A smile tugs into Robin's lips as his eyes flutter open, memories of the previous evening flooding his thoughts. He thinks of Regina's lips crashing down into his, the tenderness of her touch as her fingers flitted over his skin, the scent of her perfume as his lips settled at the crook of her neck, and the way her laugh rang out, low and sultry. There had been so many times—too many times—when he'd dreamt of her, imagining what it'd be like to fall asleep with her head on his shoulder, to wake up with her cuddled into his last time they'd been this way together seemed like a lifetime ago, and it'd just been once—a fleeting moment that he couldn't properly enjoy, knowing that it'd likely be the last.

For a while, he lies still, not wanting to disturb her, not ready to leave her, not ready for this moment to pass.

He watches as the sky begins to lighten, shades of pink and yellow cutting through the darkness, eventually overtaking it as the sun rises high. It's beautiful and bittersweet.

"How long have you been awake?" she asks groggily, her voice cutting into the silence.

Robin clears his throat. "Not long… er, well, at least I don't think it's been that long."

Regina laughs. "You don't think?" Sheepishly, he grins, but before he can reply, Regina rolls over and presses a soft kiss to his lips. "Do you always wake up before the sun?"

"Sometimes," he says, reaching up and stroking his fingers through her hair. "I like to, but it doesn't always work out that way. Sometimes I'm only getting in as the sun's rising."

"Hmm…"

Robin's brow arches as Regina hums her response. "You suddenly look… pensive."

"Oh I'm sure I look absolutely frightful."

"No."

"You don't need to flatter me," she tells him, giggling softly as she bites down onto her lip. "You've already gotten me into bed."

Robin laughs, too. "Well, I suppose that's true, but… I enjoy flattering you."

Regina's brow cocks. "Well, I won't say no to it, even if it's entirely unnecessary." He watches as her fingers trace swirls over his bare chest. "But, um… I was just thinking that… despite sharing every detail of our lives for the last couple of years, we don't actually know the day-to-day details."

"What do you want to know? I'm an open book."

"You didn't strike me as a morning person."

"Don't I?" Robin asks, a little chuckle rising into his voice. "Is that a deal breaker for you?"

Regina bites down on her lip. "Well that depends," she says, her fingers still tracing circles over his chest. "Will I be required to wake early?"

"Mm, I don't think so."

Regina's eyes narrow. "Alright, I suppose I can live with that."

"One of the best parts of getting up early is starting the day with a good breakfast and a hot cup of coffee," he tells her. "Nothing beats it."

"I… usually have toast."

"Just toast?"

"Sometimes, I'll have a scone, or a muffin or… whatever I can just grab."

Robin's eyes narrow. "Do you not enjoy breakfast?"

"Is that a deal breaker for you?" Regina giggles and he can't help but smile as she continues, "I wouldn't say that I don't enjoy breakfast. I just… don't see the point of stressing myself out first thing in the morning."

"Ah—"

"When I lived here, I'd have a proper breakfast because it was always just there, waiting for me. But since leaving I've become more of a toast-and-tea kind of girl."

"Mal didn't have a cook?"

"Oh, no, she did. He just… worked her hours."

"Ah—right, so he catered to her bohemian lifestyle."

"Very much so."

"Well, that's a relief because that could be a dealbreaker for me. I'm just not sure I could be with a person who didn't enjoy a good breakfast." A little scoff escapes her as her jaw drops open, and he's quick to press a kiss to her forehead. "Speaking of breakfast, I'm famished."

"Oh—"

"Let me make us something? You've got a busy day ahead."

Regina frowns and sighs, rolling away from him and staring up at the ceiling. "I almost forgot."

Robin feels a twinge of guilt as Regina's demeanor changes.

He watches her closely, noticing the way her shoulder tense and her jaw tightens. Instinctively, he wants to tell her that everything will be alright, that she doesn't need to worry. But he doesn't because he can't. He has no idea what the day has in store for her or what changes it'll hurl at her. "Perhaps you can tell me about it tonight," he says, rolling onto his side and propping his head up in his hand. "Assuming you're up for another night cap?"

Regina's head turns on the pillow, and slowly, a smile tugs on to her lips. "I'd like that."

"Good," he murmurs, leaning in and pecking her lips. "I'll wear my circus shorts. If it turns out you've had a shit day, they'll cheer you right up."

