Study Hall

by AsYouAre

Regina Mills does it every morning now—a walk of shame from her lover's apartment. But she struggles to find solace in the halls of the complex when she happens upon another, who's doing the same exact thing. Could this one hallway rendezvous with a stranger have the potential to be something more?

10. Chapter 10

Author Note: Hello, everyone! Long time, no see, huh? Well, have no fear, I have returned! And on a special day, no less. Today is Study Hall's anniversary! I can't believe it's been a whole year since I first published this little old thing. First, I just wanna thank Nicole for being my rock, my partner in crime and best friend through all of this. But, also, I want to thank everyone of you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and being patient through the many months without it. You guys make this story and I'm eternally in your debt for keeping it going. I know things have been rough for our fandom this year but I very much hope that you will continue not to just read Study Hall, but all Outlaw Queen fanfics.

Outlaw Queen is ours now. So let's keep their story alive.

Hope you enjoy!

---

She's beautiful. There's no empirical evidence to refute it. From her luscious blonde ringlets to her hot pink skintight bodycon dress, the woman sitting several feet away from Robin is gorgeous—well, and a little terrifying. Honestly, judging by her well-toned arms and calves, she looks like she could take him down with one arm behind her back. Not to mention, her shoes are practically a weapon themselves.

But Robin doesn't really care about how beautiful she is. In fact, there's really only one woman that's on his mind at the moment. Now, that of course, is the case for more reasons than one. Just earlier, he'd all but admitted how he feels about her. Although, technically he did reveal his feelings, but managed to cover for them, hopefully leading Regina away from the scent of his overbearing emotions towards her.

He'd pretty much come to terms with it the moment that he woke up with her resting peacefully in his arms. The feeling he had was indiscernible because he knew as he looked down on the slumber-induced body that he had cocooned in his arms, that that was the life he wanted. He wanted late night movies and wine and falling asleep on the couch together, enveloped in each other's warmth. It wasn't a difficult choice to make; rather, it wasn't much of a choice at all. And it's not like it was a sudden change of character. That feeling had been prodding at him for some time, nosing him like a dog desperate to play fetch, and it finally made it's way through, and Robin wasn't the slightest bit surprised by the revelation.

Unfortunately for him, it's not as simple as realizing his feelings. If anything, it just makes the mire of his relationship with Regina more complicated. Before any clearing can be found, he has to know her feelings, not just about him, but about herself, too. But, to him, at least, there is no question. He's crazy about her, probably has been for some time now, and doesn't plan on letting that feeling go. And that he's made perfectly clear by not paying any mind to the slew of women who've come up to chat or, perhaps, get a drink out of him.

His focus is solely on the blonde, which is the other reason his mind is filled with Regina Mills.

His goal for the evening had only been to come out for one beer, maybe two depending on how he was feeling after the first, and then grab something to eat with John before returning home. But as soon as the blonde caught his eye, his plans were immediately shot straight to hell.

He's been eyeing her for sometime now, has all but tuned John out completely. Though, he knows his friend is sounding off about his latest "conquest," or something of that nature, so he's able to nod every now and again to the vague sound cues he gets, all while focusing on this blonde.

She seems respectable, too, not the ditzy type that twirls her hair in her finger mindlessly while she flirts with some daft bastard who won't remember her name the next day. No, this one is smart and cunning and more than her well kept exterior, but that's all irrelevant to him.

In fact, Robin's primary focus isn't on the blonde at all, but rather, the many sitting with her, drinking his whiskey and eyeing her greedily. It makes his stomach churn in the worst way and damn near gives him enough courage to get up and give him a right good pasting in front of everyone in the Rabbit Hole. He deserves it, anyway, not just because of the way he's currently devouring the woman beside him but the fact that he's even there.

For the man, that Robin is now keenly watching is the man who's supposed to be Regina's significant other, Graham.

Graham hasn't spotted Robin, nor does Robin even think that Graham knows he's being watched. He's not even sure Graham would recognize him, given that they only met in passing a few days ago. But that doesn't mean that Robin plans to waltz his way over to where the twosome is sitting. He will sit and watch stealthily, though, from his seat in opposite corner of the bar.

He can tell there's chemistry between them. He should know well enough because usually he's in Graham's position and he can tell when the woman is really into him. And this woman is really into Graham. And it's pretty clear the feeling is mutual.

They're talking animatedly and they're certainly leaned into one another, suggesting the attraction between them. They each have an arm on the bar top, but they aren't touching. However, Robin veers his head just enough at one point to see that Graham's other hand is resting on the blonde's knee with her hand resting atop it.

He feels a white hot anger rush to the surface of his skin, but he knows he has to relax. He can't very well go give the guy a few punches without publicizing the whole affair and getting kicked out of the Rabbit Hole, which will surely raise questions from John. And what would his answers be? That he's pining after some woman who may or may not extend the same sentiment, and he wants to destroy the man who will inevitably hurt her?

He wonders if the woman knows. He wonders if she knows she's helping the destruction of another woman or if she's just innocently falling in love with the same man, who's fooling them both. That much, he's determined to find out tonight.

And that, he will.

So he waits and bides his time, watching as they move in closer, as gentle touches turn to tender kisses. Graham is pushing back the blonde's hair and kisses her neck. She laughs but Robin can't tell if it's because of the kissing or because of something else Graham said.

This goes on for a full 42 minutes before things change. Graham is getting up and whispering something to the woman, which she nods to in answer and he pecks her cheek then departs. He's heading toward the restrooms, which always have a long line because there's only one stall. Robin takes it as a blessing and swoops his way down the bar to the woman at the end, telling John, he'll catch up with him later.

It's time to get answers.

"Now," he drawls as he approaches the woman. She swivels her head around as he finishes, "What kind of man leaves a woman nearly empty like this?"

She raises her eyebrows, and then bites on a smile. Good, she's a flirter, or at least, likes flirts, which he excels at. "I guess he was hoping some hot shot would come in and do his job for him while he's gone. Do you just talk the talk or do you walk the walk, too?" She gestures down to her beer with a nod.

"Oh, of course," he signals the barkeep.

Robin stealthily reads the boy's badge, "Sean, my man, my lady here will have a—"

"Boston Lager and get my friend here," she scrunches up her nose, "a Corona on tap."

The boy nods but Robin catches him before he scurries away, "Get me a Sierra Nevada, mate."

"You got it," the kid nods.

"Got a thing against Mexico's finest?" she teases.

He scoffs, "Trust me, that isn't their finest."

"Oh, you'd know?" Her interest is piqued.

"Yeah, been there twice."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, father's 'business trips.'" He can hear the distaste in his own voice and it makes him cringe.

"Daddy issues?" the woman deduces.

Robin smiles and laughs out of his nose. "Oh, he has issues alright."

The woman chuckles in response. She seems like a nice woman and he feels bad for insidiously trying to guilt her. Her humor reminds him of Regina and he's a quick thought that he understands why Graham is fond of both of them. Of course, that doesn't excuse him for being a jackass but he sees the reason behind the interest.

Sean gives them their drinks and the blonde immediately takes a sip of hers. After she carefully sets her bottle down, she speaks, "So do you often tell random strangers about your life?"

"Isn't that how meeting up in bars works?"

She looks down at her bottle. "And here I though that you bought this drink to try and seduce me."

He fakes offense, "Well, I'd never. I am a gentleman."

"You know he's coming back right?" She jabs her thumb toward the restrooms.

"I know," he sips his ale. "I'm just keeping you company until then."

"Oh, how gentlemanly of you."

"So—" he pauses, "pardon, I haven't gotten your name."

"Emma," she gives willingly. "And what's yours, English?"

"Robin," he says with an extension of his hand, which she gives a single, measured shake.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." He nods. "So, Emma, you two been together long?"

She begins to play with the neck of the bottle and something changes in her demeanor. He can tell he's offset her somehow and he feels that twinge of guilt again.

"No, we've only just started seeing each other."

"You sound like it's the worst thing that's ever happened to you."

She shrugs. "It's not. It's just… complicated."

"I'm listening," he tells her intently.

"So, what? I get a free therapy session with a free beer?"

"Yes, that's how we therapists have decided to go about therapy these days."

He knows he needs to stop playing around and fish for the point. She's not going to spell it out for him. But, ironically, flirting is usually his way of getting to the point. But he just needs to hear her say it. That either she knows Graham is cheating or she doesn't because then that will entirely determine how he will handle the situation. But his goal is clear—Regina is going to find out one way or another that Graham is cheating on her.

