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Tequila was not Emma’s favorite liquor. She didn’t like the peppery taste—but that wasn’t the real reason. Blackouts hadn’t happened often, but each one had featured tequila—loud, proud, and paired with Emma having a good time too fast. Every time she drank it, she swore she never would again. It had been years.
That being said, Emma drank a lot of tequila that night.
It was hard not to when Ruby kept buying, and Regina kept passing her another with that smirk she’d been wearing all night.
Emma wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t a coma dream.
Ruby had been pestering her for weeks, trying to get her to the Rabbit Hole. Months passed in Storybrooke with a strange, uneasy rhythm—each day without a major magical mishap since the truce with Maleficent felt like a step forward. Finally, Ruby asked her in the diner, and Emma had to say yes, because Regina answered first.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Miss Lucas.”
Emma’s breath caught as Regina turned toward her, a small, knowing smile on her lips. The fluorescents overhead flickered softly in her eyes, casting a glint that felt all too familiar, like the early days, when Emma couldn’t tell if Regina was planning to push her away or drag her in.
“I think it may be time for a celebration.”
The date was set. The group chat started—by Ruby, of course—and then came near-daily reminders that Emma couldn’t back out, courtesy of every time she saw Regina that week.
“I’m a little excited about Friday night,” Regina confessed after a magic lesson one afternoon.
Regina was unquestionably her friend now. They’d grown closer—compared scars, shared quiet moments, built something beyond history, Henry, or magic. Still, Emma wasn’t prepared for how vulnerable that confession felt. She didn’t tease her. Almost.
“Is Her Majesty excited to slum it with us peasants?” Emma said lightly, watching the corners of Regina’s mouth twitch as she rolled her eyes.
“No, Princess.” Regina had leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a register that made Emma’s throat damn near close up. “I’m excited to see you try to keep up with me on the dance floor.”
That led to Emma throwing back her fourth shot of the night, half-hoping to pass out in the booth before Ruby dragged them into the swelling crowd, bigger than any she’d seen that wasn’t tied to an emergency.
Dorothy and Belle had been her buffer so far, but their influence was slipping. Ruby was circling.
“Alright, Sheriff, time’s up,” Ruby announced as shot glasses clinked against the table. “No more excuses. Dance floor.”
Emma groaned as the rest of the group voiced their approval.
“C’mon, Swan. Be brave about it,” Dorothy grinned.
Emma considered threatening her with night shifts, but then Belle chimed in.
“You did say you’d dance if everyone else bought your drinks.”
Before she could respond, her mother’s voice cut in too loudly beside her.
“Emma! You have to dance!”
Snow was having too much fun. Too involved. Too drunk.
“Should I let everyone know the Savior’s too scared to dance?” Ruby teased, her grin sharp, eyebrows raised in a dare.
Emma opened her mouth, a sarcastic comment forming, but the words stuck.
Regina shifted beside her—just a breath of movement, but enough. Enough that their legs brushed again. Enough that Emma could feel how deliberate it was this time.
She chanced a glance over and regretted it immediately.
Regina’s gaze was waiting—steady, amused. Warm.
The teasing died on Emma’s lips.
The booth was small, not meant for six people. Regina had been pressed against her all night—her thigh warm where it brushed Emma’s, the steady contact impossible to ignore. Emma tried not to stare, but that dress made it difficult. Soft and clinging, catching the light with every subtle shift. It wasn’t the cut—it was the way it moved. It pooled slightly over Emma’s thigh as Regina’s arm slid behind her on the booth’s back, not touching, but close enough. Her perfume drifted in with the movement—dark, sharp, familiar. Emma tried not to inhale too deeply.
Regina leaned in, her voice low—not quite a whisper. That somehow made it worse.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked, like she didn’t already know.
Emma froze, her mouth open as if a quip might come out. There should have been a joke—something about two left feet or promising broken toes. Instead, her brain fizzed uselessly, words evaporated in the heat of Regina’s breath near her ear, in the tilt of her smirk.
Regina didn’t look away.
Emma hated that she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at her lips.
This had to be a dream. Maybe even one she’d had before. But she knew it wasn’t, because her dreams never did Regina justice. Not like this. Not with eyes darkened by want in flashing lights, the curve of a perfect smile that spelled trouble, the long line of her neck, framed by silky dark hair and bared deliberately by the tilt of her head. Emma couldn’t come up with that. Not even asleep.
She blinked hard, trying to steady the rush behind her ribs. She needed to breathe. Think. Move.
Something.
“I, uh—drinks,” she muttered, pushing up from the booth a little too fast, ignoring how Regina’s hand moved to steady her. “Another round, and then I swear.”
She didn’t wait for a response—especially not from Regina, with that smile still curling at the edges of her mouth. Emma turned on her heel and made for the bar, hoping above all else that no one noticed the way her hands were shaking.
She kept her eyes forward, weaving through the crowded tables with purpose. Another shot was a bad idea, sure, but the bar was her only escape.
Briefly, she considered leaving altogether—paying for the beers she had earlier, ducking out the side door, facing Ruby’s wrath in the morning. That would be easier. Safer. The coward’s option.
She wasn’t sure she could survive the game tonight. Not when she was so close to breaking the rules.
