It's 3 o'clock in the morning and Robin has yet to have fallen asleep. Instead, he's laying down flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, mapping out the designs, as if they are constellations. He thinks that he might have found one pattern that looks like a bow and arrow but that could just be the fatigue talking. He's tired, he really is, but no matter how hard he tries to submit to it, his eyes remain open.
It's dead silent throughout the rest of the apartment. John hasn't come home yet to turn in and Robin has no idea when he'll be back. Perhaps, he got lucky. He has been excelling in his pick up lessons with Robin. Thankfully, he'd learned the art of not being so crass or condescending when it comes to women.
At least one of them is getting laid.
It probably isn't his most brilliant idea, but Robin still wrestles himself out of bed, picks up his phone and treks into the kitchen for a beer. He pops the cap off the bottle and sits at the dining room table, laying his phone down in front of him. He goes for his email first but he hasn't received any new ones since the one from Ashley, the secretary, which was labeled FIRST DAY NOTICE and merely reminded them to turn in their paperwork before noon.
Honestly, choosing his email was probably in poor taste, because he's trying to forget that his first day is tomorrow and that he's a nervous wreck. Sure, five year olds aren't that difficult to impress but it's nevertheless unnerving. This is not his first job but the last place he worked at was a nightmare and he's fairly terrified that this could go similarly. Not that the people at Blanchard Orchard (sans a certain raven haired beauty) aren't really nice people and the environment isn't wonderful but his fears are as they are and can be justified based on his past experience.
He just doesn't want to cock this up because he can finally settle and do something for himself—get out from underneath his parent's shadows.
He goes for Facebook next, which is littered with several new friend requests, all from the female population at Blanchard Orchard and something Robin can't help but smirk at. But he'd promised himself that he isn't going to worm his way through the staff because that would be the number one way on how to fuck the whole thing up—literally and figuratively. Decidedly, it's best to keep his dating pool outside the realm of Blanchard Orchard Elementary School.
But friends, he will indeed make, so he clicks the accept button for each of his new requests, and not without taking a peek at each of their profiles to see what they're about. Surprisingly, the majority of them are in relationships of some nature. At least, they don't disappoint, they're just like he expected them to be.
He sighs to himself. This is exactly why he does what he does.
The fun of looking at his coworkers, and newfound Facebook friends, becomes tiring rather quickly and he resigns that task but not before a new temptation creeps into his head. His thumbs think for themselves as they type away in the search bar: Regina Mills.
He thinks to take a look at her pictures but ultimately decides against it, thinking that it might be a bit too weird. Although, if he's being honest, it's all a bit strange and very uncharacteristic of Robin Locksley, who doesn't care to get to know women because they fly in one day and then they're out the next.
This is a mistake.
He chooses to back out then and find something else entertaining on his cell phone besides Facebook stalking.
His fingers lightly skim over the screen trying to choose something. He decides on calling John, just to see, though it's doubtful that he'll answer, and with any hope for good reason. He clicks down to the L but misses slightly and lands in the M section instead.
The first name he sees is Marian Maiden. He purses his lips at the sight, wondering if she misses him or if she's moved on in her life. A brief thought flies across his mind to call her, she'd be awake now and maybe they could chat—they're civilized enough for that, right?
No maybe it's a bad idea.
So he resigns, but not before his fingers fumble and his phone dances in his hands momentarily then lands on the table with a thud. He curses as he lifts it, worried that the screen may have cracked. Thankfully, it hadn't, but that is the least of his worries as he realizes that his phone is calling someone. He releases a stream of panicked 'shit's' while he quickly taps away at the end call button.
Hopefully, she would understand that it was a mistake and that he hadn't meant to call her and wouldn't call back to confirm that. He sighs in relief as he sets his phone back down gently on the table and continually thanks his lucky stars that he she hadn't answered.
