned from a week-long expedition in the sewer system, and we’ll talk. Say, tomorrow?”
Emma groans. “Comparing me to a swamp gator is a hell of a way to ask me out, Regina. Even if it’s just a joke.”
“I’m not joking.” Regina wraps that hand around the edge of Emma's chin instead, leaning in just enough that their noses brush, tantalizingly close but not quite enough. Emma leans forward a hair, a subconscious reaction, perhaps, and Regina counters with a tilt of her head. “If you’re interested, then so am I.” She lets that marinate for a second, savoring the way Emma’s eyes flicker between her own and dropping, the ragged rhythm of her breath, and then she lets go. She leans back. Disappointment clouds Emma’s expression, but when they finally kiss – and they will – she’s not going to let it be with Emma nauseous and dizzy. “I don’t think you were quite accurate in assuming the entire town believes we’re together, but I’m sure there are a few. Let’s give them something to talk about.”
Emma blinks. “You’re serious?”
Regina about rolls her eyes. For someone with a so-called lie detector, Emma truly is dense. “Yes.” She sits back in one of the abandoned chairs. “I’ll arrange for Henry to be at a sleepover tomorrow. Come over around eight?” She waits, and Emma stares at her for several seconds more. She leans forward, letting her half-unbuttoned shirt and gravity emphasize her bust. “Maybe I’ll even wear that corset for you.”
“Oh,” Emma chokes out. Her eyes are locked to Regina’s chest, and it seems like an eternity before she rips them away and meets Regina’s gaze again. “Deal.”