The rules were unspoken and entirely made up in Emma’s head—mapped out by the things Regina did casually, with a smirk that caused Emma’s brain to short-circuit. Regina would hover, tease, and touch. Always light, never lingering more than necessary to make Emma shiver.
Emma volleyed back—twisting Regina’s comments, leaning in too close during arguments, aggravating her endlessly.
It had been getting impossible. Regina’s smirk deepened when Emma rose to the bait, honeyed words slipping into a lower register that raised the hairs on Emma’s neck. The game felt less like a game every day. It felt inevitable.
Emma knew she was on the edge—and if she fell, she’d never come back. Nothing would be the same after Regina Mills.
So she ordered six more shots and two glasses of water.
The bar’s alcove dampened the echoing cavern of the open dance floor, crowded but past the pulse of music. It took a moment to elbow her way to the bar, and she only made it because Mulan unexpectedly pulled her right through the guy moving in next to her.
“Sheriff’s business,” Mulan told him unapologetically.
He looked ready to argue—until he noticed Emma. He shrugged and shifted aside.
“How’s girls’ night?” Mulan asked, already flagging the bartender.
“Amazing,” Emma said dryly.
Mulan laughed. The bartender made their way over shortly. Emma ordered shots and water. Mulan ordered a beer and a suspiciously fruity cocktail. Emma arched an eyebrow at her deputy.
“How did you get out of it?”
Mulan didn’t flinch. “I had a prior engagement.”
“Is your prior engagement hot?”
“I don’t know, is yours?” Mulan said evenly.
Emma huffed a laugh—more wry than amused. “I hope yours is going better than mine.”
“It is,” Mulan said. “We can see you from our table.”
Mulan made the mistake of glancing sideways—and Emma followed her gaze. A pale blonde woman at a nearby table waved. Emma didn’t recognize her—but immediately knew, in that Storybrooke way, she was a princess of something.
The woman waved at Mulan. Mulan waved back, turning toward the bar as a flush bloomed up her chest beneath her unbuttoned collar.
Emma grinned, but it felt too hypocritical to tease her.
Mulan’s drinks arrived first. She took them carefully, then paused and looked back at Emma with a small smile.
“Her name is Elisa. Belle set us up. It’s going well.”
“Good luck, Fa,” Emma said. “I doubt you’ll need it.”
“Same to you, Sheriff,” Mulan replied as she slipped into the crowd. “You’re overthinking it.”
Emma was left alone at the bar, elbow resting against the counter as she waited. She wasn’t ready for the drinks to come. She didn’t need another shot—and she definitely didn’t want to go back to the booth.
Squeezing in beside Regina. Getting dragged onto the dance floor. Making a fool of herself.
Or worse—Ruby getting bored and deciding to stir the pot harder.
Ruby had been needling her all night. All month, really. Emma wasn’t good at hiding her feelings about Regina anymore. Maybe she never had been. And as much as Regina teased, as much as Emma fumbled her reciprocation, it never crossed the line.
Emma was scared. Because if she had Regina, it was over. And if she lost it—
A tray clinked in front of her: six shots and two glasses of water.
Emma blinked, then took it with a quiet thank you, setting it carefully on the bar. She downed one glass of water quickly, savoring the cool relief, crunching an ice cube between her teeth.
When she looked up, a man stood beside her, smiling at her with a smoldering look she hated—smug, entitled, and worn by entirely too many men in this town.
“Well, hey there, Sheriff,” he drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Emma set her glass down and picked up the second. “Didn’t expect to see you here either…” She let it trail off pointedly.
“Ivan,” he supplied. “Fire department. We met last month at the town safety meeting.”
Right. She remembered—and resented him for it. She shouldn’t have to climb up trees for cats; that was his job. The safety meeting had been a blur, saved only by Regina sitting next to her, legs crossed, a hint of lace peeking from beneath her skirt. Emma had stared at Ivan’s presentation just to avoid looking at Regina.
She took another sip of water. “Right. You’re doing drills at the schools next week.”
“Yeah,” Ivan said, leaning casually against the counter. “You going to be there with the Sheriff’s department?”
“Probably. You know—the sheriff.”
He laughed, brushing a hand through his hair. “Are you busy?”
“Um—yes. We’ve got, like, three drills to run.”
“I meant right now.” He gestured to the tray. “You’ve got shots, but maybe I could buy you a drink later.”
Emma shook her head, the polite smile already fading as she angled toward the crowd. “No, thank you, I’m here with—”
Regina’s voice cut in before she could finish, velvet and heat sliding over Emma’s skin.
“There you are, sweetheart.”
Emma went still.
The word landed hard in her stomach, the echo tightening her throat and sending a rush of static through her chest. It was casual—but not meaningless. Regina didn’t do meaningless anymore.
Relief flared—brief, bright—before the weight of what it meant settled in.
An arm slid around Emma’s waist. A thumb brushed bare skin just above her waistband. Light. Effortless. Like it belonged there.
The world tilted as Emma looked at her. Regina was already watching her—expression serene, eyes burning dark with something sharp and possessive.
“I was starting to think you’d gotten lost,” she added, hooking her thumb through Emma’s belt loop.
Ivan blinked. “Hello, Mayor Mills.”
Regina turned to him with a smile Emma knew was fake. “Lovely to see you, Mr. Zhar.”
