My contribution to the OutlawQueen Advent calendar.
Liquor Love
There it is, the first snowflake of the year. Floating gently down from the sky waving from one side to the other from the light breeze before landing on the tip of her outstretched gloved hand where it melts immediately. She doesn't have time to take a good look at its structure before it turns into a small drop of water on her hand. By looking up she realizes it's starting to snow, slowly but steady. More snowflakes. The idea that every snowflake is unique, that some might look similar but they never really are the same was extraordinary. How can there be billions, trillions of tiny white ice crystals that are never once identical?
It has been a long time since she's seen snow. Cold, wet powdery snow, which covers the streets and roofs and trees, which sparkles like diamonds in the sun and moonlight. There is no snow in Florida, just sun and sand and water. Lots of water. Not that she doesn't like Florida, but when all you've known for the first six years of your life is a white Christmas, presents in front of a fireplace and the traditional snowman building right after breakfast, you miss it. Instead of spending the holidays somewhere cold and wet, her mother has always preferred to take her somewhere even hotter. Mexico, Brazil, the Caribbean - one time they even flew all the way down to Australia. Away, always away as far as she could. Cora has always found a reason for her not to come up here, to spend Christmas with her father. Now it's Christmas Eve, now she's here. Now it's too late.
Regina doesn't miss the warmth, not at all. Doesn't miss the burning sun, the sweaty people, doesn't miss her mother. A mean thing to say, she knows, but she doesn't care since her mother is not here to hear her thoughts and be offended by them. Screw the business meeting she's scheduled for her in order to prevent Regina from coming up here. If she had told her mother she would be coming here, Cora would have found a way to stop her. She always did and Regina loathes herself for yearning so hard for her mother's approval that she would always do as she was told. So it's a good thing Regina threw her phone out of the window somewhere behind Jacksonville after Cora wouldn't stop calling her. Now, after two days and over thousand eight hundred miles, she's here. And if she's honest, she doesn't know what to do.
Regina hugs her coat closer around her small frame, staring curiously up to the gray sky. She should have brought a more fitting winter gear, she realizes. High heels won't get her anywhere in this weather. It's getting dark soon. She always forgets how early it gets dark here in Storybrooke in winter, especially when the sky is as cloudy and overcast as it is now. The street lamps turn on, orange light engulfing her and the dark blue old Mercedes which has brought her all the way up here. The old thing hasn't let her down so far for which she is grateful.
She's managed to get out of the car, but that's it so far. Stretching sore muscles after a long drive, popping back a few bones in her back and neck. She doesn't dare to take a step closer to the white house on Mifflin Street, which holds all these memories. Memories of children's laughter and giggles, of pancakes in the mornings and fairy tales in front of the fireplace in the evenings. The small balcony, the veranda, the front door - everything looks just as she remembers, exactly the same, except for the apple tree in front of the window where her bedroom used to be. Her father had planted it the day she was born. It had just carried its first small apple fruit the summer before everything changed. Now it was so big, so tall, so many branches which surely would carry the delicious sweet red fruit in late September. Twenty-seven years is a damn long time.
With a friable feeling she remembers the day her mother dragged her screaming and crying six year old self away from the house into the waiting car, away from her home, away from everything she ever knew, away from her father who'd been standing in the doorway close to tears. He hadn't done anything, hadn't fought, hadn't even made an attempt to keep her with him. No, she will never forget the long ride to the airport and her mother's cold stare as she told her not to make a scene. It's the same thing she said when she got the message that her father died of heart failure five weeks ago on a stormy night in the middle of November.
Regina closes her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. She knew her father was sick, had asked her mother a thousand times for time off work so she could come up here and see him, but Cora had always refused, had always had another excuse, another meeting she had to go to. The last time she spoke to her father was three days before he died, when he'd called her on her cell phone while she was at a conference in Lisbon.
"I love you, princess. And I'm sorry I failed you." She thinks that passing her childhood home on to her was his way of making up to her, of giving her back a piece of the time when she'd been happy. After their last call, Regina had made plans to come up here over the holidays as a surprise, screw her mother and this year's celebration party in Honolulu. But then Henry's death happened and now she finds herself here in Storybrooke, but not with her father. Alone. Regina closes her eyes for a moment, choking back the tears, waiting for the next snowflake to fall down onto her face. As the gentle drop of cold hits her heated cheek, she opens them again and takes a deep breath. She can't go inside, not right away, not with all the thoughts of missed opportunities haunting her mind. The decision is made.
With a quick flick of her wrist, she locks her car with the key and makes her way down Mifflin Street, across beautifully lit and decorated houses. There are families inside, pretty lights and trees gracing the windows. Her father's house is the only one that has no lights or any kind of decoration. It's almost sad. She used to love their house at Christmas, all the lights in the trees and bushes and the blinking sledge with the reindeers on the roof of the house. Now her father's house looks lonely, dark, uninviting. No wonder she doesn't want to go inside.
Main Street isn't far off with all the small shops and businesses, which have also gone out of their way to decorate their windows. There's Mr. Gold's pawnshop and she wonders if the old man still looks as creepy as he had when she was a child. There's Maurice's flower shop with the mistletoes and poinsettias outside, white and red, some with gold glitter and some without. Across the street is Granny's diner, the porch decorated with blinking colorful lights. Loud Christmas music is coming from the Rabbit Hole, the most popular pub in town - probably because it's the only one.
A small smile spreads on Regina's face. She's been gone for twenty-three years and nothing has changed. For a moment she wonders if the milkshakes at Granny's still taste the same, but she doesn't want to go in, doesn't want to become victim of curious stares, questions and condolences. Maybe the day after tomorrow when she's overcome nostalgia has had a good cry and figured out what she would be doing for the next two weeks and after. The pub would be an option, however she's not sure if it would be clever to get drunk at a place where she doesn't know anyone. Wait, when has she made the decision to get drunk tonight?
As she crosses at the traffic lights, a tiny store at the corner where Amos Slade's hunting shop used to be catches her eye. The sign above the door says Merry Spirits - Liquor Shop & Distillery, craved on a dark green wooden board with bright white letters. The window is decorated with stars made of snow spray and blinking lights, showing off an old wine barrel and multiple bottles neatly arranged. The light is still on and the sign in front of the door is turned to 'open', which Regina finds a bit weird. It's late, almost half past six and she's used to shops in small towns closing early on days like this. Merry Spirits, what a fitting name for this season. She should be happy, should be celebrating, but she's not. She's sad, tired and honestly getting a bit cold. The conclusion that she cannot avoid her father's house forever draws on her, so she decides to pursue an old habit of hers, a craving she suppresses often but doesn't always quite manage to. Whiskey.
Yes, she is going to get a good bottle of whiskey as her companion for tonight. She's a responsible person - usually - an adult and she's earned it, especially after everything that's happened in the past few weeks. So if she's a tiny bit hung-over tomorrow morning from two glasses of whiskey, who is going to care? Her mother isn't here to scold her, her father is dead - the thought still stings every time she thinks of it - and she doesn't know anyone here. There won't be presents under the Christmas tree or chocolate chip pancakes Henry Mills style. Besides, Daddy used to share her passion for good whiskey, so she will drink it in his memory. Merry Christmas Regina, Merry Christmas, daddy.