"Well," she huffs. "If you must know, doctor, it's because we aren't really together."

She knows. And suddenly his opinion on the woman changes. He doesn't even know her and he hates her. Sure, the woman probably has no fealty to Regina, but as a woman, shouldn't she have the courtesy not to leave the other out to dry?

It takes all he has to appear unfazed. "Why's that?"

"I can't believe I'm telling you this." She shakes her head. "But it's because he's… seeing someone else."

"Ahhhh," he exhales hopefully selling that he hasn't known all this time that that was what she was going to confess.

But even though he did know it, when the truth finally comes out, he feels another tickle of anger rise to the surface. He thinks of poor Regina, who's sitting at home, none the wiser that Robin is hearing, with his own ears, that Graham is cheating on her with some leggy blonde, who knowingly joined in on the act of adultery. He's half a mind to tell Emma that he knows Graham and that he very well knows Regina and plans to inform her immediately what's been going on. But then he thinks on how that will leave Regina feeling ambushed and ruined for more than one audience and she doesn't deserve that kind of undignified destruction. She deserves to make the final blow. So, that means Robin has to play it cool, pretend that he's a completely uninterested third party, and then tell Regina the truth. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't give Emma a bit more of a guilt trip before Graham gets back.

"Save your judgment," she mutters bitterly.

He hadn't realized he'd looked judgmental. "No judgment, but can I ask why?"

"Why? Why am I willingly fooling around with Graham when he's in a committed relationship?"

"Yes."

"Because," she sighs, "he doesn't feel anything with her! Or—she doesn't feel anything with him! I don't know! She doesn't love him, okay?"

Robin's opinion once again shifts about the woman when he sees the tears well in her eyes. Perhaps, he misjudged her. But she's still cheating. It isn't right, she has to see that, right?

"And you do?" he surmises.

Emma goes to say something then closes her mouth and simply answers with a shrug.

"Why don't you tell him how you feel?"

"It's not that easy. He doesn't get it."

"Then why stay?" he really tries to get her attention now, but she is fixated on the bottleneck. "Why make yourself the other woman when you could tell him to shove off and not be such a prat?"

She bites her lip and stays silent. The question didn't really need an answer, anyway. He already knows it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels sorry for her. Maybe if he really was an uninterested third party he'd be able to feel sympathy for the woman but with Regina's heart on the line, he can't risk that. And then he feels something else in the pit of his stomach, but it isn't anger or sympathy; some might call it butterflies, but either way, it's jittery and weird to him. He tries to ignore it but it lingers, weakening as he studies Emma but every time he thinks of Regina the surge of feeling comes back with a vengeance.

"You can't stay like that forever, you know?" he reminds her, diligently trying to find a way to finish their conversation.

"I know," she says solemnly.

"Tell the truth, then. Tell him he's gotta pick, you or her."

"Don't you think if he wanted to pick me, he would have left her already?"

He takes that as a bit of a sucker punch. She isn't wrong. He can't imagine that feeling. "So, leave him. You can do better than that." He reaches out for her without thinking and brushes her arm.

She finally meets his gaze. "I know. I wish I didn't care about him the way I do."

"At least you know there's another woman," he reprimands softly. "There's another lady out there with no idea that you're here right now, talking to some stranger about what an arsehole her boyfriend is."

He can see her take it to heart and the complete guilt that washes over her face brings him another pang of guilt.

"You think I should tell her?" she looks at him ruefully.

"Do you?"

She muses, and then nods slowly. "I do."

He thinks to maybe confess again. Maybe this time join Emma in on the conspiracy, but again, that might lead to Regina feeling ambushed. Maybe he shouldn't have told Emma to confess. It should be him, a friend, someone she can trust. Or maybe it'd be better for her to hear it from someone she won't be fond of, then he can play just as stupid as he is now and be a shoulder to cry on.

Either way, Emma is set on telling the truth. Now, he has to make a decision on who Regina should hear it from first.

"Good for you," he smiles politely and touches her arm once more. "You're doing the right thing."

She reaches across herself and places her hand on top of his. "Thank you, Robin," she tells him genuinely.

"You're welcome. Good luck, Emma."

She nods and pats his hand for one, good, final measure and then he leaves her, skirting his way back down the other end of the bar where he pays Sean.

He checks his phone as he's walking out of the Rabbit Hole and sees three missed calls from John and two texts inquiring of his whereabouts.

He texts back, Leaving the RH, need something?

But the old oaf doesn't text back, so he assumes he's fallen asleep again. He hopes it isn't important.

[:]

Robin wakes up with a weird feeling lingering in his stomach. It's guilt mixed with something else that he hasn't quite gotten the taste of. But he knows the feeling is nothing good because he's carrying the burden of a secret that he has to decide if he wants to share or let someone else share. But, no matter what, Regina Mills is going to end up hurt today and there's not a damn thing he can do about it except watch in horror as it unfolds.

He's already picturing Regina's face, her eyes filled with betrayal, her mouth fixed in a frown and the heart on her sleeve broken in two. He has to tell her, at least then he can care for her. Not to mention, he knows now that he wants very much to care for her. He pictures himself holding her and telling her that everything will be okay, that he's there now for her and he will take care of everything. It's foolish and he knows he'll only get his heart broken this way, but he's all in.

He reaches for his phone first, before he's even fully out of bed. He finds his conversation with Regina and types out a message, Hey, can I see you before school this morning?

He's learned that "Hey we need to talk" is not a good text to send ever.

She doesn't reply so he assumes she's still asleep or trying to get ready for work, but as he goes through his entire morning routine and he still doesn't get an answer from her, he begins to worry.

You there? he sends after he's dressed and nearly ready to go.

Robin scans his room for his shoes while he waits, then remembers he left them by the door. As he paces into the living room, he finds John, sitting on the couch, watching the telly. Robin furrows his brow. This morning keeps getting weirder.

"Hey, mate," he greets his roommate, "you're up rather early."

"Yeah, I'm, uh, spending the day with my girlfriend."

Robin is stunned, as this is news to him. "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah man, I told you last night. I've been seeing this woman Jack, and I really like her."

"A woman named Jack?" he tries not to laugh.

"Yes, Jack Bean, she's a woman, you dick."

"Interesting," Robin jests with a smug expression.

"Fuck off, man"

"I'm only joking around. So you're spending the day with her then?"

"Yeah, we're headed up to Santa Fe Plaza to see this little band she likes then we'll get dinner, and you know..."

"Sounds nice," Robin attempts to sound sincere, not meaning that he isn't happy for his friend but he isn't feeling right himself so he doesn't feel right about much of anything.

Robin finishes putting on his shoes before heading back to his room to get his phone and wallet, the ever-present hope beating wildly in his chest that Regina has answered his texts.

"Oh hey, Rob," John calls after him, "some chick came by here yesterday looking for you. I meant to tell you."

Robin doesn't even check his phone and returns to the living room. "What?"

"Some woman came by she was looking for you."

"What did she look like? Did she tell you her name?" The panic rises in his throat.

"I dunno," John answers calmly, "dark hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, beautiful. No, she wouldn't give me her name."

"Damn it," Robin curses beneath his breath. "Did she look upset or anything?"

John shrugs and Robin feels a growing agitation for his roommate. "I don't really remember. She looked a little sad I guess. I tried calling you man. I told her you might've still been busy with the blonde you were so caught up in before I left."

That's when Robin loses it. "You told her what?!"

"I know, I shouldn't have said that to her but it kinda just came out."

Robin groans and scrubs the front of his face with his palms. "Did she say anything else?" He doesn't bother hiding his irritation anymore.

"No, just that she'd talk to you, well, today."

Robin squeezes the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb. He feels a headache coming on, which is such a pleasant addition to the sickening feeling he already has churning in the pit of his stomach. He marches back to his room then again, unable to look at John without risk of letting out his frustration. He grabs his phone, checking and finding no response still from Regina, which is no surprise now.

He texts her one last time, Regina, please, I need to speak with you ASAP.

Then he makes his way toward the door.

"I'm sorry, man," John calls after him.

Robin turns. "It's alright," he says but he knows he still sounds annoyed. "Can I ask you something quickly before I go?"

"Sure man, what's up?" John mutes the television.

