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“One Blow Job, on the house.”
Regina peers up in surprise. Not so much because she’s a little revolted by the name – a drink had been the furthest thought from her mind – but because she hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since she entered this dingy establishment.
“I didn’t order this,” Regina says, gesturing to the shot glass.
The bartender shrugs. “Well, someone did. Consider it a gift, sweetheart, and try not to look so glum. The night is still young.”
He saunters away, and Regina curses herself for ever agreeing to accompany David on his inane adventures into a gay bar.
She eyes the glass in disgust. It’s far from her usual drink (she’s more of a cider-in-a-quiet-study type of girl), but it also isn’t every night her idiot coworker abandons her to play pirate with a man who wears far too much eyeliner for his own good.
“We shall dub thee Shiver Me Timbers,” Regina mutters, before a voice breaks in –
“His name’s Killian, actually.”
A woman abruptly snags the empty seat beside her. Regina arches her brow as she takes in the blonde hair and green eyes gazing expectantly at her, and allows her own gaze to travel down a lean frame and skin-tight jeans because – well, no one ever said she couldn’t do any looking of her own.
“I beg your pardon?” Regina asks.
“Killian,” the blonde says again and points to where David is still dallying with the pirate wannabe. “The guy who’s with your friend? He’s my roommate. I guess that makes us both the wingmen in this case, huh?”
“And you are?”
“I’m Emma,” the blonde introduces herself and holds out her hand. “Emma Swan.”
Regina hesitantly takes it. “Regina.”
Emma nods to the shot glass on the counter in front of them. “Are you going to drink that?”
“So this was your doing, I assume?” Regina asks. “No, thank you. I don’t drink anything that implies putting my mouth in places they shouldn’t be.”
“You know that’s just a name, right?” Emma says. “It’s actually really good. How can you already hate it if you haven’t tried it?”
“Because I have better things to do than sit here while some stranger tries to buy me with drinks.”
“Buy you?” Emma echoes.
Suddenly the friendly smile is gone, replaced by a frown that is both stark and maybe even a little dazzling.
“Wow. Okay. What crawled up your ass?”
Regina bristles. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what you think this is? Me trying to get into your pants?” Emma asks. “Believe it or not, that was me just trying to make conversation.”
Regina sighs. This night was already going extraordinarily well.
“That’s not what I –”
“No, I get it. I’ll back off,” Emma says. “But for the record, I do have standards, you know. And they don’t involve sleeping with prissy straight girls.”
This time it’s Regina who recoils in offense. “Prissy?”
Straight?
“Swan!”
Both sets of heads turn in time to see the leather-clad moron – Killian, as he’s apparently called – leading David towards the exit. He shoots Emma a thumbs-up and disappears through the doors, pulling a thoroughly giddy David with him.
“Where are they going?” Regina asks, peeved. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s getting laid,” Emma deadpans.
“So I’m stuck here with the likes of you?”
“Seems like it,” Emma says with a shrug. “So what’ll it be, your royal prissiness?”
“Oh, I’ll show you prissy.”
Snatching the shot glass from the counter, Regina chugs the drink and slams it back down, motioning the bartender for another.
“Another round, please. And make sure to bring one for this idiot right here.”
“You know,” Emma begins several minutes later, after a round of drinks that definitely isn’t enough to wipe her infuriating smug smile from Regina’s memory just yet. “You’re kind of an asshole.”
“Oh, very mature,” Regina drawls. “What do you want me to say, exactly? I’m quivering in my heels right now. I’m so terribly devastated by your opinion of me. Oh no.”
“See? That right there,” Emma points out. “Do you have to be so damn snarky all the time?”
“Do you have to be such an insufferable brat?”
“At least I don’t suffer from bitch syndrome and automatically shoot down a friendly drink because oh god no. No homo,” Emma bites out. “Can’t do that with a straight girl.”
“Your stupidity astounds me.”
“What?”
Regina puts down her drink. “You can have your opinions of me, Miss Swan. But don’t you go misinterpreting matters that aren’t yours to interpret in the first place. I’m not straight.”
