A/N: Thank you to everyone that read, reviewed, favorited and/or followed. I'm not so proud of this chapter but I don't exactly hate it, so I guess that counts for something, right? Right. Anyways, I'll love to hear your thoughts on it!

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything but mistakes, which, incase you spot any of them, please point them out. Thanks!

Trigger Warning(s): None

One day.

They had one more day to spend together before parting ways and returning to their everyday lives.

He would go back to Los Angeles and focus on his music and building his career, and Regina would be miles away in Florida, doing whatever she enjoyed doing, be it writing her marvelous poems and short stories or painting magnificent illustrations out of her never-ending imagination, or simply relaxing for the remainder of her gap year.

It was glum how expeditiously their vacation ended. Robin wasn't ready to let go of her, not when he didn't know for sure when they'd reconnect again. So he made it his mission to make their last day their best day yet—starting with a candlelit dinner.

Cliché, but sometimes the cheesy things in life were the best.

It began with him calling up Regina first thing in the morning and apologizing for the sudden change in plans, attempting to sound as remorseful as he possibly could as he explained why he couldn't accompany them all to Times Square. She seemed disappointed and he almost told the truth. Almost.

Then came the trickier part. Dinner preparation.

Although he grew up helping his mother in the kitchen whenever she had the time to cook a hearty meal, he wasn't a chef. He knew how to roughly chop up vegetables, scramble some eggs and make sandwiches with cold cuts, and he didn't have any trouble with instant food, either, but nothing worthy of a sappy candlelit dinner.

Takeout was always an option—he'd rather them eat something edible without the concern of possibly getting food poisoning, but it wasn't romantic.

Neither was the one-pot chili mac and cheese he came across on a food blog website, but it was the easiest recipe he found that had great reviews, dozens of people raving about how simple and fast it was to prepare it, and how their families and friends scarfed it down and went for seconds, and how someone with little experience in the kitchen, such as himself, could make it without much trouble. And did he mention that it was a one-pot recipe?

So, one-pot chili mac and cheese it was.

As for dessert, he headed down ninth avenue and picked up a cake from Amy's Bread bakery. Everything on their menu sounded delicious, mouth-watering, making it harder to choose, and he found himself torn between the Brooklyn Blackout and the Lemon Mousseline. Regina loved chocolate but she also enjoyed lemony desserts. At the end, he settled on the latter, knowing after a heavy dinner, they'd have little room for something equally as heavy as the Brooklyn Blackout.

Robin also bought her flowers. He wanted something other than the usual red roses and she didn't have a favorite he could opt for; she loved all flowers equally. However, the florist did a fantastic job picking a few for him, then sent him off with a beautiful arrangement of pretty myosotises, white dittanies and fully bloomed gardenias. It was an odd combination, but it was simple and elegant, and the lady assured him it'll bring a smile to his girlfriend's face. He took her word for it and hoped Regina would like them.

To say that she was bummed out at Robin's call would be an understatement.

Regina was hoping to spend the entire day with him, something a little more than just a brief moment at the airport to say goodbye before heading back home. She was disheartened but understanding, and she didn't want to come off as the unbearably clingy girlfriend, so she didn't try to argue with him.

It still bothered her, though.

The outing wasn't very enjoyable and she found herself lost in her thoughts more often than she paid attention to whatever Emma and Killian were saying or the places they visited.

After a late lunch and four hours into being the third wheel, she feigned a headache and left them at Macy's and returned to the apartment. She'd take advantage of having the place all to herself for a little while, stuff her face with junk food and cry out of frustration—maybe then she'll feel better about…everything.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside with a heavy sigh, and in the process of removing her shoes, her eyes fell on the red and white rose petals scattered across the floor, leading down the hallway and into the living-room. That wasn't all to it, though. The lights were turned off, the only illuminations came from the tea candles that were lined up into a path for her to follow, and the moonbeam, and…the aroma. Something rather pleasant smelling was cooking in the kitchen.