"Oh good. Something to look forward to," she giggles as she rolls toward him, kissing him as her hand slips into his hair.

It takes everything in him to pull away, to not allow the kiss to lead to anything more. And when he does, he hears a little whimper escape her, her bottom lip pouting out with disappointment.

"Why don't you get ready, and I'll go down to the kitchen and fix up some breakfast." A smile twists onto his lips. "Do you like pancakes?"

"I do," she tells him, smiling too. "They're also Henry's favorite."

"Well, then that settles it—pancakes it is."

With that, he gets out of bed and quickly pulls on his pants and undershirt, watching as Regina sits up and tucks the blanket across her chest and beneath her arms—perhaps tomorrow, they can spend the morning in bed, he thinks.

He finds his shirt and pulls it on, his stomach fluttering with the excited understanding that moments like this—when she was getting dressed for the day, and he was preparing breakfast—could soon be commonplace.

Quietly, he makes his way down to the kitchen. The hallways are eerily quiet and oddly still. He'd always found the old gothic Victorian house to be unwelcoming but without its bustling staff, without the ornate decor that adorned the rooms, it feels like something from a Henry James novel—creepy and unwelcoming, haunted by memories of what used to be. He wonders what Regina will do with it, assuming she gets to keep it, assuming she wants it at all.

He feels better when he reaches the kitchen, he feels a bit more relaxed, a bit more in his element. Raiding the pantry, he finds what he needs and busies himself in the kitchen preparing the meal—he's so caught up in it, he doesn't hear Regina join him.

She giggles when she startles him, then joins him at the counter, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his arm.

"I've got quite a feast prepared, M'lady."

"M'lady?" She repeats, her brow arching as she looks up at him. "So formal."

"It's meant to be endearing."

"It is—even if it's formal."

Leaning in, he kisses her quickly before returning to the stove. "I fried up some eggs and bacon—"

"I had bacon?"

"Smoked, in the pantry."

"I had no idea." Her brow furrows as she looks sheepishly up at him. "Is it… still good? I don't know the last time—"

"The beautiful thing about smoked meat is that it lasts a long time," Robin tells her. "You know, the pioneers used to hang it in the rafters of—"

His voice halts as he bends to check the toast, watching as smoke wafts up from the top of the toaster. "Why did you stop there? And…why on Earth would someone hang meat from their ceiling? Seems like a great way to attract bugs."

Robin laughs. "Well, it's better than bears eating it." Gently, he pries the toaster open, pulling out the toast with a pair of tongs. "Your preferred breakfast item," he tells her, holding up the piece of toast. "Toasted, but not even a smidge burned."

"I'm impressed."

"I am, too," he tells her, a sheepish grin tugging up at the corner of his mouth as he points to the electric toaster. "I was absolutely convinced that thing was going to burn me and your toast."

"But it didn't."

"It doesn't seem like anything did," she tells him, taking a step in and resting her head on his shoulder. "It all smells fantastic. I'm impressed."

"There's coffee, too—and a plate in the warmer for a Henry."

Regina smiles, her dark eyes glittering as she watches him. "That's thoughtful."

"Well, I couldn't make your boy's favorite and not make him up a plate."

"He'll be delighted. He's been stuck with my—"

Her voice halts and he feels her body tense, likely wondering how she'll explain the breakfast plate to Henry. "Say a neighbor brought it over as a 'welcome back breakfast," he tells her, sensing her uneasiness of explaining the plate that she clearly didn't make to Henry.

"That… nearly sounds plausible."

"Or, you know, you can say you cooked it."

"Telling him a house elf cooked it while we were sleeping is more believable."

Robin laughs, momentarily turning his attention to the toast that's beginning to smoke in the toaster. "Jam or butter?"

"How about both?"

"How decadent," he muses, cutting the slice in two, placing one half in her plate and another on his. "Maybe I'll try it, too."

She grins as he places the plates on the counter where they sat the night before. "You didn't have to do all of this, you know."

"I wanted to," he cuts in. "I… enjoy cooking for people I care for, and like I said, I love a good breakfast."

Regina's cheeks flush slightly, and for a moment it looks like she's going to say something. But she stays quiet, just watching him spread the butter and jam onto their toast.

There's a calmness about it, a quiet comfort—and he hopes it's what she needs to quell her nerves and make what's expected to be a difficult day more tolerable.