He feels trapped in this sea of emotions, like there is no way out, and everything he tries to do to pull himself out just backfires. It's been five days, he should feel better by now, but he doesn't. He doesn't care about anything, it's like he's lost all will for everything except sitting around moping. He hasn't gone to class once this week, hasn't made a meal—and probably wouldn't have eaten if it weren't for John and Regina. He only showered with an incentive from his not-girlfriend, who he's been letting taking care of everything for him, which he should stop but can't find the drive to do so.

She cleaned the apartment, with John's help, which was honestly a bit of a miracle because John is such a slob, but he's been better this week without Robin picking up his slack. He wishes he could care because he's been nagging John to clean more for ages, but he just doesn't.

He and John have their oral arguments for their moot tomorrow and he does not give a shit, would just not go and fail the assignment, but that would be letting John down, and he can't do that. Maybe he could have gotten accommodated somehow, but that would have taken effort, and that's not something he has right now.

He really thought he'd be dealing with this better by now, that time would somehow make it magically less awful but it hasn't. He can't go on like this, he knows it, but he doesn't know how to pull himself out.

The only bright spot is FaceTiming with his mum. They've spoken every day since he found out, and he can't believe he once went a month without talking to her, can't believe he took that for granted. Not anymore, not ever.

He needs to see her, really see her, he already has a flight booked to go home on April 23rd, but it's not soon enough. The only reason it's so late is because of exams, but the reason he's at a Canadian law school is because he wanted to stay here, a choice he's now regretting. If he had taken that offer from the University of Sussex he would have been there, would have been able to spend every weekend with her and wouldn't have been left in the dark taking it all for granted.

He thought he knew the sacrifice he was making when he decided to stay in Canada, but he didn't, and now faced with the reality of it, he wants to undo it.

If he's not going to stay here, what's the point of finishing out the year? Yes, it would be a waste of all of his time, effort, and tuition, but so what? In the grand scheme of things, getting to have more time with his mum would be worth it.

If he stays like this he'll fail all his exams anyway, and it will all have been for nothing.

Robin's taking the news hard, and it's heartbreaking to watch. She can't imagine what him and his family are going through; it's awful. She wants to help somehow but doesn't know how, or if she even can, but she's determined to try. In therapy, she'd asked Tamara what she should do, had basically spent her whole session seeking her advice on how best to support Robin and ensuring she wasn't doing any harm. The hardest thing for her is the first thing Tamara told her: "don't try to fix the unfixable." She wants to fix, still does even though she can't. What she can do is be there, check in and offer to do things for him, visit and show her support. She's never spent this much time at his place before, but she feels this need to be with him now, and he doesn't mind, seems to appreciate the company. She's been over every day, makes or brings him food and stays for as long as he wants.

She's supposed to stick with the truth, Tamara's example being: "This hurts. I love you. I'm here." She'd ignored the I love you part of it, and thankfully Tamara hadn't pushed. She's not, she can't be, that's not what this is. She's worried about him, she cares about him, a lot, and he is in pain—she wants to help, just as anyone else would. Yes, she has feelings for him and that makes this more complicated, but outside of all of that, they are friends, and she won't let her feelings get in the way of her supporting her friend.

He is suffering and was hinting at dropping out, which she finds very concerning. He's not in his right mind right now, shouldn't be making that kind of decision, not when there's only a month left of school. She can't imagine his mom would want him to throw away his whole year like that. She tried to broach that with him, but he shut her down and hasn't mentioned it since.

But she doesn't think the ideas left him, she's just not pushing, though maybe she should be. She's well aware her tendency to avoid issues rather than confront them head-on has been particularly problematic this year and she's not about to make the same mistakes with Robin that she did with Mal.

She checked in this morning and Robin didn't want company, but Robin and John had their moot today, and she knows from John it really didn't go well, so she messages Robin to see if that's changed. When he says he'd like the company, she orders Thai to his place and heads over.

He doesn't look good, his eyes are sunken in, and he has this dull and lifeless look he's been sporting all week that makes her want to wrap her arms around him and somehow make it all better. She does hug him, after she's removed her coat. She squeezes him tightly, rising onto her toes, her head tipped up so she can kiss him softly. He's always been one for physical contact, but even more so now, and she's more than happy to provide that.

"I ordered Thai," she tells him and he nods, smiling slightly in a way that doesn't reach his eyes.

"When's it due?"

"In the next ten minutes."

He's holding her hand and uses it to lead them over to the table, sitting down without breaking the contact. She sits too as she asks, "How was your day?"

She's not at all surprised when the answer is, "Awful," and gives him a sympathetic look while squeezing his hand. He leans in as he explains, "I bombed my moot and embarrassed myself. I shouldn't have gone; it was pointless anyway."

"What do you mean pointless?"

"This whole thing is pointless. I should just go home, it's where I'm needed."