Then Robin spills his guts. He rapid fire tells John everything, about Graham and Regina and Emma. And then he finishes with his dilemma, stuck on what is right and what is wrong and what he should do to fix the situation. But it's more than just that, he realizes during his testimony. He's wrestling incessantly with his feelings for Regina and how this situation affects that. He leaves it out though. At least, he doesn't blatantly confess his feelings but he's sure that they're etched into some of the things he says on accident.

You can't hide what you feel.

John chuckles loudly, "Usually it's me asking for the advice. Look, dude, if you care for this woman, which it sounds like you really do," (Oh, great), "then you need to tell her the truth. If she hates you for it, she hates you for it, but at least, then she'll know, and that can be forgiven. But if you lie to her and she finds out she'll never forgive you."

"I don't want her to hate me."

"Well, then make that clear. Maybe don't tell her exactly how you feel right now, since that's a bit insensitive but make sure she knows you really care and you're just looking out for her."

Robin looks at his friend, impressed. "You're a changed man, John Little."

"Blame love," he says. "Now, go and save face with your girl."

"She isn't mine."

"Yet."

[:]

He calls her on the way there but there's no answer, which leaves him no choice but to make a beeline for her classroom as soon as he gets there. As he walks, he carefully conjures up what he plans to say. There's a gigantic lump in his throat and he's certain he's going to be sick but he has to be honest. This is for the best. He takes a deep breath as he rounds the corner, and then is faced with her open door. However, as he looks in, he's surprised to find someone that isn't Regina standing in her place.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah, I'm looking for Reg—Miss Mills," he tells her nervously.

"Oh, she called in sick. I'm the sub, Guinn. Is there something you needed from her? Maybe I can find it for you?"

"Oh, no, no," Robin denies quickly. "It's okay, I'll just call her about it. Thank you and nice to meet you. I'm Robin, Kindergarten teacher."

"Nice to meet you, as well, Robin."

Of course, Regina would bail on school the next day. For some reason, as he leaves her classroom, he finds himself totally unsurprised that this has happened. It's just so like Regina to not be here when he needs her to be, like her own magical way of getting under his skin without even trying.

He finds out later from Kathryn, whom he sees in the office, that Regina had went on a pretty heavy drinking binge last night when they went to dinner. She'd gotten pretty ill and Kathryn assumed that Regina stayed home to recover from her poor choices. Robin feels immensely guilty because he could have prevented it, had he been home instead of stalking her boyfriend at the Rabbit Hole.

He's decorated with worry for the rest of the day. He can't think of anything else, save Roland Cassidy's absence, but otherwise, his mind is only preoccupied with Regina's wellbeing. He calls once after Kathryn fills him in, another time at lunch and another time at activity. His phone is almost out of battery and he'd forgotten the blasted charger because he was, once again, so worried about her.

He's nervous and can't think straight. He starts to worry that maybe she threw up in her sleep, or something, and choked on her vomit.

It's not long after the activity call that he decided that he's going to call on her after school at her apartment. He has to make sure she's okay.

He'd hoped that the decision would level his anxiety about it a little, but it only puts him further on edge.

Before the school day comes to a close, he texts her one last time, Regina, I'm not sure why you aren't answering, but I'm really worried so I'm coming by to check up on you.

He hopes it would draw her out, that she'd, at the very least, tell him not to show up, that she's perfectly alright and that she can very well take care of herself in the ornery way that she always does. But not even that brings her out.

Something is wrong and he knows it.

[:]

His phone has died but he's called several times at this point and left a message. At this rate, Robin is just hoping he finds Regina alive. She won't answer her bloody phone and he's been worried absolutely sick since Kathryn told him about their night. He should have been there for her. And frankly if he finds her dead in the next five minutes, he'll never forgive himself.

God, Regina, please be alive.

He knocks once, then again after a moment of silence. When he knocks a third time, he announces his presence, "Regina, it's Robin. I know you've been avoiding my calls but I just want to make sure you're okay and if you don't answer in the next minute or so I'll be forced to break down your door."

He listens then, but only more silence follows and Robin wonders if maybe she isn't home, but Kathryn had said that Regina did get legitimately sick last night, which, of course, was due to an excessive intake of alcohol but that's not important to him now. All that matters is that Regina is okay.

"Regina?" He tries one last time. When there's no response, he presses onward, "Okay, you leave me no choice…"

He waits a short second before shouldering the door. Then again. And again.

His pushing is so loud that he almost doesn't hear her voice on the other side announce, "I hope that shoulder hurts like hell tomorrow."

Then she opens the door just as he's ramming it once again and he nearly falls into her. He grasps at air as he stumbles until he finally catches his balance in the doorframe. His gaze then falls on Regina who looks terribly disheveled and exhausted. She's standing in a big, bulky Lobos baseball t-shirt, which he assumes is Graham's and leggings (which only leads him to thinking about how great her bum looks in them). Her dark hair is pulled up into a half-arsed bun (she's still incredibly beautiful with her hair thrown up like that) and her face is nearly free of cosmetics.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he notes, nodding toward her.

She rolls her eyes, heavily unamused. "Aren't you about to lose your sight with two black eyes," she counters coolly.

Robin's eyebrow jets up to his hairline. "Good to know your snark is still there."

"What do you want, Robin?" she asks grimly, looking more exasperated the longer she stands there.

"I came to check on you," he answers simply.

"I'm a 31 year old woman, I think I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Well, Kathryn said you weren't feeling well, so I just came to follow up. Don't be so bloody ungrateful."

She looks offended, then, as though he's in the wrong. "I don't have to be grateful for your presence, you know. I know that you're used to thinking that everyone is, but I hate—well, actually I don't really hate—to be the one to tell you, that that isn't the case for everyone."

"'S that what you came to tell me yesterday, when you came to the apartment then?" he fires back. He'll never understand why she has to be so ruddy pessimistic all the damn time.

She doesn't answer his question and just sighs as a response. When he doesn't try anything else, she concaves a little, as if trying to bury herself within her own body. She appears to not be in the mood for games and she makes that clear by exhaling, "Look, Robin, I'm hungover and I just wanna go back and lie down, so what is it that you want?"

He can't resist, "In general or?"

She sighs very audibly, but refuses a verbal answer.

"John said you called on me at the apartment last night."

"Yeah, no big deal."

"Why didn't you stay?"

Regina's eyes shift to the ground, "It wasn't that important."

"It was important enough for you to stop by," he retaliates measuredly. "You could've rang me."

"It wasn't anything I couldn't have said at school the following day."

"Apparently not," he jokes, "given your lack of attendance today."

She doesn't directly respond to his comment. "Besides, you were preoccupied according to your friend."

"Yes, so I've heard that John told you. It's not what you think, Regina, honestly. Can I come in?"

Regina hesitates, very visibly debating whether or not she wants to be bothered by his extended presence. She shifts from her left foot to her right as she mulls it over and he waits patiently, counting the number of times she bounces between her feet.

After what seems like extremely careful deliberation, she concedes. "Fine, but I hope you don't mind that I lie down. And excuse the mess." She pushes the door open and allows him entrance.

The meaning of mess in Regina's vocabulary is far different than what Robin's is. When she had said mess, he expected to see trash lying around (perhaps wrappers of something), empty plates and cups sitting on the table, which would be garnished with several used tissues and clothes lying about all over the floor. He'd assumed there would be an actual mess. But as he makes his way into her apartment and scans the room, he doesn't find much out of place. There are two glasses on the table. One is empty and placed next to a bottle of whiskey, while the other is full of water.

"I see the festivities continued after you returned home?" he references the whiskey.

She simply shrugs and grunts, faintly acknowledging the bottle before plopping down on the couch.

"You know, I might've misjudged you, Mills. I think I've seen you drinking more than I've seen you sober," he tries another joke as he continues to stand, burying his hands in his pockets and scoping out the apartment.

"Yes, funny how my drinking habits have increased since you came into my life," she retorts. "Are you going to sit down or are you just going to stand there like a lost animal?"

Robin laughs, "Usually women have most of my clothes off before they start calling me an animal."

Regina scoffs, rolling her red-rimmed, swollen eyes once again.

