Regina yawns.

The music from the party downstairs is still playing and she can still hear bits of drunken laughter and conversation—but despite how close the party is, it seems so far away.

She looks up at Robin, resting her chin on his chest, smiling as he grins down at her. "It's getting late—"

"We're well past late."

"Do you, um… do you need to go?" She bites down on her lip. She doesn't want him to go, but it's Christmas morning. "I'm sure Roland will be up early."

"Oh, I've still got a few hours."

"You do?"

"He'll sleep until the sun comes up."

"He won't be too excited to sleep?"

Robin laughs. "No, once he's out, he's out. The sun always wakes him though."

"So, until the sun rises…" Her voice trails up and her heart beats a little faster. "You could stay until then?"

Robin nods. "Well, I don't have any other plans for the earliest hours of the morning."

Her cheeks warm and her eyes momentarily cast down, watching as her fingers trace circles over his shirt. "Will you stay the night?" she asks, looking up at him. There's a part of her that expects him to say no, even though he's already passed up two opportunities to leave. "Will you stay with me?"

"I'd like that," he replies, grinning as he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "In fact, I can think of no better way to spend my night."

Holding her breath, she looks at him and slowly pulls away.

He's not like anyone she's ever been with—not since Daniel, anyway—and in that moment, she finds herself glad for all the other times he's gently turned her down.

For months now, they've been building up to this point, and she's glad for that build. Had he stayed the night that night she first asked him to, she doubts that she'd ever actually have gotten to know him, that something more than a physical attraction and general liking would have developed. Instead, she'd have done what she always did—she'd let him get close enough to momentarily ease her loneliness, and then it would have all fallen apart. After all, what did she really have to offer?

Most men of their generation already felt their lives had been stalled by the war, and they were overly eager for some sort of normalcy. But she was trapped in her marriage and as much as she wanted 'normal' for herself, she couldn't quite fathom a way to attain it, at least not in the near future—and as jaded as that was, she'd accepted that her fate was never her own.

Though Robin's situation was less complicated than hers, his life wasn't entirely his, either—his heart still belonged to his late wife and his time belonged to his son—and while he was willing to let her in, he'd never be entirely hers. For most, their situation would seem doomed; for most, what they each had to offer wouldn't be enough. There was a chance that something, somewhere down the line would change, but for the moment, whatever it was that was blooming between them was exactly what she needed—and she thought that just maybe they might be able to help each other heal.

"Come on," she murmurs, sitting up and taking him by the hand.

Wordlessly, he follows her down the long hall that leads to her bedroom.

For a moment, they both just stand there, staring at each other from across the room, waiting for the other to make that first move. Her stomach flutters as she locks the door, and a sly little smile edges over his lips as he watches her slip off her shoes and pull the pin from her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders—and before she can ask if he's sure, before she can remind him that after this happens, there's no going back or pretending whatever it is that's happening between them is merely friendship, he starts toward her.

When he reaches her, he pulls her in by the hip, tugging her closer as his other hand sweeps into her hair, smiling gently as he leans in for a kiss. Her arms link around his neck as she pushes herself closer, kissing him back as his hand slips around her hip in search of the zipper on the back of her dress.

Slowly—and a bit reluctantly—she pulls back and turns around, looking back at him from over her shoulder and watching as his eyes linger. He steps in and his lips settle at the crook of her neck, his fingers tugging down the zipper, making her dress loosen around her and a soft shiver run down her spine as the cool air comes in contact with her skin. Robin's hand slips inside of the dress, sliding around her to rest against the thin fabric of her step-in chemise, his fingers pressing and kneading as she wriggles out of the dress. As her dress pools at her feet, she leans back against his chest, her head turning to the side as she enjoys the warmth of his breath.

Turning back to him, she reaches up, placing both hands on the side of his face as she takes his lips in hers. His hand slides down past the small of her back as he breaks the kiss, letting his lips coast down her throat as they move to the other side of her neck, suckling gently at her skin as she tugs his shirt from his pants—and then her fingers wrap around the top button of his pants. Robin stops and looks down, then slowly casts his eyes back up to meet hers as she undoes the button. She grins as he offers her a coy little smile.

His pants loosen and she tugs his shirt over his head, dropping it down as she reaches for his hand to lead him to her bed. He sits down at the foot of it, letting his eyes linger over the thin white silk that covers her. His fingers touch the fabric as he reaches for her, and when she catches his hand he looks back up—and this time, it's her turn to offer a coy grin.

Sinking down in front of him, she rubs her hands over his knees and thighs, eventually finding herself rubbing over the hardening bulge inside his boxer shorts. He offers an encouraging little groan as she pulls him out, stroking her hand up and down his shaft a few times before taking him in her mouth. He groans again as her tongue flits around the tip of his cock and a shaky breath escapes him as her lips slowly slide down his shaft, taking him into her mouth completely.

His hand finds its way into her hair as he hardens in her mouth. When she finally pulls away from him, before she can even fully stand and gain her footing, Robin reaches for her, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pulls her down onto the bed with him. She laughs as he rolls on top of her, peppering her with kisses—and any glimmer of trepidation or uncertainty either of them might have had fades away.

Robin sits up and unbuttons her chemise and she wriggles out of it, leaving her completely naked as he pulls off his boxers and settles at her side.

She turns toward him, kissing him deeply as his hand settles at her abdomen. Slowly, his hand drifts between her legs. Instinctively, she shifts her hips, giving him more access to her and moaning against his mouth as his thumb finds a rhythm against her clit.

They stay like that for awhile, just kissing and stroking one another as the soft but distant music from the party below them plays. She lets out a little whimper as Robin pulls away from her, shifting himself to his feet—but as he parts her legs and leans in, she can't help but smile in anticipation of what's to come.