But his relief goes as quickly as it came because, as he takes another sip of beer, his phone rings. He jumps at first, since he really didn't think that she would call back. The panic seeps back into him as he debates on whether or not to answer, but he finds himself swiftly tapping the green button before he can change his own mind.
"Uh, hello?" he begins nervously.
"And just why are you calling me at 3 AM, thief?" he hears her voice
He goes quiet momentarily, contemplating how he should answer. It could just be dignified with the truth that he accidentally called her while attempting to call John, but truthfully that's not the answer he wants to give because then she'll just hang up and that'll be the extent of their conversation.
Of course, it's only because it's three in the morning and he's wide awake with the desperation to talk to just about anyone. His desire does not extend solely to Regina Mills.
"Hello?" her voice lilts through the receiver again.
"Yeah, I'm here," he answers blankly as he twists his beer bottle around at the neck.
"Then answer my question."
He selects avoidance instead, "Why're you up at 3 AM?"
"That's none of your business," she retorts and he only grins, picturing her tilting her face up to the ceiling with an air that he's surprised that doesn't have her floating right into the sky.
"Then why did you bother calling back?"
"Because you called me first."
"Yes, but you could've easily assumed it was a mistake and asked me the next day."
"Was it?"
"It's need to know."
She scoffs into the receiver and adds, "So why are you up at 3AM?"
"Couldn't sleep," he answers simply.
"An insomniac artist—how very cliché of you."
"Ah, yes, but if I'm a walking cliché, then as the story goes, you're supposed to be the girl that's obsessed with me in the end."
"Oh please, as if."
There's another brief pause before they speak again, and at the same time no less, but Robin, being the gentleman that he is concedes and allows her to speak.
"And just why can't you sleep?" Her voice is dripping with fatigue and he feels a twinge of worry that she's awake at such a late (early?) hour when it's clear that she needs rest. What could be keeping her up like that? He's just about to concernedly instruct her to go to get the sleep she certainly needs but she speaks again before he can utter a single syllable, "What also need to know?"
"Nope."
"Then what is it?"
He sighs, feeling somewhat silly over the whole thing and perhaps he is. What's so terrifying about five year olds? He thinks to just tell her that it really is insomnia or something, like this is a commonality for him but he finds that he doesn't want to lie to her. It's like he feels like that he can tell her anything, like he feels no apprehension about honesty.
"Nerves," his answer is blunt.
"For tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Ah yes, because five year olds are savage," she jokes.
"Hey, they can be. They bite and can be very mean." He pouts despite the fact that she can't see it, though he likes to think that she's imagining the way he looks, just in the way he's doing for her now. (Simply because he's a visual learner, of course). Besides, he's sure that the overall demeanor attributes to his tone so that she can sense it.
"Oh get a grip." Even though she tries to sound tough and knowing, Robin can hear the smile in her voice—or is that just what he's picturing? It's of no consequence because her voice is sobered regardless with her next phrase, "You're going to be fine."
"Yeah?"
"Can't be worse than my first day," she offers.
He chuckles softly, intrigued by the suggestion. "How'd that go?"
She sighs gently into the phone. "So I had this kid Owen, sweet kid, but incredibly paranoid. Swore all day that I'd hurt his dad and hid him because he wasn't there. I don't know why he thought that but he told me that several times during the day and then he proceeded to have a meltdown as we were walking to recess because he thought I was taking him to his dad."
Robin can't help but start laughing and only manages to laugh harder when she mutters that it wasn't funny into the receiver. It sounds like a nightmare and he tells her so, which she confirms wholeheartedly.
"What did you do?"
"Sat him with the principal. He was a troubled kid, it turns out. His dad was the only one raising him after his mom left them and he just had a lot of trust issues whenever his dad was out of sight. He was a really smart kid, just had a lot of baggage." The fatigue in her voice gets heavier with each syllable.
He just can't hang up though.
"Baggage for a second grader?" he jests.
"You'd be surprised."