“Emma and I were talking about the fire drills,” Ivan offered, already retreating.
“Of course,” Regina said smoothly. “Emma will bring the checklist and paperwork to the station Monday morning.”
There was an edge to it, undeniable even to Emma.
Ivan nodded as his drink arrived. “I should get back. Have a nice night, ladies.”
He was gone before Emma could respond. She was too distracted by the way Regina’s index finger had slipped into her pocket.
Regina’s hand slipped from Emma’s waist, only to skim across the small of her back and settle on the opposite hip. Her thumb traced slow, maddening circles against overheated skin as she leaned casually against the bar, pressing closer than they had all night—face to face.
“Have a nice chat?” Regina asked. It sounded light, but it landed like a challenge.
“What if I did?” Emma managed, heat creeping up her throat as Regina’s smirk widened into a full grin.
“Maybe he’ll buy you a drink later.”
“Maybe he will.”
“Or maybe,” Regina leaned in, her voice dropping to a stage whisper against Emma's ear, “you’ll be busy.”
Emma swallowed hard, the sound embarrassingly loud. Regina laughed softly, breath brushing Emma’s jaw as lips grazed skin.
Her hand slid up, slipping beneath Emma’s shirt to find the curve of her waist. Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles across Emma’s ribs.
Emma’s breath hitched. The room felt suddenly too small, too hot, too close—Regina’s touch anchoring her as everything else blurred. Her mind emptied, scrambled by the drag of soft lips against her jaw, the finger tracing between ribs. For a wild second, Emma almost forgot. The bar, the shots, the people—everything except the press of Regina’s body against her and the heat curling low in her belly.
“Ruby’s going to come looking for us,” Emma blurted, desperate for a distraction.
Regina eased back, smirking. “I highly doubt it.”
She took a sip from Emma’s water, set the glass back on the tray, then nudged the whole thing into Emma’s hands.
“You’ve got a shot to take,” Regina added smoothly, her finger slipping through a belt loop, “and a very impatient dance partner waiting on you.”
She tugged Emma back toward the booth with an easy pull. The tray trembled in Emma’s hands as she followed, floating more than walking. Maybe the coma theory wasn’t entirely wrong.
Her heartbeat thudded in time with the bass, Regina’s teasing promise looping in her head like a skipping record.
Or maybe you’ll be busy.
It was over. She couldn’t hold the line anymore. Tonight was it.
Snow was gone when Regina slid back into the booth, fingers skimming Emma’s waist as she took the tray. Belle and Dorothy exchanged a look before taking their shots. Ruby’s smile was all teeth and knowing eyes, sharp and unblinking as Regina pressed a shot into Emma’s hand, fingers lingering on her wrist just a second too long.
“David came and got your mom,” Ruby said, already lifting her shot. She clinked it against Emma’s and downed it.
Emma followed automatically. Tequila hit her tongue—but for the first time, it didn’t taste like regret.
Regina’s hand ghosted down her thigh, coming to rest behind her knee. Emma stepped closer without thinking, chasing the contact.
Ruby’s grin widened. “Time to dance, Em.”
She slid out of the booth, smoothing her dress as Dorothy stood and helped Belle up. Ruby linked hands with Belle and tugged her toward the crowd. Dorothy winked over her shoulder at Emma before following them.
“Don’t make her wait.”
The crush swallowed them.
Five years ago, Emma would’ve gone with them—let Ruby dance on her, even. But now—
Regina was there.
She looked up at Emma, chin propped in her hand, lips parted in amusement. Her hand slid from the back of Emma’s knee up her thigh.
Emma’s brain short-circuited. She coughed, uselessly. Words refused to form.
“Are you going to ask me to dance, Em?”
Her mouth opened, but her brain reboot hadn’t completed.
She did the only thing left.
She downed the shot meant for Snow. Pouring what remained of her courage into keeping her voice from shaking, she extended her hand.
“Will you do me the honor of a dance, Your Majesty?”
Regina didn’t laugh or tease.
She took Emma’s hand, lacing their fingers like they’d done it a thousand times.
And then she stood.
Regina led them along the outer rim of the dance floor, her hand firm in Emma’s, thumb brushing over her knuckle as they waded into the crowd. It was packed—the heat dizzying, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and spilled drinks—but Regina kept moving, never letting go.
The walls of bodies started to fade, bumping and swaying without apology. Regina glanced back at Emma over her shoulder and stopped with a smile before letting go of her hand.
There was space.
Not that it mattered.
Regina’s hands slid up to the nape of Emma’s neck, twisting into her curls. Emma’s hands immediately found Regina’s waist, and she learned that the dress that had been derailing her all night was softer than she imagined—satin smooth over warm skin.
The clearing closed in around them as Regina pressed closer. One hand dragged from Emma’s hair to her shoulder. Emma swayed to the beat, thoughtlessly following the rhythm of Regina’s hips. The music was loud, fast, relentless—but all Emma could hear was the pulse of her blood.
Regina smiled at her, dark and knowing, eyes flashing beneath the strobe lights as her nails dragged down Emma’s arm. She guided Emma's hand down, settling it at the small of her back.
“I thought you knew how to dance, Miss Swan,” she teased, leaning close enough for Emma to feel her breath, lips grazing her earlobe.
