Prompt 129: Domestic kitchen chores with Regina in one of Robin's shirts.
PLEASE READ THIS NOTE BEFORE YOU START THE CHAPTER: This is set in my Undertones verse, which you can find as chapter 102 in this compilation.
He must have done something to please the gods in another life.
He must have, because it's the only thing that would explain why he has somehow been deemed worthy of the sight that greets him when he walks into the kitchen that morning.
She's there, his Regina, ethereal and stunning as ever, clad in nothing but his white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled over her hands, top three buttons undone and straining deliciously over her chest as she pulls a carton of strawberries from his fridge and places it on the table.
Her headphones keep her blissfully unaware of his presence, and she dances her way around the place like she owns it, scrambling eggs and plating crispy bacon while humming to the beat of Walking on Sunshine.
Robin watches, entranced by her. He's spent his life studying and admiring the most beautiful works ever created, the world's most stunning pieces of art, and yet none of them comes close to Regina. Not Monet's Water Lilies, not Van Gogh's Starry Night, nor Renoir's Dance at Bougival. No masterpiece ever painted can compare to the beauty of the woman now cutting up strawberries in his kitchen.
He loves her. More than he ever thought he could love anyone.
Robin wraps his arms around her from behind when he reaches her, and hums his Good morning, gorgeous into her hair. It smells of apples, with a hint of last night's perfume still clinging to her. The best combination.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she greets, turning her head just enough to give him a quick kiss.
"I was looking for this," he tells her as he pulls on the hem of his shirt.
Regina is grinning when she turns around fully, biting her lower lip as she tells him, "Well, you found it."
Her hair is tousled, stray waves falling over her face. She's fresh faced and lovely, dark lashes fluttering, lips plump and tempting as ever.
"Looks much better on you," he admits.
"Looks much better on the floor," she taunts, winking at him.
Robin groans, touching her forehead with his as he mutters "Tease," into the space between them.
She laughs, then stands on her tiptoes and places a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose before turning back around and focusing on the strawberries once more.
"What's all this?" he asks her, burying his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder and kissing the sensitive skin there. Regina squirms in his hold. She's ticklish there, and he loves it.
"My stomach was growling while I was waiting for you to wake up," she answers, and there was a time, not too long ago, where things like that would've been a shy admission, accompanied by a slight blush on her cheeks. Now though, it's an unimportant detail, an occurrence deemed casual by how long they've been together.
The best seven months of his life.
He Mmms into her hair, kisses there for good measure, and just as he's about to offer his help, she pushes back, nudging her delectable rear against his morning erection and playfully chiding, "Pour the coffee, make yourself useful."
He chuckles, waiting for her to put the knife down before he turns her and presses her against the counter, his lips lost in the column of her throat, finding their way to her mouth and kissing there, too. Quick, sweet pecks that she tries to talk through, insisting that he sets to his task.
"Coffee— We need the— Mmm— Get the coffee," she says between kisses, "and after— after we eat we can— Mm— do more of this."
Robin gives her one last kiss, because he can, and gives her waist a little squeeze, staring into her eyes and smiling like an idiot before he moves away to grab their mugs with a low "As Her Majesty wishes."
She slaps his ass in retaliation, but she's grinning, biting her lower lip and shaking her head before she pops half a strawberry into her mouth and gestures for him to keep moving.
There's a tiny drop of the fruit's juice clinging to the corner of her mouth, and it sends a little thrill through his body, a pleasant shiver down his spine. Because he's the one who gets to kiss it off. Today and every day.
"What are you thinking?" Regina asks as she catches him staring, brow furrowed curiously.
Robin walks back to her, leans in and touches his lips to that little sweet drop, cradling her cheek with his right hand and summarizing his musings in one simple sentence.
"I love you."
Her expression softens then, as it always does when he says those words.
"I love you, too," she replies.
And what a lucky bastard he is, Robin realizes, because in this world full of breathtaking art, he's managed to capture the heart of the truest masterpiece of all.