"No, I've come across a few five year olds with some baggage, unfortunately."
That truth is rather heartbreaking to him. Children should never have to grow up faster than they're supposed to, and yet, with each passing day the kids seem to be acting a whole lot older than they really are. Perhaps, it makes him sound like an 80 year old cliché (lovely- now she's got him stuck on that) but what happened to children just playing in parks until the late evening when they were called in for dinner, and then they would go to bed without a care in the world. Now, it seems five is the new twenty and it's only getting worse. Thankfully, he probably won't spawn any rugrats of his own to expose to all of that. That's, at least, one good thing that can come out of his choices.
"So is this your first American teaching job?" She breaks the new silence that has befallen them.
"Yes and no. I got a long term sub job in LA for a first grade position but this is my first actual full time teaching job here in the states."
"Oh, maybe you should be scared," she teases.
"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence there."
"Listen to me," her voice sterns up a bit. "You're going to be just fine. Take a deep breath and relax. As long as you don't lose a kid or get one killed, you'll be okay. You're gonna get the hang of the way things run at Blanchard Orchard easily. Just don't get overwhelmed and don't be intimidated. Put on a good smile and it'll all work out."
"Fake it until you make it, huh?"
"I'm sure being fake is something you've probably mastered."
"I'd like to call it charm instead," he answers airily.
She gives a boisterous laugh in return but says nothing else. He thinks he hears her yawn. Truthfully, he's dying to know what's nagging her and keeping her and what can be done to remedy that. Of course, he chalks that up to mere curiosity and nothing more, but still the fact remains.
"You should get some sleep," he tells her and he knows there is a bit too much concern to his voice but he doesn't care at this point.
"So should you."
"Well then give me a reason not to stay up, and hang up and go to bed." It's risky because he knows that, at least, part of him doesn't want her to take on that dare, but at the same time, another part of him wants her to because she needs to rest. It doesn't matter since it's out but that doesn't stop his mind from ricocheting back and forth between the two.
"And if I don't?" she counters.
"Then you'll be really tired."
"So will you."
Stubborn, stubborn woman, he smirks to himself. "So don't let me be."
"You're the one who's worried so much, so you don't let me."
"I'm not worried," he corrects.
"Then why haven't you just hung up?"
"Why haven't you?" he retorts.
"Is this the game we're gonna play all night?"
His voice picks up a sing-songy sound when he says, "You could end it quite easily by going to bed."
"There's no guarantee that I will go to bed when this phone call ends, anyway." He loathes the way his heart lifts at the idea that she is fighting to stay on the phone, especially when he knows that she's only doing it because she can't accept losing or being wrong (he can tell that much about her—she's just the type) and that's exactly what he's doing, right? Right?
He just wants to win. That's it. That's all there is.
His ulterior motives win out though. "But, at least, there's a chance right?"
She's quiet then, aside from a defeated sigh. "No, you might bore me to sleep here first. Might as well exhaust that option, then move on."
"So you want to stay on the phone with me?"
"No."
"Okay…" he trails off.
He knows he's got her because now she has to choose between her dislike for him and her need to be right. There's an extended pause before she finally sighs and gives into his suggestion.
"Yeah I guess you really should give into your weakness and go to bed so you can face the terrifying five year old contingent tomorrow."
"Yep, I can't believe you kept me up like this. Calling me at three in the morning. What's wrong with you?"
She scoffs, "Shut up, you called me first."
"You called back."
She sighs exasperatedly. "Goodnight thief."
He grins at the sound of his triumph coming from her lips but and bids her goodnight with a thank you for the advice as a follow up.
"Yeah, don't screw up."
"Ha, thanks."
"Mhm. I would say anytime but that's never going to happen again so there you have it." Her voice is terse and businesslike but Robin likes it all the more. She's just resisting, that's all.
"We'll see about that. But for now, sleep well darling. Goodnight."
Darling?
