A/N:
Hello everyone! As always, a big thank you to those who have followed, favorited, and left reviews! You are really keeping me motivated to continue this little fic. I have tried to write a story that I would enjoy reading over morning coffee or just before bed: nothing too scary, or tragic, or dramatic, but rather a relaxing little bit of escapism, and hearing you comment and saying you are enjoying it in that way just makes me feel great, so thank you.
To answer a few of your questions:
I have approximately 14-15 chapters planned for the entire story. My goal is to update it once a week (around the weekends). Because of some recent travels, I haven't completely stuck to that schedule, but rest assured that I will continue to update as close to once a week as possible.
Paris is one of my favourite cities. I have visited it and am drawing extensively on my memories of walks to various parts of the city. One of my favorite sights in the region, Versailles, features heavily in this chapter. Paris felt like a city that would lend itself well to an AU Regina and Robin. And it's just fun to write about, and hopefully read about!
A few of you have asked if the rating will change to "M." My answer is… probably. And probably very soon. (As in, by the next chapter). I don't consider myself specialized in writing explicit romance. So many authors do a great job with that and, well, it's not really my thing, so it's probably not something that will feature prominently. With that said, I'll see where it goes and what makes sense for the story and characters. Robin and Regina are both adults, and it's an important part of any adult romantic relationship, so, yes, there is going to be some adult action when the time is right. For those of you who would rather avoid anything "M", I'll be sure to mention in the notes where you can expect that to start in case you'd rather skim over it and keep to the "T" stuff.
I hope that answers some of your questions. Happy reading!
Mid- morning on Wednesday, Regina received a text from Robin.
I'm about to have lunch in Montmartre - had a business meeting in this area earlier - care to join?
Regina hesitated, looking at her long to-do list for the week, but finally gave into the nervous, jittery, happy feeling that receiving the text had inspired in her. There was no point in trying to pretend: she did want to see him again.
"You look gorgeous," Robin said when she arrived at the cafe 20 minutes later, he rising up from a table to greet her.
"Oh," she said, looking down at herself uncertainly. "Thank you. My weekday work-from-home attire." She had on skinny black pants, flats, a smooth grey t-shirt and a vest. She'd thrown on a necklace and a ruby shade of lipstick, but hoped that the casual look would be okay for a mid-day lunch.
"I like it when you look like you," he said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled broadly at her.
She glanced down at the table, where the pages of a French newspaper that he'd been reading while waiting for her to arrive were scattered. Robin collected the pages and stacked them in the corner of the table.
"What is good here?" She asked, gazing at the day's menu written on a blackboard above the bar.
"I like the canard à l'orange, it is the specialty today, so it comes as a three-course lunch."
"Duck with orange sauce? It does sound good," she said, "If not slightly more extravagant than I'm used to having on Wednesdays at lunch."
"No reason we can't make a simple weekday lunch a little special."
She smiled. "Of course. Why not."
They enjoyed their lunch, eating the bright, flavourful food as their voices mingled with the sounds of many other people at other tables in the cozy cafe during the busy lunch hour. The time passed quickly, and before they knew it, Robin's phone was beeping every few seconds.
He sighed heavily as he read some of the messages on the screen. He apologized, explaining he had to check it since it was, technically, the middle of his workday.
"Don't worry," she said, eyeing her own phone while finishing the last of her duck and popping one last sauce-tinged piece of crusty bread into her mouth.
The workday would be beginning in New York soon; she had other things to think about, too.
"I'm sorry, I have to go," Robin said after reading some of the messages and standing up. "My company's rolling out a security update to some of the software this afternoon and it seems there are already issues."
He looked crestfallen that he had to leave, but she shook her head to assure him. "I understand completely. I really should be getting back, too."
He looked into her eyes - his eyes, his perfect blue eyes - she regretted he had to go.
"Thank you for joining me," he said.
"Any time," she said, rising to kiss him goodbye.
"Dessert hasn't come yet - why don't you stay? I've already taken care of the tab," Robin said, gently urging her to sit down again.
"It's okay. I can walk you out," she said.