The decision is made and since the snowfall is getting heavier and heavier, she should make the purchase a quick business. Walk inside, grab the next best bottle and then head back home with the paper bag and her companion for tonight. A chuckle escapes her. This is going to be a one-night-stand with a horrible morning after. Like with Edward Hydemann who'd done things to her body that still made her shiver. It'd been an… experience, one she had enjoyed for the time being but come to the conclusion that one time was more than enough. The morning after had been awkward, very, very awkward. With whiskey she knows what she's getting into, so there's that.
Regina is about to push the door of the shop open, as a man appears in front of her. A polite smile graces her features as she steps inside, brushing the door closed behind her. The man is tall and heavy, looks more like a bear with his long beard and curly hair and Regina is sighing because he doesn't look happy to have another customer this late, no, he looks annoyed and a bit grumpy. Of course the shop would be closing now of all moments. But the sign had been turned to 'open' and this had to count for something, right?
"We're closed, Miss."
"I'll be quick," Regina mumbles, because really, she doesn't want to spend too much time here anyway. Just grab the next best bottle and be on her way back.
"As I said," and now he's using this know it all voice she hates so much, the one her mother used to use on her all the time. "We're closed. It's Christmas Eve."
"I know that," she answers with a roll of her eyes. Leave it to the guy to point out something so obvious. "But the sign said it's open, so if you don't want any customers this late you should have turned the sign around and locked up." Regina wouldn't let stupid opening hours get between her and her whiskey. Seriously what a way to treat their customers around here.
"Listen, lady, I don't want to be rude…"
"Well then stop it."
The man let out a growl. "Fine! You're the last customer, but just because it's Christmas. So make it quick."
"Thank you for being so selfless, mister," Regina answers in a mocking tone. Despite her earlier plan to make the visit a quick one, she is wondering how long she could stay in here in order to annoy the owner of Merry Spirits. Of course she could pretend to be indecisive and really, after taking a look around, this wouldn't even be a lie.
The liquor shop is not like the ones she is used to. Instead of shelves with bottles, there are barrels, some small, some a bit bigger on the shelves. There is a shelf behind the cashier with small metal barrels, which contain different sorts of vinegar and oils, which catch Regina's interest. Surely a lemon-lavender vinaigrette with a few drops of macadamia nut oil would give her beloved bowl of salad some kick.
On the shelf right opposite the cashier are several clear vessels with tabs hanging from them and the content written on small blackboards with white chalk. It is clearly an extravagant liqueur section; reading from ordinary things like cherry and plum to extraordinary cream based ones such as chocolate, coconut and Vanillekipferl. What the fuck was a Vanillekipferl?
Regina discovers the shop has quite some charm, especially as she enters the second room, which is filled with wine bottles over and over. Her father would have loved it here and for a moment she wonders if he'd been a regular customer.
"You said you'd be quick," a voice behind her mumbles accusingly and well, she would have been quick had this been one of the usual liquor stores.
"I'm just taking a look around." It's an honest answer; she really is just taking a look, because if there is so much variety how is she expected not to?
"Now you're just being annoying on purpose, lady!"
"John! What's going on? I asked you to lock up the shop and… with whom are you arguing?"
Regina turns around toward the voice, ready to defend herself as the man steps into the room. He's… gorgeous. Dark blond hair, a bit of scruff, wearing a well fitting gray shirt with the Merry Spirits logo on it. She can't see the color of his eyes because it's too dark down her for that, but they are twinkling with a bit of mischief and curiosity. And the accent. He's clearly British
"I'm arguing with her!"
"Her?" Regina asks offended, "Show some respect! Or at least some restraint at the buffet."
"She's impossible, Robin! I was just about to close the shop; she told me she'd be quick and now…"
The man named Robin shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "Since when do you talk like this to paying customers, John? I must apologize for my friend's behavior, Milady. Go upstairs and start with dinner, I'll handle this."
John grumbles something into his beard and Regina is pretty sure he rolls his eyes at the situation once his back is turned toward her. But right now she doesn't care, because hot British guy named Robin is sticking his hand out, smiling a dazzling sort of smile that brings out his dimples. "Robin Locksley, at your service. How may I be of assistance for the lady?"
"Regina." Their eyes lock as he raises an eyebrow in surprise. "I prefer Regina," she clarifies, finally realizing he's still waiting for her to shake his hand, which she grabs quickly. The handshake is warm, welcoming, with just enough pressure to make her feel comfortable. For some reason, she misses the contact directly, inhales deep and is surprised to find herself engulfed by the smell of wood and forest, mixed with spice and the lasting promise of good whiskey. It's probably the barrels and the room and maybe, just maybe the man in front of her who smiles charmingly at her, while he waits for her to say something. Right, Regina, say something.
"I'm sorry to bother you this late on Christmas Eve." Her fingers begin to nestle with the button on her coat nervously. "I just need some whiskey and I'll be gone."
Great, now he probably thinks you're an alcohol addict or something, she scolds herself, before she bites her lower lip and drops her head onto her neck. "That came out kind of wrong."
Robin chuckles, a calming sound, which makes her feel a little less embarrassed. A little. God, she's too tired for this, the drive was long and the prospect of heading back out into the cold, snow covered street and then to the dark house where her father used to live but doesn't live any more seems less and less attracting to her the longer she stays in the cozy warmness of the shop. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here all by herself; maybe she should take her colleague Mal up on her offer and drive back down to Boston to spend Christmas with her and her daughter. No, no she wouldn't do that. Don't be so childish, Regina! Great and now there's her mother's voice inside her head and she can't deal with her mother, not today, not here and not on Christmas Eve. She really, really needs this alcohol.
"May I take your coat?" Robin asks, a hand outstretched and why the heck would he want to take her coat? Her confusion is obvious to him, so he clears his throat before he waved a hand via the whiskey barrels. "People don't come to my store to get just some whiskey. Buying your whiskey has a whole tasting experience included, specially for someone who just came to town and doesn't know the magic that's sold in my store."
"Magic?" Her tone is a bit mocking for she doesn't believe in magic anymore, never really has even though her father tried his best. Not after everything that happened when she was a child.
"Whiskey. It is a liquid that can conjure courage, give strength, or even act as a love potion of sorts. But of course you're not restricted to that. I have a fair share of beverages here which might turn out to be something you didn't know you've been looking for before you try it."
It's sweet, yes, this man is really sweet, but it's Christmas and she has taken up enough of his time. His colleague seems to be already pissed with her and she doesn't want to give him more trouble tonight. He probably has somewhere to be - she's probably the only one who has nowhere to be tonight. But when she tells him so, Robin only shakes his head, tells her that it's fine and that he wants to do this for her, because really, she has to take her time to decide. It's something that shouldn't be rushed. So Robin holds out his hand once again, asks for her coat and scarf which she's now unbuttoning because if she's staying longer here, it'll really get too warm and honestly, if he insists on giving her a free whiskey tasting who is she to decline? Any excuse not to go home is more than welcome.
