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?

13. Chapter 12

Author's Note: No, you're not dreaming. You actually did get an email about a Study Hall update, haha. I am so so so sorry to have kept you all waiting, but I want to thank you for your patience with me. Hopefully, the fact that this chapter is nearly 26,000 words can make up for, at least, a little bit of all that waiting you had to do and you all can forgive me. If not, well, I'll try my best not to take as long next time (but don't count on it).

Anyways, just wanted to give another quick thank you to two wonderful ladies, who helped slave over this beast of a chapter. First to Shay, who's commentary is unparalleled and absolutely hysterical, making the beta-ing process much more enjoyable. And secondly, to Manuela, who was my rock through this whole chapter. I couldn't have done it without her. There were many late nights, lots of griping and a stupid amount of errors, which she powered through like a champ. Not to mention, y'all can thank her for the reason it's so long. It's her fault, even if she denies it. But thank you both for listening to my insufferable whining and helping me finally get this done. I'm forever in your debts.

Okay, okay, you've all waited long enough. Have at it. As always, enjoy and let me know what you think!

---

He is a conflicted man. A foolishly conflicted man. He's had his heart broken plenty of times, sure, but he has never been this twisted up over a woman—well, save Marian, but she's a whole different matter in itself. But as far as his mixed feelings about Regina go, this is entirely new territory for him.

It's not like he's pacing around his blasted apartment, pining like a poor bastard that's just had his heart ripped out and stomped on, but he's not been particularly cavalier about the whole situation either. Of course, he's been putting on a good face for Regina, giving her space when she needs it and being a shoulder to cry on when she needs that, instead. But, inside his guts writhe with the urge to touch, savor and satiate every desire that's burning within him. He can't—he knows he can't—she's asked to be friends and nothing more and he has to respect that, and he wants to respect that, but that doesn't mean the rest of him won't act accordingly.

His heart will continue to skip a beat every time she walks in the room. His nose will silently revel in in the waft of her scent as she goes by. And his pitiful mind will berate him to make a move.

But he can't.

He's considered the harm in expressing his true feelings and it just outweighs the respect he has for her wishes. So, he's left to stay mum and silently wish that she will, one day, reconsider their relationship with one another.

And that's why he's decided to woo her. It's unlike him—he doesn't usually do wooing of any kind—but he's serious this time. He wants her to see that he's a good man and more than some careless wank, who just sleeps with a girl and moves on. He can commit. He wants to commit.

And he's going to damn well prove it.

That's why he's walking to her classroom now, coffee in hand. School doesn't start for another twenty minutes, and though he's running later than he'd like to be, he, at least, wants to show her a small gesture of said wooing.

He can't decide if the slickness of his palms is dedicated to the rapidly melting iced coffee in his hands or the sweat that's manifesting his nervousness. He, of course, hopes it's the former and that he can actually not look like a complete plonker in front of her. Although, that begs the question of why he's concerned in the first place. He and Regina have been friends for a couple of months now—it's not like anything has changed.

Except that he's kissed her. And betrayed her. And she's just asked to be friends.

But the point remains. There's just a mild addition of pressure now. No big deal.

He takes a deep breath, which sounds off and ricochets down the first and second grade hall. It's empty and dead silent, sans his deep breath and the sound of his shoes padding against the linoleum. But as he nears Regina's classroom he can hear the faint tapping on a keyboard.

It's Regina, he finds, as he rounds his way into her classroom. She has her back to him and is furiously typing away on her computer. He stands there in the doorframe and tries to muster some courage to approach her.

Her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail today and she's donned a thin cotton tee shirt with a black vest. He's certain she's more than likely wearing leggings, as well. He knows they're her favorite. She's a picture even in relaxed and casual wear and he can't help but take a minute to admire her. Except, it doesn't take long before he realizes how creepy it probably looks that he's simply watching her from afar, especially with Halloween right around the corner.

He begins shuffling toward her as quietly as possible, not wanting to startle her. As he files closer, he notices that she's deeply concentrated in whatever it is that she's typing. Her brow is furrowed worrisomely and her mouth is fixed into a frown. He feels his own level of concern, then, worried that something is bothering her.

But, hopefully, whatever it is can be fixed with a bit of coffee and company.

When he reaches her desk, he carefully and conspicuously slides her coffee on the surface, pushing it until it nearly touches her elbow.

She turns to him to reveal a gentle smile and make-up done much like the rest of her, casual and relaxed, but beautiful as ever.

"Hey," she greets him warmly, looking genuinely happy to see him.

Her smile grows with a power that could make his kneecaps crack under pressure and give out below him. She even has tiny, little crinkles forming at the corner, which usually means that she is sincerely happy—something he's much more pleased to see, compared to the look she was wearing only moments ago.

"Hi there," he returns in kind, attempting to match her smile.

Regina glances down at the tall, clear plastic cup, brimming with a (now watery) beige liquid and dripping with condensation on the outside.

"What's this?" she asks, picking it up and taking a sip.

Robin, of course, can't resist the urge to jest with her. "Well… it's coffee," he teases playfully feigning a bit of confusion.

Regina only rolls her eyes, as she often does, at him. "You know what I meant," she says flatly, while burying her smile beneath contempt.

"I owed you coffee, so I'm just simply squaring off my debt," he shrugs nonchalantly, even though the whole premise of buying the coffee had nothing to do with evening out his debt and everything to do with his attempts at courting her.