Did he just call her darling? No, he simply imagined it—oh, but that would be worse because that means he wants to call her darling, which he doesn't because that's not how he sees her. Not to mention, there's nothing 'darling' about a high maintenance, control freak who expects nothing but her way and is incredibly uncongenial.
She doesn't hang up and he's certain that it's because she's also musing on the darling dub she just received. He wonders if she'll ask or tease or pass it off. Frankly, he doesn't really have a decent way out of this.
"Goodnight, Robin." And then there's a beeping in his ear to announce the end of the call.
Robin.
She said his name.
He's smiling stupidly to himself as he goes to drink the last of his beer, which had all but gone totally flat but he downs it anyway, tosses it in the trash and then heads to his room where he can finally get some sleep.
[:]
It's 7:05 when he's walking in the doors of Blanchard Orchard Elementary School, which could either lead to the best or the worst day of his entire life. He's a bundle of nerves just as before, butterflies clogging up every single one of his airways. Oh, who was he to think that he could do this? Maybe his old codger of a father was right.
Please, come off it son, you're making a mistake, you can go gallivanting all over the states if you wish but you know it will only end up being a fools' errand.
And staying here, father, would be a fool's end.
He's being silly and he knows it, he can't help but let it nag at him incessantly as he clocks in and makes his way into the rather chilly conference room—it seems the central cooling system has been repaired.
There's light chatter all over and he nods at the few who greet him as he walks in but he's distracted by his search for one face in particular. And she's there; off in the far corner of the room, Kathryn bunched right up next to her side and chatting away in her ear. Her arms are crossed loosely just under the curve of her breasts, those very breasts that are pillowing ever so slightly out of the top of her yellow blouse and are giving ample distraction to him. Perhaps, she senses him looking at her because her eyes move suddenly to meet with his (thankfully, he'd raised them in time so that she isn't aware how he was staring unsubtly at her chest—or did she?) She gives a short and simple nod, which he returns in like manner and then turns to say something at Kathryn.
In order to prevent any embarrassment of getting caught looking at her any further, he scans the room, trying to take in all the faces he still needs to familiarize himself with, and that was going to be an entirely difficult task in and of itself because his memory is shit. He's sure that by the time the school year is over, he'll have called every staff member something other than their actual name. It's none too disconcerting, they'll learn to love it and think of it endearingly, right?
He spots his chance to start his own flow when he spots a young woman standing along the wall adjacent to his own. She's staring at something, he notices, and follows her line of sight to another girl on the same wall as him. She's beautiful, the girl next to him (and the girl who's staring but he's now also transfixed by the other), with her copper red hair and truly stunning blue eyes that seem so bright, had the lights gone out, she could still illuminate the room. Then there's her skin, porcelain white and so clear, it's nearly transparent. He can't blame the girl for staring. Maybe she's jealous of her or something because the man she's talking to isn't a terrible looking chap either, but the longing in the first girl's eyes indicate something completely different.
Robin can't fight his feet, as they move in the direction of the lonely girl, who doesn't even notice him approaching as she's driven to distraction over her distant crush.
"You should tell her you know," he speaks quietly to her once he's settled beside her.
She jumps, torn away from her reverie. She straightens and unwillingly rips her gaze away to look over to Robin. "I don't think it's that simple."
"Oh?" he inquires. "Telling someone that you love, that you love them is incredibly simple."
He's not sure about how much he really believes that. There's nothing simple about love. A couple can't just be blissfully happy because one of them has to go and fuck it up somehow because they can't keep things as they are. They fear stagnation and just have to search for a way to fix, which inevitably leads to a major disaster and subsequently either ends in divorce/breakup or continues miserably for the rest of their lives.
How had he gotten so cynical?
And if he is so cynical, why is he giving hopelessly romantic advice to someone?
"Not when they don't love you in the same way," her voice is softer and trails off to an even softer sound as she glances downward at her toes.
"And how do you know?"
