A/N : Someone asked a fluffy OQ prompt for her birthday, with no further explanation as to its content. So I wrote this. I got inspired by a french song that some of you might know, it's called En apesanteur, and the singer is Calogero.

I really do hope that you will enjoy it.

Thank you Melis for the unexpected betareader help!

Disclaimer : I own nothing but the fic idea. The characters aren't mine, unfortunately, or their story would've been different.

Lucia, this is for you! Happy birthday sweetie!

Robin enters the building, smiling. This is just another beautiful day. The sun is shining, he's in a wonderful mood, and he has won his last case in a masterly way.

So he heads towards the elevator, greeting the coworkers and the people working in the building, slightly ducking his head each time. He glances around and stops right in front of one of his colleagues to shake his hand.

"Robin!" the man exclaims. "Congratulations for yesterday. I heard you were brilliant in court."

"Well, I won, did I?" Robin chuckles, feeling a bit smug, but today he feels like he has the right to be.

"You certainly did."

"How's the family, David? I heard your boy is almost walking."

David Nolan lights up at the mention of his son. "Oh yes. Mary Margaret has patched the entire house in fear of him getting injured."

"I bet she has. Do you-"

Robin freezes.

There she is.

A vision.

An apparition from somewhere else, a place far, far away, from a beautiful world.

A goddess, for sure.

A woman so stunning she takes his breath away every time he catches the sight of her. He doesn't know her, has no idea if she works here or not, if she's an employee or a client, ignores her name and even the sound of her voice. But every time she appears, he's mesmerized, and the world around him stops spinning. He has noticed her a few times already, has always glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but never dared to talk to her.

"Robin?"

He's startled by David's hand on his shoulder, blinks out of his daze, shaking his head, but his eyes never leave her. Realizing that the creature is entering an elevator, and –oh, joy!- an empty one, he mutters absentmindedly "Sorry, mate. I have to go."

This is his chance.

He speeds up, slips inside before the door closes, holding his breath.

"That was a short call."

He jumps, looking behind him, noticing the woman smiling at him. He rakes a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous, palms sweaty, heart beating fast in his chest.

"Yeah." Is all he can reply, hating himself for his lack of conversation.

He could do so much better. He has to. But whoever this beauty is, she's probably already taken, men usually notice this kind of a treasure really quickly. He stands no chance. What chance, actually? He doesn't even know her. If he opens his mouth, he will only embarrass himself. Why would she date a guy she met in an elevator? That would be the worst idea ever.

He mentally kicks himself. He's young, not too bad looking, and successful. He stands as much chances as anyone else. He just needs to-

"Sir?"

He jumps, feeling something on his arm, turning to face the beautiful woman with dark, silky mid-shoulder length hair, deep brown shining eyes, perfect lips covered with red lipstick, looking at him in question, frowning a little.

"I'm sorry!" he shakes his head. "What?" he questions, understands that she must have been trying to speak to him but he was dumb enough to not notice. What was he saying about embarrassing himself? Oh right, already done! Well played, Locksley!

"Which floor?"

Which floor indeed… Robin only realizes that he entered the elevator without pressing any button, and suddenly it takes him all his focus to remember where he works.

"28, please."

She acknowledges his answer with a simple nod, moves away from him to press the button, and then slowly retreats to the back of the cabin, leaning against the wall.

Robin swallows hard. He wants to say something, but words are stuck in his throat, and he feels dumb, because he's supposed to be a bright and brilliant attorney, but he seems to be unable to pull himself together in front of a gorgeous woman. Right now, he feels like a sweaty teenager, so overwhelmed with hormones that he can't help but make a fool of himself.

He glances behind, finds her looking up at the evenly carved floor numbers on the buttons, and he can't help but appreciate what he sees. She's wearing a perfectly fitting red dress, tightened to the waist by an elegant black belt, matching black heels and purse. God, he's hurting himself by watching her. She's so radiant and elegant that looking at her is more blinding than staring at the sun.

He feels something grow in him, something that sends heat to his whole body, makes his cheeks blush, his mouth dry, so he closes his eyes to center himself.

And then there's a hand on his shoulder, turning him, and he faces that beautiful creature again, loses himself in these dark orbs staring at him with what –strangely- resembles desire, lust, her lips slightly parted as she slowly closes the distance between them. She tightens her grip on his shoulder, pulling him to her, and he goes willingly. Nothing makes sense anymore. It's just him, and a vision coming directly from heaven, an angel here to tempt him, and he'll be damned if he resists her calls.

Before he knows, his lips are hovering over hers, his eyes powerless to look away from her beautiful face, his hands dying to touch her, and he gives into it, one settling at her waist, the other at the base of her neck, guiding.