She frowns at the cup, and then looks up at him curiously with narrowed eyes. "How did you know that's what I wanted?"

He grins cheekily. "The barista. I went and asked her what you'd ordered after you left."

"Bet that scored you some points with her, didn't it?" she smirks, as she sips away at her drink.

Robin, at least, attempts to look sheepish about it, but she isn't wrong. The girl practically melted on the spot at the idea that he was trying to impress Regina. She'd willingly offered up what Regina had ordered and even offered to make it for free, which he, of course, refused, promising that he fully intended to pay for it.

It's meant to be a gentlemanly offer, after all.

"It may've," he admits with a shrug, but I'm not particularly looking to score points with her."

Regina doesn't say anything but shies her face away from him. She's smiling, he can tell by the height of her cheeks and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, so he waits patiently for her to recover and return to their conversation with the dignity that he knows she has to have.

But she doesn't really, and instead, looks back at her computer with a frown.

"What is it?" he asks, trying to lean in and get a look at her screen.

Regina sighs and takes another sip of her drink. "Henry," she breathes tiredly, "he's missed so many days already and I just don't know what to do. I've been trying to email his foster parents, but apparently they couldn't care less about his education."

Robin understands her frustration all too well. Roland has missed his fair share of days, too, and the number keeps growing at an alarming rate. Everyday that Roland's seat remains empty, Robin gets more concerned, but, much like Regina, isn't sure what he can do quite yet. They can't report them as truant because they haven't met the required number of absences, though they are nearing that threshold quickly.

"Yeah," Robin sighs, as well, rubbing the back of his neck, "Roland, too. You think we should say something?"

"There's nothing we can say right now," she sighs.

She's extremely frustrated and stressed, he can tell, and it makes him hurt in all the worst places. He just wants to fix and make things better.

He shouldn't place his hands on her shoulders and give them a few massaging squeezes, but he feels as though it's the least he could do. He shouldn't really be touching her at all, but his palms slide with little hesitation onto her shoulders and massage. And she doesn't reject him, doesn't even flinch. In fact, she lazily leans into his touch as he murmurs softly that they'll figure something out together.

"You think so?" she queries while he kneads.

The logical part of him is screaming that this is all too inappropriate, particularly while they're at school, but he's resolved himself not to care. He should, though. After all, he knows that not only will this be the only gossip that'll circulate through the faculty, he's also fairly certain the administration wouldn't think too highly of their fraternization. And yet, he's unfazed by the notion, doesn't give a toss at all, to be perfectly honest. He thinks maybe she should care more because that's just typical of Regina, but she isn't saying anything in repudiation.

Then again, it could just be that she's really distracted and simply doesn't care to focus on what he's doing. So, he just continues, while she sips away at her coffee.

He compliments as he kneads, knowing the two together are the best option to get her smiling and de-stressed, "Regina, you are an incredibly intelligent woman. I'm sure you'd be able to figure it out, regardless."

"You have too much faith in me," she grumbles and goes back to typing on her computer, still not commenting on his gentle massage, which has waned a little and is now more him just resting on her.

"You know what they say—faith, trust and pixie dust," he counters with a gentle chuckle, and a final squeeze to her shoulders, even though he isn't planning on moving.

Regina laughs aloud and turns her face toward him. "Ha! If only it were that easy. And if I had any pixie dust, my ass would be halfway to Neverland by now."

"Ah, to be young forever and avoid the crushing responsibilities of adulthood."

Regina hums softly and flutters her fingertips on the keys of the keyboard. He watches her mind slip away dreamily and they just linger in that state peacefully, just for a moment. But, Robin's head is steadily swimming with nerves and fears and he worries if what he's doing is okay. He's waiting and waiting for Regina to turn around and ask him why he's even touching her. He knows she's too polite for that but that doesn't abate his worry at all.

If he wasn't so worried about all of this, he might venture to be hopeful, to think that this could be a good routine for them—he brings her coffee and they talk about things, whether it's work or them or her mum or whatever, he could get used to it. He could really get used to it. The feeling causes this metalic pang in his chest, as if someone has taken hold of his heart and banged it incessantly against a baking pan. He wants to be with her, God, he wants to be with her. He has to be patient and respectful, though. He can't just push or prod her into loving him.

Robin feels like he's becoming his own broken record, that he keeps telling himself the same thing over and over again. He fancies her, a whole hell of a lot, and he wants to spend every waking hour with her and get her coffee and—Christ, he sounds like a bloody stalker.

Perhaps, he needs to consider staying away from her, just for a little while, to get his head on straight. Just long enough that he's not caught fawning arse over tit for her. And he can start by moving his hands, just raise them off of her shoulders and dig them so deeply into his pockets that there's no way to dig them back out. But if his will was as strong as his resolution, he'd be a wholly better man. So, he just remains and holds his breath, while he listens to Regina breathe.

It isn't until he hears a soft, "Oh," behind him that he thinks maybe he should have moved his hands.

Both he and Regina look towards at the source at the same time and find Kathryn standing in Regina's doorway, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised. A clutter of excuses for Robin and Regina's current state and apologies for intrusion follow until they all fall to Kathryn walking into the room and dismissing their pretenses. Her features shift to something that looks a little more smug as she gets closer to them and it makes Robin feel an odd level of unease, causing him to finally lift his hands from Regina's shoulders and step a couple feet away.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Kathryn tells them sweetly, trying to act completely flippant about what she saw even though it's obvious that she has.