Regina hands her things over, watches how he puts them onto a hook right next to the door before he guides her over to two old but very comfortable looking leather armchairs in the corner of the room. Her breath gets caught in her throat as she lets her hands glide over the smooth leather and for a moment she's reminded of her father and his study where a pair of very similar looking armchairs used to be. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Regina sits down on the right of the armchairs which are so comfortable she makes a note to get one for her apartment in Miami once she goes back to work. As she looks around, she notices the mistletoe right above her head. It's a bit of a weird place considering this is where Robin usually serves his customers, but she doesn't think anything of it.
"Are you comfortable or would you like me to get the fire started?" Robin asks which catches her off guard, because really, he's got a fireplace in his damn shop?
"It's just a small oven." Ah, this answers her question, because so much alcohol in one room with an open fire does sound a bit dangerous.
"Thank you, I think I'm good for now," she says with a smile.
Robin simply nods, before he turns around to collect two crystal whiskey glasses from the counter, fills them with one ice cube each and walks over to the area with the barrels. He rests for a moment, clearly thinking about what to pour her, before a soft grin crosses his lips and he chooses the second one from the left. The amount he pours is not much, but she's okay with that because she only wants to try one, grab a bottle and then be gone. It feels a bit awkward to have Robin perform this kind of ceremony as he pours the liquid into the glasses, waving his hand, once, twice, and then smelling the whiskey with his eyes closed, a satisfying smile on his face.
"Let's try this one first, one of my favorites, the Scottish McTavish malt. It's an intense, smoky-sweet single malt with seaweed flavors and a huge finish. The fact that it has aged in oak casks for the last sixteen years gives it a special note." He hands it over to her before he sits down in the armchair next to her.
Regina is surprised, has never heard of this whiskey before but she's definitely intrigued. She lifts the glass up to her nose, smells just like her father has taught her. There is the note of intense peat smoke with iodine and seaweed, but the best part of it is a rich, deep sweetness.
"I'm impressed," the man next to her admits, as Regina apparently must have said her thoughts out loud. She blushes, wonders once again what he must think of her but then, why should she care? Her stay here in Storybrooke is temporary, at least for the holidays. On the other hand, his shop has clearly its own charm and she could see herself making it a habit of coming here to get her whiskeys filled freshly from the barrel. How a small business like his survives in a town like Storybrooke makes her curious because he knows she's new in town, has said so himself and she didn't correct him. Strangers attract attention.
Slowly, Regina guides the glass to her lips to take a sip. It's a rich, dried fruit sweetness with clouds of smoke and strong, barley-malt flavors, so warming and intense she doesn't know whether it's perfect or simply too much. It is only after she swallows that she tastes the peppery explosion at the back of her mouth, which clearly gives the whiskey some kick.
"Does my choice suit the lady?" Robin asks, taking a sip himself.
"Perfect," Regina answers, taking another sip, enjoying the explosion of flavors on her tongue. Her glass is almost empty, maybe two more sips left, so she puts it onto the wooden table in front of her, rises and grabs her purse. "I'll just have a bottle of this one and be gone…"
"Regina." The sound of her name makes her shiver because he says it in a way that makes her name sound so incredibly sweet and for some reason… sexy. "Regina, sit down." When she doesn't do as asked, just stand there and looks at him with her eyes wide, lower lip caught between teeth, he tugs at her wrist. "Stay. I never let a customer leave with only having tried one thing. I'm sure I can top it off, but for this you have to be willing to work with me, okay?"
"Okay," she breathes out, slowly sits back down after dropping her purse right next to the armchair. She knocks back the rest of the whiskey to calm down her nerves, just then realizing that this was probably indecent, but Robin just chuckles. Without another word he gets up to exchange her glass for another one with whiskey from another barrel. The glass is fuller this time, almost two fingers of expensive single malt which make her wonder once again how the shop can survive here when Robin basically hands out samples which cost more than the bottle she's going to purchase eventually.
"Let me introduce you to the famous 25 year old McKenzie Single Malt, one of more elegant character, suited for kings and queens." Her eyes lit up at the name, because she's heard it before, this is not the first time. It's her father's favorite whiskey and darn, she has to hold back the tears because that's exactly what the two of them would have done today. A nice quiet dinner and then an evening in front of the fireplace with a bit of Johnny Hartman while waiting for the clock to turn to midnight so they could open up one present each.
"Are you okay?" Robin wonders, his voice filled with concern as he sets down the glass in front of her. She nods but escapes his questioning eyes.
"It used to be my father's favorite."
"I see…"
"He died a few weeks ago." It was hard to say it out loud, harder than she thought it would be. She thought she was okay with it, had worked through it, but right now she felt that this was far away from the truth.
"I'm sorry Regina. This must be very hard for you."
"You have no idea," she shots back, raises her eyes too look at him, just then seeing the sad look in his face, the look she recognizes only far too well, because it's the same she has whenever she looks into the mirror nowadays. Who was she to judge this man's experience with loss? This had been cold; heartless… this would have been something her mother would have said. No, no, she doesn't want to be like her mother. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair."
"It's fine," he answers but she still feels guilty, wondering if she should get up and leave, because she's taken up enough of his time, has insulted his colleague and now him and what kind of person was she to sit in a liquor shop on Christmas Eve, drinking whiskey samples with a stranger?
"No it's not. It was rude."
"We all grieve differently, Regina. Some express their emotions through anger, some through silence. Everyone should be allowed to grieve at their own pace. I'm sure Henry would understand. I lost my wife three years ago. It was a long and hard battle and she didn't make it. I know what you're going through and all I can offer is to listen - and some good whiskey of course."
"Henry."
"Sorry?" Robin takes a sip from his glass, waiting for her reaction, which comes pronto.
This cannot be a coincidence. She's confused, surely she hasn't mentioned her father's name or her last name, how, how… "You said Henry. I never mentioned my father's name. How do you know my father?"
"Henry was a very good customer of mine, Regina. Not only that. We met him in the hospital when Marian was sick and he helped me with the business after her death. The whiskey barrels were his idea. He helped pick them out and so much more. I owe him, Regina. He was so generous, kind…"
"He was the best."
"To Henry," Robin proposes as he lifts his glass up in the air, waiting for Regina to do the same. For the first time in what feels like forever her lips curl into a soft smile. They clink their glasses, take a long sip each and she devours the taste of her father's favorite whiskey. It tastes silky and caressing, like a soft touch on her tongue. She loves that it's sweet at first before releasing a full bunch of spices; ginger, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg before developing dark chocolate and orange peel flavors. Yes, this is all her father, this is everything he loved and was.
"I miss him," Regina murmurs, hold the cool glass of whiskey to her cheek and closes her eyes. She feels a tear drop out from under her lashes, which gets caught between the glass and her cheek. No, no, no, she won't cry, not here, not in front of Robin.
"You'll always miss him in a way. He was your father, Regina. And from what I can tell, he loved you very much. He talked about you all the time. You made him proud."
