A/N: For #OQAngstFest
2, 11, 15, 12
Regina hates birthdays. There's nothing exciting about being another year older, and she doesn't understand why any adult over the age of twenty-one insists on celebrating it. It's ridiculous, an excuse to indulge in sickenly sweet treats and saccharine laced well-wishes that are entirely too insincere. And then there's the questions about how it feels to be another year older, about what she is planning to do for her Big Day, about her favorite present. And she knows Mary Margaret, the cheery art teacher and head of the party-planning committee, is going to be asking all those questions in short order, immediately after singing her happy birthday and shoving a cake covered in far too many candles at her.
That's why she's avoiding social media today. And the teacher's lounge. And the cafeteria. She's spending her free periods in her classroom, thank you very much. Catching up on grading.
Avoiding the inevitable.
Because if she doesn't show up in the breakroom soon, Mary Margaret will come and find her and drag her in there herself.
It's still surprising when she hears the faint knock at her door.
"It's too early for cake, Miss Blanchard," Regina groans. "Leave me alone."
The door opens, and it's not Mary Margaret at all.
It's Robin, and that might be even worse.
"Good thing I brought cupcakes, and it's never too early for them!" Robin smirks proudly. He's holding two large cups of coffee and a pastry box, obviously struggling to hold all three and open the door. It's cute, actually, annoyingly so.
"Robin," she tosses her head back in annoyance. "You promised you wouldn't this year."
"Did I?" Robin asks, setting down the cups of coffee on a child's desk. "I just dropped these off for Roland's birthday and happened to have a few spare cupcakes, I figured I'd take a walk next door and give them to the birthday girl."
Right. The Roland excuse.
Ordinarily she wouldn't mind sharing a birthday with her friend's child. Especially the child of her best friend. She may hate adult birthdays but she quite likes celebrating Roland's special day. But the thing is, Robin is always using Roland's birthday as an excuse to celebrate her birthday. Always sneaking in a second cake or another chorus of happy birthdays just for her.
And she hates it. Or maybe she likes it a little too much. Either way, it is unsettling.
"I cannot believe you walked over from the elementary school carrying all that," Regina mutters, trying to hide a smile. Robin just shrugs.
"I didn't want them to go to waste."
She appreciates Robin even more than she did back when they were younger. Since she moved back home at twenty-six years old, a year old child in tow, facing a sea of judgmental eyes and whispers inquiring as to the reasoning for choosing the single parent lifestyle. Robin had been the only one who didn't judge, didn't ask if she thought everything out before adopting Henry alone, didn't say anything except congratulations. And then he helped her find a job immediately.
There could have been something there, she thinks, back then. It seemed like something was evolving as he helped her for those first six weeks— hell he practically moved in to the little town home she rented, helping put together furniture and settling Henry in his new home. There were late nights that bled into early mornings, where she felt like she was drunk off of his company, off of tender touches and soft compliments. She had never really gotten that way about anyone. But she never got to tell him that, because then Marian announced her pregnancy, and just like that, he was back together with his on-again, off-again ex, and Regina reverted to what she was always meant to be, his friend.
And she really doesn't want to go down that path again, she just wants to remain friends.
But now that she's caught feelings for him, it seems they've taken root, like a stubborn infection, never really entirely leaving her system.
He's looking at her with all-too-eager eyes, urging her to look at his birthday treat, and she finds she can't resist him.
She peers inside the open pastry box and isn't surprised at all by what she finds.
"You bought red velvet cupcakes for six year olds?"
"Mm, five and six year olds, yes. And surprisingly the red velvets were not too popular. I bought an assortment and there were plenty of vanilla and chocolate ones that went quite easily, leaving these poor red velvets all uneaten. Luckily I do know someone who loves them, though."
"From Granny's," Regina realizes. Her favorite bakery. Fuck him for being so thoughtful.
"Coffee from The Three Bears," Robin adds, holding a cup to her.
"And Roland's little friends enjoy coffee do they?" She smirks, holding out her hand as Robin passes her the coffee.
"No, that was me doing something nice for you against your wishes," Robin admits. His voice goes low and sweet when he whispers, "Happy birthday, Regina."
"You can't keep doing this," she says back, instantly regretting it.
"Can't keep doing something special for my best friend on her birthday?" he asks innocently, as if he hasn't sensed the tension between them, the tension that's always been between them, really. Marian had noticed it, had been terribly jealous of his relationship with her. And then Daniel, all those years ago, was always making comments about how close they were.
But Robin has always seemed oblivious of her feelings, of the connection she feels, so she swallows her words.