The first swipe of his tongue is electric. It's been so long since she's been with anyone, and longer since she's gotten much pleasure from it, so she lays back and enjoys it as he licks at her. His lips suck at her clit while two of his fingers pump in and out of her, eventually leaving her breathlessly satisfied as he pulls back, trailing kisses down her thighs.

She giggles softly as he stretches out beside her once more, his lips settling at the crook of her neck as he waits for her to come down from her high—and then, once she's ready, he rolls on top of her.

She lets out a low mmmm as he slips inside of her, slowly pushing in until he fills her. He mutters something breathy that she doesn't quite catch, but nonetheless, she smiles as she looks up at him with hooded eyes—he feels so damn good.

And then he begins to move, his thrusts slow at first—pulling nearly all the way out before easing back into her— then, as her hips begin to move in rhythm with his movements, he picks up the pace. Her legs wrap around him and her fingers dig into his back as she pulls him closer, whimpering and moaning as they pleasure one another.

A bit abruptly, his thrusts slow, and she looks to him, watching as he pulls himself up. He rubs his hands over her knees as he draws them up, grinning slyly as he stares down at her, letting his eyes linger over her naked body, taking in her beauty. She returns the grin as she reaches for her clit, rubbing her fingers in a circular motion as she watches him slip back into her as he continues to fuck her.

Finally they each reach that point where they can't hold back any longer. Her hips buck and her legs tighten, her head pressing back into her pillow as her breath grows harder and ragged as a second climax nears—and when he explodes inside of her, they each let out a satisfied moan. His movements slow as he rides out his own climax, and eventually, he collapses on top of her.

She kisses him again, her arms linking around his neck as her fingers rub at his hairline, but unlike before, it lacks urgency. It's soft and a little lazy, the sort of kiss that could seemingly go on forever.

But of course, it can't.

He rolls off of her and settles at her side, grinning as she cuddles into his side and pulls the thick blanket up around them.

It's hard to tell how much time has passed. The music downstairs seems to have quieted and her eyelids are growing heavy—but she's not quite ready to go to sleep. Robin's fingers rub gently at her skin, flitting up and down her arm, then back again, but their conversation has dwindled—and to her relief, the silence between them isn't uncomfortable.

Then, suddenly, everything seems to fade...

When her eyes flutter open, Robin's arms are no longer around her and from the window she can see that the sky is beginning to lighten. It's nearly daylight; it's nearly Christmas morning.

"Robin, are you—"

"I didn't mean to wake you."

She smiles groggily. "I'm glad I woke up. At least this way, I get to say Merry Christmas."

He pulls on his shirt and then turns himself toward her, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Merry Christmas."

"I'm glad you stayed."

He nods and reaches for his socks. "I am, too, I'm just sorry it has to end so soon."

"We'll see each other again."

He offers a smile that seems a little sad—or maybe he's just tired—as he nods. "Soon, I hope."

"Soon," she agrees as she lays back against the pillow, finding it difficult to keep her eyes open. "Maybe we could just happen to run into each other for a cup of coffee sometime next week?"

He hesitates, then nods again. "I'd very much like that." Her eyes flutter and she yawns; she's too tired to actually make a tentative plan, and he seems to sense that. Leaning in again, he presses a kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep. I'll show myself out."

Her eyes flutter and she nods. She doesn't remember anything after that...

When her eyes open again, she's alone in her room. The bed is messy and the pillow beside her is still indented from where Robin's head laid on it, and when she rolls over and draws in a breath, she can still smell the earthy smell of evergreen that she's come to associate with him.

She smiles wistfully as she gets out of bed, shivering as the cool air envelopes her naked body, and as she reaches for her robe, she notices an envelope propped up against the mirror of her dressing table with the words "Merry Christmas" written in Robin's handwriting. Her brow furrows, but a smile draws up at the corners of her mouth, remembering that he'd said something about a gift—and after tying her robe tight around her waist, she sits down at the dressing table and reaches for it.

Biting down on her lip, she slips her finger underneath the flap, ripping it open, and instead of card, she finds a note-an oddly folded note with the message on the exterior.

Forgive me, M'lady, for lying to you this morning when I said that we could meet for coffee later this week. What I couldn't tell you then is that you are in no position to make plans as you'll be out of the country and ringing in the new year with your boy. I can't wait to hear all about it over coffee, whenever you should return. You'll notice that the enclosed ticket is one way. I didn't want to rush you as this visit is long overdue. Send a note when you're ready to return—and if you should never return, I most certainly hope that you'll write.

All my love,

Robin

Her tears are immediate, and her hands shake as she unfolds his note—and just as he said, the paper is wrapped around a steerage ticket, stamped for an arrival at the Port of London in just four days, just in time to celebrate the new year. She stares at the black, boxy letters that spell out the name of the ocean liner at the top of the ticket, and for a moment, she feels like this has to be a part of some dream, like any moment the joy she feels will be taken away—after all, life has taught her to expect that.

Thinking of Robin, she pushes those thoughts away, not willing to let them ruin such a wonderful surprise. For too long she's let fear dictate what she does and what she allows herself to enjoy. She sets the ticket down and looks to the letter again, smiling gently as she reads his words—sweetly and selflessly restoring the notion that maybe she could find happiness again.

Truthfully, she can't quite tell if this is a beginning or an end—but for the moment, she decides not to dwell on that either. She's lived through enough to know that people come in and out of one another's lives when they're supposed to. Some get to stay, while others' stay is brief—only time would tell which it was. But regardless of how or when it ended, her time with Robin Locksley would remain one of the brightest spots in her life—and she hoped he'd be able to say the same.