Regina is kissing him, is in that same sexy as sin red-banded bra thing as the last time, is dancing up on him, this time paired with denim shorts that her ass is a crime in. She is absolutely fucking irresistible right now, and he needs to resist her. He really wishes doing the right thing wasn't so damn hard.

But her lips are on his, so soft, wet and warm, and her arms are locked around his neck, her body flush with his and he can't think. His hands move to her waist of their own volition and she lets out a soft moan as she opens her mouth, and god, this is so wonderful. Wonderful, exquisite torture because he has to stop this, but it feels so damn good.

He absolutely should not be doing this, but when her tongue teases his lower lip he opens for her, and he shivers as she rakes her hand through his hair.

He's hard now, and fuck, fuck. This is so bad, so so bad. He has to stop this.

But god, the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she's moving against him, the way she sounds, it's all so unbearably hot. She is a damn good kisser and he has wanted this for so long, has pictured it a thousand times, has replayed their other kiss over and over, but his imagination doesn't do this justice.

He knows he needs to stop this, but that awful part of him is screaming at him to keep going, to indulge just a little longer, to grab ahold of her arse, to hoist her up against him, press her against the wall and bury himself inside her.

He absolutely hates to do it, but he pulls away, staggering back because he's not sure he can maintain his self-control if he stays close to her. She's a sight right now, all flushed, lips wet, eyes heavy-lidded and full of want.

"We shouldn't," he rasps, and god, he needs to get it together.

She steps toward him, her eyes glancing down his body and focusing on the embarrassing bulge in his pants.

"We should," she purrs, and her tone coupled with the smouldering look she gives him makes him hot all over.

"You're drunk," he says dumbly as he tries and fails to cool down.

"So are you. Let's have some fun. Come on, Robin."

Her tone is still sexy as sin, but her words are what he needs to get in control because he does not want to be fun, and sleeping with her would be a spectacularly bad idea, worse than the last time he kissed her. She'd regret it in the morning, just like the last time. He is not making that mistake again.

"No, it's not a good idea," he says, and her expression hardens.

"Why not?" she hisses, stepping toward him. Fuck, this is not going to be good.

"Because we're drunk and you are heartbroken."

"So… you've had sex with drunk women before. Which means it's not that, so it must be me."

"It's not, trust me."

She narrows her eyes. "God, Robin, I'm not a child, I can handle rejection, just admit it you don't want me."

"That's not it, at all."

"Yeah, whatever you say. You know I don't get you, Robin. When did you stop owning up to stuff? You didn't use to be like this."

"What on Earth are you talking about?" he asks, because he has no fucking clue what she is referring to and he can't very well blurt out his feelings now.

She rolls her eyes. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. I thought maybe you'd bring it up, apologize but maybe you didn't realize I knew, well, heads up, I do and I'm pissed at you. I never took you for such a coward."

"Regina, I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no idea what I supposedly did that has you so narked at me. How am I supposed to atone when I don't know what I did?"

"Stop playing dumb," she growls, then grabs her glass and stalks off.

"For fuck's sake, Regina," he says, turning so he can still see her even though she is not looking at him. "I am not playing anything, I have no clue what you are so upset about and honestly I'm quite peeved that you've been shutting me out because of whatever this is."

It all makes sense now, why she was avoiding him, her hesitation to see him, her discomfort on the drive. She's mad at him for not being direct when she's the one who's been mad at him for over a month and never once mentioned it.

She smacks her wine glass onto the counter hard enough to break it if it weren't plastic, then turns back to face him. "You told Daniel!" she yells, "Remember that, huh? You told him about my possible promotion then he… then we… That is why he broke up with me. I told you that in confidence and you betrayed me."

"Whoa, hang on. I didn't tell him that, I wouldn't. You know me better than that, come on."

"I thought I did," she says and turns her back to him once more, overfilling her wine glass.

She cannot be serious. He waits for her to turn back, ire rising as she slowly lifts her glass, sipping it without turning. It's only once she finally faces him again that he says, "I am telling you that it wasn't me."

She rolls her eyes as she sets her glass down on the counter beside her and leans onto it. "You were the only one who knew, it had to be you."