"Well, for starters, she's married. You see that guy over there that she's talking to?" she quickly points and then moves her hand away so that no one else will see. "That's her husband, Phillip Prince."
Oh. She's not gay.
Robin's uncertain of what to say then because, well what do you say to unrequited love?
"Maybe she doesn't know," he offers.
The girl just scoffs out a 'yeah right' and digs her shoe into the carpet.
"How long've you had a thing for her?"
She doesn't speak immediately, and instead, allows for her light brown skin to warm at the cheeks, while she pushes a thread of jet black hair behind her ear. "Four years, going on five," she finally sighs.
Robin lets out soft descending whistle.
"Yeah."
"And you haven't met anyone new?"
She shakes her head solemnly twice and then looks back over at the girl in the distance.
"Well maybe it's time you looked?"
"Maybe."
Robin then pivots into her line of sight, blocking her gaze at the other girl. His chest swells and he extends a hand to hers. "And with that, I'd love to be of assistance. Robin Locksley, at your service."
"Magnolia Ping." She shakes his hand, adding, "You'd really do that?"
"Of course," he answers kindly, giving a final squeeze to her hand.
"Thank you, Robin. I think you'll be a great here." She finishes with a kind smile.
His heart soars and he's pretty sure it lands on his face for the entire world to see how happy he is to hear such a thing. He goes to thank her but a different voice fills the space, calling the room together. As his eyes lift, they somehow find brown ones, and not the ones right in front of him, but rather the ones across the way belonging to one Regina Mills. She quickly darts her eyes away and he wonders how long she's been looking but he knows he needs to focus because Mr. Nolan is now speaking, welcoming them all back for the school year and reminding them of certain procedures.
Robin feels his pulse quickening at the idea that this is finally happening.
His heartbeat doesn't even get a chance to slow down before David is telling them to enjoy their first day back at Blanchard Orchard and to make it the great start to the school year.
Here goes nothing.
[:]
The start of his day goes smoothly.
He has 17 kids and every one of them was present that morning. He has the smallest amount and he assumes it was chosen that way for good reason by Mr. Nolan. It also seems like Mr. Nolan chose the nicest children out of the student pot to give him because they were really great that morning when he sat them down on the carpet and introduced himself and his aide Ms. Lucas, who appears to be like a grouchy old bat, but was nevertheless fantastic with the children.
She was particularly good at keeping them in order when he was assigning seats to each child. He'd have them walk up to him, while he was sitting 'crisscross apple sauce' on the carpet, and tell him their name and he would answer with a chair that they were to sit in. All the while, Ms. Lucas was keeping them quiet and fussing away at them to be still.
But it was nice. He finally has a classroom of his own, where he has the freedom to teach these children and be on his own. His parents could totally shove it.
He'd have to remember to give them a ring to rub it all in their faces.
But perhaps he should wait until he's gotten through the day.
And it's good he's kept that promise to himself because the day does come with a few downsides. By activity time, he's had two kids cry and one kid wet himself and he's entirely exhausted but he continuously reminds himself that it's all worth it.
Honestly, he's the only one to blame. Had he not stayed up until past 3 in the morning talking with Regina, he might not be so tired and overwhelmed. But now's his chance; he can finally take a breath after he drops them off. There's not much for him to do during his planning period, what with it being the first day and all, and him having already planned out the entire first two weeks—okay, so maybe last night wasn't his first 3 AM session but he just wanted everything to be perfect.
Maybe he'll just rest his eyes for a second. He'll set his alarm so that he'll get his kids on time and then take a very, very, very short cat nap.
But his planning is to no avail because as soon as he allows for his eyelids to flutter shut, a voice comes over his intercom.
"Mr. Locksley?"
He tosses his head back lazily, attempting to stifle the groan clawing its way out of his throat. "Yes?"
"You're needed in the office."