That's when he sees it. How had he not noticed when he first walked in? Regardless, it's clear to him now that Regina had been crying. He'd thought that the black staining on her lids was due to her drunken state last night but now it's clear as day what the real reason is. He can feel his heart lurch in his chest in the worst possible way as he watches her. He doesn't move. And she continues to look quizzically at him until she realizes what he sees. Her face flushes and she finally looks elsewhere, anywhere but at him.

"Regina," he starts in a warning tone because he can already feel her retreating.

Her mouth twists hurtfully to one side and he can tell she's biting back tears.

"Regina," he calls again, daring her to look at him. But when she won't, he does all he can do. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she bites. "Just sit down, Robin… please."

So he sits, opposite of where her head lies, while the rest of her is sprawled out. She moves her feet slightly so that he can sit even though they barely could touch him, curling them upward against her leg. But he grabs them instead, settling purposefully so that her feet rest in his lap. He says nothing but just picks up her right foot and begins to knead it. He doesn't know why, he just does. Truthfully, it was simply reaction for him. He used to do the same with Marian when she was upset.

But he doesn't get to take care for long before Regina snatches her foot away, nearly squealing and almost kicking him in the chin. "What are you doing?!"

"Well, I was trying to help you relax but—"

"I have very ticklish feet."

"Oh."

"I mean, you can continue but be gentle—or actually, don't be. That way you don't tickle them—and don't tickle them, Robin, or I will kick you in the teeth without a second thought," she warns him darkly.

He nods and then takes her foot back in hand, continuing to rub it, while she closes her eyes peacefully. They don't speak for a little while. The only sounds are the low hum of the television, which is settled on a rerun of that hospital drama everyone is obsessed with, and the louder roar of the swamp cooler.

He doesn't even notice that Regina has fallen asleep for a good ten minutes, not until he goes to tell her that he needs to tell her something. But when he glances over and sees the steady and peaceful rise and fall of her chest, he places her feet carefully back on the sofa before getting up and walking around, constantly checking behind him to be sure she's sleeping.

Robin figures she'll sleep for a good lot of time, so he Googles nearby burger places to pick them up something because he's starving and he knows she hasn't eaten and a burger will do right good for her hangover. He finds a Five Guys a block away and decides on that. He grabs his keys from the table, checking over Regina once more to make sure she's sound asleep. Lastly, he checks to make sure the door isn't locked and quietly exits into the hall.

Driving isn't really necessary but he has no idea where he's going and with his luck he'll try and walk and end up needing to cross several lanes of traffic. So he drives over, silently hoping and praying all the way that Regina doesn't wake up while he's gone.

[:]

The Five Guys is across the street so he's back in 20 minutes flat, strolling in the door as though he lives there, with greasy, disgusting food in hand. Regina is still sound asleep, he finds, as he peers over to the couch.

He takes it as permission to venture into the kitchen to put down the bags of food. There he sees two empty liquor bottles a half full wine glass and what looks to be two ice lolly wrappers, an open jar of peanut butter and some used napkins.

This is the mess she must have been referring to.

He knows he probably shouldn't but he makes his way further into the kitchen to tidy up. He grabs some of the tissues with her dishtowel and tosses them, then goes for the dishes to put them in the sink to wash. However, he completely misses the broken wine glass shattered on the floor just before the sink.

A shard of glass digs into his foot and Robin howls, disregarding Regina's slumber. He rips his foot upward and yelps, "Oh, fucking Christ! God- fuck!"

He pogoes himself toward the couch, needing a place to sit down. Regina begins to stir with his insistent yelling.

"Robin?" she queries wearily.

He doesn't answer her and continues cursing. He sits on the edge of the sectional and grabs his lacerated foot.

Regina sees the blood and her eyes go wild. She leaps up from her spot and rushes to his side. Her hands immediately go to hold onto his foot while her eyes look up at him. "What happened?" she demands.

"You left a bloody broken wine glass on the floor. What does it look like?"

He doesn't mean to have a temper with her but the pain rocketing through his foot prevents much else.

"Well, you shouldn't have been in my kitchen," she snaps.

He raises his voice a little, "I was trying to be nice and clean up your mess!"

"Now, you know to mind your own business," she spits as she turns his foot a little harder. Then she stands. "Stay right there and let me get some stuff to clean this up."

She leaves him to run to her bedroom, emerging a minute or so later with alcohol and gauze. Meanwhile, he's moved to the actual couch, balancing his foot on his knee and stupidly fiddling with the piece of glass in his foot. She sits down right next to him and he can smell her shampoo—it smells like apples and coconut. He almost comments on it, about how it's different than before but then she's gently prodding the shard and he cries out in pain.

"Oh quit whining," she admonishes as she picks up a pair of tweezers and uses them to latch onto the piece of glass.

"You go shove a fucking piece of glass in your foot, then!"

She doesn't say anything until she finally plucks the glass out of his foot. "You'll live. At least you won't need stitches or anything."

"At least," he snorts.

Regina falls silent again as she starts cleaning his wound but once she begins to apply the alcohol (which hurts like a bitch!), she continues talking, "I can't believe you waited all that time."

He shrugs and glances over at the kitchen, "Honestly, I didn't know what else to do."

"You could've just left," she offers.

"Well, that would've been quite rude, wouldn't it?"

Her left hand fidgets against her thigh and his eyes are immediately drawn to it, but he quickly glances back up, not wanting to give any impression, other than that of innocence.

But Regina isn't keen on the innocence angle. "But to wait over half an hour? What would you have done if I hadn't woken up for awhile?"

"Dunno," he answers honestly, "suppose I would've kept waiting."

"But why? Why would you stay?"

The question stuns him and his preliminary thoughts only shock him more. Honestly, he knows exactly why he would've stayed. He formulates a mental image of telling her how crazy he is about her, how Graham is a wretched boyfriend and she deserves better than that and then he would pull on her hand and pull her into his arms. His lips would find hers and he would kiss her until the room started spinning, or until they were on the bed, commencing in other illicit activities. Robin curses himself mentally for allowing his thoughts to become so salacious about the woman before him. His face even warms slightly from the embarrassment, as though she could read his thoughts, or, perhaps, because deep down he does intend to be gentlemanly as best he can.

He stammers for a second, trying to produce some pragmatic and diplomatic answer but he keeps coming up dry and just keeps babbling like a fool in front of her. Her head just tips to the side and she kicks up an eyebrow, testing him. He runs several scenarios, trying to think of something that would still make him sound suave, but without making him sound desperate. However, the only phrase that just recurs is, I wanted to stay because I want you, because I want to kiss you and kiss you until your knees are weak, which sounds like it's coming straight out of a Fabio novel, but what's circulating roughly through his thoughts.

But, he can't very well say that to Regina so he opts for, "I don't know, to be honest."

There's a flicker of disappointment that pans across her face and he might not have even noticed it, had he not been so avidly observing her, but he caught it. She might deny that it was disappointment, and maybe it's Robin's own confirmation bias, but he has to believe that the last look was definitely disappointment.

He reaches for her hand and he doesn't disregard her sharp intake of breath. "I didn't mean it like that," he says apologetically. "I just don't want to sound like a broken record, telling you that I care about you. More than I'd like to admit."

She looks at him, then, really looks at him, as though everything in the world has slipped away and it's just them sitting together in nothingness. Her eyes are still a little red but they look a little less tired and now even more heartfelt. And they are beautiful still. They hold his, uniting soft blue to quiet brown and she tacitly tells him everything with her eyes, thanking him and relaying the same caring sentiment to him.

It pains him when she finally looks away and returns to tending to his wound. She wipes it gingerly. "I never thanked you for yesterday," she says quietly. "That's why I-I stopped by yesterday. I, uh, I wanted to thank you and, um, tell you that you were right." She glances up quickly at him to see if he's listening because naturally she isn't going to repeat that. Then when she's sure he is, her fixation returns one again to his foot. "Well, you were sort of right," she amends. "I do need you. But I-" she takes a deep breath, "I want you, too." Her last phrase is said so measured and delicate, as though she is making sure that each syllable that falls from her lips is the right one.

She doesn't look back up at him, and instead, bandages up his heel with a gauze and then a nude colored wrap. He swallows harshly, too harshly, in fact, eliciting a brute cough. Regina jumps and looks back up at him again.

"Too tight?" she asks worriedly.

"No, no, sorry. It's fine," he dismisses.

The silence between them now is weighted and awkward and Robin holds his breath while he waits for her to finish.

When she does, she pulls her hand away and gestures to the foot. "There, all done."