Regina is quick on her heels with a defense, claiming, "Nothing to interrupt. Robin and I were just discussing our students."

"Oh were you?" Kathryn counters in a way that Robin doesn't like. He can't quite put his finger on it but it sounds almost accusatory and he feels increasingly more defensive even though he hasn't the slightest clue why he even feels that way, nor does he know if he's right or simply being overly sensitive.

"Yes," Regina clips and he notices that neither woman is really looking at him. Kathryn may have glanced his way once but he can tell Regina is purposefully averting her gaze. She's mostly focused on glaring down Kathryn, but it's obvious that she's pointedly not looking in his direction.

He feels a sweep of nerves tickle the pit of his stomach as he pieces together the silent conversation the two women are having. Kathryn knows something. He has no idea to what extent that is, but she knows something. He watches her eyes narrow and her lips tip further upward into a greater smirk. She definitely knows something.

Robin feels the need to jump in, to somehow distract Kathryn away from, what he's sure is, a pot full of ideas brewing. But he keeps coming up dry and is forced to stand there like a muppet while the women continue about their staring contest. All he can think to do is clear his throat, which does finally draw their attention to him rather than each other. Kathryn wears a muted, insidious smile, while Regina is decorated in the hardest grimace she's probably ever worn in her life. But both women look expectantly and he mentally kicks himself because he probably should've thought that part through.

But he just goes with the first thing that comes to mind, "D'you need something?"

It sounds kind of rude, and maybe he somewhat meant for it to, but he still cringes when he gets it out. He wants to protect Regina from certain embarrassment, but he doesn't wish to step on any toes along the way.

It seems to work, though, because Kathryn shakes her head once, then nods ardently. "Right," she says, clearing her own throat. "I'm actually glad you're both here. Kills two birds with one stone, you know?"

Both Robin and Regina nod, waiting for whatever shoe is about to inevitably drop, as is custom with Kathryn, he's learned.

"So, Regina I know you are— but, Robin I assume you would like to help with the carnival, as well, yes?"

Robin catches a glimpse of Regina looking panickedly at him, out of the corner of his eye.

Something is wrong.

He hasn't heard of any carnival, so he's at a loss as to why Regina is obviously concerned, so he sort of stands there and stammers.

Kathryn looks perplexed. "You know, the one we discussed in our meeting the other week?"

Oh, right. The meeting he didn't pay a spot of attention to because he was too sodding preoccupied with texting Regina and ignored practically everything David had said during it. Although, in hindsight, he does think he remembers a brief mention of something of the sort, but again, he was a bit caught up in other things to have fully acknowledged it.

Robin simply pretends to recover, "Right, yes, of course, sorry, appears I've gone dead from the neck up. What is that you need me to do?"

Kathryn just smirks and gives a snide, "Right," then adds, "I was hoping you could help with a minigame, maybe bobbing for apples or darts or something."

"I could do darts," he tells her.

"Perfect," she replies to him, "Oh, and you need to wear a costume. You could be, um… oh! Robin Hood. That would be perfect for you."

"Then, Robin Hood I shall be," Robin accepts with a nod, which Kathryn answers in turn.

"Now, Regina," she sings and turns her attention. "Do you just want to leave straight from here so we can get you ready that day?"

Regina starts to say something, probably some sassy comment, but she stops before she even gets the first word out. Her eyes go all wide and her face is washed paler than a ghost. "No," is all she says, while shaking her head violently.

"It's your year, Regina. We agreed on this," Kathryn reasons with a stomp of her foot and a bit of a whine.

Robin, on the other hand, has lost the plot completely. But whatever's going on, he knows Kathryn has cooked up something that Regina accidentally agreed to ages ago, and now it's time for her to pay up.

"I thought I'd figure a way out of it by now," Regina gripes, tossing her head backward and massaging her temples.

Kathryn's face twists into something resembling pissed off, but he thinks she's too polite to make it obvious, which is what causes him to step in before either woman ends up causing an argument.

"I'm sorry, what's happening?"

Robin watches as Regina's warm colored skin shifts from its regular hue to one that's much redder. She rolls her eyes at Kathryn angrily, but manages to speak to Robin, "Every year, we do a haunted house at the carnival. And every year, one of the women from the staff dresses up like the Evil Queen to be posted up at the end of it. Well, last year, my name got drawn, but I was sick, so Kathryn went in my place and I agreed that I would do it this year since I got out of doing it last year. So, now I have to dress up in this ridiculous get-up, just to make her happy."

Kathryn steps toward Regina, pleading, "It will make me happy Gi, please, just do it."

Robin looks between the women, trying his best not to laugh or smile. He would definitely like to see Regina dressed up like an evil queen. He just decides to watch quietly as the women square off with one another. But when Regina glances up at her clock on the wall, taking Robin and Kathryn's eyes with them, her features sour because she knows that there is no way to win.

"Fine, but my name doesn't go in the drawing next year," she compromises, but pouts like a child.

"The previous person is always taken out. You know that."

Regina rolls her eyes again. "Whatever. Now, don't you have a classroom of your own to commandeer?"

Kathryn rebuts with, "I'm across the hall," but yields to Regina when the latter huffs frustratedly. "Fine, fine. I'm going. I'll let you get back to your… massage," she teases, as she backs out of the room

Regina goes red in the face again, and Robin isn't sure if it's because she's angry or embarrassed this time. Meanwhile, he's completely mortified, moreso for Regina than himself. Still, he tries to pretend like Kathryn's statement wasn't suggestive.