This is the kind of thing that's been concerning her. "What about exams?"

"Screw exams! Why write them when I don't give a shit about them? When all I want to do is go home and never come back."

"You've already come this far—"

"So? I only have limited time left with my mum. I don't want to waste it here."

"So what, you are going to drop out this late in the game?"

"I never said that."

That is true, he's always danced around it. "But that's what it sounds like…"

"Well, maybe I should…"

That's the moment there's a knock at the door, of all the times for their food to come, it had to be now, at the actual worst moment. Robin jumps up and grabs the door, clearly happy with the distraction. She sighs as she watches the exchange, knowing she's lost that opportunity, and unsure whether she should try and bring it back up. He'd been getting angry and she doesn't want to antagonize him. He has a short fuse right now, he stubbed his toe the other day and yelled more expletives than she's ever heard come out of his mouth, and was legitimately angry for a solid hour after. Emotionally now is not the time, and she knows it's not her life, not her call, but he'd be making a huge mistake if he dropped out now.

He sets the bag down on the table without a word and walks off toward the kitchen, for a drink she assumes.

She's clearly not going to make any headway, so she calls over, "Do you want to eat now?" and when he says yes she starts unpacking the bag, setting out the three containers. One is for John who soon joins them, stopping to pat her back and say thank you before they start to eat together. It's funny, she never spent much time with John before all of this, had basically avoided him ever since the strip tease incident, but she has to admit she's enjoyed getting to know him better. She's surprisingly comfortable with him given that they haven't had many interactions outside of her humiliation, but they've found a camaraderie in supporting Robin, are united in their efforts to do whatever they can to help.

John is benefitting from her provisions of food, but she doesn't mind providing for both of them one bit. She loves to cook—though sometimes gets lazy and orders in, like tonight—while John and Robin's 'cooking' leaves much to be desired. She's surprised they haven't starved or gained a freshman fifteen with the things they consider to be proper meals.

It's nice to eat with people, she's always been quite solitary and doesn't have a problem with extended alone time, but having someone around especially when you aren't expected to be social or make conversation is really enjoyable. She hadn't realized how lonely she could get until she experienced the polar opposite.

They eat in relative silence, then John retires to his room to work.

She has work to do too, but doesn't want to leave just yet. She wants to somehow circle back and figure out whether or not he's actually planning to drop out. She can't imagine he'd make such a major decision right now, but he's not himself and she can't be sure.

"You want company?" she asks, and he shrugs, indicating that it's up to her.

She decides to stay, joining him on the couch, and accepts his offer of wine when he gets up to get himself a drink.

They watch a full episode of Friends before she gets the courage to bring it back up.

"Did you mean it? What you said before about dropping out…"

He sighs and pauses for so long she thinks he isn't going to answer. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture. You don't know what this is like."

She clasps his hand, nodding as she acknowledges, "You are right, I don't, but I can't imagine your mother would want—"

He shrugs off her hand, recoiling. "No! Do not go there."

His violent reaction shocks her. She'd anticipated he might be upset with her, but not to this degree. She gently tells him, "I'm sorry," not knowing what else to say and not wanting to make things worse.

He straightens up with a tension in his body that wasn't there before. His tone is cold when he suggests, "I think you should go, I'm not feeling up for company any more."

That hurts, but it's not entirely unexpected, and she's not going to fight him on this. "Okay, I'll go."

She's slightly reassured when he gets up and follows her to the door, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulls her in for a soft peck in goodbye. She melts into him, steals another kiss then one more, before she reluctantly leaves his arms and heads home.

She replays their interaction all through her walk home. His intense reaction to her questioning has her feeling even more worried. She's really concerned that she may have just pushed him into making that decision. She should have just let it go.

Fuck. What is she supposed to do now? If he drops out because of this she will never be able to forgive herself. Clearly his mom would not be supportive of his decision and right now she's probably the only one who could talk him out of it. But would he even tell her before he did it? Or would he just do it and deal with the consequences later? She suspects it's the latter and she can't just sit back and do nothing, can she? His mom needs to know.

But she can't tell her, can she? That's crazy! They've never spoken—she can't just message her out of the blue. Or can she? No, that's… and it's not like she'd be able to find his mom's contact information anyway, so the point is moot. She should let it go, but now she's curious about that, if there is a way. A look at Robin's Facebook shows he has 'Margaret Locksley' listed as his mother. When Regina clicks on her profile, it's open, and she can see that Margaret posted the other day. She hits the little messenger button without thinking, and it's only once it's open she realizes what she's started.

She shouldn't do this, he'll be so angry at her for interfering. It's not her place, she needs to let it go.

She closes the app and tells herself not to get involved, but her mind keeps flitting back to Mal and the consequences of her inaction there. She knows that sometimes being a good friend is getting involved, doing the hard thing that the person may hate you for because it's the right thing to do. She's not at all sure this is the right thing to do, but she opens the app again anyway.

