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Entering an establishment quaintly named The Candy Shoppe, Regina grimaced. Emma had taken her to some seedy places in the last couple of days, but this place was setting a new record and they’d barely stepped through the doors. The women that worked there instantly caught her attention and were easily recognizable from their scantily-clad forms, their clothes barely more than scraps of material as they walked to and from the bar.
“Honestly,” she scoffed, overcome with the desire to wave her hand and provide them all free robes to cover themselves. She thought Ruby had often dressed inappropriately but that was nothing compared to these lot. “Why did you bring me here?”
Emma chuckled, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the bar. “It’s the only place I could think of where I could order your favourite drink and not feel ashamed.”
Regina rolled her eyes. “And I suppose the choice had nothing at all to do with the half naked women shamelessly parading about the place.”
“The only one I want to look at naked is, unfortunately, fully clothed at the moment.” Emma pecked her on the cheek and turned to the bartender, ordering their drinks and missing the look of adoration Regina could practically feel emanating from her own eyes.
Considering the fact Emma had been entirely heterosexual until the two of them started dating, Regina knew the thought had been ludicrous but the knowledge that she was the only one, woman or otherwise, the blonde wanted to see naked soothed the irrational side of her. They’d barely been together three months and Emma already knew the right things to say to her, which she supposed shouldn’t be surprising, as their time as little more than enemies had proven just how well Emma could read her.
Drinks in hand, the two women found themselves a quiet table in the corner and sat side by side, neither too attached to their personal space once they realized why invading it had always been a thing between them. Emma shifted closer and draped an arm across the back of their seat, a pleased hum rumbling in the back of Regina’s throat as a hand came to rest casually on her shoulder while she sipped her drink.
Her eyes roamed the room, careful to avoid the people as she took it all in. There was a small stage opposite them where her gaze apparently rested longer than she’d intended as Emma leaned in and quietly whispered, “Karaoke.” Regina turned her head, eyebrow raised and Emma shrugged, a small smile dancing across her lips.
“I used to come here a lot after I got out of jail,” she explained. “As appalled as you seem by how the women here dress, the people here are surprisingly disinterested in hitting on anyone.”
Regina inclined her head. She had noticed the difference. Thanks to their little vacation, she’d experienced plenty of bars in which men and women alike gravitated toward them both. It was as though common sense and decency went out the window once people had a drink in their hand, none of them at all perturbed by the fact they were very clearly in a relationship together while hitting on one, or both, of them. Emma had hit one man in particular, happily breaking his nose after he touched her. He was lucky Regina had been in the bathroom at the time, otherwise she would have outed magic to the world and gleefully set him on fire.
“It’s nice, especially when you’ve spent a week trying to find somewhere quiet to drink only for drunken dickheads to take your existence as reason enough to wave their genitals in your face,” Emma continued and Regina grimaced, not needing a reminder of the one drunk who had whipped his out of his pants because he wanted her to see what she was supposedly missing.
Thinking of all the ways she and Emma had experimented in the bedroom, she had laughed at what he had to offer and emasculated him within seconds. It felt good at the time; to put him in his place, but now she was just saddened by how pathetic some people were while simultaneously nurturing a healthy dose of disgust with this world.
“Sorry,” Emma murmured with a chuckle, skilfully reading the look on her face as one of nausea.
Regina offered a faint smile and resumed her examination of the bar, letting her eyes fall briefly on some of the patrons, and even the half-naked women now that Emma had brought to light the fact none of them were even remotely interested in what the two of them were doing huddled over in their corner.
It was nice.
The place was still seedy and she still harboured the thought that the women should cover up more, but it was nice all the same. The music wasn’t too loud, nor was it that horrendous thumping claptrap she’d had forced on her ears when Emma decided she should see what ‘club life’ was like. She had no idea at the time, but now she knew that club life was a lot like being magically slammed through the windshield of a car; exhilarating at first, pumped up on all that adrenalin, but ultimately painful and no where near worth the agony the next morning.
“Refill?” Emma interrupted her thoughts and she glanced down at her glass, only just realising it was empty. She nodded and smiled as Emma placed a tender kiss on her lips before she got up, a saunter in her step that Regina couldn’t help appreciate as she walked over to the bar.
When Emma returned, Regina had turned her attention to a table across the room where a man sat talking to another woman across from him, looking for all the world as though there wasn’t another fully grown woman sat sprawled in his lap. She blinked, head snapping to the blonde as she spoke while approaching their table.
“They’re friends,” Emma said with enough conviction to almost convince the brunette outright.
It didn’t, however, as Regina was forever curious about Emma’s ability to easily read everyone she came across. “How do you know?”
Emma shrugged, glancing over at the table briefly before she replied, “He’s gay.”
Regina huffed. That wasn’t an answer at all. “How do you know?” she repeated, barely resisting a growl of frustration.
“Look where his hands are.”
She did, eyebrow cocked. She hadn’t noticed until that moment, but the man held a beer in one hand while the other draped a bare knee, as if placed their without intention—thoughtlessly, she mused. It still wasn’t enough. For all either of them knew, the guy was a gentleman. “Perhaps he simply respects her boundaries.”
“Regina.” The way Emma said her name drew her attention immediately, the sigh both adoring and exasperated. She bit her lip and Emma shook her head with a smile. “If she had boundaries, she wouldn’t be in his lap to begin with,” she added, “and if that isn’t proof enough; we’re in a gay bar.”
Brow furrowed, Regina tilted her head. “We are?”
Emma rounded the table, placing their drinks down and sliding in next to her as she questioned, “It didn’t occur to you with the lack of testosterone breathing down your top?”
“I didn’t want to assume…” Regina began, only to trail off when she realized Emma had no trouble at all filling in for that lack of testosterone as she leered at her chest, a familiar and suggestive smirk on her lips. Regina laughed softly. “Stop that.”
“What?” Emma feigned innocence before she leaned in, voice little more than a purr as she added, “It’s a gay bar and I am very, very gay for your cleavage.”
“You’re a pervert,” Regina retorted, more laughter in her voice.
“Yes,” Emma admitted, grinning. “Yes, I am.”