Hey everyone! Been a good bit, huh? Last published story was 2017...oops. Life got crazy with school and work and...life. Coronacation has given me a little downtime to write, so here's an AU about Robin and Regina's quarantine.

Ch. 2 should be uploaded soon!

G.

Tuesday, 10:01 AM

Regina

"Okay, thank you for coming to this Zoom meeting, and I appreciate all of your feedback on the issues brought up today." I gather my papers up and tap them on my desk, stacking them neatly, "I expect to see everyone's projections on Thursday's Zoom session. Thank you all again, and I will 'see' you on Thursday." I say, giving a warm smile and leaving the meeting.

I hear the sound signifying I'm out of the meeting, let a sigh out, and crack my neck. Staying inside, sitting down all day, and not going to the gym has really hurt my body. Staring at this screen all day is not doing a great thing for my eyes, either.

My eyes roam the room as I massage my temples, and I find the balcony to be utterly magnetic today. The sun is shining beautifully, and with Boston's traffic diminished from most everyone staying at home, it's almost quiet outside apart from the birds and squirrels that I hear. Birds and squirrels—I haven't heard those since I moved away from home. The magnet of the outdoors pulls me to the sliding glass door. I open it and immediately take a fresh breath of air into my lungs, closing my eyes and enjoying the cool breeze. This feels nice, I think to myself.

Peaceful. Blissful. Everything nice I could think of after a somewhat stressful Zoom meeting and a very stressful few weeks. And then…

Bark. Bark. Arf. Bark.

My eyes shoot open and I snap my head to the right, looking to the next balcony where my neighbor was walking out from his apartment. The dog isn't shutting up. He's bringing his six-year-old out. Joy.

I turn to go back inside when I feel a frisbee whoosh by my head. I hear the plastic disc land behind me on my balcony, and I look over to see the boy frantically determining how he can get the frisbee back. "Roland, son, you will just have to hold on. I can't jump over and neither can you." He sounds stressed, too. Apparently homeschooling must be taking a toll on him. "I will go—no, you're the one who threw it over when I clearly told you not to bring it outside, so you will go over to the neighbor and ask her politely if you can have the frisbee back. If she says no, do not argue with her."

He looks over at me and nods, "Okay." He tells his dad, and they both go inside along with the yapping dog.

I hear a knock on the door a few seconds later, so I reach down for the frisbee, shut my balcony door behind me, and open the front door. "Here." I say bluntly as I hand the child his toy, "If you could get your dog to stop ruining my day, that would be nice." I direct towards the boy's father.

When they moved in with the dog, I knew this wouldn't be good for me. But since I was at work five days a week, almost all day, I didn't care too much. As long as they weren't loud at night and in the early mornings. On the weekends, I got up early to run, so it didn't bother me if they weren't the "sleep in" type. But now, we're all home. Everyone's home.

"Apologize to the lady." The man says to his boy, holding his head of curls in the palm of his hand. His fingers were clearly pressing against the boy's forehead, trying to get him to stay still. "Now, Roland."

"Sorry."

"That's fine. Like I said, no more barking and try to keep your stuff over there so you stop disturbing me." I say, shutting the door.

I grab an apple from my kitchen counter, fixing my suit before I sit down on the couch. A book? TV? A puzzle? What do people do at home all day? My work was finished for the day; Tuesdays are usually the days that I look over my client's immediate needs, but our clients don't have immediate needs right now. All the courts are closed. The firm has been slow, to say the least.

I feel a bit of a draft and look over to see I didn't shut the sliding door fully. Rising to my feet, I walk over and intend to shut it, but I see the beautiful magnet of the outdoors again. Maybe I'll give it another shot. I turn around and grab a chair, dragging it outside with me, as well as a book from the shelf that desperately needs dusted. Maybe in next week's quarantine chronicles I'll deep clean. I sit in the chair, prop my feet on the railing, and open to the first page of the book – Outlander – that I've already watched the TV show of.

A few sentences in, I'm distracted by the quaint sounds of the birds chirping. They sound so peaceful, like they're singing to me and only me.

Bark. Arf. BARK!

I growl under my breath and throw my book down on my lap, not even bothering to save the page since I'm only on page 2. "I thought I told you to keep the dog quiet!" I yell, looking over to the next-door balcony.

To my surprise, I only see the man. No dog. No boy. "I hate to burst your bubble, but that's our upstairs neighbor's dog barking." He corrects me, pointing and looking up above my head.

I'm surrounded by mutts. I say nothing, feeling my cheeks dare to redden from embarrassment of snapping at him.

"Besides, he's a dog. I can't help if he's trying to talk and just can't do it quietly."

He's leaning against his railing, and I suddenly realize I don't even know this man's name. I don't think "Daddy" is acceptable, since that's the only name I ever hear Roland call him. "Muzzles work great." I quip.

"I'd never muzzle my dog." He says, "You could just wear earplugs."

I open my book up again, "Well, let's just hope, instead, that things get back to normal and I'm always gone again."

Tuesday, 10:27 AM

Robin

"Papa, who was that lady?"

I shrug and walk over to the refrigerator, grabbing the orange juice and unscrewing the lid, "Our neighbor." I say, not wanting to answer anymore questions for the day. First-grade math was enough questions for me. "Our not-very-nice-Neighbor, so don't bother her anymore. Got it?"

"Got it." He says, pausing for a moment, "I'm going to go do my reading assignment outside."

"Leave the dog in here."

I hear him open the door and slide out before Rocko can slide out with him. I call his name and he runs to me, jumping straight to my lap. I pat his back a few times, "You can't help that you want to talk, even if you are annoying."

I turn the TV on. Some mindless entertainment ought to serve me well. "Oh my God, Kim, there are people dying." Nope. No Kardashians. "Hey y'all, it's Paula Dean!"

I look at Rocko and smirk, "We definitely don't need any cooking shows, do we, my boy? Quarantine fifteen is already alive and well."

Turns out, mindless entertainment isn't so easily found. I was just settling in to watching a re-run of a football match—the good kind of football, not the American kind—when I hear, "I'm sorry, ma'am! Please, please don't tell my papa! He's already so stressed!"

By the time I heard "don't tell my papa," I was at the door. When I heard the next sentence, I stop and rest my forehead against the door, fogging the glass up with my breath as I shut my eyes. "Marian…" I whisper, begging to know what she would have done if she were here for this quarantine. Being a single dad is hard, but being a single dad who lost his job and is teaching first grade to his son is even harder.

I slide the door open, looking to the left, "I'm sorry about whatever he did." I tell her. She didn't look as annoyed this time, maybe a little more shocked. Not softer. "What did you do? You were supposed to be reading."

"I asked her what her name was." Roland says, his voice breaking a little.

I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose, "Not everyone wants to be friends, my boy."