Maybe meddling in it is what got her into trouble in the first place, but she's already come this far. With shaky fingers, she starts the message: Hi, I'm Regina, a friend of Robin's...

She comes back with John after a Torts class Robin didn't attend. John had assured her it was fine after Robin didn't answer her message, telling her to just come over anyway. She's not so sure it's a good idea, she was messaging with Robin's mom earlier in the morning and Margaret had thanked her profusely and said she was going to take care of it. She doesn't know if she has yet or not, but she knows Robin is going to be pissed at her for it once he knows.

John only knows about the tension last night, she hadn't told him what else she did, and maybe if she had then he'd have a different tune. Though, it's also quite possible Margaret hasn't talked to Robin yet, and she can tell him what she did herself. She probably should have told him after she did it, but he was already annoyed and she hadn't wanted to make it worse. She really doesn't know what would have been best, has never inferred like this in her life—and though she'd told herself she's prepared for the consequences, she's afraid of them.

Robin's in his room when they get there. She wonders if he's napping and that's why he didn't answer as John knocks on the door and says, "Regina's here," before going to his room and shutting the door.

She hears Robin get up, and when he opens the door, he is glowering at her. Well, that answers that, he definitely knows. Shit, this was a mistake, she should have just gone home.

She tries to pre-empt it, but it's useless. "Robin, I—"

"Save it! I don't know what you think gave you the right to do that, but it was way out of line."

"I'm sorry—"

"I said I don't want to hear it!"

He's madder than she's ever seen him, sounds even more pissed than that time he called her after he and John got into it.

"Okay," is all she says, because what else can she?

"You can leave now."

"I… wait, can't we talk about this? I'm sorry…"

"I don't want to talk to you, not ever again. You can't be trusted—" Fuck that hurts, but she doesn't let it show on her face, drawing on her many experiences with her mother "—I want nothing to do with you."

She lets out a shaky gasp then, unable to keep her face from falling. She wants to cry, wishes like hell she could go back and change things, "I did what I thought was right; I'm sorry."

"You don't have any right to meddle in my life like that, we aren't together—" that hurts far more than it should considering it's the reality. He digs the knife in even deeper as he elaborates, "—This was just fun, and now you've sucked all that away by going behind my back. I can't believe you would do this."

She doesn't know what to say, opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, then he says two words that kill her, "Goodbye, Regina," before he slams his door shut.

She stands frozen for a second, then starts to make her way out of his place. He didn't mean it, he couldn't have, he's just upset, is lashing out, this isn't over, it can't be.

"Regina, wait," John calls as she's striding out the door. She ignores him because she's about three seconds from crying, and if he asks her 'are you okay?' she will break down. He catches up to her though, his larger form giving him the advantage of much longer strides.

He puts a hand on her arm to stop her as he tells her, "Hey, I'm not here to yell at you, I just wanted to say that's not cool what he said. I don't know what you did, but he's just upset right now and used you as a punching bag, he didn't mean it."

"I did deserve it, I went behind his back to his mom. I told her he was going to drop out—"

"He was going to drop out?" John asks incredulously and shit, look at her making the same mistake all over again, she should have just kept her mouth shut. "No, you absolutely did the right thing, Margaret will never allow that. She'd probably kill him if he went through with it. You did the right thing telling her."

That subtly reassures her, but she still feels like shit. Part of that is because some of what Robin said wasn't uncalled for, they aren't together and she's been acting like they are, which needs to stop. He's made it clear he doesn't feel the same way she does, and she should just let them end this way, to spare herself more hurt down the line, but she knows she'd come crawling right back if he asked, wants nothing more than to throw herself at him and beg him to forgive her.

"I just… I need to get home, I have stuff I need to do," she looks at John and musters the best smile she can under the circumstances. "Thank you for this. I appreciate it, I really do."

"He's going to come around, I know he will. And when he does he's going to feel like shit about what he said. Just try not to dwell on it, okay? Margaret will tear him a new one when I tell her—"

"No, don't!" she's shaking her head vehemently as she insists, "Don't tell her, please. It's fine, seriously."

"It's not fine, but okay, I won't."

"Thank you," she breathes and he releases her arm, bidding her goodbye before heading back into their apartment.

She doesn't share John's optimism, but she hopes to god he's right and this will blow over soon.

He's fucking pissed. He cannot believe Regina did that, cannot believe John had the nerve to side with her and cannot believe he's waiting for his mum to call back and ream him out over something she shouldn't even know about in the first place.

He feels absolutely betrayed, by Regina, by his mum for trying to control him when he's only trying to make the most of the time they have left, by his parents for not telling him when they knew and robbing him of three months, and by the universe for letting this happen. All of that betrayal compounded turned him into a powder keg and he exploded all over Regina. He was mean and nasty, he can admit that, and some of it wasn't even true. What was he seeking to accomplish with that we aren't together comment, anyway? Before all of this, that's what he wanted, but he was just so mad and he wanted to hurt her, which mission accomplished, but he sure as fuck doesn't feel any better, he feels worse. He wasn't fair, he knows that, but life isn't fucking fair, nothing about this is fair.