"Thank you, Regina," he can finally manage.

She keeps looking to his foot, but asks about him. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Just a flesh wound."

She cracks a soft smile then and he can feel that drop at the bottom of his stomach. He wants to keep making her smile.

But he remembers that she's been upset. "What about you?" he inquires. "Are you going to be okay?"

She sits back on the couch, sitting right next to him so that their thighs are touching. Her next move is unexpected, though. She leans her head onto his shoulder hesitantly, as if she isn't sure that it's okay, but he swiftly moves his arm behind her head so that she can fall into his chest. Her body wriggles a little to make herself comfortable. The scent of her shampoo is even stronger now and he feels the urge to bury his nose in her locks, but, instead, he just looks ahead.

Robin enjoys their quiet moments. It's something peaceful and beautiful. But he can't be peaceful at the moment because now that things are settled, he remembers he's settled with a bit of a dilemma. He has to tell her. But does he? Isn't it Graham's responsibility to admit the truth? Or Emma's? Why should it be his burden to carry? He knows the answer, of course. It's because Regina is his friend and he has an allegiance to her. The right thing to do would be to confess the truth.

Sack up and just be honest. It's not like he was at fault.

But that doesn't stop him from trying to muster up any courage that he has. He takes a deep breath.

But just before he goes to speak, he hears Regina's words instead. "My mother is dying."

The way she says it makes him unsure if she's telling him or if she's trying to tell herself. But either way, it feels as though he's being let in a little bit to the shadowed world of Regina Mills.

He pauses and forgets everything he was going to say. "What?" He's stunned. He'd assumed it was something like this but that doesn't stop the shock. "Regina, I-"

"That's not even the worst part," she sniffles. "It's when I got her voicemail. She said that she was dying and then—just for a split second—I felt… relieved almost. Like that's what she gets—" Regina's voice cracks and he knows she's about to cry. She clears her throat in an attempt to hide it, but it's no use because by the time she gets out, "that's what she gets for being so awful," Regina is in full-on sobs. Her body wracks with them as she tries to continue defending herself but everything comes out as nonsense.

Robin throws his arms around her and hugs her tightly to him. He rocks ever so slightly and whispers reassurances that it's going to be okay. He even dares to kiss the crown of her head a few times as she steadily cries. All the while, he can feel his heart shatter to bits as he tries to ease the impossible hurt that he knows she must be feeling. He wishes he could say he couldn't imagine how she feels but had the roles, instead, been given to Robin and his father, he knows that he would likely feel the exact same. Of course, he doesn't know Regina's mother but if she is even half the horrible person Robin's father is, he'd say Regina is justified in her feelings.

"It's okay," he whispers again once her crying has given way to serenity. "Regina, if your mother treated you poorly then you have every right to have no sympathy for her. And you shouldn't carry some burden or self-loathing for feeling that way. You don't owe her anything and if she expects you to, then that alone justifies your original feeling. I know she's your mum but that doesn't give her the right to treat you like shit and then turn around and expect for you to be caring for her."

Regina sniffles again. "She did… unspeakable things… but so have I." The tears are back. "It's not fair."

"Did you do those unspeakable things to her?"

"No, b—"

"Then, you owe her nothing," he states adamantly. "If your thoughts were good riddance, then that's okay."

"But why do I feel so bad?" she murmurs softly, thumbing the button of his shirt that divides his chest from his abdomen.

He smiles kindly down at her and dares to push a piece of hair back, out of her face, then uses his thumb to divest her face of tears. His fingers linger, tracing softly down her jaw to her chin, where he takes hold and tips it upward so that her eyes meet his. "Because you have a good heart and you love with that heart, much as that kills you."

She scoffs, trying to look away.

"You do," he confirms resolutely. "I've seen your heart, Regina."

"But you don't know all of it," she tries, glancing back up at him. "You don't know all the dark parts—all the parts that formed after what I did in—." She stops herself with a sharp breath and another avoidance of eye contact.

"Phoenix?" he finishes for her.

She doesn't say anything but her silence is enough of an answer.

Robin can't deny how badly he wants to know what happened to her in Phoenix, but he understands the boundaries. He knows that she doesn't wish to tell him and he'd never think to pressure her into telling him. If ever she wishes to confess what happened, it would be of her own volition. But a part of him still wishes he could carry the burden for her. He knows it's messy to develop feelings like these, or any feelings period, but they're there, consuming him like a cancer. The sirens are already going off, telling him to get out, to walk away, before he gets in too deep, before he ends up a part of the shambles mimicking the ones he created with Marian. Yet, he remains, staring down at this gorgeous forsaken woman who won't look him in the eye because she has a past, as if that past could push him away. Little does she know that he's all in and willing to stand by her for whatever hurricanes have followed in her wake. But she also doesn't know that he bears a secret that could, instead, push her away.

His head tilts sideways and he tries to get a look at her face, or hopefully to let gravity pull her gaze to his, but she's obstinate and doesn't look back up at him until he insistently says her name.

When he finally has her attention on him, he continues, "Whatever happened in Phoenix doesn't matter. You're here now and you aren't the person that you left behind there. This is your second chance and I've seen you do good with it already, don't underscore that."

"Oh, what have you seen that deems my heart so good and pure?" she bites back. Her snark is heavier than she intends, he can tell by the way she cringes.

But he answers back with similar snark, "Well, first of all, no one has a heart that's good and pure a—"

"What?" she answers incredulously through her tears. "Is Robin Locksley admitting that he's not perfect?"

He laughs buoyantly for a split second before reproaching her, "Well, had you let me finish, I would've said except me."

"Mhm," she hums dubiously.

"More importantly," he presses on, "I would've also said that I saw it just two days ago for a whole afternoon with the Cassidy boys. And what about that day we worked together when we first discovered we were coworkers?"

"I already knew before you showed up," she corrects. "And I was only being nice because I had to be."

He rolls his eyes. "Can't you let me be right just this once?"

"Well, it's the truth. Plus, it gives me such a thrill, proving you wrong."

"Then what about now, hm?"

"What do you mean?"

"How come you've let me come over and sit on your couch? And don't say I invited myself, because you invited me in."

A sneer curls upon her lips. "Charity," she puts simply.

He grins in spite of himself. "Is that right?"

"Mhm," she sings, nodding vehemently.

He stares at her momentarily, engaging in a battle of subtle head tilting and steady eye contact. But he eventually caves, unable to think up a better comeback, and instead, he just narrows his eyes. "You just can't let me win, can you?"

"Oh, that would ruin all the fun," she pouts as she curls back into his side.

His arm holds her a little tighter now to it, given what he knows.

"Robin?"

"Hmm?" he hums.

"Tell me your favorite memory," she requests nicely.

"My favorite memory?" he asks, and then begins to ponder on it.

"Don't think about it."

"Why?"

"Because," she sighs, "it should be genuine. The first thing that comes to mind when you hear the words favorite memory."

"Okay, then," he laughs.

He doesn't think any further because he knows exactly what his initial thought was.

His body adjusts a little bit further into the couch and he clears his throat before beginning his tale. "Okay, so growing up I had two best friends, Cyrus and Alice. Alice—her parents, they're as dreadful as mine. They wanted to keep money all in the family like mine were doing with Marian and me. It's not like what you think," he interjects, "The rules aren't that antiquated. Like they can't actually force us together but they'll manipulate anyway to keep whom they want together, together and whom they want apart, apart. Anyways, so Cyrus and Alice, they were in love. And Cy's family loved Alice but he wasn't nearly enough for hers. So the summer after our final year, Cy's granddad had this wicked old lake cottage and he gave Cyrus the key and told him he could use it for the summer. So, the four of us cleared our schedules for a full week and went out to this lake house. We had the time of our lives. We threw parties, we got trashed, we just lived out all the frustrations we'd built up. But the best part was on Wednesday. Things had quieted down, our other friends were gone and it was just the four of us. It was our lazy day so we decided to get high off our arses."

Regina laughs aloud. "Of course. No surprise that you would."

He laughed along with her. "Yes, there were even pot brownies."

"Pot brownies," she repeats.

"Pot brownies," he affirms.

She rolls her eyes amusedly.

"And while we waited for those to bake we might have gotten ourselves a little baked, smoking a bowl."

"You're terrible," she interrupts, still laughing.