“You’re not?”
“No, dear.”
Emma’s eyes linger on Regina’s face before dropping down to her body, from the opening in her blouse down to her legs, and then settling on her chest again. Regina feels her heartrate pick up – it’s not like she undid the third button on her blouse for this very reason.
As if.
Emma’s gaze flicks back to her face.
“Whatever,” she mumbles, before taking a long sip from her beer. “You’re still an asshole.”
“Your hair is too yellow.”
“Yeah? Well yours is too big. It’s like it’s full of secrets or something.”
They’re on their third round of drinks, and while Regina is still far off from being intoxicated, she’s beginning to feel the effects in the way her mouth is running off. And the way she can’t seem to stop staring at Emma Swan’s lips.
It’s a total inconvenience when by god she hates this woman’s guts.
Maybe a little less now.
Maybe.
“You know what I think?” Emma says. “I think you like my yellow hair. That’s why you can’t stop staring at it.”
Regina actually snorts. “Whatever you say, Emma.”
“Um… Wow. You called me Emma,” she says, dumbfounded. “The world is actually ending.”
“And you say my sarcasm is unfair.”
“You wanna know what’s unfair?” Emma says. “Your face. I mean, how are you even real?”
Regina feels something coil in her stomach as she leans forward, a smirk in place. “Is that a compliment I’m hearing, Swan?”
Shoving a fry in her mouth, Emma mutters, “Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it. I bet you already have an insult ready behind all that hair.”
“Yes. I guess I could say you eat like a child.”
Emma grins behind another french fry. “Wanna find out?”
There is no mistaking the underlying meaning in the question, or the way Regina’s stomach churns in anticipation when Emma’s gaze drifts to her lips.
Regina leans forward and smiles, slow and coy. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me, Swan.”
“Wanna bet on that, your Majesty?”
Regina figures there are two directions this scenario can go.
She can forget this entire thing ever happened, go home, and murder David in cold blood the next morning once he’s had his fun.
Or she can see where this takes her.
“Still think I eat like a child?”
The rickety door creaks behind her, and Regina growls deep in her throat as she laces her fingers through blonde hair, tugging her further in between her legs.
“Shut up and don’t stop.”
“Yes, m’am.”
The second Emma’s mouth is back on her, Regina’s head thunks against the door and she realizes trying to keep quiet in a semi public restroom is damn near impossible. Regina lets out a low moan, grinding her hips in time with Emma’s ministrations, and then she’s tugging at blonde hair again and motioning her upwards.
“Come here.”
As soon as Emma’s lips are on hers, Regina knows she can’t put a stop to this even if she wants to. Especially when Emma has her pinned against the door, one hand hoisting Regina’s leg around her waist, and the other maneuvering between her thighs, fingers dipping into slick folds and slipping inside her and -
Regina groans. “Emma.”
“Hey,” Emma breathes. “Look at me.”
Regina does, her eyes catching green when Emma nuzzles her nose and says, “I lied. I think you’re pretty amazing. Still kind of an asshole, but –”
“Emma,” Regina says warningly.
“And look, I know we got off to a bad start, but the thought of this being a onetime thing kind of kills me inside –”
“Emma.”
“What?”
“Do you really think I’d be letting you talk right now, while your fingers are inside of me, if this were a onetime thing?” Regina huffs. “You’re going home with me tonight. And you’ll be staying for breakfast.”
“Oh.”
“Emma.”
“Right. Don’t stop.”
And this time Emma doesn’t. Not until Regina calls her name out over and over, anyway.
There’s something about Emma Swan that infuriates the hell out of her, Regina thinks.
But it’s also the beginning of something deeper that she can’t quite pinpoint, something new and untamed and feels a little like she’d just fallen in love overnight. It's stupid, really. She knows this even as she wakes up the next morning in a messy tangle of naked limbs and flesh, with her head tucked beneath Emma’s chin and steady breaths against her face.
Regina figures it’s worth it.