His phone rings and he knows it's his mum without looking, picks it up resignedly as he waits to get scolded. She'd left him a voicemail while he was napping, telling him exactly how stupid she thought him even considering dropping out was, then told him she'd call after dinner to discuss, which is apparently now.

"Hi, Mum," he starts warily, too exhausted for another fight.

"What in god's name were you thinking? You have not even a month left of school. I'm not letting you do something that foolish."

His anger flares again, "That's not really your call."

"I am still your mother, so watch your tone."

He shouldn't say this but, "Yeah, well, for how long, huh?"

"Okay, you know what? I'm done humouring you. You are going to listen to me very carefully, young man. Do you understand?"

Her tone immediately transports him to getting in trouble as a kid. He's twenty-four, but he feels himself cower a little and sighs, "Yes."

"Sweetheart, I love you, you know I do, more than anything. I want you to feel things, I want you to process this in time and in your own way, but you are scaring me and your friends. So let's get a few things straight: I am not dead. I am also not dying in the near future. Yes, I have a horrible, scary illness that's going to change things, but my life isn't over, it's far from it. Your life certainly isn't. I could live for another twenty years, or I could get in a car accident and die tomorrow without ever experiencing true dementia. Yes, that part is scary, it terrifies the hell out of me, and it's okay to be upset and to grieve over that. But I will not let you throw your life away over this."

She takes a breath, pausing as he takes in her words. A part of him knows she's right, but a larger one wants to yell and scream about how unfair it all is. She has had much more time to adjust to this, but he can't ever imagine feeling as zen as she seems to be about this.

"I'm glad you are letting it all out, that you aren't bottling it up, but this has got to stop. I'm still going to work, and am still doing everything I did before. I have good days and bad days, scary moments where my brain messes up and I get stuck, but I'm learning to deal with them, and I can deal with them."

"You shouldn't have to deal with them, though."

She sighs, "Perhaps, but this is the reality now. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, and you have every right to be pissed at me for that, but do not throw your life away."

"What's the point though? I want to be with you while you still have time."

Robin Todd Locksley—" Shit, he just got middle named, this is not going to be good. "—what did I say about the near future? You finish school in a month, I will still be the same me. I know I am only going to get worse, but don't act like I'm already there, it's insulting."

"I…"

"Sweetheart, I am fine for now, I am in stage four. I'm going to send you some research I've done, the resources I've found. For me at least, it helps me to understand the disease, so I know what to expect. Right now I have mild symptoms, let me prove it."

He's shaking his head though realizes she can't see it and says, "You don't need to do that."

But she starts anyway, "You were born on September 8, 1993 at 4:27 am. You crawled for the first time at four and half months old and scared the crap out of me, you were walking at nine months and running shortly after, giving me countless heart attacks. Your first word was more, when you were five you wanted to be a mad scientist and made it clear the mad was a key part of that. You got into trouble in your teen years, but you have turned it around and have wanted to be a lawyer ever since you got into trouble and Tuck Friar represented you, showing you what a lawyer could do. You have worked so hard for this and I will not let you throw that away. Your flight leaves in thirty-two days, and I will be the exact same when you get here, I promise you. So go enjoy your last events, then study hard and make me proud. Can you do that for me?"

He swallows heavily, emotion clogging his throat, but manages a, "I can do that for you."

"Good, that's my boy. I love you so so much. We're going to get through this, together. When you get here next month you'll see."

"I love you too, Mum."

He can practically hear her smile as she says, "I'm going to bed, you go get your butt in gear, okay?"

"I will, I promise."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Mum."

He doesn't particularly want to get his shit together, but she's asked it of him, and he won't break that promise, so starting tomorrow he's going back to class. He feels better having talked to her. As his phone dings with a message of links, he opens the first one cautiously. He hadn't done any research past the first google result of Alzheimer's, which he'd barely started before he had to stop because it felt like the walls were closing in. But that was a week ago, and she's said this will help, so he opens them, hoping she's right.

She was right that he needs to snap out of this, he can't keep this up, it's not healthy and it's not helping.

Tomorrow he will go to class, then he will take a nap or lay around watching TV or maybe even do work. What he is not going to do is sit around feeling sorry for himself and angry at the world, he's been doing that for a week, time to change things up. He'll watch funny videos or play with the cat or joke around with his parents, whatever is necessary to pull him out if he starts to go back into the funk. He can do that.

Saturday is the law school's formal and he has a ticket he was planning on letting go to waste, but he'll go, she would like that. He will dress up, hang out with his friends, maybe have too much to drink and try his hardest to enjoy himself.

