A/N: Inspired by The Chainsmokers feat; Halsey's 'Closer' - which I am absolutely obsessed with right now.

Disclaimer: If I owned OUAT, it'd have ended with Season 3.

She's older. Her hair's a little shorter, her eyes a little darker, and she's six inches taller than she was four years ago - but that may have something to do with the heels she's balancing precariously on as she leans against the bar, hair loosely framing her face as she offers a coy smile at the suit she'd come in with. She hasn't seen him yet, but Robin's eyes had been drawn to her the moment she walked through the door. And he can't stop staring. Why? They hadn't exactly ended on good terms - they hadn't really ended at all. And he can remember clearly the hurt he'd felt when he realised she wasn't coming back. She looks good... Happy, even. And that both relieves and infuriates him. Enough so that, when she starts to turn with her companion's hand on the small of her back, he quickly looks away, scowling in to his drink and gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white.

Regina Mills had always had that affect on him. This strange ability to make him lose his head, sometimes without so much as looking at him. She doesn't even know he's there and she's already invaded him completely. His head is racing with what if's - what if she sees me? what if she recognises me? what if she doesn't? His heart is aching, a familiar pain shooting through his chest that he had thought he'd rid himself of years ago. And his body - fuck! - she's as stunning as ever, even more so now that she's aged some, and he can still remember every moan, mark and cry. It pisses him off how quick he is to respond to even just a glimpse of her - and it disappoints him how easily she seems to have moved on.

"- mate?" He looks up, loosening his grasp on his glass as he raises his brows as Will and John, who are both staring at him as if he'd lost the plot. A tight smile, a quick nod in acknowledgement, and he's tipping his glass back against his lips until the burn in his throat numbs and his drink is gone. "You alright?"

Nodding, he lifts his hand and steps away. "Fine." They do not look even the slightest bit convinced, but he doesn't care. He desperately needs another drink and maybe he's a masochist, but Regina's still at the bar and a part of him wants her to look him in the eye and regret ever walking away.

Another part wants him to turn tail and run.

"- another?" He doesn't leave them enough time to respond before he's waving them off and halfway across the room. Every step closer shifts the tension in his shoulders a degree or so higher - and maybe he's the only one who can feel it, maybe he's the only one who can hear the resolute thump, thump, thump of his heart as his feet bring him closer and closer to the woman he both loves and hates, but he's sure the rest of the bar have lost their ability to speak. Her back is to him again, but this time she's perched on a bar stool, one ankle tucked neatly under the other as another man's hand rests on her bare knee. He should not be as jealous as he is - she made her choice and it was not him, but he still can't help but grit his teeth a little at the sight of another's thumb brushing circles over a spot Robin once ran his tongue over. He slips in behind her, inhaling slowly so as to shake off whatever anxiety he may be feeling at their close proximity, and flags down the barkeep. "Two beers, one whiskey."

He can feel her tense beside him. Her back stiffening at the sound of his voice, and it relieves him just a little to know that she remembers him just as easily as he'd remembered her. From the corner of his eye, he can see her slowly turn her head until her chin comes in contact with her shoulder and he knows she's trying to catch a glimpse of him as subtly as she can, just in case she's wrong.

He knows, because he'd thought the same thing.

If only for a moment.

But he's real, and he's there, and he refuses to give in to his desire to look her in the eye. He won't let her see how difficult this is for him - one drink doesn't seem like enough anymore, and he has a sudden urge to order the whole damn bottle... maybe two. She smells amazing, and his eyes close as he taps against the bar with his thumb. "- Robin?" Gods, her voice is both different and the same and the sound of his name coming from her lips after all this time shocks him with a sharp jolt of agony to his chest. His eyes open slowly, and he turns his head just enough to be sure she knows he sees her, and he takes a moment to drink her in.

He missed her.

He hates her.

"Regina."

She visibly flinches at the unintended coldness to her name as he acknowledges her with a barely noticeable nod and waits for whatever else she may want, but she seems to be speechless - and once upon a time, he would have relished in this moment. Regina Mills lost for words - he'd have never let her live it down when they were together. But they're not together, and he's losing that stupid kind of bravery that makes him do things before he thinks about them, and retreating to his friends and the table in the back corner they'd commandeered when they'd gotten there over an hour ago is looking mighty appealing right now. Where are his drinks?

"- hey..." He's still staring at her when she finally manages to say something, and if that weren't the case, he wouldn't have thought she'd spoken at all. Not that she's soft or shy when she talks, but he can't imagine her saying anything as simple as 'hey' to someone she'd walked out on after promising them forever. His eyes flicker to the side, but her 'friend' seems to have moved on to another pretty brunette with equally as bare legs, so she can't be talking to him. Regina shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with both his silence, and his line of sight. And he can only think 'good.'