"Glad to know how little you think of me. You'd think after five years I'd have earned more trust. It's like you don't even know me and it's offensive to even suggest I would—"

"Oh, I am not suggesting anything, I know you did it, just admit it."

What the fuck is even happening, right now? She can't really mean this. She has to see how utterly ridiculous and offensive her accusation is. He's going to make her see it.

"So then you honestly think I did this. And then lied to you about it, and am continuing to lie to you? Do you really think that little of me?"

She throws her hands up. "For fuck's sake, Robin, just stop lying."

"I am not lying."

He is many things but he is not a liar, and he will not stand for being called one.

"Well then who told, huh? You honestly expect me to believe Daniel somehow found out."

His breath stutters out as he tries to calm his fury over the spurious accusation. It's through gritted teeth he says, "Someone else must have known."

"Me, you and Gold. I left you alone with Daniel at the closing party, and when I got back he was acting weird. Then I found out why when he broke my heart. That's what you wanted, isn't it? I can't figure out why though considering you won't even fuck me. So what, you didn't want me but you didn't want me with him?"

She is so damn wrong on so many fronts right now he can't even begin to correct it all. The first part is the most important, the other he's not touching, not now, maybe not ever at this rate. Not if she really thinks this little of him.

"So let me get this straight," he hisses, "not only are you accusing me of something I didn't do and of lying about it, but also of sabotaging your relationship to get in your pants? Do you not hear how ridiculous that is? How offensive! Jesus, Regina. How can you not know me?"

She shrugs. "Whatever your reason is it doesn't change the fact that you keep lying to me. Just give it up, Robin. You owe me that."

"No, we're not doing this. Go to bed, Regina," he yells. He cannot keep doing this or he will say something he regrets. She's not the only one with a temper. His may take longer to stoke, but it's burning now. "We'll talk again in the morning when you're sober."

She scoffs, "It won't change anything."

"Stop fucking baiting me, Regina, or I swear to god you will regret it."

"Or what? You'll yell at me, tear me apart? I've already lost everything. Have at it."

"I'm going for a fucking walk," he growls, even though it's the middle of the goddamn night. He cannot be in this room with her anymore.

"Oh, sure, walk away. Just leave. I don't need you. I told you not to come."

"Go. to. fucking. bed."

"This is my place, you can't fucking tell me what to do."

His fists clench and he huffs. He's so done with this conversation. He grabs his phone and starts putting on his shoes, grabbing them with far more force than is necessary. "I'm coming back, don't you dare lock me out. I will break a window to get back in. Don't test me."

She rolls her eyes and taunts, "Your actions broke my heart, what's a broken window, too? Why stop there?"

He storms out, slamming the door behind him, and he can't see a goddamn thing. He huffs and grumbles as he grabs his phone for a flashlight. He navigates his way down the driveway, speed walking in a fruitless effort to blow off some steam. When he reaches the end of the driveway he loops back, not wanting to add getting lost to this banner night.

He cannot believe she thinks so little of him.

It's not okay.

Robin gets up before Regina, still a little angry but mostly hurt that she thinks he would do that. He has never lied to her, and when he makes a mistake he owns up to it—she knows that.

He rummages around the kitchen until he finds coffee and filters, and is surprised by how sparse and disorganized the cabinets are. The pot he brews finishes off the bag, and when he eventually finds the garbage under the sink, he's both grossed out and concerned by what he finds. The bag is overfull but instead of replacing it Regina's just been throwing her trash haphazardly under the sink. He found the garbage bags earlier looking for the coffee, so he knows she's not out.

He noticed when he got in that this place was not up to her usual standards, and he shrugged it off as heartbreak or just taking a break, but he's worried now that there is something more going on. She hasn't been herself, and there's been something duller and flatter about her effect. Maybe he's just imagining it, maybe he's projecting, but he doesn't think he is.

His concern fuels his morning of clean up, and it only grows when he takes their empty wine bottle out and discovers her collection of empties.

Regina is not a drinker and there have to be twenty-five empty bottles there. Even if she has never taken her empties back, which given how many bags of trash and recycling are out here he thinks is likely, this is a staggering amount.

