Author's Notes: I'm so sorry this chapter doesn't feature the inevitable culmination of the tension. As I was writing this I ended up switching back to Regina's POV for that, making the end of this section a much more natural break point (I really hate switching POV mid-chapter!). I promise I'll have the next section, which will be pretty much nothing OQ smut, up by tomorrow, and hopefully it'll be worth the wait!
Pairings: Robin/Regina, Zelena/Hades
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"ID please, sir?" the secret service agent demanded as he walked up the steps to Drago's estate.
With a sigh, Robin fished the lanyard holding his ID badge out of his jacket pocket.
"You work for the Mills campaign?" the agent asked.
"Yes, I'm private security. We were actually at the same joint briefing about an hour ago," he answered, leaving out how glad he was to hear that his entrance hadn't been as memorable as he was afraid it might be.
The agent studied the badge again, "And you're on the guestlist for this event?"
"Yes," Robin answered patiently.
"I'm going to have to call over and confirm this-"
"That's alright, I can vouch for him," a voice called from behind them.
Although Robin managed to keep his expression blank, he was cringing internally. Just when he thought those texts from Regina would be the most frustrating thing that happened to him today!
"Yes, sir, Mr. DisPater," the agent immediately said, and handed Robin's ID back to him.
As he slid it back into his pocket, Blake tapped the agent's shoulder amicably.
"Blake," Robin acknowledged stiffly as the two ascended the steps.
"Don't sweat it, Locksley," Blake said with one of his usual slimy grins, "He and I go way back. Our fathers were both on the board of the Black Knights Society."
He held down a groan at the prospect of another Black Knights story. Apparently most of today's secret services agents were still descendents of the original forces all the way back to when they'd been called the Black Knights, and were more than willing to let anyone and every know about it! The briefing had been more Black Knights pedigrees than it had been any discussion of actual safety precautions.
"Didn't know your father was secret service, Blake," he commented politely.
"Yep," the other man bragged, "All the way back to the second cadre."
Robin couldn't resist a small dig, "Didn't follow in his footsteps?"
He laughed, appearing nonplussed, although Robin knew Blake DisPater well enough to know it was act, "I found electoral consulting a lot more lucrative. Which reminds me, I was hoping to catch you on the way in so that we could have a little discussion about this event."
"What about it?"
"Oh, I just wanted to make sure we all had a good understanding of the type of crowd here. Business executives, celebrity supporters, old friends of Mal's, that kind of thing. All big money donors, very important for our final push to the election."
"I kind of gathered that," he answered nodding to the columned, black marble hallway they were making their way through to the back garden where the event was set up.
"Alright, just making sure," Blake shrugged, "I know 30,000 coin a plate dinners aren't really your scene, Locksley...I mean not as a guest, at least!"
Robin smirked mirthlessly, "You planning to start calling me 'Robin' any time soon Blake? We are technically family, after all."
The other man chuckled again, "Yeah, well, let's just see how that goes…"
He was saved from having to think of a comeback by a woman's voice from the entrance to the garden.
"Blake!" Zelena pasted a smile on her lips as she caught their attention, "Darling, I was wondering where'd gotten to."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I was just making sure Locksley found his way in alright," Blake answered while Robin fought the urge to laugh.
Zelena's smile never wavered as she hummed noncommittally, stepped over and slipped her arm into his. Per usual, she barely acknowledged Robin's presence as she dragged her husband off.
He didn't care, though, because she was not the woman he was interested in seeing.
Making his way out to the garden he scanned the crowd until he found her. She was speaking to an older man in what was, no doubt, a 1000 coin suit. She'd shed her usual blazer and was standing with her arms bare, clutching a campagne flute of mineral water...she never did allow herself to drink at these kind of events.
Having no desire to meet whatever donor she was speaking with, and no illusions that he'd be of interest to the other man, Robin hung back in the crowd.
"Thank you, George, I'm sure Mother will be very open to discussing your concerns," she said.
"I certainly hope so," the man answered, "I expect to hear from you very soon."
Robin clenched his fists. That was another reason he avoided meeting with donors as much as possible. He knew it was part of her job, but hearing rich dickheads speaking to his wife in that entitled and vaguely threatening way made him want to start throwing punches.
Done with her, the older man stepped away, and began addressing someone else he knew in the crowd.
Even over the din of quiet conversations and clinking glasses, he heard a sigh escape Regina's lips.
Stepping past a woman in a yellow sundress, he gently brushed the small of her back where her silky maroon top met the waistband of her skirt.
Pausing mid-sip, she lowered her glass. Over her shoulder he could see a smile playing at her lips as she said, "I didn't see you come in."
Stepping closer to stand right behind her, he splayed his hand flat over her lower back to where her body began to round into shapely curves.
"How did the security briefing go?"
"Quite well, no thanks to you," he answered.
"Me?" she asked innocently.
After a quick glance up to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation, he grumbled "Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is having to hide a hard-on from a room full of secret services agents?"
As he spoke a wide grin slowly spread across her lips.
"Oh, you think that's funny?!" he growled, gripping her waistband, "I swear, Regina, if you ever do something like that again..."
"What?" she turned to him with a raised eyebrow, "You'll punish me?"
"You're asking for punishment right now," he answered.
"Promise?" she challenged.
All throughout the afternoon as he'd sat in the hotel conference room listening to droning secret service agents, and praying no one asked him to stand up, he'd imagined how he'd get back at her for that picture.
That damned picture of her slender little fingers curving over her smooth mound and disappearing into her panties!
In truth, his strategy during the meeting and the drive over had pretty much been to just find her, toss her up against the nearest wall, and fuck her into next week.
Of course, reality made those plans a no go.
Still, he never liked to let a challenge go unmet, particularly since she looked oh so proud of herself. No, he was going to find a way to make her pay for this, and, lips pressed up against her ear, informed her as much.
In response, she simply smiled and responded, "We'll see."
TBC...