"Funny, he never spoke of you." There's a hint of sarcasm in her voice because she finds it a little unfair to be speaking to someone who apparently knows a lot about her but who has never been mentioned by her father before. That's when she realizes that most of the time, her father wanted to know what she was doing whenever they talked or met each other. Henry had always avoided talking about himself, which was one of the reasons why she hadn't been up to date with his health condition.
"I feel like I failed him. I wasn't there when he died, I let him down. I never visited him up here…"
"Don't say things like this, Regina. He loved you more than anything, told everyone about you. I think he's happy to know you're here now drinking his favorite whiskey, thinking of him."
"Tell me about him," Regina begged, suddenly desperate to know everything about her father's life up here, the life she never shared, the life she missed because she's been too busy.
"I'd love to." So he tells her.
He tells her about how he first came to this town about six years ago with his wife Marian, a crime novel writer who'd had a bit of success in England but who needed a change of scenery for her next novel and when she stumbled across Storybrooke she just knew that's where she had to go in order to write her next book, the one she never finished because they discovered she was sick. An aggressive form of cancer that left them with daily hospital visits. That's where they met Henry, Henry, who'd been so kind and supportive, who'd inspired Marian to write when she was feeling down after the hard and exhausting treatments. He used to proofread Marian's things, offered advice, and they spent hours together brainstorming, which left Robin a bit jealous from time to time. But Marian would say he would get to read it once it was finished and well, he was fine with that. As long as she was happy. And there was a moment; a moment when he thought the stars were in their favor when they found out Marian was pregnant, a few months after a successful treatment. Their luck didn't last though and they had to choose. Treatment or the child.
Regina sucks in a breath, her heart aching for Robin who might have just told her one of the most heartbreaking stories she ever heard. Her brain is a bit fuzzy due to all the whiskey (they moved on to the fourth sample by now and Robin means very well by filling her glass at least an inch. She's not drunk, pleasantly buzzed because of the comfortable warmth in the shop and the old leather armchair she's sitting on. She can see her father helping Marian with her ideas and stories; he's always been a bit of a storyteller himself. His calm, deep voice, the way it transfers the words from paper to speech… she always loved listening to him, has carved his stories when she was still a child. Child, that's the keyword.
"How did you decide?"
Robin drains the last bit of his glass before he sets it down on the table, looking her right into the eyes. She can't make out their color in the dim light, but they are probably more blue than green, a light shade, a shade to get lost in.
"I didn't. Marian did. She picked Roland, because she said it might be her last chance at having a child. She died when he was three month old."
"Robin I'm so sorry." Regina is reaching for his hand, which rests upon the armrest of his chair, maybe ten inches away from her. She wouldn't be doing this if she was completely sober, wouldn't be touching a stranger just like this, but she's just lost her father and he's lost his wife and she knows how it feels, knows how hard it must be on him still because every time he looks at his son he might be reminded of his wife. How can she not sympathize with him, with the man who seems to have known her father better than she did?
There's that tiny bit of jealousy flaring up inside of her, the little green eyed monster who can't believe her father never told her about all of this, about the people who surrounded him here, who were there for him more than his own daughter. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth (maybe it's the whiskey, she cannot possibly tell) and it makes her sad but at the same time happy that his life here wasn't as lonely as she always thought it was. That Henry had friends, people who cared about him, who were there for him when she wasn't.
"It's okay," Robin whispers, squeezing her hand, as his thumb starts to slowly rub circles on the back of her hand. It's comforting, that bit of human touch, of intimacy and she realizes except for an awkward apologetic hug from Sidney after the message of Henry's death, she hasn't had any form of human contact at all. Robin continues, his voice melodic and calming, which reminds her so much of her father it almost hurts. He continues to tell her about the birth of his son, about how hard it was for both of them after Marian died and how Henry helped them set up the liquor shop and distillery. How he got the idea? Well, it had been an idea of Marian's, one of the places in her book. He felt like the shop kept her a little bit alive, still.
"She loved to sit in these armchairs with Henry and go crazy about plot twists and ideas. He gave them to her as a gift, told her they were no use for him. Actually, you picked just the one he always used to sit in."
Regina's hand goes stiff as she redraws it from Robin's caressing touch. It's warm, the place where his thumb used to caress her skin is still tickling a little but she needs to hug herself for a moment, needs to stand up and look at the armchair she's been sitting on. She should have known, they seemed oddly familiar, but on the other hand how should she know?
"I…"
"Sorry, I shouldn't have told you that."
"No, I… it's fine. I was sure I remembered them from somewhere, but I never thought… We used to sit together in these chairs and he would tell me stories. He was always a great storyteller, much like your Marian must have been."
Robin chuckles. "That's probably why they got along so well. I'm more of the practical guy, but Marian, she saw a story in everyone and everything. It's a shame you never met. Henry always talked about you when he wasn't busy plotting with Marian. More whiskey?"
It's a welcome distraction, one that offers her space and a moment to be alone with her thoughts while he takes another pair of glasses from the counter to pour them something from the third barrel to the left on the upper shelf. Regina musters the armchairs, memories flashing up. Good memories, only ever good memories, her father had made sure of that. She can see him sitting here, talking to Marian, helping her with her story and for a moment she wonders, she wonders if…
"Robin?"
"Yeah?" He's just about to pour the whiskey into the glasses when he hears her soft sultry voice and the way she says his name, rolls the 'r', it's… making him shiver.
"Marian's book, the one she talked about with my father. Can I read it?" It's a lot to ask, she knows, and she's been imposing enough, she should be going home with her whiskey but she doesn't want to leave because being here makes her feel so much closer to her father.
"It's not finished," Robin answers and he's going to say no to her, she just knows it. Why shouldn't he? She's just a stranger asking him a huge favor, but the whiskey is making her feel way too comfortable in his presence and she wants to read whatever Marian wrote with the input of her father. They should stop drinking, they really should, no, she should be going, that's what she should do. So when Robin gives her a long look before he puts the glasses down and tells her "I'll be just a moment," she's more than surprised.
It doesn't take him long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes to come back before he hands her an envelope with a manuscript, its edges clearly worn from extensive reading. Untitled by Marian Elaine Locksley. To my love, my gift, my muse and his princess.
She's trying to breathe, looking desperately for air as she reads the dedication in the beginning of the book, because it's her. His princess, that's her, that's what he used to call her even when she was grown up and no little girl anymore. He told her she would always be his princess, no matter what. Now Regina can't hold back the tears, now it's over. She clutches the paper tight to her chest, completely forgets that she might ruin the pages as the tears start streaming down her face, drop after hot salty drop, running down her cheek, leaving a cool wet stream behind. A desperate sob comes out of her throat and all of a sudden she feels someone pull the manuscript away from her, feels herself being wrapped into a tight hug, the smell of wood and forest and man surrounding her.