His heart stops like anyone's would. It was just like being in school, when he was called to the principal's office and a feeling of dread overwhelmed him even though he knew that he was a prime student who didn't really break the rules (that often) and yet he was always worried that he was getting caught with something. Hopefully, this time would bear similar fruit and be a pleasant visit rather than a hostile one.
"Be right there," he hollers back.
"Okay, and can you go get Ms. Mills, she's out at recess and forgot the walkie."
His heart drops for a second. Why would they need the two of them? Did they hear about the bar? What is he saying—they can't get in any trouble for what happened at the bar. They didn't do anything wrong. Maybe a parent complained or something. Or maybe Regina complained about him. She wouldn't do that, though. They're on good terms nearly friendly terms, he asserts. There's no way she'd slander him now. Oh, he's being foolish again; it's probably just to discuss the mural. Perhaps, the art teacher has a question.
He takes a deep breath. "Yep!"
The other end doesn't answer with anything but a click Robin heaves himself out of his chair to go fetch Regina.
[:]
He likes watching her get irritated with him, he's understood that much. Every time that she sighs or rolls her eyes at him, he can't help but grin because of it, she's cute when she's angry. Not that he thinks she's cute or anything. Bloody hell, who's he kidding? She is a gorgeous woman, that's empirical fact, regardless of the circumstances, but just because he wants to shag her, does not mean that he likes her or anything.
So he denies the flutter in his chest saying otherwise when she greets him, "Couldn't handle them after all or did you need more advice for your plethora of problems?"
"Yeah actually," he starts, as he plops down next to her on the bench, "you know, I do have this major problem."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, this girl, she's so mean and she practically bullies me all the time and I don't know why." He mocks a sadness that has her fighting a smile.
"Really, and who is this girl?"
He leans in closer to her face, as if he's telling a secret. "I don't know that I should tell you, she might bully you next."
"I feel like I could take her," she jests.
"I don't know," he shifts his pretense to dubiousness. "She's really mean and is notorious for making people cry, especially little children… oh, and boyfriends."
"Shut up," she shoves him.
He guesses she must have reconciled with her lover because the joke remains light but it's a fleeting thought, he doesn't care about her 'boyfriend.'
"See!" he exclaims. "She pushes people! She's downright dreadful!"
"Maybe you deserved it," she tilts her nose up.
"Wow," he drawls. "And then she blames me. Is anyone else seeing this?"
He glances around and sees another teacher scolding a student across the playground. The little kid is red in the face, tears streaming down and looking up hopelessly at the woman. What a wonderful first day for them…
His focus returns quickly to Regina though, who he can swear just moved closer to him. And who's he to protest? So he lets her and then does a little bit of shifting himself to be closer. Her palm is laid flat on the bench and he hadn't paid mind to the fact that his own hand had settled not far from hers in the same position.
He inches it a little closer to hers.
Gods, he likes how the sunlight catches her hair.
Closer.
A breeze comes—her perfume smells amazing.
Did she just move closer?
Wait, what is he supposed to be doing again?
Who cares, it's his turn to move closer and now there is but a sliver of space between their hands, he can practically feel the chill from hers. But his next and final move is not one just for warming her hand. Their entire sides are now linked to one another, the side of his hand seaming together with hers, shoulders and arms solidly pressed together and even their calves are side by side.
What is he doing?
But instead of fighting against it, as he should be, he only furthers their link by slipping his leg beneath hers so that their calves are now intertwined. He thinks he feels her leg tighten slightly around his and his breathing has suddenly become a bit more labored.
"Robin?" she asks mindlessly
"Hm?" he hums.
"What are you doing out here?"
And that immediately takes him back.
Shit. Office. They're supposed to be in the office. Oh bollocks.
"I was supposed to come and fetch you," he answers sheepishly while, lifting their legs to balance in the air. She still doesn't uncoil herself.
"Oh, I didn't know you'd applied for the secretary job."
"No, we're needed in there together."
Her face changes then, panicked. "Why?"
"Dunno."