"I was 18, let me be," he chuckles. "Anyway, so we get high as hell. And after the brownies come out of the oven we were smart enough to let them cool—or well, Marian was. So she suggested that we go for a little dip. The thing about the cottage, though, is it sat on this cliff, and if you wanted to go into the water, you had to down," he demonstrates with this finger, "to the side of the house. Well, since we were high we figured it'd be a laugh to instead jump off the little cliff."

A small gasp escapes Regina's lips. "How deep was the water?"

"Not deep. At least, not where we jumped. I broke my left leg, sprained both wrists and my right ankle, and fractured a rib or two. Doctors said I was lucky as hell."

"Oh my god."

"Yeah," he sighs sheepishly.

"So, what made it the best memory of your life?"

"Well, for one, the girls decided to forgo the jumping so it was me and Cy and right before I jumped he told me he was gonna propose to Ali that night and asked if I'd be there for their eloping." A stupid grin spreads across his face. "But the best moment of my life was when I hurled my body over that cliff. For the few seconds it took to hit the ground, it was the most peaceful moments of my entire life. Everything faded away—no parents, no commitments, and no plans, just me being alive. And that was it, it was the most alive I'd ever felt in the 18 years I'd been alive. I wasn't Robin Locksley for those few moments, I was just a man who finally got to be one with the world and feel something other than pressure or expectance.

"And that was the moment I decided that I wanted more out of my life. I made a promise to myself to do something that exhilarating again and to make sure my life never got too stagnant. If I spent a month somewhere and didn't meet a single new person, then I needed to move. If my job got too mundane then I needed to change it. If my love life felt more like a routine to complete than an adventure, then it was time to move on."

"Mmm," Regina hums dreamily. He assumes she's trying to picture it all in her head. "You'll have to take me there one day."

He cracks a new smile. "Maybe I will."

"So, being a kindergarten teacher isn't too mundane for you?"

"Ha! Oh, being a teacher is vastly adventurous, in my opinion."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean think of all the crazy things five-year olds can bring into your life."

Her eyebrows raise. "Fair enough. So, were you always gonna be a teacher, or what?"

"No, I wanted to be an artist, to be honest," he tries to make his disappointment prevalent.

"That seems like a lively thing to do, why not?"

There are several answers—money, his parents, which included more money, Marian, but he just answers with, "I dunno."

"Hmph," she muses.

"What about you?" he tries for a shift. "Did you always want to be a teacher?"

"Not until high school, much to my mother's dismay, but it was a step up from what I originally intended."

"Which was?"

She sighs, "Don't laugh, okay?"

"On my honor," he presses a hand to his chest.

"I wanted to be a librarian, growing up," she confesses with weak vigor.

He accidentally snorts a little, which elicits a slap from her.

"You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"I didn't mean to, I swear."

She pouts then, sitting up straight and crossing her arms.

"Oh, Regina," he begs, "come off it. I think that's lovely. Librarians are great, mean sometimes—hey! Perfect for you!—but still wonderful. Why'd you change your mind?"

He can see her gears working, calculating how long she can give him the silent treatment. But she must realize she can't do it for long because then she answers. "If you must know, my mother wanted something more practical, and then, in my freshman year of high school, the guidance counselor stuck me in this teacher program and told me it'd be good for me even if I wanted to be a librarian. I tried to get out of it but the counselor insisted I stay. So, I did. And at the end of the year, we had to go actually teach at a school. I got third grade and I thought it was going to be a train wreck but it turned out to be one of the best experiences I've ever had. Surprisingly, I loved the kids. I loved the atmosphere. I loved everything about it."

"Would you say that's your best memory, then?" he murmurs.

She grins. "Yeah, one of them."

Her head rests back on his chest and he looks over at the telly and he starts chuckling to himself as he envisions them being in their different lives. They probably would've never have crossed paths and that makes him a bit sad. But picturing Regina as a librarian, in a pencil skirt and big round glasses with her hair always pinned back in a bun, ebbs away some of that sorrow.

"Could you imagine us? A librarian and an artist."

Regina laughs and hard. "Oh my god, yes. We would live in this ugly, rinky dink bohemian-like apartment that's half brick, half dry wall and art would line the walls, some good some bad and—oh god!—Christmas lights would line every crevice of the apartment!" She shudders, still laughing. "Oh, and we'd use mason jars for literally everything. And you would drink coffee out of this ugly ass mug that looks like it was made by a four-year old at arts and crafts and it has a little fish on it but it's your favorite. And we'd probably be health conscious vegans. And oh no! We'd have those disgusting little bead curtains that would separate all the rooms."

Regina can't stop laughing as she rambles on but Robin has stopped altogether and his face has surely drained of all blood and expression. She said we. When he'd asked he'd meant them living separate lives but she envisions them together, living a life together. Is it different than how they are now? Does she want the same even though they chose different professions that ended up putting them together anyway? They could still have that if they wanted, right? They could have their bohemian apartment with their art and mason jars. He wants that life with her.

He wants a life with her.

Regina stops talking when she realizes Robin has gone off into another galaxy. "What? You don't like it?"

"Wha- No! I love it. I love everything about it," he smiles and his finger taps the underside of her chin.

"What's wrong, then?"

"Well," he says, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. "It's just you said… we."

She pauses, moving her head back as if she doesn't understand but soon a mix of recognition and subsequent embarrassment spread across her features. She looks away from him, saying, "I suppose I did, didn't I?"

He doesn't let her away for too long, hooking his finger beneath her chin once more to bring her eyes back to his. "You did," he whispers quietly. He looks so deeply at her, trying not to glance down at her lips, which he wants nothing more than to kiss right now. But he needs to focus because there are more important things than his desire. "And I must say that was my favorite part."

She looks back up at him on her very own now, blinking steadily. He's said it. He's put it out there. Yesterday, when he'd proclaimed his feelings, he'd taken them back, afraid of them being misconstrued or not reciprocated. But now, hearing her plan out their life has him feeling more confident.

He looks at her expectantly.

"Yeah," is all she says, then he sees her lean in.

He follows suit.

She moves in a little more until their lips are mere inches apart.

Robin swallows, so hard, he nearly chokes. He wants to almost pinch himself to know that this is real, that Regina might want the same things that he wants. But maybe he's hearing things or misunderstanding them to fit his own needs. Gods in heaven, he wants to kiss her. It's wrong, they've just started what could be a beautiful friendship but he's so incredibly attracted to her and he wants her, oh, he wants her. She's gorgeous and witty and he's known for sometime that he's attracted to her but he's tried to be gentle about his feelings because he doesn't want to let either of them down. But he does have these feelings and if she's willing to let him act on them then he won't argue. But he has to be certain that this is what Regina really wants because this could effectively ruin their friendship and their working relationship and her own relationsh—.

Fuck.

He'd forgotten in the whirlwind of verbal Russian roulette, that he came here to confess the truth to her about Graham. He can hear the thunderous and annoyingly patronizing voice of John telling him how to act. You need to get a grip, man, and just tell her the truth. If she hates you for it, she hates you for it, but she'll hate you even more if you kiss her right now. But he wants to so badly, and it only gets stronger as she leans in closer toward him.

She must want to kiss him, too, but he can't allow that, right? He has to tell her all the facts, making sure that she's fully aware of the mess that they're about to get into. But he aches and he doesn't know where it's coming from but now that the possibility of him kissing her is present, he can't help but lean forward in equal measure, further closing the gap between them and giving way to temptation.

Her lips are nearly pressed to his. He can't breathe.

"Regina, I-" he tries weakly.

She leans in a hair further and draws her voice down to a whisper, "Hey," she takes a weighted pause before adding, "I like you too."

Regina lifts a hand to his face then leans upward until her lips crash against his, overpowering any goodwill he had left.

He's slightly surprised and doesn't have time to react. All he can even think about is that he and Regina are now lip locked, glued together. Her lips are just as he'd imagined they'd be—warm and soft, a perfect fit for his own. He's intoxicated and driven by an intense desire that now has been lit aflame in his chest. He moans into the kiss, but their lips stay connected and unmoving, save her lips suckling sweetly on his top lip and has him damn near melting in his spot.

They only part briefly for air, making brief eye contact and giving the other permission to kiss them again. And then, their lips are reunited, but hungrier and needier, this time. Her arms encircle around his neck to pull her across his lap (thankfully avoiding his injured foot, which truthfully he'd forgotten about) and more solidly into his kiss. His own arms snake around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, until they're melded into one. And their lips are now open, tongues seeking one another and lips smacking together and then apart.