He was already putting on his jacket, and leaned over to kiss her again, this time on the cheek.
"No. I really do have to run. Stay, enjoy the sweet, my sweet."
She grinned, her nose crinkling a bit. "That was a little cheesy."
He laughed. "Seriously darling, stay. I'll talk to you soon?"
Regina nodded and waved him goodbye, thanking him for the lunch. Moments later, the server brought her dessert, a small tarte aux framboises with just a dab of homemade vanilla ice cream on the side.
"Mmm," she said to herself, savouring the sweet, springtime flavours of the dish, suddenly glad she had stayed.
As she ate, she glanced at the newspaper that Robin had left behind on the table. The page on top was the cover of the business section, and she lazily glanced over the page, reading the title of the article on the page that he'd had open last.
Vallin helps pass controversial law protecting immigrant women's rights in the workplace, the headline said in French.
Regina began reading the article mainly to practice French (which she really needed to make time for more often), but also because she was curious about the woman in the picture: a very pretty, young woman named Vallin, a politician.
Regina glanced down at her phone, searching Vallin's name. She was a member of the French Parliament, quite outspoken, relatively young, and… extremely well dressed.
Perfect, thought Regina. The next subject for my profile on the best-dressed Parisian women.
She left the cafe after finishing her dessert, the page of the newspaper with Vallin in her bag, and went back to work.
..•..
"I'm not terribly domestic," Regina said to Emma one afternoon after running into her when they were both returning home and having invited her upstairs for a cappuccino.
She was quickly tidying up the table, where Henry had been doing his homework the previous night. Pencils, papers, books, and their glasses and plates were still there. She had neglected to clean up after a deadline kept her up well after Henry had gone to bed.
"It's really no problem, my apartment is in a constant mess, not close to as nice as yours," Emma said, plopping down at the table. "So, changing the subject, how's life with Robin going?"
"Good," admitted Regina, smiling as she thought of their lunch the other day. "But it's up to me to plan the next date. I am not entirely sure what to do for him… his date was so great, he took me to that amazing restaurant, introduced me to a friend… I just don't know."
Regina paced nervously around the kitchen as she supervised the coffee, her heels clicking against the wood floor.
Emma sighed. "You're overthinking it, just do something that reflects who you are."
"Oh sure, I'll just take him to a fashion photo shoot. I'm sure the man who always wears khaki green in some form or another will appreciate that."
Emma snorted a laugh, but quickly stifled it. "No, I mean, something you like, something you enjoy, something that will give him insight into why your work is meaningful to you."
"That is… well, not an entirely bad idea," Regina said, placing the two small cups of coffee in front of them.
..•..
They met at Versailles one Friday morning. It was the opposite of modest, and humble, and down-to-earth… everything that Regina associated with Robin. But it was one of her favorite parts of France, a place she remembered visiting and being inspired by as an art student. It was also one of the few attractions that wasn't tinged with memories with Daniel, as the two of them had never gone there together.
She had been looking forward to seeing it again, and regretted slightly that she wasn't taking Henry with her. She would bring him back another time.
She saw Robin waiting for her across the street from the train station, exactly where they'd agreed to meet.
"Good morning," Regina said, smiling as she greeted him with a kiss, his arms stretched out to welcome her in an embrace.
As they kissed for a little longer than maybe they should have while standing in the middle of the sidewalk, she felt his hands migrating slightly lower on her back, and despite herself, she pulled back, smiling playfully. "Not quite yet. I do have to focus on work this afternoon, you know."
"Oh?" He pulled back from her, surprised. "So this is a working date?"
"It is. I am shooting a street style feature, which means I find people on the sidewalks, stop them, ask them if they want to be on a fashion website, ask them a bit about themselves and their personal style, and photograph them exactly as they are. I have been photographing people around Paris, but I thought someplace different would be good today."
"Well, it is lovely here," Robin said, glancing around them.
"Have you ever been to Versailles?"
"I have not."