He has a plan now, he just has to do it. For tonight, he's going to read the things his mum sent him, and if they make him more upset, that's okay, he has tonight to be upset about it, then he's letting it go and trying to move on.

It's the last event before she hunkers down and gets into exam mode. She didn't want to come after what happened with Robin on Thursday, but he was in class on Friday and said he hoped he see her there. He'd attempted to apologize, but she waved it off, she wasn't mad at him for lashing out at her, it was a natural response. She didn't need an apology, just to know that they were good, which they are.

With everything that had been going on she never got a dress and ended up on an impromptu shopping trip with Mal, who also needed one—which wasn't shocking because she always leaves things to the last minute. They were accompanied by Zelena and Kathryn, who needed shoes and accessories respectively. She ended up buying Z a dress though, after she watched her longingly eye this gold, strapless dress that came to her knees. She made her try it on, and when Z came out of the fitting room in it, she knew she had to get it for her. The sequins on it made it sparkle under the lights, and Z's face lit up when she saw herself in the mirror. She can't do much about her sister's financial situation, but she can spoil her with the abundance of funds she's been provided with that Z is unfairly denied.

Mal had ended up with a tight, knee-length dress, in navy blue with a floral lace overlay, quarter length sleeves, but a deep v neckline that accentuated her chest. Regina went the most formal (it is called formal, after all) and picked up a dress with a flowy, long royal blue skirt that billowed out, which gave her room to move in it. It had a beige top with large crystals adorning it, and the back was open, the top's material criss-crossing just above her waist. She had given up on finding something special, had resigned herself to a simple black dress she'd found in another store that was fine but didn't do anything for her when they tried one last place.

She's so happy they did because she looks incredible, she loves this dress. Robin had said he wanted to enjoy the night—that he's going to drink, flirt and try his hardest to stay in a good mindset—and she knows he will enjoy her in this.

He seems to be doing better. He told her he had a talk with his mom, and whatever she said, it's helped immensely. True to his word, he has been flirty; they've been trading increasingly racy texts as she gets ready that make it clear they are leaving together. She's eating it up, happy to see him in such high spirits after how down he's been. She knows it's possible he's faking it, but if so, he's doing it extremely well.

All the girls are getting ready at her place, and there are supplies strewn across her living room. Mal curls Kathryn's hair, while Regina does her own makeup, and Zelena sips the champagne Regina bought for this occasion.

It's going to be a good night, and she's super excited to see Robin in a tux. His mentioning he was wearing one was what had led them into a less than wholesome text conversation. She's already feeling that subtle anticipatory excitement coursing through her veins. She's not thinking about anything, not letting herself stress out about her feelings, Robin's or school. It's a night off from all of her stresses, and she's ready to indulge in every way.

She's two glasses in and feeling warm and tipsy from the combination of alcohol and anticipation when everyone is ready. They still have twenty minutes until they have to leave so they fill that time taking photos, good ones at first, then silly ones they all laugh over.

She's lucky to have this, all of this, she knows herself, knows without her friends and Robin she could have really isolated herself, made herself miserable by not taking days like this. She tells the girls as much, and it's far more sappy than she ever is, so she's not at all surprised when they (mostly Mal) start making fun of her for it.

The teasing lasts all the way through the cab ride to the venue, through coat check and into the actual room, finally ending when they saddle up at the bar to get drinks. Once they have their drinks—hers is a red wine that is so cheap tasting she's not sure she'll be able to stomach more than one—they find themselves a table.

Each table seats ten and they've already agreed to sit with Robin's crew. She anxiously awaits their arrival, knows from Robin that the guys got caught up in a drinking game, making them late. She shouldn't be watching the door, but she is, so she doesn't miss when he comes in.

Good god he looks fantastic, she's fairly certain her heart stops at the sight, and she can feel her cheeks heat from the intensity of her reaction, but damn she doesn't know that she's ever been more attracted to him than in this moment. He looks absolutely delicious in his crisp, white shirt and black tux and checkered bow tie. She's never been one for bow ties before, but Robin looks fucking hot in his, and she has the sudden image of her undoing it, and his shirt, his fly, of sinking to her knees, slipping his cock out and sucking him off with him still in the suit, or of him using that bow tie to bind her hands together and god…

She cannot stop staring, even when Mal comments, "I think we've lost her, earth to Regina, do you read me?"

It's only when Mal waves her hand in front of Regina's face that she reluctantly stops checking Robin out so she can scold her. "It's called I was ignoring you."

Mal rolls her eyes, "You looked like you were about five seconds from stripping him down and having your way with him right—"

"Mal!" she hisses.

"I mean he does clean up nice, but I was counting on a nice night with my friends not you off in lalaland dreaming of his dick."

"Jesus, Mal." Okay, yes, she was staring, and yes, she's very much looking forward to getting that suit off of him later, but that crude commentary wasn't necessary.