Shaking his head in disbelief, he turns away and tosses a twenty on the bar as his drinks are placed before him. Swiftly, having had many years of practice in the art of alcohol handling and glass juggling, Robin gives in to his cowardly side and makes an attempt at walking away. He wonders, briefly, as he looks up to meet John's concerned gaze from across the room, if it was any easier when she did it - since turning his back on her and pretending she doesn't exist is only making him feel sick. "Wait, Robin..."

Her fingers wrap around the crook of his arm and he stiffens, stopping only because if he stepped any further away, he'd spill every drop he'd just paid for - or so he tells himself as he glances over his shoulder at Regina. She's gnawing on her lower lip, teeth slowly scraping the deep red of her lip away. "... can we talk?" He glares at her then, because she's four fucking years too late to talk and he doesn't owe her anything... but she owes him, and he concedes if only because he wants to know why. He deserves to know why.

"Fine."

Xx

He should've known. What a fucking idiot, thinking all they could do is talk without tearing each other's clothes off. He did okay, he thinks. He lasted a good eight minutes before the silence between them had become too much and, just as she'd made her third attempt at starting a conversation, he'd pushed her up against the side of her car. His hands came to cup her jaw as he kissed her hard, with as much strength as he could without actually hurting her. Still, it's enough for her breath to hitch and her skin to flush red - or, as red as he thinks considering it's eleven thirty-seven. She moans, and it does things to him that make him hate her all the more. "This... this isn't... talking," she protests, but she must be just as weak as he is if the click of her passenger door is anything to go by. Blindly, he lowers one arm, trails the tips of his fingers down her neck and down before the exposed valley between her breasts. His hand slides of the fabric of her dress, moves down and across her ribs before rising up. His fingers wrap around the door handle and he tugs it open, slides his tongue over her lower lip and growls "shut up," before both his hand fall to her waist and he's lifting her up, dropping her on the car seat and crawling in after her.

It is awkward, and clumsy, and frantic - but the door closes and he ends up sitting upright with her straddling his hips, one knee caught between him and the door and the other pressed against the buckle and the hand-break... that will probably bruise in the morning, but he doesn't give a fuck and she doesn't seem to notice. Not with her hands tugging his shirt from his pants and her nails lightly dragging up his stomach. He hisses, nips at her upper lips as they kiss desperately, and there is a stray thought of 'maybe we shouldn't' - but that goes out the window as she shifts a little closer, sitting directly on his crotch and groans at the feel of his cock pressing against her between cotton, denim and silk. "Robin," she breaths, and with his eyes closed he can picture them in his dorm room, her back against the wall and one of her legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks her hard enough for the pictures on his wall to shake. She'd moaned his name then too, only it'd been softer, and warmer, and meant something then. Angry, he moves his lips to her throat and sucks hard. Her breath hitches and she rocks against him as he thrusts up and they're dry humping in the front seat of her car in the car park behind the bar and he thinks 'fuck it' - his hand moves down between her legs and she rises on her knees a little to make room. Pushing aside her underwear, he swipes a finger through her folds and presses the pad of his thumb against her clit. Regina keens, bending forward until her forehead rests on his shoulder and her hands move to his hips. Her nails dig in to his skin as he teases her with light circles and applied pressure and she has to bite her lip to muffle her cries as her hips rock.

Fuck, he missed this.

Missed her.

But he doesn't want to hear her talk right now, not when she hadn't had any intention of telling him why she'd left, why he hadn't been good enough for her, why he didn't even deserve a god damn fucking goodbye - and he's getting angry again, can feel his temper rise as her head throws back and it rolls forward, and when he can look her in the eye, he glares at her with so much hate he can feel it well in his heart before his lips are on her again and he slips a finger inside. She is so wet, and so warm, and he can smell her now that their space is small and closed off and she's fucking herself on his hand as she sits in his lap with his cock hard and aching between her thighs. One of her hand moves from his hip to his crotch, the zipper of his jeans finding it's way between her thumb and forefinger, and he slips a second finger inside to join the first as she gasps, and pulls him free. Her hands are cold and he is so hot, his hisses at her touch and grits his teeth and he moves his thumb and presses against her clit with the heel of her hand and she chokes on air, wraps her hand around his cock and slowly starts to move her palm up and down the length of him. Robin groans, opening his eyes to catch a glimpse of her own as she looks down at him and shudders. "Fuck me," she breathes with a smile, and it sounds almost like a plea, but Robin can only hear the disconnected number and the dial tone... "- I hate you," he whispers back, and her smile falls as her hips slow and she looks at him almost as if she regrets ever leaving him - and good, she should, but he's not ready to hear her apologies, her explanation - he thought he was, but he was wrong. So where her hand had loosened around him, he takes his own and holds himself steady between her legs, the fingers of his now wet and sticky hand opening her up to him before one thrust has her sucking in a deep breath and closing her eyes with her teeth bared.