Emma swallowed and tightened her grip. Her head was just cloudy enough to ignore the part of herself that was begging to be scared.
“I do,” she murmured, inhaling the scent of Regina’s conditioner and perfume—something sweet and dark cutting through the sweat around them. “I’ve just never had a partner like you.”
Regina hummed softly before pulling back with a grin, her hand sliding back into Emma’s hair. Emma followed her hips instinctively, biting back a groan every time their bodies met in rhythm. Time blurred—seconds, minutes. It didn’t matter. Regina never stopped looking at her.
A glance away sent Emma spinning. The lights flashed too bright. The crowd surged. Her head spun—until Regina’s fingers tilted her chin up.
Emma locked back onto her gaze and pulled her impossibly closer, grounding herself. The dizziness faded. There was only Regina.
Emma’s hand slid lower on Regina’s waist—too low. She didn’t care.
Regina grinned like she’d won something.
She traced Emma’s jaw before turning in her arms, guiding Emma’s hands back to her hips. One of Regina’s hands laced their fingers over her hip. The other returned to Emma’s hair, palm cradling her head, fingers scraping her scalp, thumb brushing her neck—slow, deliberate.
Then Regina’s hips moved, grinding back onto Emma for just a second.
Something snapped in her.
This wasn’t friends dancing after too many drinks. This was them. It was happening.
Now.
Emma leaned in, lips brushing behind Regina’s ear. “You’re playing with fire, Your Majesty.”
Regina laughed, low and breathless, grinding back again as she tilted her head to bare her neck.
“I thought I was playing with you.”
Emma growled, tightening her grip and rolling her hips forward. Regina’s head fell back against her shoulder with a quiet moan and a grin. Music pulsed around them, each beat punctuated by the slow roll of Regina’s hips.
Emma kept their fingers laced at one hip. Her other hand started to wander.
The sound that Regina made when Emma’s hand slid down her dress and flexed around her inner thigh stopped Emma’s heart cold.
“If you’re not careful,” she murmured, “you’ll find out what happens when you play with me.”
Regina laughed again, dark and pleased.
“I’m counting on it, sweetheart.”
Emma’s mouth brushed Regina’s neck, just below her ear. “Then let’s play.”
Regina ground back one more time before disentangling herself, turning in Emma’s arms. She stepped closer, hands sliding up Emma’s chest as the beat shifted.
“Fair warning,” she whispered, breathless and bright. “I always win.”
Emma smiled, low and feral, slotting her thigh between Regina’s legs as the music dropped into a new rhythm. The crowd around them started moving, but they were somewhere else now, orbiting each other as the tracks layered.
“This,” she said softly, “is a game I want to lose.”
Regina made that sound again—half gasp, half laugh—as she tangled her fingers back into Emma’s hair. Emma’s hand dropped from Regina's waist to haul her thigh up just enough.
Emma wasn’t thinking. The lights, the heat, the alcohol—everything had tipped her into a freefall the moment Regina was in her hands. It didn’t matter that they were in a crowded club. Or that everyone there knew them. Nothing mattered.
Regina ground down against her thigh with an indecent gasp and murmured, “Get ready for the loss of a lifetime.”
“That’s it,” Emma growled, spinning her around. Her hands clenched at Regina’s waist as she started pushing through the crowd, pulse roaring in her ears.
Even though the bass rattled her bones, Emma could hear Regina laugh—dark, breathless, giddy.
As the bodies thinned and the air grew easier to breathe, Emma started scanning.
The bathrooms were a no-go. Ruby spent half her nights catching people making out—or making out with Dorothy or Belle. And even in her Regina-induced haze, Emma knew Regina deserved more than a club bathroom quickie.
But the storage closet—
Emma grabbed Regina’s wrist and pulled her through the scattered clumps of people, uncaring who saw them, who recognized them. Her mouth needed to be on Regina’s skin—now.
They passed the bathrooms and turned the corner. The door was marked Employees Only. Emma twisted the handle harder than necessary and hauled Regina inside.
Regina opened her mouth, but Emma didn’t give her the chance.
The door slammed shut as their mouths finally met.
Emma groaned, lifting Regina under her thighs and pressing her back into the door as her legs wrapped around Emma’s waist. Regina tasted like tequila and forever. Emma slid her tongue across parted lips as Regina moaned, fingers twisting into blonde hair, hips rolling hard against her.
“Fuck,” Emma gasped, kissing along Regina’s jaw, barely catching her breath. Her mouth traced down Regina’s neck, teeth nipping at skin that had been tempting her all night. Regina purred, nails scraping across Emma’s shoulders.
Emma rolled her hips. Hard.
The sound Regina made lodged itself somewhere permanent in her brain.
“You feel so goddamn good.”
“Then shut up and kiss me,” Regina breathed, low and wrecked.
Emma couldn’t argue with that.
The storage room was cramped, an industrial sink bolted against one wall. Emma clicked the lock without looking before spinning around and setting Regina on the edge of the basin.
She kissed her again—rough, hungry, all teeth and need. Regina met her pace easily, mouth moving, matching every push and pull. There would be time later, Emma hoped, to slow down. To learn every inch of her—what made her moan, whine, scream.
Now, she needed skin.