She does unravel their legs then and faces him, countenance worry stricken.
"Regina," he says soothingly and placing a hand on her kneecap. Her breath hitches before he can say, "I'm sure you're fine. I'm sure we're both fine. It's probably just the mural thing. What else could it be?"
She muses then and clearly mulls over what he says. "Okay, then, let's go."
He feels the warmth that had grown between them dissipates and he grimaces at its absence before Regina turns and asks if he's coming, to which he agreeably hops up and follows her to whatever it is that awaits them in the office.
[:]
"About time," Ashley barks as they file in. "Where were you two?"
"I had to deal with a student first," Regina covers. She's a really good liar, interesting.
Ashley just shrugs and doesn't press the matter any further, and instead waves for them to follow her to the back hallway of the office and onward to Mr. Nolan's door. She raps on the door three times. David's voice calls for them to enter and Ashley leaves them to it.
Robin opens the door for Regina to enter and he can hear her mutter under her breath, "Always such a gentleman."
"That I am," he whispers back.
They're greeted by not one face, but four—Mr. Nolan, two young boys and a woman with curly fire red hair, fair skin and icy cold blue eyes.
"Ms. Mills, Mr. Locksley, I'd like you to meet Henry and Roland. They are going to be our newest students at Blanchard Orchard." Nolan gestures at each and waits for them to shake everyone's hands before introducing the other member of the room. "And this is Zelena West, their... guardian"
"How do you do?" she asks tersely, barely glancing up from her phone, which is practically glued to her face.
"Hi, I'm Robin Locksley and this is Regina Mills. We're so excited to teach your boys this school year. I'm sure that we can send our contact info via the boys so that you'll have a way to get in touch and I'm sure-"
But Ms. West merely cuts him off, "Yes thank you. Look, I gotta run. I'm good here, yeah?" she asks looking over at Mr. Nolan for approval, who gives it. Then her attention returns to the boys, "You two better behave. I don't want to hear about any nonsense later, am I clear?"
"Crystal," the older boy mumbles.
Then the red head stalks out, hips swinging violently, so much so that he's certain that had anyone been in her path that she might have knocked someone out. He glances knowingly over at Regina, who's doing the exact same thing.
"Now," Mr. Nolan claps his hands together, "okay so Roland, this is Mr. Locksley, and he's your teacher, okay?" Nolan's hands are on the shoulders of the little boy, steering him forward.
Roland's curls bounce up and down with the bob of his head. They're black as night and very thick just like his lashes, which are the cover for his deep muddy brown eyes that shine with an incomparable innocence. And his smile that might be Robin's undoing, is to die for, his dimples crater in his face just as Robin's does but there is a particular cuteness and kindness that Robin could never master on his own. Robin can already feel his heart tug to this child, and even more so when the little boy rushes over to Robin as fast as his little legs can take him.
Robin automatically squats down so that he can be face to face, as he catches the boy between his hands. "Well hi there."
"Hi, I'm Roland," he informs him sweetly, with a tiny voice that could melt the hearts of millions.
"Hi Roland, are you excited to be here?" he talks excitedly to him.
"Yup!"
"Yes," Robin corrects. "Well, I'm very excited to have you here. I think you'll really like it. Okay?" He scoots Roland back to put some space between them. And place his hand out, palm facing upwards to that Roland can 'give him a five,' which he does and Robin clasps his hand down on Roland's little one so that he can hold onto it. "Alrighty then."
Robin rises, still clutching onto the hand of the little boy as Mr. Nolan introduces his brother.
"Regina, this is Henry." He makes the same move as he did with Roland, hands pressed to shoulders and inching him forward to his respective teacher.
Regina tenses and grimaces at the introduction, causing Robin to furrow his brow in concern for his coworker. Perhaps, she could sense that the child was going to be troublesome?
Nevertheless, Regina gains her composure once more and introduces herself to the boy.
