"Oh, no. You're not tricking me this time."
"Oh, no. You're not tricking me this time," Regina mumbles, stretching her legs under the covers and burrowing a little into her pillow with a sleepy moan.
Robin mock gasps as he teasingly denies it. "Trick you? Never!"
Regina can't help the way her lips quirk into a grin. It's not like he could see it, anyway, not with how he's stretched across her body, reaching to shut off her 6:30am Saturday alarm. (She lets herself sleep in for half an hour on weekends, when she doesn't have too much to do.) She also can't help reaching a palm out to steady him above her, his stomach tense as he holds his weight off of her, grunting in frustration as he tries to hit the off button without either standing or falling out of bed.
Robin and her alarm clock are longstanding nemeses.
The black clock is vibrating against her bedside table, ringing at three second intervals for the second time this morning, which makes it…God, 6:40. She really needs to get up now.
The vibrations and chimes fall silent, and then Robin's flopping back down beside her, making the mattress ripple as he catches her midway through lifting herself onto an elbow. He loops an arm around her waist and tugs her gently back to him, pressing his nose into her hair. "It's Saturday," he pleads, his voice soft and rough and enticing, "stay in bed with me."
"Robin," she sighs, covering his hand with her own on her belly, "you say that every weekend," but she doesn't move to leave him, lets him slide his hand beneath the edge of her silk pajama top, his skin calloused and warm on hers.
"That's because it happens to be what I want every weekend," he insists, looping an ankle around hers, making the thought of the cold air outside the covers even less enticing. "It's what I want every day, really. Come on, why do you even need to be awake right now?"
Regina scoots around to face him, his stubble prickling her palms as she backs her face away from his enough to see him clearly. "I have things to do, Robin. And someone has to be up to make breakfast for the boys and to bring Henry over to the Charmings."
"You're meeting at nine-thirty. I refuse to think that pancakes will take two hours." His eyes flutter shut, his forehead tipping back onto hers. "And you were up late last night."
She smirks, and knows he can feel the shift in her expression, and hear it in her voice. "And whose fault was that?"
Robin curls a hand around her hip, drifting off again. "I'll cook you breakfast in the morning," he mumbles sleepily, and Regina fights the urge to remind him that it's morning already. At least for her.
She sighs. Gives in to the fact that this was a losing battle from the start, and they both knew it, and presses a few buttons on the clock until it's reset for 7:30. "Forty-five minutes," she relents.
He hums in response, his sleepy, languid smile the last thing she sees before she lets her eyes fall shut once more.