"I just tell it how it is."

She shakes her head knowing it's not worth battling over and just takes a sip of her drink, grimacing after she takes too big of a sip of the swill. She should just get a different glass, why is she suffering through this one? A glance at the bar shows the guys heading over and isn't that perfect?

"I can't drink this," she announces as she gets up.

She only half hears Zelena's, "My sister: the princess," as she walks away.

Robin's back is to her as she approaches, and maybe it's wrong to do, given their situation, but she can't resist wrapping her arms around his waist and whispering, "Hello, handsome," in his ear, grateful for the extra inches her heels provide.

He's turning as he tells her, "Hello, lo…" but his words stick when he sees her, his eyes raking over her body, taking her in in a way that sends a flash of heat through her.

"Holy christ, you're gorgeous," he breathes, and her stupid heart trips over itself. She knew he was going to find her attractive, she knows she looks damn good, but he just wants to fuck her, that's all, he made that clear, so she should not be getting all warm and tingly from the compliment.

"You look damn good yourself," she tells him as she checks him out yet again. He needs to dress like this every day, she'd never get anything done but hell it would be worth it.

He smirks knowingly, "You like it?"

She nods, and he steps closer, right up in her space as his lips find her ear and he whispers, "Well, perhaps I should leave it on when I tie you down tonight…"

She shivers, jesus fucking christ he is going to kill her tonight if he keeps up like that. She's already warm and damp, and she knows how much he can work her up with just his words. She won't survive it if he's going to be like that all night.

He knows what he's done to her, she can see it in his eyes, and wow what a change. He really does seem like his old self. She knows whatever his mom said to him wasn't a magic fix, that he's still hurting and dealing with that, but it almost seems like it was.

When the bartender asks what he can get them, Robin orders a beer and she's happy to find out the bar has another red wine.

Robin tries to pay for both but she nudges him out of the way, holding out her cash as the bartender laughs at them.

"Take it," she commands him, and Robin scowls when he takes it from her hand.

"I was going to get that," Robin complains.

"Too bad."

He laughs at her smug satisfaction, "You know I can just get the next one."

She chuckles, and tells him, "We'll see."

She manages to snag the next round too, then it's time for dinner, and there's wine on the table—that gross red, but the white is passable.

He's touchy feely throughout dinner, his hand on her leg, the small of her back, grasping hers, brushing her hair away from her face, an assortment of soft, intimate touches that she's trying really hard not to ascribe meaning to.

Their group takes photos between dinner and dessert, using the time where most people are finishing up or hitting the bar to find a spot along the window, getting what they can of the gorgeous river view in the photos. She's in a lot of pictures, with various people, but the one she loves most of all is of her and Robin, his arm around her shoulder, hers tucked around his waist. They fit together so well and they look like a couple, look like they came together, like the royal blue checks in his bowtie were intentional to match her, rather than a coincidence. She blames her bout of sappiness from earlier for her recurring thoughts of what will never be, and tells herself to snap out of it and enjoy what they do have, a great friendship and incredible sex.

When they all get back to the table after their photos, dessert is already there. She watches as Robin pauses after his first bite and starts to stare off into space, a frown starting to form. She sees the moment he catches himself, how he subtly shakes it off and returns to his dessert. She keeps her eye on him after that, and after he's finished, he starts to fade again.

"Are you okay?" she asks, knowing that deep down the answer is no, but that he's really trying to keep himself from the deep grief that's been surrounding him.

He blinks, then nods, "Yeah, um, yeah."

He's not though, his eyes have lost some of the sparkle they had gotten back, he's tenser than he's been all night, and the smile he's giving her is forced. "You don't seem it… is there anything I can do?"

He smiles at her more genuinely this time, "What you are doing is good. I just need a distraction when I start to…"

She's not sure at all that it's the right move but she places her hand midthigh and squeezes as she raises her eyebrows and questions innocently, "What kind of distraction?"

He laughs heartily at that, some of the tension bleeding out of him as he does. He grabs her hand, squeezes it in his, and jokingly raises it even higher up his leg.

"Mr. Locksley, whatever are you doing?"

He fakes innocence, "Nothing."

She smirks, as she tells him, "Sure," and stands up, dragging him toward the dance floor where she knows she can distract him well.

It starts out rather innocently, dancing playfully, him spinning her around, but when she turns and shimmies her ass toward him, he pulls her in, his hands resting on her waist as she grinds on him, loving the feel of his body against hers. His hands start to roam, nowhere inappropriate but enough to have her riling back up. A problem he only adds to when he rests his head on her shoulder, breathing onto the sensitive skin of her neck.

God, she wants him, wants to turn around, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless. But that's not what they do, at least not in public, and she's not one for public displays of affection even in dim lighting of the dance floor.

She frees herself from his embrace to freshen up, heading to the stairs, toward the private little bathroom she discovered accidentally after misunderstanding Mal's directions to the ladies' room earlier.