"Really? Well, then before I get into work, let's see it. It's one of my favorite places… as an art student, I spent hours wandering its halls and admiring the perfect gardens, the textures of the wallpapers and fabrics, the staggering beautiful of the paintings on its ceilings, and then the hall of mirrors… which is always crowded with tourists, but spectacular nonetheless," said Regina.
They walked towards the massive grounds of Versailles, and stood in a (mercifully short, it was still a little ahead of peak tourist season), line to pay their entrance to get into the beautifully preserved palace.
Wandering through the endless rooms, one connected to the next, they chatted about the extravagance and history of the storied place.
"It's like a movie set," Robin said, clearly impressed at its grandeur.
"It's an important part of French history," said Regina.
"The extravagance of the royal court at that time was ridiculous, you have to admit," grumbled Robin.
"It was," said Regina cautiously. "But they certainly left their mark on art and fashion and music, and had an impact on the arts even after the Revolution."
They finished their tour of the palace by walking through the crowded Hall of Mirrors.
"It is impressive," Robin admitted, as they navigated through the hoards of tourists snapping photographs. "Can you imagine the meetings that took place here? The treaty that ended World War I was signed in this room…"
"It might be extravagant, but you have to admit, it's an unforgettable location that has witnessed some unforgettable things," Regina said.
Tiring of the crowds (the palace was getting busier as the day wore on), Regina guided him outside to the back end of the spectacular palace, where they purchased tickets to enter the palace grounds.
"This is what feels most like a movie set to me. It's hard to believe all of this is real," Regina said, walking across the massive expanse of perfectly-manicured land towards an incredible fountain. They gazed out at the land before them: endless gardens, statues, a long canal and at the far end, another fountain.
The day was warm, the sun was out, and there was a slight breeze in the air.
"Where to next, my lady?" Robin said in a faux-aristocratic, yet charming, voice, offering her his arm.
"I thought we might have some refreshments?" said Regina, adding that she did, in fact, have to begin some of her work after.
They wandered for a bit, past manicured hedges, breathtaking marble statues, deep into the gardens of Versailles, which eventually gave way to a woodsier setting.
"Feeling more at home here?" Regina teased, noting that Robin relaxed after they'd left behind the perfectly curated lawns and parterres of flowers, the endless gardens of roses and peonies and topiaries that were closer to the palace, and headed into the woods that surrounded the "grand canal," or the channel of water that ran the expanse of the lawns.
Robin nodded. "This is much more my style. No need for manicured lawns, the woods is beautiful."
He then turned to Regina. "And I'm in beautiful company."
She bit her bottom lip, and Robin stopped, stepped forward, and gently guided her closer to him, his right hand threading through her hair. He leaned in and they kissed deeply, surrounded by nothing but the sunlight filtering through the towering trees, the sounds of the chirping birds in the background.
"I think it's time for a bite to eat," Regina said softly a few minutes later, pulling away.
Robin hummed, and gave her one last kiss. "I suppose," he whispered, reluctantly drawing away.
There were food carts around the grounds of Versailles, and after consulting a map that they'd picked up when they first arrived, they went to a place where a few men with carts were selling sandwiches made with crisp, crusty baguettes and hard apple ciders… a slightly alcoholic drink that was more exciting than bottles of water.
Regina had planned that they might get something to eat during their visit to the gardens, and so had tucked an old plaid blanket in her camera bag. They found a flat piece of grass and spread the blanket out under a massive tree, and ate their lunch, watching as people wandered through the paths and grassy clearings, including an impeccably-dressed woman with a massive, gorgeous dog with long hair.
"She would be perfect for my piece," said Regina, studying the woman for a moment then pulling her camera out of its case, turning it on and adjusting the dials as she stood up and gracefully strode toward the lady with the dog.
..•..
Robin watched her as she spoke with the woman, the two chatting politely. After a few moments, he saw the other woman nod at her, smile in agreement, and then made the large dog sit at her heels. Regina stepped back, focused her camera and then snapped a few photos. She then returned to the woman and they chatted a bit longer, and she appeared to record something that they were saying on her iPhone.