He was right to be concerned about her all this time, and now he wishes he'd pushed harder. She's hurting, which he expected, but struggling in a way he hadn't anticipated. He should have known, should have been here to help her, even when she didn't want it.

Except of course she wouldn't have allowed that because she was angry at him for something he didn't even do.

What a goddamn mess.

But that's probably to be expected when you fall in love with your not-at-all-single best friend.

God, he really hopes her sobriety this morning will make her realize how insane and offensive her accusation was. But even if she doesn't he's going to put that aside for now. She needs some help, she needs a friend, and he needs to be that for her. Maybe that's weak, but he can't bear the thought of leaving her in this much pain no matter how much she hurt him. He can't risk what could happen if he doesn't stay, if he abandons her at this low point.

It's not the first time he's been left hurt by drunken accusations, and he's fairly sure it won't be the last. Alcohol roused his father's temper, and he can't help but wonder if it's doing the same thing to Regina. While he knows she's not an alcoholic, that doesn't preclude her from using alcohol in problematic ways, and it's time to put a stop to that.

Robin has no doubt she'll be furious about this, but he dumps the two and a half bottles of wine that are left down the drain. Maybe the breakfast he makes using the scraps he finds will make up for that, but he doubts it. He fries up the last of a bag of frozen hashbrowns with a sketchy looking zucchini, half an onion and the last four eggs, toasts the last of the bread which will have to go with peanut butter because that's all there is.

They need to go grocery shopping, there's barely enough to make lunch today, and nothing nutritious. She may not be the cook he is, but she always maintained some semblance of nutrition. His worry grows with every new discovery.

Robin has finished up his breakfast by the time he hears Regina get up, and she doesn't come out, instead retreating to her room after using the washroom. He sighs, conflicted over what to do. He doesn't want to wake her if she's trying to go back to sleep, but it's eleven and he'd like to get out to the store sooner rather than later.

He knocks on her door softly, then says, "Regina, I'm going out to the grocery store. Breakfast is on the stove, do you want me to wrap it up and leave it in the fridge for you?"

She groans. "Yeah, whatever, let me sleep."

"Okay."

He tries not to let that worry him because they did drink a lot last night and she always gets nasty hangovers. He can't draw any conclusions from her dismissive manner. He shouldn't draw any conclusions from her dismissive manner.

That doesn't stop him from being nervous as hell when he gets back from the store. He doesn't want another fight, he's too worried about her to want to rehash that. He's expecting her to be out and ready to attack him, but instead she's still in bed. Either hiding out or really feeling her hangover.

She finally emerges from her room to get a glass of water after he's put everything away and is deciding what to make for lunch.

He asks her what she wants him to make, and her response shows that she's still mad. "I don't need you to baby me, I can take care of myself."

"Seriously, Regina, that's your response?" And okay, maybe he could have been nicer but he's getting sick of the attitude, and his nerves are shot. This is not how he pictured this trip going.

"You tossed out all of my wine. You're buying groceries since apparently I'm incapable."

Clearly she came out here earlier then for her to have noticed that. He tries not to think too hard about why she would have noticed that.

"I never said that," he reminds her because everything else he wants to say will start a fight and he cannot handle that again.

"You didn't have to," Regina hisses, "Your actions made it clear. What do you think gives you the right to come in here and get rid of my stuff? You don't see me going to your place and getting rid of your ugly ass couch."

On another occasion that comment would be funny, but it only serves to annoy him and he sighs, "I am trying to help you."

"Well, I don't need your help. I was doing perfectly fine on my own."

"I'm sorry but that's a lie, and clearly you do."

"Get out."

Robin's eyebrows raise. "What?"

She stares him down. "You heard me."

He rolls his eyes, and she glares back at him. "You can't be serious."

"Robin, you said if I didn't want you here you would leave. You can't seriously want to be here.

So go, I'll reimburse you for the groceries."

He shakes his head. "No. I'm not leaving."

Here comes that fight he didn't want, the one he should have known was inevitable.

Her eyes go wide. "You promised, remember?"

"That was before I got here."

"You are acting like you found a fucking opium den."

He loses all control and snaps, "You know I know what depression caves look like. And I haven't even seen your room. Let's not get started on the alcohol."

