Okay, so, hello everybody…
A few close friends will know I've been hoarding this fic for about a year and a half, and I think if I don't start posting it now then I never will. So for those close friends; thank you so so much for all your help with this, I couldn't do this without you. (And there is a special shoutout for my best friend, Sarah, because she spots all the typos I miss and transfers her excitement for this onto myself). This fic is originally rated T but at some point that will change – and it's worth pointing out that the numbers in chapter titles are dates, eg: this is set January 14th (just to clarify) :D
So, to celebrate Once coming back today, here's Eye of the Beholder…
…
The smell of bacon is a gift from the gods. Possessing magical powers, it has the ability to rouse the deepest of sleepers, cure the worst of hangovers, and make Robin Locksley forget that his morning had gone in the entirely opposite direction of what he had planned.
He hadn't even needed to order his usual lunch; he had called John, entered a stream of displeasured ranting for the entire bus journey there, and when he had arrived at his friend's diner, Robin had been ushered to his table in the corner where a bacon butty and a cup of tea were already waiting for him.
His friends are far too good to him, had been for years ever since he lost his sight as a teenager. They'd been his family, his support network, his strength. One day he will find a way to repay them. Somehow. After everything they have done for him, he owes them his life.
Robin smiles at the memories of his friends, feeling grateful for their uncanny ability to always know exactly how to cheer him up. And true to form; it's halfway through his lunch when Robin starts to relax, the pleasant atmosphere of his secondary home lulling him into contentment.
The majority of his time is spent in the diner; here he is able to converse with his friends who own the establishment, and in his little table for two tucked in the corner, he has a place he feels safe, staving away the loneliness of living alone.
He places his half-eaten sandwich back on his plate, takes a sip of his tea that's gone a little cooler than he prefers, and then leans against the wall to his left, gently resting his head against the bricks and sighing as he focusses on the ambience surrounding him.
The man behind him has a cough, and from its deep timbre and the faint scent of tobacco, Robin presumes it's from smoking a few too many cigarettes. On the table to his right - the other side of the path from the door to the counter - there's a family with a young child, the eager scrape of cutlery on plates changing into the young boy's incessant ramblings about what dessert he would like, and his parents aren't sounding too enthusiastic about buying the boy ice cream "for the third day in a row". Somewhere towards the lounging platform on the far right - the raised decking area he knows houses couches and coffee tables that is sometimes cleared and used as a makeshift stage for live music - there are a few young women catching up, exclamations of 'no!' and 'she didn't!' and 'he's dating who?!' breaking through their laughter and gossip. There's a playlist on loop in the background, and Robin's fingers tap out a beat to Coldplay's 'Violet Hill' on the paper serviette underneath unused cutlery, then speed up their tempo a little when the song fades to 'Thinking Out Loud', a tune he can't help but mouth the words to.
Heels clack on the wooden flooring as a woman walks past him, humming the same tune that will no doubt be playing in his head for the rest of the day, and when she reaches the counter, her voice filters through everything else; American, sultry, distinct, expressive. She orders 'one ham and cheese panini, two tuna melts, with two bottles of coke and a water, to go', and the words roll off of her tongue with absolutely no hesitation, no deliberating – unusual for a café, he muses – and so easily that Robin would be surprised if that isn't the usual order spoken for whomever she is buying lunch.
When Sarah – John Little's wife and the friendliest person Robin knows – asks if she wants them toasted, the woman replies in the affirmative, and Robin awaits for her next word, anticipating what he will hear next and preparing to try and memorise everything about her voice – not that he would ever forget such a thing. What it is about her that has his heart picking up speed and his breath caught in his throat, he has no idea. But whoever she is, she has the most beautiful voice he has ever heard.
The sudden vibration in his trouser pocket startles him, and the reflexive knee jerk into the table creates a rather loud clatter of cutlery that has Robin grimacing and dreading the feeling of his half cooled tea spilling into his lap.
It's a pleasant surprise when he remains unscathed, and the breath he was holding escapes him as he rests his fingertips on the edge of the table, hesitantly checking for any spilt liquid around his mug. He finds none.
The ascending pattern of buzzing in his pocket still continues, and when he fishes his phone out and swipes his thumb across the screen to halt the alarm, he can still feel his upper thigh tingling. After double checking the time with siri and realising that he needs to leave now if he wants to be on time for the fundraiser he's helping with, he shoves the last few bites of his bacon butty in his mouth before downing the last of his lukewarm tea.
He rises to his feet and starts to reach for his jacket when he's knocked into the chair he just stood from, wincing as his thigh catches on the corner of the table and his hand presses against the rough wall to keep himself from overbalancing. Whoever bumped into him has a firm grip on his jumper, and he can feel the bag held in their grasp swing and fall against his hip.
As soon as he rights himself his fingers gingerly rub at the sore spot on his leg, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown as a dull ache takes residence.
The deep inhale and following "sorry," distracts him from the pain, because it's *her*; the woman with the beautiful voice he was enamoured with. "I didn't see you," she explains and Robin has to chuckle because apparently irony has a warped sense of humour.
"It's fine," he assures with a smile that he hopes is aimed in the right direction.
"You dropped your wallet," she points out, and Robin hears her shift, presumably to retrieve it from the floor. "Here."
He holds out his hand with a 'thank you', an inexplicable smile tugging at his lips when his warm fingertips encounter her skin.
When he hears no further movement in front of him, Robin wonders if she's walked away already, crept past him and left him standing there like an idiot. But then he hears a warm 'see you' before the click of her heels returns as she leaves to brave the cold, winter air.
He doubts she hears his quiet 'bye' in response, but he says it anyway, still standing there with his wallet in his right hand and the left grasping his jacket placed on the back of his chair.