Why this is the thing to finally break her she doesn't know, but it does, it makes her realize that her father is no longer there, is no longer in this world and she will never see him again. She's alone, she doesn't have anyone and why has she only ever listened to her mother's stupid "You don't need love, love is weakness!" speeches when all she wants is to not be alone? Maybe the alcohol in her system is overdramatizing everything, because she does have friends, she has Mal but Mal has her own problems and… Yeah, there her list stops. Oh, and then there's her mother… who's furious with her and will make her life hell once she's back.
Robin is caressing her hair, is murmuring comforting words as she continues to sob into his shirt, feeling stupid and thankful at the same time that he's there, a person she doesn't really know but has built a connection with tonight because of her father. Although she shouldn't be doing it, her makeup will be ruined, not to speak of his shirt, which is currently absorbing her tears, she wraps her arms around him so she can bury her face further inside his shoulder. Comfort, all she wants is comfort and when was the last time she's been hugged like this? When was the last time someone held her tight and caressed her hair in the way Robin does now? She can't even remember the last time she cried this hard with someone else being there. Regina Mills wasn't a person to cry, to show weakness to anyone. Usually, she mourns silently and behind closed doors with no one coming too close to her. Today is different though, today she feels like she finally found someone who understands her.
"It's okay, Regina."
"I miss him so much." It's a muffled sob he barely understands and he feels for her, feels so sorry, because he knows what she went through, knows what Henry has told him, about Cora manipulating Regina. He remembers the nights the older man sat here, telling him about his princess, about her good heart and pure nature and about what her mother was doing to her. He often reproached himself for not fighting harder for her, told Robin about all the regrets he had when it came to her but that he loved her with every fiber of his being. Every time Henry came back from visiting her he'd been so happy and sad at the same time.
"I miss him, too. Your father was one of the most genuine and generous people I ever met. He helped me to get over Marian's death, he was somewhat of a grandfather to my son; he gave me the money I needed to start this place. He was a man who cared deeply about everyone, especially his family." Regina is crying even harder now because she knows her father was a good person, the best person. Hearing about all the amazing things he did which she doesn't know of hurts her on such a deep level and makes her wonder what a cruel, disinterested person she must have been.
The knot in her chest tightens and she can't breathe, she needs to breathe, but all the guilt is weighing so heavily on her shoulders, it's taking her breath away. Robin is there though, presses her tightly against him, before his hands move to her shoulders to push her softly back.
"Regina. Regina, look at me please." He waits for her to move, waits until he can cup her cheeks with both his hands and wipe away the tears with his thumbs. "I know I told you this before, but you were everything to your father."
"I disappointed him. I was never there!" She's desperate, her mind running in circles, telling her what a bad daughter she was and it's her mother's voice, it's her mother telling her these things. Air, air, she needs to breathe.
"No you were everything but a disappointment to him. He was so proud of you. You were everything he ever talked about and you made him so happy, Regina. Every time you found the time to call him, every time you found the time to meet up with him. It was not easy for both of you Regina, but never doubt that you always will be the thing he loved most. You were his princess, you were his everything. That won't ever change."
"He never talked about you. You were such a huge part of his life and he never said a word."
"That's because when he was with you he only ever focused on you, because you were the most important thing."
"I should have come here sooner. I… I was going to surprise him this Christmas, but then…" Her voice breaks and she closes her eyes to stop further tears from falling.
"He would have loved it," Robin assures her, pulling her close to his chest once again. This time she can control her tears but she's exhausted, so physically and emotionally exhausted and there's still no air. The whiskey in her system isn't helping to control her emotions. She planned on getting drunk all by herself, not together with the owner of the liquor shop who turned out to be a close friend of her father's.
"I wasn't there when he died." She's going to hyperventilate; she's going to pass out…
"Regina! Breathe!" He's shaking her head now, maybe a bit roughly, but it loosens the knot inside her chest and finally, finally she can take a deep breath of air which fills her lungs and makes her feel a thousand times better. She blinks, once, twice, the dark and destroying thoughts one after the other leaving her mind, leaving her finally alone. Slowly, her hands grab his wrists like a lifeline to hold onto and for the first time she sees the deep dark blue of his eyes mixed with a bit of grey, like an ocean to get lost in. They're filled with worry, filled with concern. No one has ever looked at her like this, no one has ever cared, no one except her father.
"Would it help you if I told you I was there, that I was with him?"
Regina still doesn't know what to say, the intimacy of the situation much too overwhelming at this moment, but as his words become clearer, as she finally realizes what he just said, she manages a nod. It does help. The thought her father hasn't been alone when he died, that he had someone who cared for him with him is appeasing, takes some weight off her shoulders.
"I don't know how to thank you."
"It's fine. You're most welcome," Robin whispers back and before his brain can tell him to let Henry's princess go, he pulls her into a comforting hug once again. He remembers what Henry told him, about Regina's cold-hearted mother, about all the pressure and how she must have locked her heart somewhere deep inside her chest so no one could ever get close to it. For a moment he wonders if he should tell her what he promised Henry on his deathbed, but she's not ready for it. Maybe tomorrow, maybe another day.
When he lets her go, Regina manages the tiniest of smiles. It makes her feel better, now that she told someone, now that it is all out in the open. Robin is so understanding, so wonderful. Although she wishes she could have been there for her father, she's glad Robin had been. When her eyes fall to his shirt, which is smudged with black wet spots from her eyeliner, tears and mascara she starts to feel a bit embarrassed. Panda eyes aren't her favorite thing to wear, especially not with puffy watery eyes and red cheeks.
What she did to deserve meeting a sweet attentive man like Robin on Christmas Eve of all days she doesn't know, but as if he can read her thoughts he asks if she would like to use the restroom. Regina agrees, feels a bit dizzy from the alcohol and crying as she reaches for the hand he offers in order to help her up. He waits until she's steady on her own two feet before he leads her to some kind of storage back room where a small restroom is located.
"I'm sorry, the door doesn't lock, but I promise no one will come in." The embarrassed smile he gives her makes her lips twitch and she tells him not to worry about it, she can handle it and it's only to wash up anyway.
Once she's alone, Regina turns on the tap, waiting for the water to reach the right cooling temperature she wants, before she splashes some into her face. It is only after she repeats the movement three more times, rubbing frantically along her eyes in order to get rid of the remnants that she dares to take a look in the mirror. The sight horrifies her deeply. For a moment, she feels a bit ashamed Robin saw her like this, but oh well there's nothing she can do, other than clean up and face him again, right?
It takes a bit until she feels presentable again. The cool water in her face has definitely helped her to calm down, as has one of the breathing exercises she learned in yoga class (the one she goes to once a month, but oh well, she's a busy woman!). When she emerges from the tiny unlockable bathroom, Robin is already waiting for her, her coat in his arms. Of course he would kick her out now, what has she been thinking? She's taken up enough of his time.
It surprises her when he waits until she slips inside the jacket before asks: "Would you like to take a walk?"
Regina blinks, once, twice, wonders if he's serious, but he's about to shrug on his own coat and a small green scarf, smiling genuinely at her as he does it. Who is she to say no? He will probably just walk her back to her father's house; make sure she will get home all right. It's sweet of him, like everything he does and for a moment she wonders why he does all of this. Maybe it's because of her father, maybe it's because he likes her. Now, the latter seems a little far-fetched, but they do have chemistry… or simply too much whiskey?
