fourth entry for the OQ prompt party. thursday.
159. peanut's first period and robin's the only one home.


Not So Little Anymore

His daughter is wonderful. Caring, kind, and exceptionally sweet when she's in the right mood. And sharp, witty or even hurtful when she's in a bad mood. She takes after her mothers – both of them, he knows, and Regina says she's actually much better than she could be, that Cora's genes only pop up every now and then, but still. She's only a preteen, Elise, and her temper has always been there, even more now that she's entering the hormonal period of her life.

Roland has been different, he thinks. Quiet, even too quiet sometimes, hidden in himself – and Regina was worried, didn't know how to deal with his moody days, when he'd get into his room without talking to anybody who wasn't Henry or sometimes his sister. Now he's nineteen, and Robin hopes they're out of the woods with him.

But Elise is a force of nature, and when she fights with Regina, oh, he's actually worried they'll burn down the house one day. They fought this morning, for example. Screams and slammed doors and all the like, and neither Regina nor Zelena seem able to dull Elise's temper when she's like this. That's usually his job – him and Roland and Henry, they're much practiced in the art of calming down the Mills women.

So Regina has gone to work, with a promise – that they'll talk later, and maybe Zelena will come for tea so she can back her up in a double scolding session, and Henry is out of town, and Roland is on an early shift at the Rabbit's Hole. So that leaves him and Elise alone, because she's home from school for the summer, plus his shift is tonight, so he fully intends to calm her down and make her see reason before the Mills sisters come home.

"Darling?" he knocks at the bathroom's door, where Regina has left her before storming off for the office – because of course they'd fight while one bathes and the other applies make-up, wouldn't want to waste a minute of the day. "Come on, I know you're angry with your mom, but it'll be okay. Can I come in?"

"No!" a high-pitched voice comes from inside, and he stops with a hand on the handle. "Wait outside."

"Okay," he sighs. "We can talk like this, I'll stay here. Please tell me what's wrong, tho."

"It was nothing," Elise answers, "it was stupid. I did something stupid and she's angry, that's all! But she started it, and now I don't want to talk to her anymore!"

"Now, now, peanut," he soothes, with the old nickname they gave her when she was little. "Your mom loves you, and you know it. Why did you fight? It was about magic, right?"

"I don't know!"

"Please, Elise, can I come in? I feel like an idiot, talking to you from here."

"No!"

"Why's that?"

"Because no. You can't. I… you can't."

"Is something wrong?"

He's starting to get worried, now. He brushed it off like it was a weird quirk of hers, but he suspects something is wrong if she doesn't let him in. This isn't about the fight anymore.

"I don't know!" she almost cries, in that panicked voice she has when she's scared or upset.

"Darling, please," he says, trying to sound rational. "Let me come in, and I promise we'll fix it. But let me in, you're scaring me."

Silence, and a long moment of quiet. Then, he hears the key twist in the knob.

He walks in slowly, worried, as he sees Elise's wide blue eyes looking at him, the damp mane of her ginger hair thrown behind her shoulder, and her too-big violet bathrobe engulfing her like a cloud.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asks, cupping her cheeks. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I don't think so," she says, but he still sees the wet trails of tears on her face. "I mean… mom told me about it but I don't know if this is it, I… I know it happens but I thought she was gonna be here when it happened and I fought with her and I don't remember what to do!" she sniffs, loudly, and turns away her face and blows her nose into the toilet paper.

"Baby, what are you talking about? What happened?"

Elise sits on the edge of the toilet bowl, sniffs once more, sadly. "Look into the tub."

Robin takes two steps – and it's there, the still-soapy water, with some leftover bubbles and… red.

"Is that – did you use a bath bomb, or is that blood?" he looks at her, his eyes immediately search for a bleeding cut, scanning her legs and arms.

"I think it's blood," she says, looking down. "I think it's… that thing mom told me about. You know, the girls thing."

"Oh you mean your period?" he asks, crouching down next to her. "Yes, I know about it, honey. What's the matter then?"

"I don't…" she averts her eyes, as if she's embarrassed. "Mom told me how, but it was like years ago and I don't remember… you know… how to use a…"

"… a tampon?" he asks, and she nods, looking sad. "Okay, let me think… mom doesn't get her period anymore, but I know for sure…" he shifts on the floor, and he opens the small cupboard under the sink, and yes, there they are, "that Grace left here some of her stuff here for emergencies, when she sleeps here with your brother… and she won't mind if we borrow one, and then I can go to the store and buy you some, alright?"

"Okay," she murmurs. "Thanks."

Robin rummages between the boxes, and finally finds the one he's been looking for. He goes for pads, because they'll be easier, and it's best to wait for Regina if Elise has to use tampons. "Here you go," he gives her the small package, with an encouraging smile. "I think this one will be okay. You don't have to worry about this, sweetheart. It's perfectly normal, and you're fine."

"Uh, yeah," she looks at it, still uncertain. "So I just… open it and it goes on my pants?"

"This one has a sticky bottom, yes," he says, "you follow the indications and it should be fine. I'll… I'll just go outside and wait for you, okay?"

She nods, so he gets up, goes out and waits for her to be ready. When she calls him in again, she's dressed but still has her hair wet. "Do you want me to dry your hair? Like we used to do when you were little?"

"Okay," she shrugs, trying to be cool about it, but he spots a smile. "Can you do the braid too?"

"I hope I still remember how," he smirks.

.

Regina comes home for lunch – it's unusual, but the town is slower in the summer, she doesn't have that much of work now that the Summer Festival has passed. She's still slightly angry with Elise – but when she enters, and Robin blocks her from making any noise, pressing a finger against his lips, she looks at him, puzzled.

"She's asleep," he says, motions at the couch.

"Asleep… now?"

"She had quite an adventure this morning," he tells her, as she sits at the table and slides off her jacket. Robin passes her a plate, and sits next to her as she starts eating. He tells her – that after she left he went to look for Elise and found her in panicking over her first period. "And I think she needed you," he smiles, as Regina looks up. "She was upset you weren't there, but I think I managed. Although then she got a stomach ache, so I got her on the couch with some medicine and a hot tea, but then she said she was too warm, so now she's asleep with a blanket around her stomach and in her swimsuit."

"Damn," Regina whispers. "Poor baby. Periods are a bitch in the summer… I'm sorry I wasn't here, you… I don't know, you can call me if it's an emergency, you know…"

"We managed, babe, don't worry," he squeezes her fingers. "But I think she needs her mom now. If you can take the afternoon off."

"Yes, of course," she murmurs, "I'm sorry I fought with her. I shouldn't… we're too similar, that's it," she says, pained. "I knew how to raise boys, but Elise… she's like me, and Zelena, and we clash because we're too damn stubborn…"

"You're a great mom," he tells her, leans on, kisses her cheek. "Now go, stay with her a bit."

"Thanks," she answers, getting up. Circles him from behind, him still sitting, and places her chin on his shoulder. "You're a great dad too. The children are lucky to have you." And I am too, she doesn't add, but she thinks he knows. Then she goes to find her daughter, thanking all her starts that she got a second chance with him, and that they found a balance in the process – which looks an awful lot like happiness.