He almost pulls back when their skins make contact, because he's suddenly stricken by a force so intense, shivers running down his spine, that he almost blacks out with the intensity of the feeling, with how good it feels.

But he holds onto her, doesn't release her, instead moves even closer, and when their lips touch, it's like a living firework has taken place in the elevator.

Starting from soft and tender, it grows needier, her fingers closing around his neck, nails digging into his skin, her front pressing against his chest, and he lets go of his reserve, slides one hand to her back, the other moving south, wrapping around her thigh and lifting it so it's pressed against his side. He pines her against the wall, his mouth moving to her throat, tongue swirling and tasting the fruity scent of her skin, then up again, sucking a soft spot behind her ear, smiling when she shakes in his arms, exhaling a strangled moan, arching and allowing him to move her dress up her thighs, then bottom, fingers kneading the tender skin of her rear.

She moves her touch from his back to beneath his shirt, the tip of her fingers playing on his chest, tracing lazy paths, tantalizing ones, dragging his shirt up until it's tucked under his armpits, forcing them to break contact as she helps him remove it.

It's blindly thrown somewhere behind him, but he couldn't care less as they are back at each other, mouth devouring, tongues dancing together, hands grasping and groping, him reaching for the belt at her waist, unclasping it with one swift move, then unzipping her dress, pulling back just enough to look at her as her cleavage is revealed to his eyes. He swallows down a groan of appreciation.

Lace.

Only red lace.

His guilty pleasure.

It's a sign, he thinks, as his mouth closes over the skin between her breasts, his fingers pulling her dress down as he takes care of her, hearing her moans grow louder, bolder, fingers in his hair, holding him to her. She wriggles a little until the dress falls to the floor, and then she tilts his head up, forcing him to look at her, an arm wrapping around his back, a leg around his thigh, her center pressed to his, rocking against him despite the clothing between them.

Not waiting one more second, Robin's hands leave her, starting to unbuckle his belt, and from the moment it's done, she takes the lead, pushes his hands away, lowers the zipper, unbuttons his pant, pushes it down his legs, dragging his underwear too –not losing one second it seems, and that's just fine by him. She doesn't look away for one second, gazing deeply into his eyes as she unclasps her bra, and then gets rid of her panties, letting them slide against her thin thighs and legs, keeping her heels on.

Before he realizes what happens, before he even has a chance to truly see her, she's fully exposed in front of him, and he feels her warmth against his already erected shaft, hand gripping his rear as she presses him to her. He rubs himself against her center, body trembling and eyes fluttering close as he's overwhelmed with pleasure, breath becoming erratic and short.

He guides himself inside, moaning in unison with her as they become one, as she surrounds him to the hilt, already clenching in anticipation of what's coming next.

She rocks with him, follows his rhythm, gripping his shoulders as he pounds into her, letting out strangled moans, soft cries, head falling back and eyes closing shut, lips slightly parted, welcoming his hard and fast thrusts with appreciative sighs, words of encouragement, pleading him to continue, to keep going…

DING!

Robin startles, opens his eyes, shakes his head as someone slightly pushes at him, walking past him and exiting the elevator, a kind "Have a good day!" thrown over her shoulder.

Before he can realize, the doors have closed, the creature has disappeared, and Robin finds himself alone in the small space, a noticeable problem bulging against his pants, mouth dry and head pounding.

Was this just a dream?

He looks up, notices that she got out at the 23rd floor, that he barely has a minute before he walks into the hall leading to his office, so he needs to find a way not to embarrass himself in front of his colleagues. He tries to think about everything he finds repulsive, everything that can allow him to get rid of the issue between his legs, and he sighs, buries his hands in his vest's pockets.

And freezes.

Looking down, he slowly, carefully, removes them, frowning, staring in disbelief at what he's holding and clearly wasn't here this morning.

A piece of paper.

A folded piece of paper.

He jumps when the elevator stops and the doors open in front of him, closing his fist over his discovery, his new treasure. With all the confidence he has left –thankfully, focusing on something else helped in abating his erection enough that no one seems to notice- he walks straight to his office, locks the door behind him, and sits behind his desk.

Only then, he unfolds the paper, and his heart stops. In front of him, in a delicate handwriting, there are a few words, words that leave him speechless and stunned for a second.

I don't daytime drink, but perhaps some evening?

Shaking out of his dazed state, of his surprise, Robin, attempts to suppress a smile, ends up losing the battle. Because underneath the sentence, is written a series of numbers that clearly represents a phone number, but most of all, there is a name. Her name.

Robin stares at the message in wonder, finally discovering the identity of this mysterious woman who stole his heart with one single look.

Regina.

Regina Mills.