She doesn't realize Robin has followed her until he asks, "Where are you going?" as she opens the stairwell door.

She laughs, "There's a private stall down there."

His eyebrows raise, "Private," and she laughs again as she tells him, "Down boy," because that is not happening.

He follows her into the stairwell and she shakes her head at him, "Don't get any ideas, that's not happening."

"I never suggested it."

"You implied. And why else would you be following me?"

"For this," he says and closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her passionately. His hands grope her ass as hers wrap around his neck, tangling in his hair, as mouths and tongues meet over and over.

It's just supposed to be making out, a few kisses to get it out of their system but when he goes to pull away, she pulls him back by the lapels of his jacket and hums encouragingly when his lips find her neck.

She's starting to slicken up, and she can feel him half hard against her. She's obviously lost her goddamn mind but all she can think about is dragging him downstairs, how hot it would be to do it here, under everyone's noses. How amazing it would feel to release the tension that's been percolating between them. She's never done anything like that, but the idea excites her, and every new thing she's tried with Robin has been a resounding success.

She's almost afraid to voice it, thinks for a second that he might take offence to it, before she reminds herself that he's Robin and even if something she suggested disgusted him he'd never let it show. She nibbles along his jawline, lips tracing over the bits of exposed skin on his neck, careful not to get lipstick on his collar. He groans and bucks his hips into her as she nips under his chin and it sends a shiver down her, has her wanting him even more.

When he breathes, "Fuck, you gotta stop that," her mind is made up.

She pulls away so she can look him in the eye when she tells him, "We don't have to stop if you come with me."

He inhales sharply, his eyes widening as if he can't believe what she's suggesting (which is fair given how she reacted earlier), then nods eagerly.

They both rush down the stairs, him stopping her at the bottom to kiss her eagerly. He moans softly into the kiss and god, she needs him.

She manages to get them into the room between kisses, Robin flipping the lock before turning toward her hungrily. For the first time she regrets her dress, it's not at all appropriate for a bathroom quickie, Robin seeming to realize the same as his hands roam her back and start to bunch up her skirt, as she undoes his pants. Once his fly is undone, his erection pops out and he's so hard it makes her clench. Fuck, she did not think out the logistics of this, but they have to make it work somehow because she needs him. She pushes his pants and boxers down, then strokes over him, delighting in the way it makes him close his eyes and suck in a breath.

"Love, hold your skirt up for me," he commands, and she gasps as she does what he says.

His hand trails up her thigh, the sensitive skin coming alight under his teasing caress. He slides her panties down and moans, "God, you're wet," and yes, she is, the lewdness of what they are doing amping everything up. What is he waiting for?

He kisses her hard, making her moan when his fingers flick over her sensitive clit before sinking into her. They go in easy and he gives her a few testing thrusts that have her crying out.

It's good, but it's not what she wants.

"I want you inside me," she breathes between kisses and his answering groan goes right between her thighs.

She fights the urge to whimper when he pulls his fingers from her, knowing it's so he can give her what they need.

Then he freezes, his face falling as he rushes out, "I don't, fuck, I didn't think, I don't have anything…"

Oh, neither does she, but she's protected and she needs him. "Just pull out, I'll finish you with my mouth."

"Oh fuck, yes."

She leans herself against the wall for leverage, and he steps in, lifting her one leg, which she wraps around him as he starts to sink into her. He feels amazing, and she moans as he pushes all the way in, pausing in deep to kiss her hotly. God, this whole thing is so erotic, he feels so good, and she probably shouldn't moan as loud as she does when he starts to thrust, but fuck it, they are on another floor, and if she's really honest with herself, the thought of someone hearing them only makes her hotter.

He fucks her just like that for a few minutes and it's good, so good, and he's grinding his pelvis into her as best he can to get friction on her clit, but it's not quite enough. It will build and build her up, but she needs more to topple over. His breath is growing ragged against her skin, and she thinks he might be close so she tries to angle her hips differently, but it accomplishes nothing, and she wants, she needs, to come, is burning for it, his every thrust making the sweet ache grow. She wants to come on him, but that's not going to happen, not like this. She knows he'll finish her some other way, that she can come on his cock later, but it's hard to imagine not coming this way when he's buried inside her, grunting as his pleasure builds. He looks so fucking hot, his jacket, shirt and bow ties still on, his pants at his ankles.

He's not blind to her predicament, sighing as he asks, "This isn't enough for you, is it?"

She feels bad admitting it's not, more so when he pulls out of her. She didn't want him to stop.

"Turn around, love," he husks, "so I can rub your clit."

And oh, that's much better. She goes to plant herself against the wall but Robin urges her toward the sink, and she realizes why when she looks straight ahead into the mirror, after gathering her dress again, watching his face as he sinks back into her with a throaty moan. His one hand stays firmly planted on her hip, but the other comes around her front, blindly searching out her clit as he pushes right against her g-spot in a way that is fucking perfect. Christ, this is good.