Regina’s hand slid into Emma’s hair as she worked deftly at the buttons of her shirt. Emma barely registered the moment her shirt hit the floor—only the scrape of nails down her back.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice screamed bad idea.
It disappeared the second Regina broke the kiss, dragging her mouth down Emma’s throat.
Emma surged forward, pulling Regina closer as her dress bunched at her hips. She ground against her, breath shuddering as Regina gasped and tilted up to meet her again.
“Emma,” Regina breathed, abandoning the darkening skin on Emma’s throat. Emma did it again, rolling her hips down as Regina’s canted up to meet her. Her hand ran up Regina’s thighs, reveling in the warmth of her skin—until her fingers caught on lace.
Emma froze.
“Regina—oh my God.” It would have been a laugh if her voice hadn’t cracked. “You’re wearing—”
Regina cut her off with another kiss, smiling against her mouth. When she pulled back, she brushed damp hair from Emma’s forehead—smirk wide, an echo of flashing lights in dark eyes, but more tender than anything Emma had ever imagined.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, their breaths warm between them. “Those are just garters.”
Her hand covered Emma’s, sliding it under the lace.
She leaned in again, lips brushing Emma’s as she added, “Wait until you see the whole set.”
The words set off a chain reaction—the implication clear and intoxicating.
Regina wore lingerie tonight.
For Emma.
Because she wanted the game to end tonight. Because she was tired of waiting—for them.
Emma slid her hand higher, heart thudding.
No more pretending.
She kissed Regina slower now, deeper, pouring intention into every sweep of her tongue. Nails dragged down her back as Emma’s thumb brushed over soaked lace, heat dizzying and breathtaking. Her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, pressing into wet folds. Regina moaned, her head dropping to Emma’s shoulder.
“Emma,” she gasped, mouth brushing Emma’s collarbone between uneven breaths.
Emma’s fingers slid deeper, thumb circling her clit in time with each thrust. Regina’s arms tightened around her shoulders, and Regina—
Regina started talking, muffled against Emma’s skin.
“Just like that—don’t stop, please, baby…”
“Oh, fuck—”
“God—Emma, right there…”
It was crazy. Absolute insanity.
But then Regina tilted her chin up, eyes molten, lips bruised, and kissed Emma again. Then again. Then pulled back to moan Emma’s name against her mouth before kissing her again.
Emma couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop touching, kissing, drinking in Regina. Every thrust of her fingers was met with a gasp. Each kiss was punctuated with teeth, every swallowed moan returned in nails dragging down Emma’s back. Her fingers curled just right, and Regina keened, high and broken in between them. She pressed their foreheads together, hands tightening at the back of Emma’s neck, moaning and arching into Emma’s hands. The gasps turned into panting, the air between them thickened with breath and sweat, liquor and sex. Emma couldn’t help the moan that broke from her when Regina clenched around her fingers.
“Regina,” she rasped, thrusting deeper as Regina’s nails dug into her neck. Regina kissed her, all teeth and tongue—like she could get any closer, like she could climb inside Emma and stay.
“Emma, I’m—”
“I know.” She could feel it in her bones, how close Regina was. She needed it more than she could remember needing anything in her life. “Come for me, please.”
It was spectacular—intoxicating in a way Emma had never experienced.
Regina buried her face in Emma’s neck, body arching and locking up. Her hips kept rolling, stuttering against Emma’s hand before coming to a sudden halt. She was still shaking when Emma finally slowed, her touch turning languid before withdrawing. Regina’s breath came in uneven huffs as her grip gradually loosened from Emma’s neck, fingers sliding into the mess of blonde curls.
Every nerve in Emma’s body burned. She was holding Regina. She’d just made Regina come. Regina had called her baby. Regina was kissing her neck.
Lips brushed Emma’s jaw before Regina pulled away. She was beautiful. Her hair was a dark mess, her makeup still infuriatingly perfect—save for her lipstick, now smeared across Emma’s throat. In the dim light, her eyes still sparkled with a tenderness Emma had never let herself imagine. Something that felt too much like love.
Emma knew that she should say something. But at that moment, she could only keep looking at Regina. A hand cupped Emma’s jaw, a thumb brushing lightly across her cheekbone. Regina leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.
“That—” Her voice came quiet, almost cracked. She laughed and kissed Emma again. Emma slid her hands up Regina’s back and pulled her closer, drawing another amused sigh into her mouth. Kissing Regina was everything Emma didn’t know she was missing—everything she could have missed. It was slow and consuming, smouldering like coals at the end of a long night.
“That—” Regina murmured, smiling against Emma’s mouth. “Was more than I thought it would be.”
Emma laughed, the sound a little unsteady. She brushed her mouth against Regina’s before answering, “I don’t do things halfway.”
“Mmm,” Regina hummed, stealing another kiss. “Impulsive.”
“Impulsive? You—you literally planned this.”
“I did not plan to be dragged to and thoroughly undone in a store room.”
“The way you’ve been moving all night, you’re lucky we made it to a room at all.”
“I expected to make it to my car, at least.”
Emma sputtered. “Really?”
“No,” Regina smirked, twirling a strand of hair at Emma’s nape around her finger. “Just wishful thinking on my part.”
