She finds him loitering in the last aisle, a bottle of something clutched in his hand. His dark eyebrows tug together in a frown, a tiny muscle flickering in his cheek as he glares at the label on the bottle. His mouth turns down at the corners, followed by a roll of his eyes, and she grins.
He's sulking.
"You okay?"
He waves the bottle at her, his expression as stormy as the proverbial seas. "Why the bloody hell would someone name a bottle of rum in honour of that useless wanker?"
She bites the inside of her cheek a little harder as she catches sight of the label, determined not to laugh (she does love it when he's ridiculously indignant) because this is clearly a Very Serious Question as far as he's concerned. "Well, you should know by now that legendary stories aren't always based in reality."
He huffs loudly as he replaces the bottle on the shelf, but she sees the tilt of his lips, and knows her answer has met with his approval. "Tastes like barnacle's arse, I'm sure."
Emma feels her eyes widen. "Barnacles have asses?"
He grins, slipping his arm around her and steering her towards the shelves of tequila, a drink to which she'd recklessly introduced him a few months ago. "Technically, their excretory organs are glands, but they still-"
"Ugh." She claps a teasing hand over his mouth,deciding that she really needs to stop him from watching so much Discovery Channel. "That's way too much information."
She hears his muffled chuckle, then she's inhaling sharply as she feels the warm, deliberate brush of his tongue against her palm. She snatches her hand away (they're in the middle of a store, for God's sake) but not before tiny pinpricks of heat are dancing across her skin everywhere and he's looking at her as though he's pondering which part of her he's going to anoint with salt first.
"Just pick something so we can go home," she instructs hurriedly, trying and failing not to think of what had happened the last time they'd shared a bottle of tequila. "It's been a long day."
The tip of his tongue makes a fleeting appearance at the corner of his mouth, her vague plans for an early night melting away at the heat in his eyes, then he ducks his head in a mocking bow. "Aye aye, Captain."