"You have to give up on trying to get me to enjoy my birthday," she opts for. "And I love the cupcakes, but I wish you had brought them to me on a random day, not on my birthday. Mary Margaret is going to jam a piece of cake down my throat later, anyway."
His mouth opens in a silent "oh", his eyes twinkling devilishly. "I guess you'll just be eating a lot of sugary sweets today. I wish I had known you were already getting a sugar fix."
"You knew, and you did it anyway," Regina argues playfully. "Now I'm going to be hyped up on sugar all day.
He shakes his head. "I'm not forcing you to eat them."
"Yeah..." she says, grabbing a cupcake. "But you know I can't resist these things if they are in front of me." She takes a bite and savors it, creamy, tangy frosting and bitter chocolate cake blending together into the perfect tasting cupcake that exists on Earth, she's sure of it.
"God that's good," she moans. "Thank you for not putting a candle on one. I hate that."
"I know," Robin reminds. "I was there for your thirteenth birthday when you took a big bite of melted wax."
Regina shudders. "Got in my braces and everything. I hated that."
"You were cute," he says, as if he remembers it still, twenty years later.
She fights smiling at that, but her mouth turns up on its own volition.
"I was a mess back then," she mutters. "My awkward years were very awkward."
"I think you misremember. You've always been pretty adorable."
She rolls her eyes. He has to say that. Because he's her friend, and he's always been just a little bit blind when it comes to her faults.
"Thank you for the coffee," she holds it, does a mock toast in his honor. "And the cupcakes. But take away the rest of them before I eat them all."
"Nah," Robin smirks. "I'm going to keep them right here so you can snack on the other five throughout the day."
"No!" she exclaims as he turns to walk away. "Robin I'm going to be forced to eat Mary Margaret's cake too, so you have to take them!"
She grabs the pastry box and shoves them in his direction, but he just laughs, holding his hands up and refusing to take it.
For a moment she forgets she's thirty-fucking-three, and it's just her and Robin, horsing around like old times.
"I mean it, Robin! These cupcakes can not sit here, and I can't drop them off at the teacher's lounge or they will give me more cake! Take them back!"
"Make me!" Robin says, and she's chasing him, about ready to throw the damn cupcakes at him, stuff one in his face even.
There's a bit of a struggle as they laugh, until she pins him against the far wall and grabs his hand. God, she's glad she has one of the few classrooms without a window facing into the hallway. Just that little window in the door she's covered with a sign that says:
Government
Ms. Mills
Room 105
And thank god for that sign because she's be mortified if anyone — teacher or student— came by and saw her behaving like this now. And yet, she finds she can't stop.
"You are going to take these cupcakes—"
"No, I'm not!" Robin laughs, twisting his wrists and freeing her grasp.
And then she hears a SPLAT and Robin winces.
His coffee cup was on the nearby desk, and their antics have just spilled it all over the classroom.
"Oh, shit!" Regina mutters, "Now I have to clean this up."
"It's my fault; I'll get it," Robin insists, following her out of the classroom. "Seriously, Regina, just point me to the cleaning supplies and I'll handle it. It's your birthday."
"Oh, I'm just to blame as you," Regina sighs, fishing for her keys. "Sometimes working in a high school makes me act like I am in high school."
Truly - flirting and falling all over herself, getting clumsy and giggly in front of a boy.
Really, so very high school.
The custodial closet is right across the hallway, and while she fiddles with the keys, Robin is behind her.
She can feel his breath on her neck, his hands lightly rubbing up and down her back.
God she's never going to find the key with him distracting her like this.
She does find it, her face hot and thoroughly embarrassed by the time she does.
"Jesus," Robin says looking in the dated supply closet. The walls are chipped and bare, the door is this old metal thing that creaks something awful. "How old is this school?"
"Ancient," Regina giggles. "Half the classrooms have leaks. We need a new roof. And some new textbooks. And don't get me started on the mold we aren't supposed to talk about."
"Well I'm very glad our sons will soon attend here instead of our alma mater," Robin teases, and Regina laughs.
"God, we were lucky. We should probably try to move into that school district before the boys get here."
"Nah," Robin says lightly. "I want them to have the best political science teacher in the country. They should stay put."
"Shut up," she says, tapping him lightly.
"Make me," he whispers, inching closer to her.
His hands anchor on either side of her waist, and he walks her back against the door frame, that playful smirk on his face she is dying to kiss away.
He really shouldn't be this cute.
"I don't know what you are buttering me up for but it won't work," she whispers back. She lifts her hands to push him away, but never quite manages. Instead she's sort of… rubbing his chest. God, he's muscular. When does a single father find the time to work out?
Why is she always lusting over her best friend?