Regina scrunched up her face in confusion, hung up her coat and gingerly walked along the lane. "Hello?" she called out, and that might've not been the brightest idea. That was how people got killed first in horror movies—walking right in and greeting the intruder. However, an intruder wouldn't lay down flowers on the floor, and an intruder surely won't cook dinner, either. Could it be—

"Cherry!"

Robin? She frowned, brows creased in wonder. Wasn't he too busy to spend anytime with her today, though?

"Right in time," he assented, walking out of the corner and enveloping her in a tight hug, followed by a quick peck on the lips when he stepped back. He was grinning from ear to ear while she was stuck in her daze. "Surprise."

"Wh—what's all this about?"

There were more petals across the room, more tea candles brightening the place, and the couch was pushed back a little and turned around to support the blanket fort he set up in the center of the room. It was magnificent, decorated with fairy lights and the little ornaments from their makeshift Christmas tree, and there were paper stars hanging around the inside of their little tent with leftover washi tape and twine, and it was furnished with a blanket and multiple cushions for their comfort, two glasses for the sparkling apple juice and two plates with nicely folded napkins on top of them. It was also messily done. One wrong move and the entire thing could collapse on them, nevertheless, it was beautiful, he put so much effort into it, she could tell. And she loved it.

"With how busy both our lives is going to be, it could be months before we meet again," he explained briefly. "And while I'll still talk to you everyday," he assured her with a goofy grin and snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, then lifted the other and cupped her chin affectionately. "I wanted to make this day special for us. For you."

Regina was at lost for words. No one has ever put such effort into anything for her before, not even on special occasions. Her graduation, unlike her friend who celebrated it with a full-blown party on a yacht, she stayed home and ordered in, because her father didn't really care and her mother was busy at work, and her best friends were wrapped up in their own familial bubble, accepting gifts and praises over finishing high school. And her birthdays were often celebrated either alone or with Emma, Mal and Ella, and a store-bought cake. Nothing too grand, nothing too exceptional, same old story every year.

She glanced back at everything once again in complete awe, taking in every little detail with tears shining in her eyes. Robin's thumb brushed over one side of her face to catch the droplet that fell before his lips grazed her temple, and she sniffled, turning her attention to him with a grin lightning her entire face.

"No, no. What we're not going to do this evening is cry," he chided her lightly with a pout, making her chuckle.

"I'm sorry. It's just…" She heaved out a breath and looked around, gesturing at everything he'd done for her. "All this is—"

"Is what you deserve and more," he cut in, then put an end to her attempt at an argument with a quick kiss. "Now, let's get right into eating. I'm starving!"

Dinner was excellent, if Robin does say so himself.

He never made anything from scratch before, never on his own. He thought the entire building would end up in flames and him and Regina would spend their last day together hanging outside in the freezing cold, being stared down at by the firefighters and the people whose home almost demolished because of him.

Nothing of the sort happened, though, he did cut his finger. And logically speaking, a kiss wouldn't make it better, but when Regina pressed her lips to the small cut, he claimed otherwise and admired her magical touch with a frolicsome wink.

The lemon cake was the right choice, judging by Regina's hums and moans that followed every bite, and although it was tasty, it wasn't his favorite. He wasn't a fan of citrusy desserts, or citrus fruits in general.

It was a five from him; six, perhaps—it made his girlfriend happy.

Dishes were rinsed and leftovers were packed away, and the spot they sat and ate on was cleaned off before they laid down, staring up at the faux stars hanging above them. It was nothing like the real thing. Nothing like laying outside on the grass and staring up at the beaming crystals blinking down at them from the night sky. They could've moved out to the balcony and spread thick blankets to lay and huddle up in instead of him sticking stars he cut out of papers around the inside of the blanket fort, but with how each skyscraper stood taller than the other, shedding bright light on the entire city, it would be near impossible to spot the stars.