Robin gazed admiringly at her as she worked: Regina was a small woman - as she sat next to him, relaxing, during lunch, he'd noted her delicate, feminine hands, her slender arms and legs, elegant dark features, her soft, ever-so-perfect curves - but then when she was hard at work, she seemed larger-than-life when she was in her element, glamorous as she took photos, confidently conversing with others, determinedly writing notes on a tiny notebook or on her phone.
How did this woman like him? He wondered. How had he been lucky enough to find her? Would he like her as much if he knew about his muddy, stupid past? How would he ever keep her interested in him?
After she shook hands with the other woman, gave her a business card and they parted, he smiled at her as she walked back towards him, the bright afternoon sun filtering through the trees and catching the slightly reddish hues in her dark hair as she sat down to finish her sandwich. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her beautiful rosy lips (well, he did want something more, but that would not be decent in public), but he let her finish her sandwich and tell him about the woman she'd just spoken to before he found himself worshiping those lips again.
..•..
They walked to Le Petit Trianon after lunch, which was the country home of Marie Antoinette. That, too, was open to the public, and the two of them wandered through the "small" estate.
"This is slightly more on my scale, though still a little grand for my tastes," Robin said, standing in the foyer.
"Don't move in," Regina teased. "I'm not sure the royal family would appreciate that, and I hear they are fond of the guillotine."
"Right. I'll keep that in mind."
Afterwards, they wandered the grounds closer to the Petit Trianon, Regina admiring the Regina gardens and then a little gazebo, near which she found an art student sketching out a drawing for a class project. She photographed the girl, who was dressed in head-to-toe black and red, a contrast with the light colours of the gardens. Robin again admired Regina as she worked.
They left the grounds of Versailles after that, deciding to walk the sidewalks of the nearby town of Versailles, where Regina found more people to photograph and talk to, some turning her down and others graciously allowing them to photograph her, posing next to street signs, outside of cafes or near old stone walls.
"Let me carry your camera bag," he offered as she began her work.
"Oh," Regina said, surprised. "You don't have to."
"Please," he insisted, and she relented and handed it to her. He then trailed after her, watching her, admiring her as she continued to work confidently, camera in hand.
The afternoon wore into evening, but the long days meant the sun was still up.
"Time to call it a day?" Robin asked her eventually.
Regina nodded, and took back her bag to put away her camera. "I believe I can now. Thank you for being a wonderful assistant."
"My pleasure. Now, let me treat you to a glass of wine, darling."
She raised her eyebrows. "It wasn't in my plans for the date…"
"Ah, but you have had a long day, and I could take over from here, if you'd like?"
Regina smiled and relaxed. "All right, then. I have to admit I didn't exactly have a lot of plans for afterwards, I figured you might be tired of wandering after me for so long."
"I'm not. You've kept me completely under your spell," he said, kissing her on the lips again.
They sat down at an outdoor cafe, crowded with others who were chatting and drinking merrily after a busy Friday. They both ordered the same kind of red wine, and then Robin requested a little plate of cheeses and small appetizers to accompany their drinks.
But before their wine was served, Regina pointed out a woman who was sitting at a table nearby, to her left. She was an older woman, very small, with the most elegant outfit: black pants, heels, a soft lavender shirt and an elegant deep lavender beret on her perfectly-coiffed silver-white hair. She was very pretty. She easily could have been 85, and Regina watched as she talked, her movements graceful as she sipped a glass of white wine and took bites of a small slice of cake, and spoke with another woman who was decades younger than her.
"That woman is so elegant. I want to speak with her," she said.
Regina stood up and gently approached the woman, who greeted her and smiled warmly, inviting her to sit with her at her table. Robin, left alone, observed the process.
"How flattering, thank you," he heard the woman say to Regina in a strangely-accented French after a few moments.
Regina took a few photos of the woman, and then spoke with her a bit more. Robin couldn't hear what they were saying, but then Regina moved back to their table a few minutes later.
"See, this is why I love my job," she sighed, taking the glass of red that had been delivered by the waiter while she was speaking with the other woman.