Robin waits for Regina to button up her coat, asks her if she would like a pair of gloves, but no, she's okay and she can put her hands inside her pockets, there's no need to. Her fingers feel a bit numb and disoriented, so she blushes when Robin lets out a laugh and steps over to help her with the buttons. Despite the fact that he's had at least as much whiskey as her, his movements seem much more controlled. When he takes her scarf to sling it around her neck, she giggles. God when was the last time she actually giggled? It seems to amuse Robin, because he laughs as well, tapping the tip of her nose with his index. "You okay?"
"I will be."
She grabs her purse, wonders if she should ask him what to pay him because she drank all the whiskey and is now leaving without having purchased anything. It's rude, she doesn't normally do this, feels a bit like she's taking advantage. But her brain is getting a bit fuzzy now that she's all wrapped up like a cozy burrito, so they should get going or the heat will get her even more drunk.
Her body always takes a bit of time to process the alcohol but the feeling of pleasant tipsiness is slowly fading into more of a drunken state. Hopefully, the walk home will sober her up, it usually does.
"Regina, look!" Robin is opening the door for them and she looks outside, surprised that while they've been sitting in his cozy warm liquor shop, the snow has turned the outside world into a winter wonderland. The streets and pavements are covered with powdery snow, sparkling in the orange light of the street lanterns. It's all untouched, no footprints, no tire tracks disturbing the pretty picture of Main Street, and why would there? It's Christmas Eve, no one is driving around, and everyone is at home.
They step outside into the cold air, their breaths turning into small puffs of smoke. For a moment Regina wishes she had a hat or something to cover her ears because she'll get cold easily. The walk home won't take long though, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes from where she is now. Damn, she really should have worn different shoes, but oh well, it's a lesson she has to learn. In case Robin sees her stilting through the six-inch high snow he doesn't say anything. Instead he asks her to wait so he can lock down behind them before he comes up to offer her his arm for balance.
Although Regina likes to be her proud, independent self, today is the exception for everything. Thankfully, she loops her arm through his, surprised at the stability and safety he provides. She feels more coordinated now, lets Robin navigate them down the pavement and his happy that he doesn't seem to mind how she leans in on him.
They're quiet now, enjoying the silence that surrounds them, walking down the silent street. From time to time another snowflake seems to find its way down from the sky, but it has mostly stopped snowing. The kids will be happy tomorrow, will be delighted to run outside to build snowmen and take the walk over to Firefly Hill to use their sledges.
"Is the lake frozen over?" Regina asks, licking her cold, dry lips with her tongue.
"I think it is, but the ice is not thick enough to skate on just yet. Why? Do you enjoy ice skating?"
"I did as a kid," she answers, remembering the pair of ice skates she got when she was five. She'd been practicing all summer with her rollerblades because daddy had told her it was important to have a good balance as an ice skater. "Unfortunately after my mother and I moved away, there was not much with ice-skating anymore. Also, I feel like I'm a bit too clumsy - especially now, drunk and all." Robin lets out a short laugh, mumbling something to himself and she can swear she picked up the word 'adorable' but of course she can't be sure of it.
They walk down Main Street, turn left at one point and Regina is not sure where they're going since her house is in the other direction.
"Where are you taking me?" There's curiosity in her voice, a bit of insecurity - for all she knows he could be a murderer or could have given her all the whiskey just to… What the hell was she thinking?
Robin stops as he sees the panic flaming up in her eyes, suddenly remembers that he knows all about her through Henry, but she only knows so much about him. Right before she's about to detangle their arms, Robin stops walking. "I was thinking about doing a short walk along the lake and then do a loop back to Henry's house. We don't have to do that if it makes you feel uncomfortable though of course."
The mentioning of going back to her father's home makes her a bit sad, but it's okay, she's fine, she's an adult.
"Could we go to the cemetery instead?" Regina asks and where the hell did that come from? "I would like to wish my father a Merry Christmas." Stupid. Stupid, drunk Regina, she is scolding herself now, scolding herself for her loose tongue and not thinking before she says something. She does want to go though, otherwise she wouldn't have asked. Once again it'll make her an emotional wreck, but oh well, it's not like Robin hasn't seen her cry already today. In fact, Robin is probably the only man who's seen her cry - excluding Henry of course.
"Are you sure?" He's just asking because he's worried, Regina can hear it in his voice. Robin knows she's drunk despite her mind starting to clear up a tiny little bit. Sweet. He's being sweet and attentive. Again.
"Yes I am sure. I want to see my father's grave." There are a million reasons why he could say no: it's dark, it's late, the cemetery is probably closed, she's drunk, she's overwhelmed - hasn't she cried enough today? Though Robin doesn't say no, doesn't decline her wish, instead he just nods before leading her down the way to the cemetery.
The cemetery is closed; the huge lock on the gate clearly wants to keep them out. Devastation isn't the right word to describe what she's feeling because she should have known better. So she won't be able to see her father tonight. Unless… Unless… She's giggling, doesn't really know why, but the thought that just crossed her mind makes her laugh. Breaking into a cemetery is the last thing she thought she'd get arrested while doing.
Carefully she walks over to inspect the wall next to the gate. It's not that high, with a bit of help…
"Robin! Come here. Help me up…"
"What are you doing, Regina?" He watches her taking off her heels, throwing them over the wall to the other side where they vanish in the snow. "Regina, your shoes for god's sake! You could just wait for me to pick…"
"Help me up, before my toes freeze off! Give me a boost!" Her hands are grabbing the edge of the wall while she's waiting for him to help her. Well, her feet are getting really cold now. Maybe she shouldn't have thrown her shoes away so soon. "Robin!"
"I'm here." Oh, yes, he is, he's right next to her, leaning against the wall, amusement in his eyes. His hands have formed some kind of swing, waiting for her to put one foot inside in order to give her a lift. Regina does so, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other on the wall to give herself a lift. His hands are warm, his hold is strong.
"Regina, if you would just give me a minute…"
"Come on, Robin. Ready? On three. One, two…" She breaks out in laughter right before he is able to give her the lift, but he does it anyways, which makes her struggle a lot. The situation is so awkward and the fact she can't really coordinate her body isn't helping the least bit. She's hanging against the wall now, her arms too weak to hoist herself up while Robin keeps push, push, pushing her feet up.
"Push, Robin!" She's giggling.
"What do you think I'm doing Regina? You have to pull yourself up as well!"
"I can't! My arms… I have to laugh. Aaaah!"
He's changed the hold on her foot now and she's slipping down again, but there's a hand right under her butt which is now pushing her higher up, and…
"Are you really grabbing my ass?"
"I'm giving you a lift, woman. Now pull yourself up. Wait, I'll help you with the other leg…"
"Push, Robin!"
"What do you think I'm doing?"
He's pushing her leg to the side so she can somewhat roll herself onto the cornice. It's awkward but they manage somehow with a lot of laughter, awkward touching and pushing. Regina is breathless, can't control her laughter and instead of jumping down on the other side of the wall, she lies on the cornice laughing.