But Regina didn't seem to mind.

She had a wide smile plastered across her face, her eyes twinkling as she complimented every badly shaped star he put up. He wanted to believe her, he truly did. He wanted to believe that they were impressive, adorable, the cutest thing she'd ever seen, but he'd never been great at art. He made peace with that, eventually.

"I still can't believe you went through all this trouble for me," Regina muttered, her fingers toying with his and her gaze falling from the ceiling to look at him. "I was going to be just as happy spending the day with you doing nothing, or maybe a walk in the park or something like that."

"In this weather?" Robin asked, his brows raised to his hairline and she chuckled, nodding her head. "We would've froze to death!"

"Or," she started with a click of her tongue and shifted further to her side, propping herself up on her elbow, "we would've kept each other warm."

He hummed in thought and bobbed his head in approval. Keeping each other warm did sound like a great idea, so he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her on top of him, grinning cheekily at her surprised yelp. "Kinda like this?"

She laughed out loud as she balanced herself up on his torso. "Yes, kinda like this."

She was quite the sight for the sore eyes, equally as stunning whether she was smiling at him or scowling. She was, without a hint of exaggeration, the most beautiful girl he laid his eyes on, inside out. Her personality was gold; she was bubbly and kind, and nurturing. And she was humble, too, always flashing everyone one of her bright smiles, friends and strangers alike, and consistently offering a helping hand.

Robin moved his hand up her back and tugged her down on him, lowering her enough to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Unlike the previous ones they shared, it wasn't sweet and innocent, it wasn't featherlight and short-lived. It was passionate, sloppy and soul-stirring. It was daring, with tongues included and their hands exploring each other's bodies—one of Regina's cradled the side of his face as the other travelled down his clothed chest, caressing it with a gentle touch, and he kept one hand over her hip, rubbing soothing circles with the pad of his thumb, the other stroking her side.

He wasn't naïve, he'd kissed before, gone beyond quick, stolen kisses, but none of them felt quite the same. None were as ardent, libidinous. They were driven by his raging hormones, the need to feel something, however, this, what was between him and Regina, was something else, something more.

It fed his soul.

"I want you," he murmured against her lips, almost hesitant, worried about how she might react to his forwardness. It was bold, he knew that, and he didn't want the words that came out of his mouth in the spur of the moment to ruin their night.

It didn't.

Regina broke the kiss with a breathless chuckle and nodded her head. "Me, too."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely," she replied, ripping her gaze away from his lips to meet his, and she simpered. "Nervous," she added, "but I've never been so sure about anything in my life before."

That was all the reassurance he needed to continue, pulling her down for another kiss, and she welcomed it with a laugh.

She never saw herself in this position, laying naked with a guy between her spread legs, expertly using his mouth to bring her pleasure. But there she was, welcoming Robin's stimulations with moans and whimpers.

It was surreal. Every flick of his tongue on her sensitive bud, every long, teasing stroke between her folds. And she should be tense and anxious, it was her first time—she'd never been with anyone before him, never had a boyfriend, never had a kiss, never been on a date before him, but she was as relaxed as she could be with his fingers prodding against her entrance. She was vocal, his name falling from her lips like a prayer with constant needy pleas.

"More," Regina begged, weaving her fingers through his hair and tugging, and Robin didn't disappoint.

He easily slipped two fingers into her, curling them and slowly pumping them in and out, gradually picking up the pace as he went, and his lips closed around her clit, firmly sucking on her bundle of nerves.

She enjoyed this, enjoyed every second of it. His touch felt so different than her own, his fingers filling her, rubbing her in ways hers couldn't.

She loosened her grip on his hair and lowered her hand to reach for his that laid on her hip, entwining their fingers together and guiding it up to her chest, and without further clarification, he curled his fingers over one mound, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning his attention to her nipple, teasing the hardened peak between his forefinger and thumb, then went on to give the other the same treatment, all the while thrusting his fingers into her.