He knows this is wrong because he should be confessing the truth about Graham but he can't help but get caught up in her and his feelings. Dear god, his feelings. Robin can feel himself going mad as his heart nearly explodes in his chest. Truly, he hasn't felt this excited about kissing a woman in quite sometime. He knows it's mostly the anticipation but now all that matters is her sweet kisses, which taste of coffee and a hint of mint. He's desperate to explore her, unable to stop.

But he's able to take himself away from her lips and journey down her jaw to her neck. He relishes in it when he does because she tosses her head back and gives a gentle moan in response. Her fingers rake through his hair and he knows what it means.

They need to slow down, they need to chill out, but he's too wired to care, too charged to do anything but experience it all.

He dares to place his lips now on the center of her chest, which she sanctions by pushing him against her flesh, digging her nails deep into his scalp as she brings him as close as she possibly can. He can feel her hips gyrate against him as a reflex and he's beyond turned on. Though she's pressed firmly against him, he takes one hand from her waist and weasels it between the fused bodies, skirting around at the hem of her blouse and slithering upward, until it has slipped beneath the fabric and it's running up her bare stomach. She doesn't fight him, and instead, encourages him to keep going until he's reaching her tit and groping at it.

Her hips gyrate again and he can feel his trousers growing smaller by the minute. He's sure she can feel him hardening against her leg but she doesn't seem the least bit phased by it.

Instead, she just reconnects their lips, kissing him deeply and moves until the seam of her pants settles on his cock and he moans aloud, as she circles her hips some more.

This was never Robin's intention, not really. Sure, he was ready, at any rate to be snogging Regina but as she tugs at his shirt to indicate that she wants it off, then reaches for her own, he realizes, he's moved past the boundary. He sobers and breaks away from her.

His breathing is incredibly shallow, he notices as silence befalls them. And his internal debate has crescendoed to an all out screaming match over right and wrong, over the blurred line between what he wants to do and what he needs to do.

He doesn't pull away, but whispers against her skin, "I can't."

"Why not?" she whispers back conspiratorially.

He licks his own lips and leaves them parted as he dips his head to hers, but John's voice pierces through once more. Although, suddenly it sounds much like his own.

Tell the bleeding truth, for fuck's sake man.

She sobers then, too, still breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" she asks curiously, scratching at his beard and eyeing him intently.

"Nothing," he bites his lip, "it's nothing it's just—"

He's babbling until her voice overpowers his, "Is this not what you really want?"

He swallows hard. "It's like you don't even know me," he playfully feigns offense, trying to cover his worry.

"Oh, how silly of me to have asked a question with such an obvious answer," she volleys back.

"Yes, how dare you," he teases, then sobers once more.

"I kissed you," she tells him blatantly, simply staring at him.

"I kissed you back."

"We... were going… to…" she says slowly, trying to process it.

"We could have."

She blinks, then her hands fly up to cover her face in embarrassment and she makes a single sniffle, an almost scoff that is scorning herself for what just transpired. But Robin is quick to follow, reaching for her hands and bringing them back down to her lap, where he holds them.

"I'm sorry," she shakes her head. "I don't know what the hell came over me, I- Robin, I—"

"Regina, it's okay, I instigated it," he consoles her. "We don't know what came over either of us."

"I just—you and—I don't," she prattles, trying to edge out some semblance of a sentence.

But he understands without her even saying anything coherent. "I know," he finally says.

She doesn't say anything else, but just leans forward, darting her tongue out to wet her lips and he struggles to breathe for a moment. He wants to feel that very tongue wrestling with his own, yielding to the passion that is currently flickering between them.

He leans in.

She does, too.

He can't kiss her again, but he wants to so badly that his hands act on their own, trailing up her back and resting just below her shoulder blades. Just a gentle nudge forward with them could have her lips against his. Her palms scrub either side of his chest and those, too could move up and link around his neck and have her to him all the same. But neither of them act. They just look at each other, breathing heavily. Robin can feel the tightness in his chest. He doesn't know what to do.

He knows what he has to do, though.

He takes a deep breath and he swears he goes to start telling her the truth, but instead, he blurts out quietly, "I want to kiss you."

The pit of his stomach is jelly and it only stirs thicker as she says, "I want to kiss you, too."

Her lips brush against his. He's so weak.

He caves once again, tipping his head upwards and joining their lips together once more. But this one is different, this one he savors, because it isn't new, it isn't expectant, it's natural.

He just lets himself feel everything, the caress of her lips, the taste of her tongue. He revels in the way she smells and the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair. He feels her body heat, he feels her.

Fuck the bloody cliff, this is being alive.

Soon, the long savory kiss becomes short, measured pecks and he can't stop smiling, but he knows he needs to be serious and get down to business. But he's so happy in this moment.

"Regina," he finally says during the breaks between the kisses, "we need to talk about this."

She stops. "I know. But that means more being a serious adult and less kissing."

"I know," he responds reluctantly.

"It's messy," she urges quietly.

"I know," he says again.

"And we were doing well building up our friendship."

"I know."

"And this would effectively ruin that."

"I know."

"And we don't know if this is physical or if we could maybe find common ground to be serious and, you know, work and our friends and Gra— oh god! Graham!" Her eyes grow as wide as saucers and she hops backwards off of Robin's lap to stand all in one fell swoop.

His own eyes grow and he feels the warning of his palms beginning to sweat because he'd been avoiding the Graham related drama, but now, it is entirely messier because he came to tell Regina that he is cheating on her only to turn around and help Regina cheat on him. Oh, he's made a mess. He can't tell her the truth, now, because then it'll make him look like arsehole, plus, she'll never feel vindicated, given that she's now equally as sinful as Graham. But, he can't lie either because she deserves the truth and she needs to leave Graham—not for him but for herself. Now, his only option is to pick the lesser of the two evils and hopefully, give Regina the chance to kick that scum out of her life.

But are they the scum now? They certainly were kissing and nearly dry humping without Graham's knowledge. But she's going to end it with him anyway, right? So, it technically isn't that bad, right? But, still, she didn't know that Graham was cheating before she cheated so that doesn't alleviate her culpability. Then again, that lands on him because he was the only one with full knowledge who should've shared it with Regina when he first showed up. Instead, he was more focused on how gorgeous she looks, even with her make up nearly all gone, her hair thrown up in a half arse bun atop her head and her donning a baggy New Mexico t-shirt and leggings. He was too distracted over how badly he wanted her and how a wanker like Graham didn't deserve her.

Perhaps, Graham isn't the only one.

"Robin," he voice pleads, tinged with fearfulness.

He has to tell her.

So he rises from the spot, studding his hands into his pockets, and starts with a guilty, "Regina, I need to te—"

But he's cut off by a knock at the door and her wild eyes zip from the door back to his eyes, which mirror hers. "Graham."

"That's him?"

"We have plans today and I—"

"He's coming over here?"

"No, no," she quickly waves her hands. "We were supposed to meet as his place later. Maybe he came to surprise me?"

"Well, then Regina I nee—"

The knocking on the door gets more insistent and he feels panic rise in his throat.

Regina quickly turns on him and brings her self close to him, even daring to reach out and touch his arms. She drops her voice lower than a whisper and instructs him. "Okay, go back to the bathroom, count to like 50 or something and come out. We'll just say you were over here checking on me and you were giving me a rundown of the staff meeting we had today."

He nods and then backs away, following her directions.

"Oh, and Robin," she calls after him, voice still quiet. He turns back to her. "Make sure you flush the toilet."

He cracks a smile, "I'm not actually gonna use the loo, you know?"

"I know, you idiot," she rolls her eyes, "I meant so it sounds legitimate."

There's another knock and both their eyes dart in direction of the door. But Regina hisses for him to go and she begins to trot her way over towards the door.

Just as he's entering the bedroom, he hears the door open and Regina's surprise is equal to his own when she announces, "Emma Swan?"

He doesn't move, doesn't breathe as he listens to the other woman talk. "Hi, I should've called, I know, is this a bad time?"

"Kind of," Regina answers rudely and Robin feels a tug at his heart because she has no idea that she's about to be ambushed with something he should've long since confessed. "What can I help you with Ms. Swan? Is Graham okay?"

"Graham… doesn't even know that I'm here."

