186. "You kissed Snow!?"
Missing Year fluff
For all of their many many faults, Regina had to admit, the Charmings knew how to throw a party. She's not entirely sure what it is they're celebrating. She'd been half listening while Snow prattled on about a hunt and embracing the old traditions since they were stuck in the old lands and had somehow agreed to snap her fingers and transform the main hall into a wonderland of twinkling lights, flowers, and fabrics. It was more than a snap, quite a bit actually, but the look of awe on her step-daughter's face when she walked in this morning was worth every ounce of energy and every hour of spell reading Regina had spent.
Roland was to be her escort for the evening, she'd even let him pick her dress, trading in her signature black leather for a deep blue ball gown she hadn't worn in ages. She looked younger, softer with curls cascading down her back and simple gold chain around her neck. And when Roland squealed and declared her "beautifuller," Regina felt it. The deep blush from his father as they entered the hall hadn't hurt either. All and all it was shaping up to be a rare (and much needed) pleasant evening.
...
John sat a fresh cider for Robin and himself on the table before retaking his seat. They'd spent most of the evening here just watching the festivities and having a laugh at their fellow merry men who ventured onto the dance floor, but the night was winding down and John's patience was wearing thin. "You gonna stare at her all night or are you finally going to make your move?"
"What are you talking about?" Robin takes his drink, downing half of it without looking away from his son or the woman twirling him around.
"You're an idiot, but you're not stupid. You know exactly what and who I'm talking about," John punches his arm in jest. "She looks nice tonight, happy even. Your boy's got her all warmed up, I bet she'd even dance with you if you got off your arse and asked her."
"I'm not interested in dancing with her," Robin says into his empty mug, motioning for another to be brought to him.
"Oh, I know exactly what you're interested in doing with her, Robin," John laughs as he accepts his next drink. "We all do, but maybe start with a dance. Women like to be wooed."
"What in heaven's name would you know about wooing a woman?" Robin scoff's, turning to his long-time friend.
John shrugs his shoulders, while dramatically unfurling his hand to count off the the numerous reasons why robin is obviously wrong. "Who was it that introduced you to Marian? And convinced her to give you a second chance when you made a complete idiot out of yourself? And helped you propose? And acquired that anniversary gift?"
"Shut up," Robin grumbles, closing his friends fist before he could continue counting and returns to his cider.
"Go," John drops a heavy hand on Robins heading. "Now's your chance, Roland has been distracted by cookies," John turns said head toward the woman standing alone at the edge of the dance floor, blue dress surrounding her, dark curls covering her back.
"Fine," he ducked out from underneath John's hand. He'd go, if only to stop the incessant nagging from John and the rest of his men. "Women like to be wooed," Robin parroted as he made his way towards his target. The room was moving a bit more than he expected; the queen's cider certainly packed a punch and he'd had more than his share wallowing with John for most of the evening. He didn't want to dance. Probably couldn't get his feet to form any semblance of a pattern worthy enough to dance with any woman in this state, let alone the queen. But Regina wasn't the typical woman and they'd been 'dancing' around each other for months. It was time. He grabbed her arm, spun her toward him, and kissed her hard before he had a chance to change his mind.
...
She heard the whispers and giggles in the kitchen when she'd stepped away to find Roland something to eat that wasn't covered in sugar. Gossip traveled faster than lightning in this place. Robin Hood had just kissed Snow White in front of everyone. Her pieced together heart shattered, then she saw red. How dare he. How DARE he! Regina stormed through the halls, magic sparking at her fingertips. The people in the hall were still laughing, both Charmings practically doubled over beside John who had tears rolling down his cheeks. She sped past them all, ignoring Snow's calls to her, even Roland's little hands in her skirts. If the thief wasn't here, there was only one other place he could be. Her magic whisked her into her private garden that Roland and his father had discovered one day and she'd never thought to ask them to leave.
"You kissed Snow?!" she yells, spotting him the second the smoke clears. He's sitting on the swing she set up for Roland, head in his hands, but he bolts upright the second he hears her voice.
"I thought she was you!" He defends, stepping near her as she backs away.
"How could you possibly have made that mistake?" She's nothing but rage and a short temper.
"Because I was drunk on your very strong cider and you're wearing the same damn dress!" he comes closer still, but this time she stands her ground.
"We are not!" As if she'd be caught dead in the same dress as Snow White, regardless of how many fences they'd mended.
"Fine. It's not the SAME dress," he curtsies unsteadily, "but it's pretty damn similar. Same damn color, same damn ruffled bits, and your hair is down. When do you EVER wear your hair down!?" he points indignantly at the curls falling over her shoulder.
"When your son asks me to!" she counters, swatting his hand away.
"Well next time I'll make sure he asks you to wear a name tag on your arse so I don't ACCIDENTALLY kiss the wrong woman!" he steps to the side to get around her, stumbling over a tree root, but somehow managing to stay on his feet.
"Wait." It hits; water thrown over the flame of her anger. He wants her. This song and dance they've been playing at, that she's been trying so hard to ignore, was leading them to this.
"No. I'm leaving with what's left of my dignity, Regina. Clearly this was a mistake and I'll never be listening to John again."
"Robin, wait. Wait!" She wants him too and at this moment she can't remember any of the reasons she told herself for why she shouldn't.
He lurches forward, feet suddenly glued to the floor. "Not this again. You really need some new tricks, Your Majesty."
"You kissed Snow," she says softly, coming to stand in front of him.
Robin is still angry, still hurt. "Yes. Were you not present for the argument we just had?"
"You thought she was me," Regina can't stop the smile from spreading across her face or the tears that begin to prickle in her eyes.
"Are we going redo the whole thing? Because, if I'm being honest I don't really remember the bits in the middle aside from your lovely arse and-"
Her lips are on his, silencing anything else his drunken mind could recall. "Oh," Robin breathes against her when she releases him, sobered instantly, but drunk with an entirely new sensation. It's barely a breath before he's reaching for her again- a hand in her hair, one at her waist-but he doesn't kiss her yet, just holds, just stares.
"We should probably get back to the party," Regina tells him regretfully after a few more gentle kisses have been traded. It's gotten impossibly dark outside and she has no doubt Snow will be sending out a search party for them soon if they haven't been dispatched already.
"Must we?" he's only half joking, she can sense his unease at returning to the scene of his innocent crime.
"She won't mind," Regina assures him with a hand against his cheek. "Besides, if you kissed her like that…"
"I've never kissed anyone like that. I've never felt anything like that," Robin continues to tangle his fingers in her curls, leaning back to look in her eyes when she sighs contentedly against him. There's something in that simple act, how relaxed she's suddenly become, how certain that leaves him with a question of "You knew?"
She can only nod. It was one kiss. One very good kiss, but she's not ready to overwhelm him with tales of pixie dust and missed opportunities just yet. Soon, she knows. She won't be able to hold it in for long, but tonight she just wants to relish in feeling this light and happy, unburdened by the task of always keeping him away. "Will you dance with me?" she asks with a dainty curtsy that has them both laughing softly.
"It would be my pleasure, Milady." He bows, extending his hand to her. When she takes it, they've moved to the center of the ballroom, just another couple among many that sway to the music.