"She was an activist, from South America, visiting France on vacation this week. She's ninety - ninety years old - yet so elegant. She said fashion has always been everything to her. It gave her the confidence to participate in political activism back at a time when it wasn't common for women to do so," she smiled, looking at the screen of her camera and smiling at the photographs she had just taken of the woman.
"You know," Robin said, popping an olive into his mouth as he regarded her, thinking about his day spent observing her work. "I always thought of fashion as something that was just… unnecessary. To get people to buy, buy, buy. But seeing you working on it today, I can see that it's different. I can see that it's meaningful in a way I'd never considered."
He looked at her, holding his gaze into her eyes for a moment, then sighed, dropping his eyes to his lap and playing with a thumb nervously.
"I had a mother who was very into fashion. The latest styles, she took all kinds of trips to London and Paris. As a kid, I thought she was so selfish. She seemed to care more about shopping and dressing up and going to fancy parties with my father than she did me. I suppose that also sounds a little selfish… but I just didn't get it, all that fuss, when I was a boy."
Regina raised her eyebrows. So, that explains Robin's slight disdain over her preoccupation with fancy dresses and shoes.
"I suppose it can seem frivolous at times," she conceded. "But it means a lot to a lot of women. That's why I enjoy doing these street style features, and also the style profiles of different women. I have one coming up next week with a French politician that I'm very much looking forward to working on. I like to know why women wear what they wear, and what it means to them. To me, fashion is more than an image or a trend, it's a part of who people are. It tells me about… their heart."
"I can see that. I - I do love my mother, don't get me wrong," said Robin. "But my parents, they were very distracted by material luxuries. My father had made a fair bit of money, quickly, and my parents enjoyed it. Sometimes more than I think they should have. I resented them."
"Well, fashion sometimes invokes excessive materialism and consumerism," Regina admitted, shifting nervously and taking another sip from her wine. "And it can provide a disguise, yes, and a distraction from the more important things in life. But that's not what I love about it. I love that it provides an expression of oneself, and, as that woman just told me, it has the tremendous power to instil confidence."
Robin smiled, and held his glass up to her. "Point well taken."
Regina looked at her glass of wine, seeing her reflection on its shiny surface, watching the red liquid slowly trail its way down the side of the glass. "I have to admit, I thought you might have found me a bit… shallow, when we first met."
"Hmm, well, I did, to be honest," he said.
She looked at his eyes, studying his expression, pursing her lips.
He reached for her hand, and she let him clasp it between his two big, strong, slightly callused hands.
"But I stand corrected," he said moments later. "Your perspective on this art form is one that is very important."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"So, my lady," Robin raised his glass. "To a successful day of fashion journalism, and enlightening a poorly-dressed old computer and medieval geek."
She laughed, and they clinked glasses.
"You're not poorly dressed," she said, smiling at him.
He raised his eyebrows, and glanced down at his shirt before looking her in the eyes. "I have been trying."
..•..
Later, after they'd finished their wine and snacks and settled their bill, they found themselves back on the sidewalk and Regina wondered nervously what was next.
"Its strange, how opulent the Palace of Versailles is, but walking around here, around this town, it seems so normal and unremarkable," she said, slightly anxious as they wandered aimlessly down a sidewalk.
Robin stopped on the sidewalk, and turned to her, his hand resting gently on her waist.
"You are a very visual person," he said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "But stop looking around you for a moment, and worrying about where we are, or thinking about your work, or what we should do next, and just feel what is happening."
He leaned in to kiss her then, and she closed her eyes, letting go of her thoughts and enjoying his kisses, which started sweet and gentle but quickly deepened, growing more urgent. All of her senses faded - the lights before her eyes, the sounds of the street and people talking on the sidewalk - there was only her, and Robin, on an evening when neither of them wanted to let go of the other.
Robin eventually pulled away, and spoke to her in a low voice.
"Now. As for what is next, I doubt the French will think too fondly of a Brit and American crashing at Versailles for the night. So, tell me, do you want to go home now - or can I take you to my place?"
She kissed him again, then whispered, "I think you know the answer."