"Okayyyy," Regina drawls out agitatedly. "Then why are you here?"

"Can I come in?"

Regina hesitates and Robin secretly wishes that she'd just sent the other woman away but, eventually she concedes. "I suppose so, but we have to make it brief, I have company."

"Oh, god," Emma apologizes, "I didn't realize. If you need me to come back another time, I can."

"No, it's fine."

He hears the door open wider with a creak and he doesn't bother going back to the bathroom, and instead steps towards the living room. He might as well face the beast head on. There's no running away now and there's no way to get him out of this mess or let Regina down easily.

He's edging the end of the hallway as their voices get louder, moving closer to him. He almost turns back. Maybe he could just stay locked away in the bathroom while Emma confesses the truth and he can play dumb after she's gone. But he knows he can't do that. He has to accept the consequences of his negligence. He lingers, though, around the opening, waiting for the women to come into view, hoping the corner can shield him for just a little while longer.

Regina spots him first. He can tell she's surprised that he's back out but she doesn't verbalize it. Instead, she simply starts with an introduction. "Oh, uh, Ms. Swan, this is my coworker, R—"

"Robin?" Emma interrupts.

Regina's surprise shines through this time and she looks between him and Emma several times. "You two know each other?"

Emma deflects her question and turns on Robin. "You knew who I was last night, didn't you?" she accuses and he doesn't argue and simply casts his eyes downward.

Realization washes over Regina. "You were the blonde last night?"

Emma looks incredulously over at Robin, "So you told her about me?"

"My roommate did," he tells her.

"So, what?" Regina fills in the silence. "Are you two seeing each other?"

Emma doesn't answer, but instead, looks to Robin, who knows his face is now covered in remorse.

"What's going on?" Regina demands.

"Tell her," Robin directs at Emma. "You came all this way."

Emma doesn't speak immediately. Instead, she chews on her tongue for a split second, allowing enough time for Regina to turn back on Robin and hiss her question at him again.

He only answers with, "I tried to tell you," in a low and apologetic whisper that conveys the heartbreak he feels.

His eyes don't quite meet hers because frankly, he cannot see the betrayed look in her eyes as Emma confesses. But he can still feel her eyes piercing into him, settling right into the center of his scalp, as if all the answers are hidden there. Little had she known that they'd been hidden just beneath his tongue as it was connecting with hers in passion, but now it's twisted and clumsy and waiting to deliver the last words it has left: I'm sorry.

"Regina," Emma braves measuredly. "There's something you should know."

Robin steals a quick glance over at Regina, whose arms are crossed and mouth is formed into a tight line.

Emma is stammering stupidly as Robin carefully observes the brunette, but he doesn't jump in, and maybe should because he could've assumed the responsibility of telling her the truth, but he remains silent.

"Spit it out, Miss Swan," Regina spews agitatedly.

"I—Graham and I—we, uh," Emma gauchely continues.

The rest happens in a series of several seconds. Regina's face contorts momentarily at the mention of Graham's name, followed by a sudden rush of understanding, which in turn is polished off with a visible seething anger—all of which occurs while Emma finally gets out the words, "We're sleeping together."

Regina doesn't speak immediately. Instead, she watches Emma crossly. Robin imagines that Regina is trying to see if she can blow the blonde up with her mind. He can feel the anger radiating off of her and he feels terrible. He could've prevented all of this if he'd just been honest at the get go. But there's no going back. They've past the point of no return.

"You know, Emma Swan," Regina starts slowly. To many she might sound patient. But Robin knows Regina better than that. This is what a hunter sounds like, circling its prey. He can hear the subtle taunt and the venom, which will be delivered for the kill.

He knows it's coming and he doesn't even notice how he squeezes his eyes shut because he can't bear to watch Emma get eaten alive. But he listens and Regina delivers. "Ever since I met you, I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I saw the way you looked at Graham but I tried to pass it off as camaraderie. There was no way you were dumb enough to put your schoolgirl crush on display in front of everyone. But I underestimated you."

Emma looks hurt and, frankly, it serves her right, but then again, he had a chance to be honest, too, and didn't take it. But Emma's hurt quickly fades into an indignant frown. "Look, Regina, I understand you're angry but I came here as a courtesy to you."

"No," Regina answers flatly. She sticks out an accusatory finger and Robin knows this is the end, the last battle, the final blow, that quiet moment in the jungle just before the hunter pounces and captures its prey.

"No," she repeats, "what you came here for, Miss Swan, was absolution. Are you going to stop seeing Graham, now? Of course not! But you're hoping that now that you've told me, I will direct all of my anger to Graham and you will be free to live your life without burden. Maybe next week we could hang out, you can give me a makeover, braid my hair, talk about who Graham thinks is the better kisser. All the while, you get to screw him and I just get to smile and play along. You did this to make yourself feel better, Em-ma," she spits the other woman's name. "But you don't get my forgiveness. You just get to know that I know. Now, turn around, and get the hell out of my apartment."

Emma doesn't move at first, but slowly she turns and makes her way back from whence she came, shuffling toward the door sorrowfully.

"Oh, and Emma," Regina calls after her, "if you have even a shred of decency left, don't tell Graham, you've been here. I want to handle him, myself."

Emma nods as she reaches for the door handle. "As you wish." Then she exits.

Robin stands there, dumfounded and seeking his brain for something to say. But as he watches the huff and puff of her chest, he knows she's saved some anger for him. He frets, swallowing hard and nearly chokes. What could he say? What could he do to fix this?

"Regina," he starts weakly.

She doesn't look at him. "You knew." It wasn't a question.

He wishes he could rewind to just a half hour ago when they were sitting on the couch, laughing and talking about the future. He'd give anything to see that smile in place of the pained grimace that now resides on her face. He'd hurt her and there was no way to take it back, no way to apologize for being a complete and utter cock up. He really wishes he could rewind the whole day, telling her the truth from the start. Things might be different but, at least, then, she wouldn't be looking at him like she is now.

"Yes," he resigns.

He can see tears welling in her eyes again and he breaks. He doesn't want to be the reason she cries.

"Why didn't tell me?" she tearfully accuses.

"I—" he attempts, but everything is jumbled in his head. "There just wasn't a right time."

"Wasn—" she scoffs, "What do you mean there wasn't a right time? Maybe when you walked through my door, you could've said, 'hey Regina just FYI your boyfriend is a tool bag, who's cheating on you. Or maybe even before you crossed my threshold! You had almost two hours to tell me the truth!"

He groans, but doesn't mean to. It's reactionary. "That's why I came over here, Regina, I swear. I came here to tell you what happened but—"

"But what!? Why didn't you tell me!?" She's yelling now and he feels like such a jerk.

"I wanted to," he sighs, trying to eject the pain in his chest, "but I let my feelings get in the way. And I'm sorry for that."

She's retreating again, he can see it. She refuses to look at him and picks a focal point on the wall, instead. "But what about my feelings? God, he cheated and you—You! Did you just come over here to screw me so you could turn around and say, 'Oh, now you and your boyfriend are cheaters. Cheerio!'"

"You know I'd never do that, Regina," he spits, his ire burning red hot.

"Well, you nearly did! This," she gestures between them, "can't happen, now."

There's another pang in his chest and he feels so miserable. It doesn't have to be like this. It can't end like this. He reaches out for her but she pulls away. "Regina, I—"

"Go," she says so quietly he almost doesn't hear it. Or maybe, he doesn't want to.

He can't leave like this. He won't move. "I can't."

That's when she finally looks at him. Her eyelids flutter and he can't help but think about how beautiful she is. He can't leave her behind. He can't leave her like this. But he can't clean the wounds he helped make. He's stuck.

Her eyes aren't angry anymore. They're wet with tears but they're no longer mad. She turns to him and begins walking. His heart catches in his throat and he's fairly certain that she's going to slap him, deservedly so. But instead, when her hands come into contact with his face, they are gentle and they slide across his cheeks to encircle his neck and pull his face down to hers, until their lips are upon one another's. It's a soft, tender kiss. It's a goodbye kiss.

It stays muted until they split. "For now, go."

He has no choice but to oblige but he lingers as long as he can. Then he trudges mournfully to the door, chancing one final glance backward to see her watching him as he goes. He blinks once, whispers one last apology and then he goes.

As she wishes.

---

A/N: Trust me. I'm not Adam and Eddy.