There's a hand suddenly resting on his shoulder, and Robin feels hope spiral inside him that perhaps the woman had returned for something else. But, alas, it's just his friend Will Scarlet, with a chipper, "You ready to leave, mate?"
Robin stays standing for a moment, still trying to catalogue everything to memory; the smokiness of her voice, the warmth of her touch, the scent of fresh flowers…
"The woman who just bumped into me-" Robin starts, frowning.
"Yeah, I saw that," Wills interrupts before asking a concerned; "y'alright?"
"I'm perfectly fine," Robin assures, before licking his lips and frowning even more. "Describe her to me."
"Can't really remember much, mate," Will admits, though he sees Robin's face fall and starts racking his brain for any detail in the back of his mind that he saw from his station the kitchens; "she's got dark hair, slim figure, wore a grey coat and black boots… Can't remember aught else."
"Right…"
It isn't much, but it is something at least.
"Why?"
"No reason," Robin replies a little too quickly. Well, it wasn't as if he could just blurt out 'yeah I heard one word from her and think I fell in love... '
Of course, Will knows better than his friend's denial; "Don't believe ya. Try again."
"I'm intrigued by her voice," Robin admits after a pause, before adding an insistent; "that's all."
Though from the smug smile he can hear in his friend's sceptical 'mmm-hmm', it is clear the excuse isn't bought in the slightest.
Bugger.
…*…
The charity fundraiser goes rather well; the organisation that has helped Robin since the age of 13 receives over £400, a sum that will go towards helping others and aid Robin in his quest to make a difference. MySight is one of those charities that require heavily on donations from the public, and yet despite that, Robin frequently loses count of the number of people who have told him they owe them their lives. And so instead of raising money for the large charities that receive government handouts, Robin puts his time and energy into helping those who need it more. He'd always had a soft spot for the underdog anyway.
The generous money pot calls for a celebratory drink at the Merry Men's Diner, and so Robin hangs out there, waiting until closing time before the gang sits at a booth in the middle - and Will Scarlet pulls up a chair at the end so they can all fit; John Little and Brian Tuck take up most of their respective seats, leaving barely enough room for the others to their sides. Sarah Little usually curls up into her husband's side, her brother George sits next to her, and then on the other side of the table, Tuck squishes into the corner, then Will Stutely, then Robin sits at the end. They had tried sitting differently one day and it had thrown Robin so off kilter that they had agreed to never do it again.
They always have a plate of biscuits and cookies in the middle of the table, and Robin hopes that nobody notices his hand sneaking over and grasping two at a time. But he had skipped dinner in his quest to get back to the diner, so he had snacked on a steak and kidney pie when he arrived, and has settled for filling the gaps with custard cream biscuits and Oreo cookies.
He's just stuffed an entire cookie into his mouth when John declares a toast, and Robin practically breaks his jaw in trying to chew fast enough to clear his mouth. Will Scarlet chuckles from next to him, and Robin feels a hand brush the front of his shirt with the explanation; "ya got crumbs all over y'shirt, mate."
Mumbling a 'thanks', Robin turns back to where John is speaking, a humble smile gracing his lips when praise is bestowed upon him for the work he does in helping others.
"To Robin, and good fortune…" John announces, and the man in question raises his beer and waits for the others to clink their bottles against his.
When it goes quiet, he takes a long swig, enjoying the refreshing burst of bubbles on his tongue as the others start up conversation again.
"So…" John starts, and Robin knows he's leaned on the table when the edge he was resting on raises a few centimetres. "A little birdie told me Robin has a crush on a mystery lady."
Robin's drink almost ends up sprayed over the table.
"I don't have a crush," he declares after he's stopped coughing. "We barely even spoke."
John chuckles. "The fact that you know who I'm talking about speaks wonders, my friend."
"Ooooh, what's her name?" Sarah asks, excitement brimming in her voice. "What's she like? Is she nice?"
Robin closes his eyes and sighs. "I don't know anything about her other than she's American."
"Oooh, exotic…" She says, and then when the table laughs and someone - it sounds like Will Stutely - reminds her it's 'only America', she tells them all to hush, pointing out; "Well, it's far away and it's not England."
"Did anyone see the lady?" Brian Tuck asks.
Will Scarlet speaks up; "Aye. Didn't see her face, but from where I stood she was a solid ten."
"Will, honestly…" George mumbles, and Robin can picture him shaking his head as the rest chuckle.
It doesn't really surprise Robin that his mystery woman has already gained the approval of Will - she was a woman and breathing, after all - but there's a slight worry that the man will make a move on her, and whether she accepts and ends up dating him, or refuses and ends up avoiding him, neither way works out in Robin's favour. He's not usually a praying man, but by god he hopes that Will doesn't screw this up before anything even has the chance to start.
"You'll have to let us know whenever you next speak with her," John Little states, bringing Robin out of his little bubble.
The man's wife wholeheartedly agrees. "Oh, you must! I simply have to meet the woman who can make our Robin blush."
"I'm not blushing," he mumbles, knowing it's a lie when he feels his cheeks heat even further.
"Are too," Sarah teases back, and then he hears a camera shutter click and she declares; "I have the photographic evidence to prove it."
"I propose an extra toast," Will Scarlet declares. "To Robin's mystery woman… and to hoping Robin taps that."
The entire table erupt into a mixture of laughter and groans - Scarlet's 'ow' probably due to Stutely's penchant for punishing overly inappropriate comments.
"How about to Robin's mystery woman…" Sarah starts. "And to hoping this is the start of something good."
Robin lifts his glass when he hears the others shifting, knowing full well that the chances of the woman with the beautiful voice coming back to the diner in a city this large is very slim, but still willing to hope that fate will have them meet again.
Someday.