He sees her take a breath, watches as she bites back whatever snip was on the tip of her tongue, as she softens and steps toward him, reaching tentatively for him. "I am not your parents. Either of them. I've been having a hard time, yes, but I'm not, that's not. I'm okay, I'm going to be okay. You don't have to worry about me."

He leans into her touch, "I'll always worry about you, I've been so worried about you," he says with far too much honesty.

She smiles sadly. "I see why but I'm just heartbroken, and I'm doing what I can to get over it, but it's hard."

"Let me help you," he begs. "I need to help, please."

He's not sure how they got to this point, but he's been rubbed raw and he really needs his best friend right now. He needs the comfort of her touch, needs them to be okay. It's so weak, but there is too much going on right now, too much strife and worry and he cannot add being on the outs with Regina to that.

"I don't need to be fixed," she says seriously.

"I know that. I just want to help. When was the last time you danced? Actually danced?"

She sucks in a breath, her voice shaking as she tells him, "The choreography festival."

"That scares me," he tells her because fuck it, he's speaking his truth now. He's not sugar coating anything. He's done with that, it hasn't gotten him anywhere. "That really scares me."

She nods. "It scares me, too."

"You always dance," he points out as he sits down at the table with her following suit.

"I know. I just… I'm so tired all the time. I haven't been sleeping, I have been drinking too much, but it's not… I don't have a problem…"

"I know, I didn't think you did, I just…"

"You know what it can do."

He nods, "Yeah, I do." That's an understatement but getting into that is the last thing he needs right now. He knows his dad's potential reappearance is part of what has him so fraught, and this tension and conflict with Regina is not helping.

"I kept telling myself tomorrow, tomorrow I'll get my shit together, then tomorrow would come and I'd still feel like shit and so it would start all over again. The longer it went on the worse I felt, the more impossible it seemed and the less I cared. And that—" her voice cracks and she takes a second, "—scared me more than anything else."

He grabs her hand, and she grips his right back. "You are going to get through this, stronger than ever. But it's okay to not be okay for a while. I am not judging you. I do think dancing would help though, if only so you don't die the first week back. I know people go the whole summer without, but we've never."

"Yeah, I don't want to try to just get back into it the first week back…" she looks down at the floor as she whispers, "I've been dreading it."

His heart breaks for her, for all this pain she's been shouldering all alone, senselessly. This he can actually do something about.

"Hey, look at me," he waits until she does, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You said it's always tomorrow, so let's do it, tomorrow. You and me, I'll make us breakfast, we'll push the furniture out of the way and start training, ease you back in."

"You really want to do this?" she asks incredulously, "Even after last night?"

He can't begin to explain where he's at right now because he doesn't fully understand it. All he knows is more than anything he wants to help. She's in a bad place, and he can forgive an accusation that's without merit, especially one borne of alcohol and pain.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't miffed you thought I'd lie to you about something like that. But you are having a rough time, I want to be here for you more than anything else."

She stares at him for a moment before she sighs and says, "Okay, training tomorrow it is then. Fair warning, I'm going to bitch about it."

He chuckles, feeling some of his tension melt. "Noted. Like I said, we'll ease into it, it's been a couple of weeks for me as well, so we'll both be hurting two days from now."

She laughs, and comments dryly, "I hope you bought epsom salts."

He grimaces and is forced to admit. "I… did not. But I also somehow forgot to get coffee, which was most important, so I have to go back to the store anyway."

"I'll go with you, I need a couple of things, and it's nice to have the car and not spend a cab fare."

He doesn't want to, tenses as he does, but he has to ask, "You aren't buying more wine, are you?"

She shakes her head. "No. Please, I'll be hurting enough after these workouts, let's not add hangovers to the mix. I'm almost out of toothpaste though, and with you here we're going to need more soap."

"Are you saying I'm dirty?" he asks with mock offence because they both could use a lightening of the mood.

She laughs, "I wasn't, but maybe now I am."

He laughs too, and then they are both smiling and he feels the tightness in his chest loosen. It's all going to be okay. They are going to be okay. Things may be a little fucked up, but they'll get through them, together.