"What was she on about?"

Regina sighs and is back to massaging her temples. "Kathryn thinks there's something going on between us."

Well, bollocks. Excellent. Just what they need.

"But, there isn't, right?" he asks with a mild hope that Kathryn is listening outside.

Regina glances again at her clock and gives him a wry smile. "Your students will be here in five minutes, Mr. Locksley, you should probably get to your classroom."

Robin chuckles, figuring that means he's not getting an answer to that question, which could be good or bad. Maybe, she doesn't want to answer it because there's still hope that something will happen between them (or well, something else, since something has sort of happened already). But, Robin won't question her motives for not answering him aloud. He'll find out eventually. That much he knows.

"Yes, Your Majesty, he says cheekily, pacing backward to the door and choosing to leave things as they are.

Regina just lifts up a brow smartly and sips her coffee, which she then tips toward him as a mutual thank you and farewell.

[:]

Halloween arrives in no time.

Robin thanks his lucky stars that the blasted holiday fell on the weekend rather than sometime during the week because if today had been any indication of how his students would behave on the actual day of Halloween, he would've quit on the spot. Each and every one of them was wired and wild to the point that Robin had nearly gone barmy a couple of times during the day. He's convinced that all of their parents must have fed them some Halloween candy before shipping them off to school. And then it didn't help that there was candy and cupcakes galore in his classroom either.

He practically asked for it when he passed out the moist, store-bought chocolate cupcakes, decorated with purple and orange icing and some Halloween garnishes. He should've known it would only exacerbate the raucous mood, but foolishly, he'd hoped for the better and handed out the sweets to the mongrels. And he steadily watched throughout the day, as the sugar slowly disintegrated any remnants of order and civility left in the feral five year olds.

Now, he's paying for it.

The lights in his classroom have been turned off and all the blinds on the windows have been closed shut, effectively blocking out as much light as he possibly can. And yet everything is still fucking bright and loud and making his migraine progressively worse as the day goes on. Thankfully, he put some Excedrin in his desk, or else he'd have no choice but to go home and sleep off the worst headache he's had in his life. Hell, no hangover he's ever had has been this bad. He's half a mind to call Kathryn and tell her that he can't make it to the carnival anyway, but he doesn't want to flake on her last minute, and, if he's being honest, he doesn't want to pass up the opportunity to see Regina in an Evil Queen costume.

And he doesn't miss the opportunity to tell her that either.

They text a lot, him and Regina. Ever since their little coffee rendezvous they've been texting a good bit. Sometimes it'll just be them asking each other how their day went. Other times it'll be full on commentary about the developing presidential election. Usually, he isn't one to get into his political beliefs, especially with women he fancies (although, there was that one time he'd made a comment in passing early on in the year with a girl he'd met at a bar, and she'd proceeded to ask why he cared since he's English—lesson learned), but with Regina, it's different. Perhaps, because he knows she shares similar beliefs or perhaps, because for what seems like the first time in forever, he feels that he can be brutally honest about what he believes. He can actually have an intellectual discussion with someone about something other than sex and booze.

Maybe that's why he's so mad for her.

But then there's also that gorgeous hair and that stunning smile and those legs and—Christ he needs to get a grip.

His mind still lingers on her legs, though, as he texts her dreamily about how he's looking forward to seeing her in her costume. Regina doesn't reply, but he just attributes it to the probability that she's getting ready for the carnival. In fact, he needs to get on as well and get ready. But he's tidying up before Monday because his classroom has been reduced to shambles thanks to the holiday of evil (and that has nothing to do with the dead and everything to do with chaos-hungry children).

He pauses when he reaches Roland Cassidy's desk. Robin noticed that Roland wasn't as actively participating in the day as the other children. The boy wasn't wearing a costume either, as is, apparently, the tradition at Blanchard Orchard. There were other children, as well, who didn't wear any Halloween paraphernalia, but it was Roland who caught his eye. Robin couldn't stop his thoughts from going straight to the idea that his foster parents had completely deprived the boy of the opportunity to celebrate the holiday. Of course, he tries to rationalize it and remind himself that they could've forgotten, or they don't celebrate the holiday, but something in his gut tells him otherwise. He doesn't trust them—he can't explain why, but he just doesn't.

He shouldn't, but he texts Regina again, Was Henry wearing a costume today?

This time she texts back nearly immediately, completely ignoring his first text. No, why?

Just curious… he replies simply, then sets his phone down, assuming Regina isn't texting him back.

But she surprises him when he hears the little twinkle of his phone. He picks it up and reads, Wish I believed you.

Wish I believed myself...

The notion just comes to him as he sets his phone down and picks a candy wrapper up off of the floor (no need to give the custodial staff extra work)—but he shouldn't do it. It's only asking for trouble. Maybe they just don't celebrate the holiday. Or, maybe, his suspicions are correct and Walsh and Zelena are shit parents, who don't bother to let Henry and Roland have a proper childhood, whether it be because they're lazy or just generally terrible people. Either way, now that the idea has begun to stir up in his mind, he can't seem to ignore it.

All he'd need to do is give the Wests a ring and ask. And what would be the harm in asking? He knows the harm is that they're very likely to turn him down and will probably be offended that he's accusing them of neglect. But, on the other hand, he wants to give the boys things that their utter rotters for foster parents refuse to do.

So, he's decided, then. He marches himself over to his desk and flips hastily through his directory beside his computer monitor. When he lands in the W section, he skims through until he finds the Wests' contact information. He chooses to call the wife, figuring she'd be much more likely to oblige him and mildly less likely to get offended by his proposition.