She was on cloud nine, writhing and arching in pure ecstasy, and she was a few licks away from climaxing, but this wasn't how she wanted to come. She wanted to come around him.

"Stop," she breathed out, lightly pulling at the strands on his head to halt his movements, and he did, stopping and staring up at her, worry flickering his darkened slate blue eyes. She ran her fingers through his hair and flashed him a reassuring, satisfied smile. "Come here," she requested. "Enough foreplay, I want you."

Robin complied and hovered above her, then leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. It was strange tasting herself on him, a distinctive tang she couldn't quite figure out what lingering on his tongue-it wasn't unpleasant, though, merely unusual.

His arms slid under her as he nestled between her legs, his hips grinding into hers, his shaft in between her nether lips, rubbing on her clit, and his mouth moved away from hers, pressing wet pecks down her neck, along her collarbone and her cleavage, going over her breasts and around her nipples, deliberately avoiding them.

Fortunately, the torturous teasing didn't stretch for too long. He slipped an arm between their bodies, lined himself against her entrance and pushed in, filling her in one thrust.

If anyone had told her she'd lose her virginity on a vacation in New York to the son of her all-time favorite singer inside a blanket fort, Regina would've laughed. Out loud and wholeheartedly. It wasn't that it sounded like a storyline written out of a movie, when it most certainly did, or that she'd been saving herself for marriage, none of that nonsense, but because she was self-conscious. She never wore bikinis on the beach, and she stayed away from boys-not that she attracted a lot of them to begin with. All the cute boys she did spare a second glance were all interested in her friends.

She blamed her looks for the longest time; the fact that she had dark, frizzy hair rather than silky blonde, or that her eyes were too brown when boys admired the light ones, writing songs and poems about getting lost in emeralds and ocean blues. And she wasn't a size four or six, she didn't have a gap between her thighs, but Robin didn't seem to care. He liked her hair curly rather than straight and he complimented her eyes more times than she can count on both her hands, and he didn't make her feel embarrassed over not having a flat stomach, he didn't poke fun at her over the little pouch she supported. Instead, he kissed it, as he kissed every inch of her exposed skin. As he was kissing her chest while giving her time to adjust to his girth.

"You okay?" He lifted his head up and looked at her, despite the lust and desire that clouded over his eyes, there was also warmth and affection. She nodded her head wordlessly and he peppered a few more kisses up her neck. "Do you want to wait a little longer?" he offered.

"No," she replied, lacing her fingers with his that resided beside her head. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Even with her reassurance, he was unhurried and gentle, taking his time with her. He gave her attention as he pulled out and plunged right in again, sucking and nipping at her soft skin, some spots harder than the others, leaving different shades of red tint behind. She didn't mind the love bites, she was too drunk on ecstasy to care.

The room was filled with sounds of their lovemaking, her moans and his grunts combined with echoes of skin slapping against each other with every hard thrust. Somewhere in the midst of it, he grew more desperate, his pace became erratic, and she tried keeping up with it, tried to meet every thrust, but with his thumb rubbing firmly over her clit, it was impossible to focus on anything other than the pressure coiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Are you close?" he husked and she nodded her head rapidly, verbally answering in a high-pitch whine.

He moved faster, slid deeper and circled her bundle of nerves continually, and it was enough to drive her over the edge. Her eyes rolled back and her muscles tightened as her orgasm crashed over her, cries of pleasure erupting out of her. A couple more thrusts and he followed, filling her with his seed.

His cock pulsed inside her as the aftershocks of her climax rippled through her, and she let out a satisfied hum when he nuzzled into her neck, her fingernails scraping along the back of his head gently.

She knew the vacation would be pleasant, a nice getaway from everything that weighed her down, but it never crossed her mind that it might bring her the most memorable moments of her life.

She never thought it would be the beginning of something exceptional, unforgettable.

A/N: thoughts?