She gasps and jerks when his fingers find her clit and start up firm circles against the sensitive knot.

"This better?" he pants out, and she nods as pleasure thrums inside her.

She locks eyes with him in the mirror and it only serves to make this all hotter. She wishes the front of her skirt wasn't down, that she could see him pumping in and out of her, but this is good, it's fantastic.

"God, yeah, like that," she moans as he firms up his thrusts, applying even more pressure to her g-spot in a way that ramps everything up, has tension coiling tighter in her gut.

"Is that what you need?" he asks, and she nods, clenching on him at a particularly strong surge of sensation, as he continues, "Oh fuck, that's… god, I love you."

She registers the words meaning just as he freezes up.

She whimpers at the sudden slowdown and he stutters out, "Uh, I mean I love this."

She doesn't quite know what to do, but he's slowed down, and she was so damn close, can get it back with a bit more, so she urges, "Fuck me harder," gasping when he does.

He firms up his circles on her clit and she feels everything growing tight, her middle tremouring as she grows closer. She takes a look at his face in the mirror again, sees how he's biting at his cheek, holding back for her; it's filthy, what they are doing, but she loves it.

"God, close," she breathes as another hot wave surges through her, driving her up more, making her even closer.

"Thank christ," he pants. "Me too. Let go for me, love. Want to feel you come hard on me, want to see your face as you spill over. I know you want it, come for me, come under everyone's nose."

That should not be so hot, but it is. She feels everything pull together, she tenses as the sensation rises, throwing her head back and crying out as it swamps her. It's intense, almost too much, pleasure consuming her as the pressure against her g-spot and her clit floods her with bliss that seems unending. Just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, the wave crests and she sucks in a breath as her heart pounds.

Robin's hand leaves her clit, his thrusts slowing as he grunts. She opens her eyes to see him biting down on his lip, clearly right there, desperately trying to hold back for her. She knows what she suggested, but she needs to catch her breath, and she wants to see him come, wants to watch him.

"Robin, come inside me," she urges, and he moans, managing to gasps out an 'are you sure?'

There are reasons they don't do this, but right now she doesn't care.

"Yes, I want you to," she tells him, and this time he doesn't fight her, just starts thrusting quickly into her like he was before. She watches as he tenses, his face screwing up before he loosens, spilling into her with a relieved cry mere seconds later. She doesn't know that she's ever intentionally watched him come, she usually keeps her eyes closed during sex, which is a shame because he looks so hot when he lets go.

"Christ," he breathes into her skin a moment later, "that was…"

"Yeah."

She feels him dribbling down her leg as he pulls out, turning her so they can trade slow lazy kisses. She doesn't fuck without a condom unless there's exclusivity, that was reckless and while she's sure Robin wouldn't have done it if he had something, it can't happen again unless it's just them. She hasn't slept with anyone other than him since they started and she's pretty sure it's the same for him, but that's something she'd need to have confirmed if they are going to keep doing this.

They've been down here for too long, so she starts to clean up as best she can before putting her underwear back on while he stumbles pulling his pants back up. She looks in the mirror to assess the damage, but other than the flush in her cheeks, she looks remarkably presentable for what just occurred. She grabs for her lipstick which is long gone, stopping at Robin's urging so he can give her a few soft kisses. She wipes all the lipstick off of his face, then reapplies. Robin's pants are a bit wrinkled from being on the floor, but nothing that would be noticeable unless you were really looking.

She can't believe they just did that... that she suggested it.

He pauses at the door when they are ready to leave, "About what I said—"

She'd almost forgotten, her brain too consumed with the pleasure that came after. She doesn't want to have this conversation, not now. "Don't worry, I know it was just the sex. Now let's go, we've been down here way too long not to rouse suspicion."

As it turns out they didn't, their friends at the table somehow oblivious to the fact that they hadn't been on the dancefloor the whole time. They get another drink, another round she manages to pay for to Robin's annoyance—he hasn't managed to get one all night and she's determined to keep it that way. From the bar they move back to their table sitting down with Killian, John and Kathryn, taking a quick break before getting back out on the dancefloor.

It's an all around good night, she dances with her girlfriends and some of the other guys, returning to Robin more often than not. She and Robin leave the afterparty early, and as they cab home he shares that this night, all of it, was exactly what he needed. He smirks when she reminds him it's not over yet, kissing her until their cab driver yells at him. Maybe they aren't together, and never will be, but he still always wants to go home with her, not anyone else, and for now, that's enough.

That last bit is based on an awesome prompt I received that I said I wanted to put in the story: Smutty prompt - Win, lose, law: Regina's reaction after Robin slips an "I love you" in the throes of passion. Thanks to whoever sent it because I had a great time with it.
Hoping to update more frequently from now on, just bear with me :)