He pulls out his cell and cautiously dials her number, while continuously questioning if he's about to make a total wanker of himself.

The woman actually answers on the third ring, so he's going to do it one way or the other. She salutes with a pinched and polite hello, which he returns in kind. He adds an introduction, even though he's fairly certain she knows who he is.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Locksley?" she asks brusquely, making it clear she doesn't wish to make conversation aside from whatever it is that he needs.

Robin clears his throat nervously. "I was wondering if you were planning on taking the boys to the school carnival this evening," he tells her.

He can hear the hollow breath she exhales through the receiver before she answers with a curt, "No."

Okay, he was hoping she'd elaborate a little on why she's so hellbent on preventing Henry and Roland from enjoying the scary holiday, but it seems he's not going to get anything out of this woman at all. The thought causes an uprising of panic in his stomach, telling him that this was a mistake after all. He considers hanging up, but he just can't help himself. He has to ask, just needs to get it out of his system.

He clears his throat again and braces himself for the feeling of a boulder dropping into the lower part of his abdomen when he's disappointed. He winces as he asks, "Well, I was curious if you'd let me take them. They won't be out late, I promise. But I'd really like for them to come. Plus, " he tries to sweeten the pot, "it'd give you and your husband a little break. You two could go out for dinner or something."

Mrs. West pauses, making her end dreadfully quiet and only making him more anxious. He can practically hear her thinking up excuses to tell him no. Robin holds his breath and tries to ignore the wave of nausea that ripples through his midsection, as he prepares himself for the no.

"Dinner out would be nice," she starts and Robin can feel the surge of hope bubble up within him, even though he knows a but is coming so he needs to tamp it back down. "But," Yep. He knew it. "I don't have any costumes for them."

"Oh, that's no problem," he dismisses, "not everyone is wearing a costume. They'll be fine in a whatever they wore today."

The woman goes silent again, mulling over the proposition. He can hear her hum softly and he thinks he hears the boys off in the distance yelling about something. When the yelling gets louder, she hollers over the crescendo, "Okay, be here by 5:30 to pick them up?"

Robin nods and that bubble of hope rises to the crown of his skull, pops, and washes over him gloriously. His chest swells triumphantly as he says, "I'll be there."

[:]

Robin isn't the most notorious for being punctual. In fact, he's shit with time, can't be on time to save his life. But today, he's made an exception. Today, he made sure to be ready and in a timely fashion. He threw his costume on in a matter of minutes when he got back to his apartment. He's never put on a pair of tights so quickly in his life— well, he's never worn tights in his life but, should another opportunity arise, he's certain he won't have to don them as quickly.

And now he's careening down the streets of Albuquerque, trying to get to the Wests' home and trying his best not to call every driver several ugly terms that would make even the foulest Brits blush simply because they're following the law. Plus, he's still got plenty of time, but he's afraid that if he's even a minute late, the Wests will change their minds. He can't have that. He won't have that.

It's unethical that he's doing this, and probably an unwise decision overall, but he's willing to risk it for these boys. He hasn't the slightest idea why, but he does. He's taken a liking to them and has developed some need to protect them. It happens, teachers see needy children all the time that they want to help. He's met teachers who've bought an entire Christmas list worth of gifts for students before. He's heard of them taking them home and sitting with them when their parents are dealing with a crisis or are simply running late. So, what he's doing shouldn't be that surprising, but the lengths he's willing to go, might just tip the scale.

Nevertheless, he's piling on the weights with each passing day without any regard to the potential consequences or repercussions.

He arrives with thirteen minutes to spare, but still doesn't waste time when he gets there. He scrambles out of his car and rushes to the door within seconds. He's breathless, as his knuckles rap against the door several times. While he waits, Robin takes a moment to observe the property. They live in a neighborhood several minutes away from the school. It's not a very high class one. The house is a stout, adobe brick with a dark, coral tint and brown shutters. The landscape is unkempt, with its tiny shrubs all dead and toys strewn all over the yard. He's a fright to see the inside. But he tries not to judge too much. He can only imagine how difficult it must be to keep everything tidy when you've got two young boys mucking about.

They've taken too long to answer the door, and Robin is becoming increasingly uneasy about standing outside in a Robin Hood costume, so he knocks again. Suddenly, he's attuned to the bustling and noises coming from the home. He can hear feet thudding against hardwood, as they presumably near the door and a voice yelling, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

The door swings open a moment later to reveal young Henry on the other side looking up at him perplexedly. The boy's head tips to one side, then the other, and then he smirks at Robin, giving him a once-over. "You look silly," Henry snickers, mocking Robin's costume.

Before Robin can rib back at the boy, a voice comes from behind him and scolds him harshly, "Henry, that is very rude. Apologize, right now."

Henry's head dips low, casting his eyes downward. "Sorry," he mumbles.

Robin just shakes his head and dismisses it. "It's quite alright," he says with a wave of his hand. "I suppose I do look quite silly."

His eyes dart up and meet with Mrs. West's insisting quietly that she let it be. She says nothing and instead turns her back to him, yelling aloud into the home. "Walsh, honey the boys' teacher is here."