"Don't bother," he hears him mumble to which Regina sterns up and asks what that's supposed to mean. He answers simply, "We won't be here long probably anyway."
"Why would you say that?" she's confused and as is Robin but before the boy can answer, David is pushing them out the door and asking if he can speak to Mr. Locksley and Ms. Mills privately for a second.
When he's got the door closed after telling the boys to go sit in the lobby for a minute, he tells Regina and Robin how they are wards of the state. They were orphaned a little over a year ago and now that they are on their sixth foster home.
"Sixth?" Regina blurts out.
"Yes, apparently the older one, Henry, he's been a bit of a troublemaker. And Roland, though he's amiable and cooperative, he apparently becomes impossible without his brother. So, they've been a package deal ever since. Although, I don't know how much longer that will last." He darts his eyes sideways and Robin feels a touch of anger, just briefly. No one should be taken away from someone they love if they have no reason to be separated. He tells Regina to keep a special eye out for Henry (did she flinch again?), especially because he's now supposed to be in third grade but was kept back because of his math scores.
She agrees and then both of them are sent out to retrieve their respective students and then they are left to their own devices. Robin and Regina watch as Roland realizes that they're about to be split up and Henry jumps into action telling Roland that he'll be okay and that he'll see him in a few hours. Then he places a kiss on Roland's crown and the sniffling stops. How could anyone think the boy was anything but a good kid? Yeah, he acted out, but who could blame him when he got dealt a shit hand?
Robin nearly doesn't notice how Regina is saying that she'll see him later as she's ushering Henry out the door. And he manages a quick 'yeah,' before the door clicks shut behind them. Afterward, his eyes find Roland again, whose bottom lip is trembling as he watches his big brother follow Regina down the hall and out of sight. "Hey now," he scolds and kneels down to eye level with Roland once again. "You're going to see your brother very soon, I promise. And in the meantime, you and I are going to meet your new classmates and have some fun, how's that sound?"
"Good," he answers tearfully.
"Good," Robin returns more matter-of-factly and grabs Roland's hand as he'd done before. "Shall we?"
Roland's head nods profusely and Robin chuckles, guiding him out into the halls to go fetch his new fellow classmates.
[:]
Roland turns out to be a hit with the other children. He found a particularly close playmate in one Nicholas Zimmer and he seemed to acquaint well with all of them throughout the day.
Robin knew the moment he met him that that kids was going to be someone special to him, and he is certain of it now as he's watching him and his brother run over to their car. To make matters worse, Roland turns and waves goodbye at Robin before Henry and their guardian fuss at him to get into the car.
He shouldn't get attached, he knows this, but he's already in too deep.
Robin's now shuffling back to his room, when he spots a flustered Regina Mills waltzing out of the office.
"Hey!" he calls out to her and runs over. "Did you enjoy your first day back, Ms. Mills?"
"I was until I realized the lollipop guild didn't destroy you after all," she shoots back, but with a more disheartened tone.
"Sorry to disappoint." He shrugs nonchalantly.
"Aren't you always a disappointment?"
"That's what they tell me anyway."
She pauses, deliberating on an answer, he supposes, and decides on, "Well you're doing a fantastic job."
He puts his hand to his chest, "That is so sweet, you telling me I'm doing a good job."
Her eyes roll away from his but he knows she' the furthest from annoyed, "Don't you have to go learn your ABC's or something? You should probably make sure you know them before you try and tell them to your evil five year old brigade."
"Well, the moment was nice while it lasted. Suppose I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"All depends on my luck, I guess."
He barks out a laugh and then looks solidly into her eyes. He's always had a thing for brown eyed girls. And hers are like warm ooey gooey melted chocolate. "Thank you for the pep talk by the way, I really appreciate it," he tells her sincerely. He holds her gaze for a few breaths, before giving her a small smile and walking away.
"Yeah, yeah, just don't expect it often," she hollers after him.
Oh but he does. He does.