The image of Regina laid out in the backseat of her Benz took root. Emma groaned, dropping her head to Regina’s shoulder. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Not tonight, dear,” Regina laughed, brushing a kiss to Emma’s hair before resting her cheek there.
Emma tilted her head enough to press a kiss to Regina’s pulse. It was still rapid, but slowing. Silence settled between them, broken only by the distant thud of bass bleeding back in. Regina’s fingers combed through Emma’s hair, scratching lightly as Emma kept her lips where she wanted them. They’d have to move soon, Emma knew—but she couldn’t bring herself to break the moment. Not when Regina felt so steady against her.
Minutes passed in their cocoon, the soundtrack beyond them fading, then bursting back with cheers loud enough to carry through the walls. Eventually, Regina lifted her head and began to shift. Emma tightened her arms before she thought about it.
“Emma,” Regina said, amusement clear and smug.
Embarrassment didn’t come the way Emma thought it would. Instead, she squeezed just a little, dropped a last kiss to the joint of Regina’s neck, then stepped back. Regina’s fingers skimmed along her arms as she slipped down from the sink basin, then traced back up her ribs as she came to stand in front of her.
“I wouldn’t mind staying longer,” Regina teased, arms winding around Emma’s waist, “but if you’re still concerned about keeping appearances with Ruby...”
A cold shock ran through Emma.
Ruby.
“Shit,” Emma groaned, gently knocking their foreheads together when Regina laughed.
“The consequences of your actions are waiting.”
“I’m about to suffer the consequences of your actions.”
“I remember you doing a majority of the actions.”
Emma laughed despite herself.
“Shut up, Mills. You’re belittling my impending doom.”
“I’m laughing at your impending doom.”
“Same difference.”
“Put your shirt on, Miss Swan.” Regina grinned, scraping her nails down Emma’s back before she stepped away. “And wash your hands.”
Emma gave her a mock salute with a smile that almost hurt. Regina rolled her eyes and started adjusting her dress, but Emma saw the soft look sent her way before she bent to pick up her shirt.
She pulled it on and began buttoning it slowly, turning in time to see Regina produce a compact and lipstick from nowhere.
“Nice trick,” Emma said, leaning against the sink as she finished the last few buttons.
Regina hummed, opening the mirror to fix her lips. After a few deft swipes, she looked up at Emma and vanished the makeup in a wisp of violet smoke. Her expression was soft and open, eyes lingering on Emma like she was seeing something new.
Emma’s heart stopped. She turned back to the sink, distracting herself with the familiar motions of washing her hands.
Her heart was still thundering, but it wasn’t from adrenaline anymore. It was just Regina.
Emma dried her hands on the towel lying by the sink, then used it to wipe at the lipstick staining her throat. When she turned back around, Regina was leaning against a shelf, casual and calm—like they hadn’t spent the last half hour taking each other apart. The look still on her face held the truth, though. Emma swallowed hard and took a few steps to the door.
“Ready?” she asked, voice unsteady again.
Regina smiled and came to join her.
“Almost,” she murmured.
Before Emma could question that, Regina kissed her. It was soft and sweet—brief, but full of everything neither of them could say.
Yet.
“Now I’m ready,” Regina breathed against her mouth. She pulled away, reaching for the door handle. Looking back at Emma, she grinned again—the smile that meant trouble. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, hand falling to the small of Regina’s back as Regina opened the door. “I think I am.”
Stepping into the hallway was a system shock. The music was faster and louder than before, a stark contrast after their detour. The club’s smell grew stronger as they approached the bathrooms, and when they turned the corner, flashing neon lights illuminated the pulsing crowd. Before Emma could adjust, Regina hooked a finger through one of her belt loops and tugged her into the masses.
She pulled Emma along, weaving through gaps in the crowd, and came to a stop near the middle of the dance floor. Emma didn’t wait for her to turn around. She slid her hands around Regina’s waist—one settling on her hip, the other warm and sure against her stomach. Regina laced their fingers together. Swaying just off beat, Emma rested her chin on Regina’s shoulder.
“If you wanted another dance, you could have asked,” she murmured, lips grazing the shell of Regina’s ear.
Regina squeezed her fingers lightly, turning her head just enough to reply, “We’re here, aren’t we?”
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
Emma shook her head, pressing a kiss just below Regina’s ear before pulling back. She felt Regina’s sigh more than heard it—the way her body softened as she leaned in, chasing contact she’d likely never admit to wanting out loud. They shifted with the crowd as the songs bled into one another, hands still tangled, Regina’s arms warm against her.
It was when Regina turned around, arms looping back around Emma’s neck, that Emma caught Belle’s eye across the crowd.
She was dancing with Dorothy in the sea of people. For one second, Emma was grateful it was Belle. But then Belle grinned and started toward them with Dorothy in tow.
“Damn it,” Emma swore. Regina turned to follow her gaze, then looked back with a smirk.
“Ah. Consequences,” she teased.
Emma tried to be mad. It lasted less than a second.
Belle finally pushed through the last wall of defense, uncharacteristically shooing people aside—Ruby had too much influence.
“We lost you two!” Belle shouted as she leaned in, tugging Dorothy to do the same. Emma was still getting to know Dorothy, but she was already well acquainted with that shit-eating grin. She had only seen it when Ruby was making a wild proposition or nearing the scathing point of a tangent. Now, Emma could already hear every word that would be relayed to Ruby, painted clearly across that sharp smile in the flashing lights.