Robin notices that her words sound a bit slurred and that's when he takes a moment to get a good look at the redhead. She looks disheveled and her eyes are glassed over and it hits him all at once. But he doesn't voice his observation for fear that the situation could escalate and the kids could be stuck in the house with a woman drunk in the middle of the day, instead of leaving with him. It's best to get them out of the house. So he says nothing and just smiles politely while he waits, growing more anxious the longer it takes Roland and Mr. West to come down the hall.

But eventually they do, thundering down the hall with Roland squealing excitedly. He barrels right past Mrs. West and straight into Robin's legs. Robin makes a slight groan upon impact, but otherwise smiles down at the boy and gives him a gentle pat on the back.

The older man is following closely behind, appearing like a shadow behind Mrs. West when he reaches them. He greets Robin, "Hey there, don't think we've been introduced, yet. Walsh West." He extends a hand for Robin to shake.

The man exudes confidence, as made obvious by his firm, bordering painful handshake and his bright, bordering overbearing introduction. But, overall the man seems charming and amiable. He's scruffy, with mussed dirty brownish hair and a slight five o'clock shadow. But his eyes twinkle with his smile and make it all too hard to dislike the man.

Robin gives the man a squeeze before introducing himself, "Robin Locksley, I teach Roland."

"Oh yeah, nice to finally meet you, man," Walsh replies, still flashing a smile. "Listen, we appreciate you taking the boys to this thing. I think they'll have a good time. Not to mention, it gives us," he tips his head sideways to his wife, "a chance to have a good time."

Robin feels a small rush of embarrassment for the children to have to hear about their foster parents' sex lives. Not that he really thinks either of them understand what Mr. West has said, but still, it's not something that should be said in front of them.

"Yeah, it's not a problem. I appreciate you letting me take them," Robin says, forcing the best smile he's got.

They all stand there awkwardly for a moment before Mr. West's eyebrows scrunch up. "Oh, did we need to pay you or anything?" he asks.

"Oh, no," Robin waves a hand again. "Not at all. Letting me take them is payment enough."

Mr. West takes a deep breath, then claps his hands together, exclaiming, "Well, alright, then. Boys," he redirects his attention first to Roland, who's still holding onto Robin, then to Henry, who's moved to the porch with Robin and Roland, "you behave for Mr. Locksley here, okay. If we hear you've misbehaved, you know there will be consequences."

It feels as though Mr. West is particularly chastising the older boy and Robin doesn't stop his urge to place a hand on Henry's shoulder. Mr. West's eyes then move to Robin's and there's a flicker of warning, a brief moment where it looks like he's daring Robin to say something. But, that look is gone as quickly as it came, and is replaced with another award winning smile.

"So, when do you think you'll have them back by?" the man asks.

"Well, the thing ends at 8, so I suppose, about half past?" Robin answers, slowly stepping off the porch and guiding the boys with him.

"8:30 sounds good," Mr. West concedes with a nod, as they back away. "Call us if you need anything."

"Yeah, will do," Robin salutes and then gets the courage to turn around, ushering the boys quickly to the car, trying to ignore the uneasiness pooling in his stomach from the whole encounter.

When he gets the boys to the car, he frowns, realizing he doesn't have a carseat for Roland, but when he asks if his parents do, Roland shakes his head vehemently, insisting that his parents have told him he's a big boy and doesn't need a seat. The uneasy feeling in Robin's stomach churns a bit harder, as his worries become increasingly more heightened upon seeing the neglectful nature of their foster parents.

He instructs both boys to sit in the backseat and buckle up real tight. He's thankful the fairgrounds aren't far, but it still makes him distressed, his nerves metastasizing as they take off in his car to their destination

And those nerves fester for the whole ride.

[:]

They get to the fairgrounds at just before quarter 'til, giving him enough time to find Kathryn and explain the situation. Thankfully, enough teachers signed up to help that he's supposed to have a partner all night. He's hoping maybe they'll show him some grace once he tells them what's happened. Worst case scenario, he'll just work an hour at his booth and make sure that the boys don't leave the minigame area. Then, when his hour is up, he can take them to the other attractions— the haunted house, the hay labyrinth, the scary campfire bit that he's sure Henry will love. He just hopes whoever he's working with will be gracious enough.

He gets the boys out of his car, breathing a hefty sigh of relief when he finds both boys safe and completely intact, like he wasn't peeking at them every five minutes in his rearview mirror and driving slower than humanly possible the whole way there. But, he'd worried himself nearly to death, anyway.

Once out of the vehicle, Robin and the boys trek their way through the gravel lot and to the front gates. But Robin stops just a few feet short of the gate when he realizes that he hasn't the ticket money to get the boys in. It's only two dollars, but it's two dollars Robin doesn't have.

Henry catches on immediately, asking, "What's wrong?"

Intuitive, that one.

Robin panics, then rationalizes quickly. There's no way that whoever is at the door would deny access to two little boys.

Robin gets an idea and crouches down to get eye-level with Henry. He grins surreptitiously and whispers to both boys conspiratorially. "You know what a VIP is?"

Both boys shake their heads and Robin continues, "Well, it's like being super special at an event and you get lots of stuff and you get in for free. So tonight, you boys are gonna be VIP, how does that sound?"

Both boys have their eyes suddenly all wide. Roland still looks mildly perplexed, but Henry is fascinated and whispers an excited, "Cool!"

Robin stands and straightens, then looks down at the boys with all the seriousness that he can muster. "Alright, but you guys have to act VIP. Don't take no for an answer and just follow my lead, okay?"