She can't keep doing this forever — they can't keep doing this forever, being friendly and flirty as if there's nothing more serious to worry about. Sooner or later she's going to have to tell him how she feels or she might burst trying to keep all these feelings to herself.
She's silently chastising herself when she's hears the sound of footsteps and quiet words.
She's not sure why she does it, some misplaced guilt, some hidden worry about a stranger able to read the scandalous thoughts in her mind, some unspoken understanding that what is between them is wrong… whatever the reason, Regina is pushing him into that disgusting janitorial closet and shutting the door.
Robin catches on quickly, doesn't make a sound, but look at her curiously, mouthing a silent, "What?"
Regina can't begin to explain the reason right now. How do you keep your poise while saying So, I worry someone might catch on to how turned on I am right now and felt the need to hide?
So instead she puts a finger to her lips. Bless Robin, he only silently nods.
The noise in the hallway interrupts their moment, as they both hear unfamiliar voices in the hallway.
"Check the empty classrooms first and lock them," a sinister voice hisses. "We managed to get all the entrances secured, but we need the windows."
Robin and Regina look at one another, perplexed.
Her nerves stand on end. Something isn't right.
"Classrooms with kids, we do the same thing?" asks another voice.
"Yes. We need all the hostages we can get. The more that's at stake, the more they are willing to pay. And if they don't pay, we start killing," snarls another voice.
Regina's blood runs cold. She looks at Robin in absolute disbelief.
He looks… determined. As if he's already processed this. He holds a finger to his lips and then silently falls to the floor, his ear to the ground, fixated on the crack of light between the wall and the door. He can see something, she realizes.
She kneels next to him and waits for him to report what he sees.
He says nothing, until voices get more muffled, until she can't hear what the gunmen are saying.
"Marking and locking the empty classrooms, I think," Robin whispers, as footsteps tred away from their door. "Saw them walk into yours, and out, and then… seemed like they locked it."
"Fuck," Regina whispers. "What are we—"
"AHHH!" A piercing young voice interrupts her idiotic question. Regina winces. The voice screams again, "A gun! He's got a gun, they have—"
But it's over then, the voice is drowned out on a haze of crackling gunfire.
Regina hears a sickening splat, and then, she hears what she had hoped she wouldn't.
Doors swinging open. Footsteps pressing hard against linoleum. Several screams and gasps.
"EVERYONE STOP!" cries that same sinister voice from before. "Go back to your classrooms or we—"
Gunfire again. People are screaming and crying, there's yelling, arguing, and it's terrifying, she hears bodies dropping, falling, just right outside her door and she can't do anything.
"EVERYONE KNEEL DOWN, HANDS ON THE FLOOR!" a voice screams.
But it's chaos. There's more fire. "I SAID HANDS ON THE FLOOR!" the voice yells.
"We have to help them!" Regina whispers. She's already got a hand on the supply closet door handle. "There's got to be a way to—"
"We can't now," Robin warns, "They will shoot us in a second. We have to wait." He's on his phone — smart move — she's sure he is sending a message to 911.
"Those are children," Regina cries, sobbing into his neck. "They are practically babies, Robin, some are barely fourteen."
Robin wraps his arms tightly around her. "I know, I know. And I want to save as many as we can. But we need a plan, okay? We need to think this through. Otherwise we will end up dead and won't help anyone."
He lets her sniffle at every gun shot, every scream, every barked order to Follow and Be Quiet and Stop crying. They listen until the noise dies out, until she can regain her composure, somewhat. Only a minute or two, but god it felt like hours.
Robin ruffles around the janitorial closet, gathering items and putting them in Leroy's toolbox, quickly, and then he ducks down to check underneath the door again.
"I think they're gone. For now. We need to act fast. Do you have your keys?" Regina nods, holding her breath tight as she hands over the keys without so much as a sound.
"Which is the key to your classroom?" Robin asks. She fumbles until she finds her classroom key and hands it to him with a slight nod.
"It sticks a bit," she says like she has so many times before when she hands her keys over to a new person.
But she doesn't need to tell Robin Locksley how to get into a room, anyway. The man could pick any lock, he always had a skill for finding a way into places that are closed off.
Robin opens the supply closet a smidge, she imagines he's checking to see if it's safe, and then he's pushing her out the door, holding the toolbox in his other hand.
"Don't look down," he directs. "Just keep going."
But she does look down, she does see the body of a fallen student in that hallway.
And another.
And another.
"Robin…." She can't think of what to say. It's shock setting in, she knows it is. She can barely move.
"I know, I know, darling."
He opens the door with ease, and nearly flings her inside.
It's only then that she lets out a huff of air she didn't know she was holding in.
"So…" she asks, fixated on the large windows of the classroom. Such a beautiful, bright sunny morning. "Now what?"
