Kismet on Aisle Three
Rated T for a couple swear words
Prompt 68. Robin cuts in line at the supermarket. Regina is not having it.
Milk, eggs, lip balm, the damn poster board her wonderful son needs tomorrow that he forgot to mention until this morning at breakfast. Yes. That's it. Right? Still, it feels like something is missing. Where is that list? Ah, yes. Milk, eggs, lip balm, poster board… shit. Glue. Henry needs glue for his science project. Regina's heels click as she turns around and marches hurriedly to the back of the supermarket. She's cursing the layout of this store for keeping the school supplies on the back two aisles almost as much as she's cursing the long day that kept her at the office later than usual. She really should have changed before this. These are heels made for sitting in an office, not walking on concrete floors and standing in long lines. But, her son has homework to do and a bedtime to meet, so she'll bear the pain and before bed, she'll have a nice, long, calm talk with her 8-year old about procrastination. Then, she'll pour a glass of wine from this lovely cabernet sitting in the cart and throw these murderous heels in the trash. She's already dreading waiting in line as she walks back to the front. There are never enough cashiers.
She's almost made it to the front and is walking straight to the lit up number 3 and the cashier with the shortest line when a man comes bumbling in front of her, cutting her off. He's not paying attention, is speaking rapidly into the phone pressed to his shoulder and dropping items on the ground from the pile haphazardly thrown in his arms. She's so stunned by the nerve of this man, that she's speechless for a moment, staring wide-eyed at his back as her jaw drops in indignation. She regains her voice with an irritated "excuse me" as he piles his items onto the belt and continues his phone conversation without noticing her.
She catches bit and pieces of his call, knows he's talking to a woman named Belle. Hears the English lilt of his voice as he asks "did you try the airplane thing?" and the obvious frustration at whatever her answer must be. And really, this is ridiculous. She tries to get his attention again – Regina Mills has never been one to back down – with a louder "Excuse me!"and this time he turns around, flustered, confused, and gorgeous. Her stance falters before she takes a moment to find her composure and stare him down. She is not going to be distracted by blue eyes and a pretty face.
It's clear she's caught him off guard. He frowns at her a moment before quickly asking the woman on the other end of his call – probably his wife, get it together, Regina – to hold on a moment before he addresses her with a polite but perplexed "May I help you?" She takes a deep breath and sends up a prayer to whatever higher being may be listening that she doesn't look as flushed as she feels. She'll blame the pink that colors her cheeks on her ire rather than admit to the unexpected and sudden wave of attraction she feels for this rude stranger. With her exhale, she finds the sass she's known for and tosses it at him with a "Yes. You can help me by getting off the damn phone and paying attention to what's going on around you. You cut me off." He flushes red and blinks at her in stunned silence before turning away and muttering into the phone "Belle, I'll call you back. Tell him to hold on, daddy will be home soon." As he speaks, she looks at the belt in front of her. Children's ibuprofen, tissues, pedialyte, a little stuffed monkey… oh. Oh. Suddenly she knows why he was so distracted, and she feels like an ass.
As he turns around to face her again, she gets a better look at him. He looks wrecked. He has all the sure signs of an exhausted parent, from the worry lines that shadow his face to the bags under kind blue eyes. In a moment, she goes from simmering irritation to sympathy. She's been there. The sleepless nights with a warm, fevered little body curled up next to you. The worry that comes with every temperature spike and hacking, chest-rattling cough. The absolute helpless desperation of watching your child suffer and knowing all you can do is wait. Wait and watch and do everything you can to make him comfortable. So you hover and you provide warm blankets and whispered words of love and butterfly kisses, and still your heart aches at every sniffle.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't…"
"How old is he?"
He's barely begun to utter an apology when she cuts him off, and it's clear she's caught him off guard again.
When he only squints at her in confusion, she repeats herself, "Your son. How old is he?"
He stammers for a moment, trying to figure out why the beautiful stranger before him is no longer scowling.
"Um… four. Roland is four."
Her eyes warm at that as a small smile grows on her face and Robin feels his heart stutter at the sight. Really, how did he not notice her before? He's cursing his distraction as he gazes into deep brown eyes. What an excellent first impression to make. Way to go Robin, you look like an absolute git.
He worries for a moment that he said that last bit out loud as she lets out a barely audible chuckle. But as he focuses on her now instead of internally chastising himself, she speaks again and he's lost to her velvety voice.
"Ah, I remember that age well." She says with fondness.
And, oh. She's a mother. Well, of course she is. It's not likely that someone so stunning would be single. He's sure she must have a doting husband at home currently running around after her own children.
The thought gives him pause. Why should he care so much about the relationship status of a perfect stranger? But perfect is the operative word isn't it? He's not sure he's had this kind of reaction to another woman since his wife passed two years ago. But he's enchanted. Everything about her is lovely, from the little spark of fire in her eyes that he caught a glimpse of a moment ago to her dark flowing hair that looks as soft as silk and has his fingers twitching with the thought of running his fingers through it. Full lips hide straight white teeth that he catches a glimpse of as she reveals a nervous smile and shit. He's staring at her. Snap out of it, Robin, before she thinks you're also crazy.
The moment is broken when they both turn their heads at the sound of the cashier calling for a price check. It appears that the little old lady in front of him is going to be holding up the line for a bit. He hears the woman beside him groan and mutter something about wanting to light the lady's coupon book on fire, and yes. He likes this woman, sass and all.
He chuckles and her eyes go wide. Caught. "I have a feeling neither of us are rushing off to our sons anytime soon."