Henry squeaks and nods earnestly in agreement, which Roland mimics, as little brothers do, and Robin can already see that his instructions have gone straight to the boy's head and will most likely result in trouble down the road. He makes a mental note to make sure Henry understands that his VIP status only pertains to this one evening. But, he realizes it might be difficult to explain as Henry triumphantly marches up to the gate, where Ashley is standing and staring down at her phone with a smile.

Her head pops up alarmingly when Henry bounces right in front of her. She tucks her phone away quickly and nervously, then rushes to smile down at Henry, as Robin and Roland finally join them.

"Well, hello there," Ashley greets them brightly.

Henry, on the other hand, skips straight to the point, telling her proudly, "We're on the VIP list."

Ashley tries to cover her smirk and looks to Robin, who peeks at her sheepishly, hoping she can sense his need for a little mercy. He clears his throat, swallows the lump, and says, "I told them they were VIP guests because they were with me," adding pointedly, "meaning they can get in for free."

Thankfully, Ashley's brilliant and lenient because she catches on immediately and answers with, "Well, of course! Come right in gentleman." She swings the gate open and lets them pass through.

Robin gently pushes the boys inside first so that he can mouth a quick thank you to Ashley, who dismisses it with a shake of her head.

"Don't sweat it," she whispers so the boys can't hear.

But Robin raises his voice above a whisper to ask her if she's seen Kathryn, who he hopes is feeling equally as magnanimous. Ashley informs him that the last time she saw her was by the haunted house but that that was twenty minutes ago. He thanks her anyway (again) and says that he'll find her, moving in the direction of the haunted house and calling for the boys to follow along.

He frets during their walk, fearing that Kathryn's going to be right pissed with him when she finds out what he's done. And it's as if the universe wants to make things worse, because when he finds Kathryn, she's with Regina. He spots them from several feet away as they're approaching the haunted house. Kathryn looks frantic and worried, while Regina looks annoyed and— well, and… regal, beautiful, absolutely stunning. His heart screeches to a halt as he takes in her image. She's in all black with a bejeweled bodice that her breasts are pillowing nicely out of the top of and skintight leather pants that go straight to cock, even though that's the last thing he should be thinking about right now. Her hair placed in wild curls all on one side of her head and there's a tiny hat atop it. He thinks about how much he'd like to muss up that hair right about now. Actually, he can think of several things he'd like to knock askew right about now.

Maybe, he should suggest to her that her outfit seems a bit inappropriate for children— and by children, he definitely means himself.

The women don't notice them as they approach, until Roland finally realizes who it is and squeals, "Ms. MILLS!" and hurls himself at Regina.

Both of the ladies' heads pop up just in time for Regina to squat down and open her arms for the five year-old to enter. He flies into her arms and she nearly topples over, but she greets him warmly, embracing him tightly and lifting him into a hug before hoisting him up on her hip and talking quietly to him.

Henry and Robin eventually reach them and Robin is trying his damned best not to look like he's struggling to keep his eyes off of her. At this point, he's not sure if his heart is beating wildly because he's nervous to speak to Kathryn or if he's so mesmerized by Regina that it's taking its toll.

Henry speaks before he can, greeting both Kathryn and Regina, "Hey Ms. Mills, hey Ms. Midas."

The women respond in tandem, telling Henry hello. Then, Regina goes solo, tipping her head sideways and saying, "You boys are a bit early."

"We came with Mr. Losslee," Roland briefs her excitedly.

"Did you now?" she asks him, but her eyes find Robin's giving him that all too-knowing look.

Her eyes share a mix of concern, judgment, and perhaps, even a little admiration. He might be hallucinating that last bit, but he'd like to believe he's not.

"Uh, yeah," he answers, then shifts his gaze to Kathryn, "which is why I needed to come talk to you, Ms. Midas. I was wondering if my partner in crime for the evening would be willing to do shifts? Maybe I'll do the first hour and then they could do the second? I can just have the boys in the minigame sector where I can keep a good eye on them, then we can do the other stuff."

Kathryn twists her mouth pensively to one side and crosses her arms. He can't get a good read on her, but he thinks, or hopes rather, that she's considering his offer. She glances at her clipboard and studies it, clicking her tongue and making Robin feel like she's being evasive on purpose. She frowns and sighs, as she flips through her papers. But, when she looks down at Henry, then over at Roland, her features soften and she even smiles a little.

"How about you take the first hour with the boys," Kathryn counters, finally meeting his increasingly impatient gaze. "Tinka brought her boyfriend so I'm sure she can rope him into helping. I assume he was going to wallow and brood around her table anyway."

Robin expels all the air in his lungs gratefully, feeling the need to wrap his arms tightly around Kathryn and hug her. But he refrains, and instead, gives his most genuine smile, "Thank you, Kathryn. That sounds perfect."

"Don't worry about it," she tells him politely. "Just promise me you boys will have fun."

"Oh, we will," he says, giving Henry's shoulder a light squeeze.

"Alright, well, I'm going to go give Tink the heads up," Kathryn announces, her fretful edge returning just slightly. "Regina, you good here?"

"Don't worry, princess," Regina says with an eye roll and it's just then that Robin pays any mind to Kathryn's costume.

He thinks for a second that she was going for Elsa from Frozen based on her blue dress, but the top is different and her hair is different, but he doesn't really get a chance to ask because Kathryn is rushing away from their group and yelling behind her, "Oh yeah, remind me to get a picture of you two later. Robin Hood and the Evil Queen— isn't that an interesting pair." She laughs aloud as she walks away, leaving just him, Regina and the kids.