“Big crowd tonight,” Emma responded, aiming for nonchalance. It was plausible that they’d drifted off into the crowd.
Or it would have been if Emma’s hands weren’t glued to the small of Regina’s back.
She didn’t move them. They were far past that.
“Yeah,” Dorothy agreed, then shouted back, “Ruby’s been looking for you.”
Regina dragged her nails down Emma’s neck, her smile as cutting as ever. “Has she?”
“For almost an hour.” Belle’s smirk was entirely warranted. Emma wasn’t sure when Ruby transformed her girlfriend—girlfriends?—into monsters, but she didn’t like that they had been mobilized.
“She said she was going to check the bathroom and then the bar again,” Dorothy said, bumping shoulders with Emma. “Find her first, Swan.”
Then she pulled Belle closer, turning to wade back into the crowd.
As they disappeared into the crowd, Belle called, “She wants details!”
“I hate you guys!” Emma yelled after them, heat creeping up her neck.
Regina laughed, leaning forward again after the intrusion. She murmured into Emma’s ear, “No, you don’t.”
Emma held her tighter, letting her hands stroke slow circles at Regina’s back.
“No,” she agreed. “I really don’t.”
“You should find Ruby,” Regina suggested as she twirled a strand of Emma’s hair. Emma groaned and dropped her chin back to Regina’s shoulder.
“Do I have to?” She could hear the pout in her voice, but she didn’t care to do anything about it.
Regina nipped her earlobe. Emma’s knees nearly buckled—and then Regina pulled back enough to whisper, hot and almost breathless, “If you want to leave, you do.”
They were moving through the crowd before Emma thought twice. Her hand found Regina’s, fingers lacing as they wove toward the bar. Regina didn’t laugh. She just squeezed Emma’s hand and stayed close. Emma’s chest was burning, heat trickling down to pool in her stomach. She needed water and fresh air. More than that, she needed to get out of there.
As they neared the edge of the dance floor, bodies beginning to thin, the bar came into view.
Ruby also came into view.
She was sitting on a barstool, legs crossed, sipping a martini. A perfect picture of Ruby on a night out—smile bright, laugh loud, loose and free. Meeting her eyes on approach, Emma saw her smile like she’d known what was happening that night long before they did. She kept moving but braced herself, shoulders loosening a bit when Regina’s hand tightened around hers for a second. Then Regina let go, skimming her fingers up Emma’s wrist before settling her hand at the small of Emma’s back.
“Well, well, well,” Ruby drawled as they walked to the bar. The music was dampened there, but the pounding in Emma’s ears stayed.
Ruby sat her drink down and leaned forward on one knee, looking so pleased that Emma could have strangled her.
“You two seem to have perfected your disappearing act.”
“Big crowd tonight,” Emma echoed her previous excuse, knowing it wouldn’t hold up. Regina chuckled, her hand leaving Emma’s back as she moved to the bar.
“Yeah, the whole town is out,” Ruby agreed.
For half a blessed second, there was nothing but the thudding bass.
Then Ruby cocked her head, staring Emma dead in the eyes.
“I was starting to think you’d left together.”
Emma ignored the way her stomach dropped. The huff of a laugh from Regina—pretending to be engrossed in waiting for a bartender—helped her square her shoulders and look Ruby in the eyes.
“Just got lost dancing,” she said, chin lifting.
Ruby only smiled wider and shifted on her stool.
“Oh, I bet you got lost in dancing.”
“Seriously, Rubes, it’s a jungle.”
“With very excited monkeys.”
“Don’t compare me to a monkey.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a monkey,” Ruby said, leaning back on the bar. “I can appreciate a little animal instinct.”
Emma’s ears started to burn. Somehow, Ruby already knew—or thought she did, anyway.
Before she could stammer a response, Regina was back, pressing a glass of water into her hands. She drank it immediately; cool relief flooded her body in waves. Regina stayed close, sliding in between the bar and Emma—close enough to justify touching. Close enough that Emma knew Ruby could read everything on her face as Regina’s fingers brushed her wrist. Emma passed her the water and leaned closer anyway. Regina took a sip and set the glass back on the bar. Emma’s eyes fixed on Regina’s mouth—until she remembered she was being watched.
Ruby’s smile could have powered a small country on its own. Before she could pounce, Regina broke the moment.
“Having fun, Miss Lucas?”
“The most,” Ruby replied cheerfully, eyes boring into Emma’s soul. “How about you, Madam Mayor?”
“Surprisingly, yes,” Regina said, amusement threaded through her voice. “It’s been… an interesting experience.”
Heat flared through Emma so fast she almost forgot to breathe. Regina was standing there casually, helping Ruby tease her.
“Mmm, I bet,” Ruby hummed, still locked on Emma. “Club dancing is a little different from ballroom dancing, but it seems like Emma helped you figure it out.”
She was going to have to arrest herself for murder.
“She was very helpful,” Regina said with a composed look that made Emma’s face catch fire. “I think it’s all about finding the right partner.”
Just when Emma thought she might die on the spot, a bartender addressed Regina.
“Tab’s closed out. Here’s your card and receipt, Mayor Mills.”