"Do you need help to get down?" his amused voice asks from the other side of the wall inside the cemetery. He's holding out a hand, has collected her shoes, which are standing just beside him.
"How did you get in there?" What the fuck?
"I was trying to tell you, if you would just give me a moment, but you wanted to climb the damn wall."
"Did you just pick the lock?"
"There was a certain time in my life where I picked up a few useful tricks on the way, along with some pockets."
"So you're a thief." It's not a question, it's a statement. One that makes him smile shyly up at her, something she can only see because the snow is so bright they don't need any light to see.
"You know picking locks is illegal."
"I imagine climbing the wall like you just did is illegal as well." Touché.
She's sitting up now, her legs dangling down the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest. "You could have told me you knew another way to get in here."
"I was trying to, but you wanted to climb the damn wall. If you'd just listened…"
"So now it's my fault."
"I'm just saying if you'd waited for a tiny moment…"But Regina isn't listening, instead he sees her getting ready to jump. The wall isn't so high it could be considered dangerous, but the ground is uneven and there are stones underneath and if she jumps the wrong way she might hurt herself. He reaches his hand out once again, but she's stubborn. Why does this woman have to be so goddamn stubborn all the time? She's going to jump, she's…
He launches forward as she lets go, tries to catch her, but his feet slip in the snow, so he catches her, but slips to the side. Regina is by no means heavy, but still they lose their balance. There's a shriek, limbs tangling and a thud when they both land in the snow.
Robin groans, his back is hurting, but he's glad he managed to turn them so she would fall on top of him and not into the cold snow, hitting her head on a stone or the ground or somewhere dangerous.
"You okay?" he breathes, surprised at how close she is, her hot breath ghosting over his face. The tips of their noses are almost touching. She's pretty, oh so pretty up close and these deep dark eyes are something to get lost in. The smell of whiskey is clearly noticeable, but he likes it, wonders if he'd taste the nuances on her tongue…
"You let me fall!" There's accusation in her eyes.
"You dragged me down with you, I was just trying to help you, woman!"
"I didn't ask for your help." Leave it to Regina to be completely illogical about it. Accusing him of not helping and then telling him she didn't want help in the first place.
"A simple 'thank you' would suffice, you know?"
"You're insufferable!"
"You're gorgeous when you're mad." Wait, where did that come from? He had not given his mouth the permission to say those things out loud. Damn the whiskey for giving him a loose tongue. Her cheeks are so red from the cold he doesn't know if she's blushing, but he can feel her fist bumping against his chest in an attempted smack.
"Oh shut up."
"Make me." So she does.
Regina closes the small gap between them with their noses bumping into each other. His skin is comfortably warm - how does he do this, always be warm, comfy and someone she just wants to snuggle up with? She lets out a grunted sound, half laugh, half moan as her cold lips meet his. It feels like she's melting as the heat starts prickling in her lips and it's a good feeling, so good.
There's soft pressure against her lips as well, pressure which makes her happy because Robin is kissing her back, he's not being a cold brick on the ground. Regina is nibbling his lower lip, hates herself for feeling so sloppy at this, blames the alcohol for it, can feel Robin grinning into the kiss as two strong arms wrap around her to hold her in place while he starts careful nibbling on his own. His hot breath and scruff are tickling the sensitive skin of her face, making her wonder what it would feel like between her thighs. It's the reason why she finally opens her mouth to let his begging tongue slip inside.
Regina moans, can feel his arms tighten around her and oh, his tongue is magic, it's caressing and velvety and so very talented. He's tasting like the whiskey they drank last, only faintly so, but she can still taste it. Maybe it's because she's drunk, but kissing him is better than all the whiskeys in the world and she's sure he could make her get drunk with his kisses only. More, Regina wants more and more and please can this moment never end?
So it doesn't matter that she's cold, that he's freezing, because being pressed close against Robin, kissing him like this, like she's never been kissed before is the best thing that happened tonight. He's gentle, he's caring, for some reason he knows exactly what she needs. How does he do this? She could ask herself over and over again. Her reactions switch between moans and soft giggles and there's this sound Robin makes when she sucks at his tongue that makes her heart squeeze. It's a sweet kiss, close to the verge of getting more - Regina could see herself wanting more, but this is not the right time, this is the heat of the moment of being drunk, grieving and having just broken into a cemetery. But it's still a bit awkward because their noses keep bumping into each other or whenever they take a second for a breath, their lips are just a tiny bit off before they find their way back to each other.
It's Robin who finally puts an end to it. She can feel him pull back with every movement, tries to keep the contact, but suddenly his hands cup her face so lovingly she has to open her eyes. There's panic flaring up in her once again, though Robin is quick to assure her nothing is wrong.
"I don't regret this, Regina." Thank god, thank god he doesn't since she doesn't either. "Frankly, I wish I could kiss you forever…" Then why did you stop, idiot? "But I don't think this is the right place. Also, you should finally put some shoes on, otherwise your toes will freeze off."
Leave it to Robin to be so damn considerate of her health and feelings. She sighs, which makes him chuckle before she climbs off him in order to slip on her heels. Her feet hurt, are very cold and maybe he's right, maybe if they'd continued her toes would have frozen off before she realized it.
Things between them aren't awkward but not as light as they were before. Robin pulls her to his side as they make their way down the second row of graves and stop right in front of the second from the right. An electric red light is burning and she can see the outlines of floral wreaths, which are covered by the snow. She should come back tomorrow, she thinks, should bring her father some flowers because it's the right thing to do.
For some reason seeing his grave doesn't make her as upset as she would have thought. She doesn't feel the need to cry - probably because she's cried so much today there are just no tears left. When Robin asks her if she wants to be alone for a moment she shakes her head. So they stand there for a hand full of minutes in silence, Regina having her eyes closed and Robin rubbing her back with his hand.
I'm sorry, Daddy.
Her father had always tried to make sure she was okay. Henry was no more though, but at least she found… When the realization hits her, Regina can't but look up at Robin who's staring at Henry's grave, a soft but sad expression on his face. Robin. This right here, them meeting, her bumping into his shop tonight… was it coincidence or fate? What are the odds she would bump into the man who seemed to have had such a close relationship to her father, maybe closer than she had on the night she comes back to Storybrooke?
The man in question breaks her train of thought when his hand comes to a rest on his back.
"You're getting cold, Regina. You're shivering."
"I don't want to go home." She doesn't feel drunk anymore, just cold.
"Why?"
"I don't want to be alone tonight." It's not more than a whisper and she's not sure if he heard her until he pulls her close to him, waiting for her to look up into his eyes.
"Then you don't have to be. Come on… and no awkward wall climbing this time."
How does he always manage to do this, to make her smile? Regina wonders as they head back toward the liquor shop. They don't talk much, just a few bits here and there.