She is so tight, and it has been so long - he stills within her, holds her in place with his hands on her hip whereas her own have fallen loosely to her sides, and maybe he feels a bit guilty at the way he's treating her now, as if she were nothing more than something to fuck when his own hand got tired - but he is still hurt, and angry, and his heart still aches for her in any way, shape or form. It doesn't take long for her hips to rise and then fall and his own follow suit until they develop a rhythm that suits them both. His head falls back against the headrest as he pretends it's four and a half years ago and this is the beat up chevy they'd stolen from the tow yard that one night. This is bad, this is really really bad and he's sure once his head is clear and she is long gone ( because what else can he expect ) - he'll regret this. But right now, she feels amazing wrapped around him, the hem of her dress pulled up around her waist and moving against his exposed lower stomach. His eyes open, and he looks at her, and her eyes are closed and her head is tipped back as she moves up and down, silhouetted by a street lamp with her lips parted to help her breathe.

Robin thrusts a little harder, grasps at her hips a little tighter, and she shudders around him, her back arches and her breath catches in her throat as she cries out his name and comes with him buried almost balls deep. He remembers every night they'd spent together, every time they'd touched, every time they'd fucked - there is no way he would have every forgotten how it had felt and how it had looked when she came because of him - but his memory is nothing like the real thing and he finds himself following her with a groan. They're still half-dressed, their clothes are slick with sweat and they breathe heavily to catch their breathe - but the silence returns and Robin can't help but feel cheated.

They could have been doing this every day for the last four years. Who knows what their lives would be like now if she hadn't left him like she had - would they be happily married? Would they have kids? Maybe a dog? He could have spent the rest of his life inside her, where he belonged, making her happy, giving her pleasure, loving her with every fibre of his being... "... why?"

It falls from his lips on a whisper, his eyes closed as he catches his breath, and he can feel her stiffen at his question, and he demand for an answer. Between them, they breathe and pant and he is still inside her but he is slowly softening and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, can feel that sudden ache in her knees from their less than ideal position, but he won't move without an answer... He's ready for one now... Now that he's got her out of his head.

"... I don't know..."

His eyes open at her answer, more timid than he's ever heard her before, and she looks now like that girl he'd first met - so quiet an reserved and closed off from the world. She won't meet his eye, choosing instead to flick at one of the buttons on his shirt absentmindedly, and he laughs bitterly. "That's not an answer..."

"... I'm sorry..."

"And that's not good enough... get off."

She hesitates, looks up at him finally with slightly glazed eyes and she doesn't look like she has any intention of moving from his lap but he really doesn't care, he'll get out with her still wrapped around him if he has too. But he can not sit here, in this car, with her in his lap and his cock still between her legs, if she won't tell him why the fuck she left. "Get. Off. Regina." He repeats, and her eyes close, she swallows, and his hands move to her hips to force her off him - she panics, her own hands falling to cover his as her eyes open and bore in to his own - and he pauses at the look in her eye.

"I was scared, okay? I'm sorry, I am so sorry Robin and I know that's not an excuse but... you - I'm not good at relationships, I don't know how to love, or how to be happy - and you made me, I don't know..." her voice loses from of the strength and desperation she'd started with, but that may be because he's no longer trying to force her away from him. He's frozen as he stares at her with something akin to disappointment. "- you made me feel things I hadn't really felt before. I didn't know how to handle it, what to do - love is, terrifying - and you were so ready to fall in to it, I just... wasn't."

"So you left?" His voice is rough, deep and low in his throat and he sounds incredulous, like the concept of love being something to be afraid of is just ridiculous, and he knows that she hadn't had the greatest upbringing, that her idea of happiness and love and family are skewed thanks to her bitch of a mother - but he thought they were worth the risk.

She nods. "So I left."

They fall silent again and she's moved enough now that he's slipped from within her and he feels... empty. He hates her. Hates how easily she gets to him, how even after four years of absolute zero contact, crossing paths coincidentally one night at a bar in Boston is enough for her to claw her way past his defences... again. He hates her... almost as much as he loves her. "Get off..." he mumbles, repeating himself again for the third time in the hopes that this time, she'll listen. She says his name again, "- Robin..." but she nods and pushes on the handle, the door opening as she slides from his lap and her stumbles to her feet. He's quick to tuck himself back in to his briefs and re-zip his jeans as he follows, and he can't look at her until he's sure he's ready move on. "I have to go," he grouses, checking his back pocket for his wallet and his phone and when he looks up, Regina looks at him with regret and guilt and disappointment in her eyes - and he tries his best to smile. "I'll call you," seems to brighten her a little, a small smile gracing her now kissed bare lips before she realises that those are the exact last words she'd spoken to him the night before she left.

But he's already turned his back, his heart in his throat and his hands shoved in to his pockets, her new number scrawled on to a napkin balled up in his fist.

A/N: The End? Don't hate Robin, he's a broken-hearted puppy. And don't hate Regina, she's a confused lil cupcake. I don't have much time to write anymore, if the last couple of months have been any indication, but if you guys want to see Regina's POV I might be able to get something out? I just really love 'Closer' and the OQ AU idea just would not leave me alone.