He deflates at that and looks dejectedly to the collection of items he's piled onto the still unmoving belt. With one comment, their little bubble of levity has burst and she's regretting her words instantly.
"He'll be fine. I know it hurts to watch them hurt, but kids are resilient. You'll be chasing after him again in no time."
She's not sure why she feels the need to comfort this stranger. Perhaps it's the kindred feeling of another parent lovingly nurturing their child. Perhaps, it's just the way his dimples melt her a little as they peek out with his weak smile. Either way, she's glad to see his smile, even if it's small.
"Rationally I know that. I know that the flu is only temporary" He sighs out a weary breath and looks heavenward. "I guess this is all a bit new. So much has changed lately. And this was so much easier before. My wife and I had a system. We figured it out together and now she's gone and I'm in a new city with a child that adjusted to the move and the new daycare by getting sick for the first time in years. And of course the bloody facility didn't call me to let me know he was poorly. So I arrived yesterday after work to a feverish and grumpy toddler that won't eat and won't sleep without his favorite toy that I'm fairly certain was lost in transit. I'm still living out of boxes and I'm sure my son is infecting my sister with his virus as we speak…."
He's rambling. He knows he is. But he just can't seem to stop. That is until she cuts him off with a soft "Hey" as she gently grasps his arm. If she's bothered by his little outburst, she doesn't show it, just holds on to his arm for a moment longer and looks at him with so much sympathy that he has to tell his tired brain not to cry in front of this kind stranger.
She takes a deep breath, and it reminds him to do the same. God, he's exhausted. He's suddenly acutely aware of what a mess he must appear to be. She's probably counting down the minutes until she can be free of him.
She doesn't let him stew in his embarrassment for long. She smiles gently at him and removes her hand from his arm. He misses the warmth instantly.
"Parenting alone is hard. No parent is perfect. All you can do is love them and do your best, something you're clearly doing. Don't be so hard on yourself."
There's something in the way she says it. A sort of genuine understanding. But the moment is gone before he can question it as the belt holding his items suddenly moves, startling him. It appears the woman in front of him has finally finished.
He looks to her and remembers what started their conversation with a burst of embarrassment.
"Would you like to go first? I did cut in front of you, after all."
She scoffs at the very idea, "nonsense. Your son's medicine is more important than this."
He begins to argue with her but she cuts him off with a glare that turns into a satisfied smirk when he rolls his eyes in amusement and gives up. She thinks she catches him mumble something along the lines of stubborn woman as he turns to greet the cashier politely. And if she happens to glance appreciatively at his form as he does, well, she's only human.
This time, he's the one with a smirk as she glances up to see him looking at her. And ok, that wasn't very subtle, was it? But as her cheeks heat, he simply returns the favor as he gives her a slow once over that makes her want to squirm followed by a wink that makes her scoff and roll her eyes to hide her embarrassment.
"Don't be so smug."
He chuckles at that and bites that tempting bottom lip to hide his smile.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He's playing at innocent, and good god almighty, this man is adorable.
Before she can answer him, the cashier is calling out his total and it appears their moment is over. He pays her and takes his few bags as he glances back at Regina. There's a hesitation in his eyes that she feels echoed in herself. But he has a sick little boy at home and she needs to get home to Henry to cook him dinner and help him with whatever this silly poster board is set to become.
He smiles warmly at her one more time and tells her, "It was nice to meet you." He takes a deep breath and adds a sincere "And thank you. You were really very kind to the jerk that stole your spot. I'm sorry I talked your ear off."
She shakes her head and tells him with a smile, "Just don't let it happen again, thief."
His chuckle is rich and full and warms her to her toes as he tells her "Yes, ma'am."
But still, "Don't call me ma'am."
"Ah yes of course, your majesty."
He completes his ridiculous statement with a dramatic flourish of a bow, and she can't help but to laugh.
"Better."
He smiles at her one last time and tells her goodbye before reluctantly turning to leave.
He's made it a whole three steps from her when she shouts "Wait!" making him turn back to her as the people behind her grumble about her holding up the line. She gathers her nerve and walks to him with all the air of confidence she can muster.
He looks at her questioningly as she pulls a card and a pen from the purse that rests over her shoulder. She jots a few things down on the back and hands it to him.
"Here. If you're looking for a better nursery, one that will actually call you when your child is sick, Granny's is the best in town. It's where I took my son when he was younger. That's her number on the back as well as my cell number. It's a hard place to get into, but if you use my name, it'll help. I have a bit of pull around here. And if she still won't let Roland in, call me."
He turns the card over to read the front. Regina Mills. Storybrooke Mayor. And well, he supposes he wasn't all that far off when he jokingly called her your majesty. Small town royalty, it would appear.
"Regina"
He utters her name with such reverence that she can't look away from him.
"I like it. It suits you. I'm Robin, by the way. Robin Locksley."
Regina tamps down her blush at his compliment as she reaches for his outstretched hand and shakes it in greeting.
He holds on for a moment as warmth floods them both before he hesitantly releases her to look at the card again.
"Thank you. This means a lot."
"It's nothing, really."
"It's so much more than nothing."
"Go. Your son is waiting."
He sighs before he nods and thanks her again then bids his final goodbye. That night she goes to bed thinking of blue eyes and his warm voice. He falls asleep to the snores of his little man and the memory of her smile.
Author's Note: Hey, lovelies. Thanks for reading! This is my first fic so I hope it's not too terrible. I haven't written much in years. Special thanks to Clare (its-a-story-of-love) for looking over this for me and convincing me to publish. I'm going to hide now. Please be gentle!