Once they arrive, Robin guides her around the house to the back door, which leads right up the stairs to the living room on the first floor. It's lit, decorated with a real Christmas tree that looks a bit chaotic, just like a child had hung the ornaments and lights. Presents are lying under the tree, not many, but a few, all having a tag with 'Roland' in big black letters. Roland, of course, Robin's son.
"No worries, he's asleep. Look, I'll show you my bedroom upstairs and I'll get the couch ready for myself…"
"No. Robin, I don't want to kick you out of your bed. You've already done enough for me."
"It's not a problem…"
"It is one for me. Please. I'll be out of your hair first thing in the morning."
There is a moment when he hesitates, when it looks like he's going to continue arguing with her, but oh, she can be stubborn and she's going to take the damn couch, she's not going to kick this man out of his bed. She wonders if after the kiss they shared he's going to offer her to sleep in his bed, but he doesn't. Whether it's a pang of disappointment or pure exhaustion she feels right now, she can't say. Regina can see how he rings with himself before he finally gives in. Good, there's no point in arguing with her anyway.
"Can I at least offer you some clothes to sleep in?"
"I would appreciate that, thank you."
After she drops her purse, scarf and coat down on the couch, Robin guides her upstairs, shows her the bathroom and the shower before asking her to wait outside because well, his room is a bit of a mess. Regina rolls her eyes a little. Of course it is he's a man, but she doesn't mind a bit messy as long as it's not dirty. There's a huge difference. He comes back out with a dark green hooded sweater and gray sweatpants that are way too big for her. There are bands to tighten them though and it's just for the night anyway. The thick pair of socks that come along with the things he brings out makes her smile, because her feet are still freezing. Thoughtful, Robin is so goddamn thoughtful and considerate.
While he lets her go and change in the bathroom, even tells her there's a fresh towel and brand new toothbrush in the cabinet above the basin, he's downstairs making her bed for the night. The couch looks actually a bit small, but she's not a tall person, so she thinks she might be comfortable for the night when she comes back down.
Robin smiles shyly at her, his hands in his back pockets as he watches her small frame completely lost in his big but very comfortable clothes. The sleeves are too long, the legs as well, but she looks cute. "Here we go, I hope it's okay…"
"It's perfect. Thank you Robin… for everything tonight. I… I have to pay you back on all the whiskey I drank."
"Please don't."
"But I want to!" She's sitting down on the couch now, wrapping the blanket around herself. It's warm and smells like forest - but that's probably because of the Christmas tree or because of Robin. The clothes she's wearing smell the same… She really can't say.
"You just owe me a drink, how about that?" The question is hesitant, but when she smiles it's like a ton of baggage lifts from his shoulders.
"Deal. Goodnight, Robin. And thank you. Again." Does this mean they have a date?
"Are you sure you're okay, Regina?" He's reaching out, for a moment she thinks he might touch her shoulder but he draws back at the last moment.
"I will be." Yes, she will be, now she knows. It might take a while, but she will be okay.
"Sweet dreams," Robin whispers as he watches her getting comfortable on the couch. Regina closes her eyes and hears him leave. The light is switched off. Whether he forgets to switch off the lights on the Christmas tree as well or whether he leaves them on so the room isn't completely in the dark she doesn't know, but she appreciates the faint warming lights nonetheless. Exhaustion hits her, pulls her under into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Xxxxx
Warm. Warm and comfortable and the smell of bacon and pancakes. That's the first thing she notices when her mind starts slowly waking up from her deep slumber. There's a hint of a headache in the back of her head, but it's not bad, so she can ignore it for the moment. Something tickles her nose, and then pokes her shoulder but Regina just sighs before cuddling back into her blanket. Just five more minutes, then she might consider getting up for a glass of water and aspirin for the headache that she knows will come at one point. It's okay though, she's a grown up, she can deal with headaches - if only whatever was poking her would leave her the hell alone. Seriously.
She moves, lets out a groan, which is followed by a giggle. Wait, what? A giggle? Where the hell did that come from? Where the hell was she - what? Pancakes? Bacon? Breakfast? Oh. OH!
Regina cracks one eye open, blinks a bit, blinded by the bright light that is flooding the living room. This is definitely not her father's house, definitely not his couch. Right, right, memories of yesterday slowly come crawling back into her conscious mind. There was whiskey, and Robin, more whiskey, more Robin, snow, kissing… and she'd gone home with him. Oh God. Awkward, how very awkward. Leave it to her to do the walk of shame on Christmas morning. Well, she hasn't slept with him; she has nothing to be ashamed of, right? But she's kissed him… and that is making her a tiny bit uncomfortable. Not the kissing itself but the fact she's enjoyed it and doesn't regret it.
She wanted to be out of his hair, didn't want to spend Christmas morning. Now here she is, on his couch and the man is making breakfast. Is he expecting her to stay?
Another peak, another giggle and Regina finally shots up, fully awake now. There's a little boy standing in front of her dressed in forest green pajamas with little red and white candy canes on it and a stuffed monkey tucked under his arm. His curls are dark brown and wild, his dimpled smile ever charming. The first thought that strikes her is that he doesn't much look like Robin, but these dimples… the dimples are totally his. Now what is his name again? Rudolph? Ronald? No, Roland, his name is Roland.
Roland is still giggling, looking at her with wide, cheerful and happy eyes.
"Roland, what are you doing?" It's Robin in the doorway, a plastic spatula in his hand, which he's probably used to turn the pancakes and bacon before he heard noises coming from the living room.
"It's Christmas, Papa!"
Robin laughs, saying 'yes, it is' but he knows that he's not allowed to climb out of his bed by himself, knows that he should call Robin once he wakes up so they can get ready for the day. He ruffles his boy's hair, giving Regina a quick wink to acknowledge her, muttering a "Merry Christmas", which she answers with a smile and nod.
"Papa, I wanted to see if Santa brought me my present! Look, he did!" The little boy exclaims happily.
Robin's eyes wander over to the Christmas tree and the presents underneath, which makes Regina laugh, because it's just typical for a child to open all the presents without the parent being present. They're both surprised to find the presents untouched, no wrapping paper lying around. Nothing is missing from under the tree.
Regina eyes the little child which is still standing in front of her, staring at her awestruck with big, happy eyes. She notices a burnt smell coming from the kitchen, but she's afraid to say anything because Robin looks at his son with confusion and worry, crouching down next to him, asking carefully.
"Roland, what present are you talking about?"The little boy giggles once again, his arms clutching the monkey tight to his small body.
"I asked Santa for a new Mama! And look, there she is!" He's laughing, launching himself at Regina now, who can't but catch the little man who is hugging her as tight as he can. "I'm Roland!"
She doesn't reply, her tongue is heavy as lead.
Robin's eyes are wide in shock, his mouth slightly opened, not knowing what to say at the scene that just unfolded in front of him. They don't know what to say, just stare at each other, watching the uncomfortable situation unfold in front of them.
It's Regina who finds her speech back first, still holding the babbling and overly enthusiastic child in her arms. "I think your breakfast is burning."
"Oh bloody hell!" He darts off to the kitchen, leaving his son and Regina alone in the living room.
This is not how either one of them has imagined Christmas morning. Not at all.