Regina turned, accepting both from him with a polite smile. “Thank you.”
“You picked up our tab?” Ruby asked, brows lifting as her eyes finally broke from Emma.
It didn’t faze Regina a bit.
“Yes.”
Warmth that had nothing to do with teasing rose in Emma’s chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Regina looked at her, eyes dark but still holding the softness from before. “I know.”
Ruby was uncharacteristically quiet. Emma had never known her to keep her mouth shut longer than twenty seconds. But she didn’t say anything as Regina stepped around Emma, her hand brushing along Emma’s back as she went.
“Thank you for inviting me, Ruby,” Regina said. “I had a lovely time.”
“Of course,” Ruby replied, teasing gone from her tone. “We should do it again.”
“I have a feeling that we will.” Regina smiled, then turned to Emma.
“Don’t stay too late.”
Emma wasn’t sure what was happening. Regina was leaving. She felt like she should say something, but the only words that came to mind were am I going with you? Instead, she smiled back and tried not to lean closer.
“Get home safe.”
Regina nodded—and then she left. Emma watched as she walked through the thinning crowd around the entrance. She didn’t look back.
The lights flashed. The bass dropped; the crowd surged. Emma didn’t notice. Her eyes followed Regina until she was gone.
“Are you serious?”
Emma’s head snapped from the door back to Ruby. For the first time all night, Ruby’s grin had faded. She looked almost shocked.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re supposed to go with her, dumbass.”
“She said—“
“Please, Emma. Regina isn’t going to ask you to take her home.”
“Ruby!”
“Seriously, Swannie. Go—and remember this when you’re picking bridesmaids.”
Emma didn’t dignify her with an answer. She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
Her stomach twisted as she wove through the scattered clumps of people hanging around the entrance. Everything was back to feeling insane. She’d danced with Regina all night. She kissed Regina—an understatement of the century—in a storage closet.
More than that, Regina had kissed her back like she’d been waiting.
She had been—proven by the lingerie, by the way she fell apart for Emma, by the whole damn night.
Regina had been waiting on her. Emma didn’t want to make her wait anymore.
Cool night air met her skin as she stepped out of the club. A few people stood to the side smoking, and a couple was just across from them, having an argument. Otherwise, the sidewalk was empty, light fading down the street as neon turned to lampposts.
Emma’s heart dropped. Maybe she’d waited too long.
She stood there for another second anyway, scanning the street. Nothing. No black coat. No familiar posture. No click of heels on pavement.
Of course.
Emma exhaled slowly and turned away from the club, stuffing her hands into her front pockets. She’d left her jacket behind in the rush to get out. Going back in would only take a minute. Instead, she turned toward home.
She’d barely made it half a block when she saw her.
Regina stood under a streetlamp, phone in hand, coat buttoned neatly. Waiting—like she always had.
The heavy breeze didn’t bother Emma anymore. Her hands came out of her pockets as her pace picked up. She wasn’t running—Regina would never let her live that down—but it only took a second to get there. Regina looked up as Emma approached, haloed in the soft gold of lamplight.
Emma stopped in front of her, breath still a little unsteady.
“Hi.”
Regina’s mouth curved. “Did your head finally catch up?”
“I think so,” Emma said, unable to think beyond this section of pavement. She reached out before she realized—and didn’t stop herself from taking Regina’s hand. Their joined hands hung between them as Emma dared to step closer. Regina matched her easily. Her thumb brushed slow strokes over Emma’s knuckles; her other hand settled over Emma’s pounding heart.
Emma had never seen Regina like this. It wasn’t like earlier, in the thick of things—no hunger in her look or heat in her touch. Regina’s eyes, turned amber in the glow of night, gazed into Emma’s, her hand warm and steady against Emma’s chest. Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word. Emma wasn’t sure she had the language for everything Regina was to her right now.
So she brushed a strand of hair from Regina’s face and let her hand stay to cup Regina’s jaw. She noticed how Regina’s breath hitched—and moved.
It wasn’t explosive when their lips met. There were no fireworks or frantic touches. Regina’s hand stayed over Emma’s heart, their fingers still linked between them. Emma’s hand slid to cradle Regina’s head, tilting to deepen the kiss—not for sex or power, but to know her. Regina’s mouth parted against Emma’s, and the sigh she exhaled felt like relief.
Emma pressed her forehead to Regina’s when they broke apart.
“Do you want to come to my place?”
Regina smiled again, small and bright, before brushing another kiss to the corner of Emma’s mouth.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Emma huffed a laugh, pressing her lips to Regina’s again.
“I never thought you’d want me to.”
“Well,” Regina started—then leaned back in for another kiss before finishing, “I suppose everything’s worked out.”
Emma grinned, her chest lighter than she could remember feeling. “I guess so.”
“Then it’s time for you to finally show me your apartment.”
“You’re gonna hate it,” Emma told her, squeezing her hand as they pulled apart.
“Probably,” Regina agreed, tightening her fingers around Emma’s hand in return. “But knowing you, it’s charmingly off-putting.”
Emma snorted. “Is that an insult?”
Regina’s smile turned sly. “It’s whatever you need it to be.”
“Definitely an insult.”
They started toward Emma's apartment together, hands linked, steps unhurried.
Regina didn’t pull away.
Emma didn’t hesitate.