An interesting pair they'd be, indeed.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, noticeably unsure of what to do next. Regina lets Roland shimmy down her hip and descend to the ground, while Robin stands there and says nothing like a daft git. The boys scamper off to the side to look at a pile of pumpkins, leaving Robin and Regina alone. She's still looking at him oddly, head tilted, lips pursed, eyes scrutinizing. He wonders what she's thinking and why she's analyzing him like a Rubik's cube. But he can't ask, not here, near the kids.

He'll ask her later, definitely.

Robin decides to break the tension to prevent his mind from worrying or jumping the gun. "So, Your Majesty," he drawls with a bit of a smarmy smile.

"Yes, thief," she purrs, eyeing him up and down and goddammit it's hot, making his throat go dry and causing him to squirm in place. And, of course, his eyes go straight to her tits.

The children, you fucking tuss, there are children right over there.

Robin swallows best he can and tries to shake the slow growing arousal he accidentally initiated. But he can't stop his tongue from doing the will of his mind. "I daresay, you don't look very scary," he tells her bluntly in a whisper, "unless, that is, you're trying to frighten them with your," he glances at her breasts again, "uh, formidable and inimitable... beauty."

Regina's cheeks flush and he can tell she's fighting a smile. He loves that look, it's one of his favorites that she wears. It's a modest version of Regina, one that she tries to bury because this version is more vulnerable and more open. He knows that's something she hates about herself. But he loves her all the more for it.

No. Not love.

Not yet, anyway.

"This isn't the whole outfit," she says, "I have something to cover this," she glances at the boys to make sure they aren't paying them attention, then gestures widely at her chest, "up."

"Ah." He nods.

"But, I look ridiculous, which is what's supposed to scare them."

Robin laughs aloud and inches closer to Regina. "You don't," he speaks softly between them, fighting the urge to reach out for her, "truly, you don't. You look smart, truly stunning."

"Speak for yourself," she snorts, "as you go running amuck in a Robin Hood costume."

"—That I look dashing in, right?" he interjects with a grin.

Regina rolls her eyes, but they're soft, edging on laughter. "Sure."

"You look phenomenal, too, by the way," he flirts with a wink and another step toward her.

Regina gives him a wry smile, trying her damned best to look annoyed, or at the very least, unamused, but her features betray her still. "You already said that."

"I did not," he answers indignantly.

"You did in so many words," she shoots back, and she's right. Of course, she is, because he can never deny an opportunity to flatter her.

He sighs in concession. "Fine, I s'pose I'll just quit complimenting you, then."

Regina goes to retort, but is cut off by the sounds of the boys returning to their spot. They're red faced and short of breath from running around but Henry manages to huff out, "Uh, I think the carnival is starting," and jabs his thumb behind him to the tiny crowd pouring into the area. "You should probably get to your post," he chastises Regina.

Robin has a passing thought about Henry being a perceptive little bugger, and notices that Regina is probably thinking the same when he catches her eye. She's smiling at Henry and thanking him politely for his observation. She gives his chin a little squeeze and looks back to Robin when she says she needs to go.

He's loath to see her go, wishes she could abandon her duties like him and spend the evening with them, instead. But, he knows there's no chance in hell that Kathryn would sacrifice both of them, even if she does suspect something is going on between them. So, he yields respectfully, as it's his only option.

"Yes, we should let Her Majesty get back to her throne. Tell Ms.— I mean, Queen Mills, that we'll see her later, boys."

They start uttering goodbyes and Regina warns them to behave with Robin and to go easy on him, to which Robin answers, "Preposterous! Merry Men don't behave, but I'll keep 'em straight as best I can," with a wink.

"Right," Regina says dubiously, "well, while you're doing that," she glances at the boys again, "you Merry Men keep Robin Hood, here, in line as well, okay?"

Both boys nod furiously in acceptance of the challenge. Regina flashes a small smile at each of them and turns to go, calling behind her that she'll see them later. Robin watches her all the way to the door of the haunted house and doesn't return his attention to the boys until she's carefully slipped inside, disappearing from his sight.

When he does turn back to the boys he asks, "So, what do you boys want to do first? We can do the hayride, the hay maze, the campfire, the haunted house…"

Roland speaks up first, jumping up and down and yelling, "Hayride, hayride!"

Robin looks to Henry, who shrugs, giving his okay.

"So it's settled, then. Hayride it is. Let's go, Merry Men," Robin commands.

The boys hurrah behind him and they march their way to the hayride.

[:]

The hayride turns out to be pretty fun. Robin feared that Henry wouldn't enjoy himself because he didn't seem particularly keen on the idea, and had decided to be a good big brother, instead, which is different from the tune he was singing weeks ago. Robin chooses to think that it was their little talk at Regina's place that changed his perspective a little, giving him a tiny swell of pride at the idea that he might have been a good influence on someone for once. But thankfully, regardless of Henry's newfound respect for his brother, both of the boys seemed to enjoy themselves during the ride. He thinks Henry particularly enjoyed it because of the few jump scares that were littered throughout the ride. Roland, on the other hand, seemed less receptive to that bit, which was made quite apparent when Henry begged to go again and Roland responded with a firm and whiny no.

But Robin manages to find a compromise, telling Henry that they'll do it again, if they have time after the other stuff. Henry cooperates, too, agreeing to move forward with their agenda and happily goes with them to the hay labyrinth, which effectively ruins the idea of them repeating the hayride, given that it takes them a solid 30 plus minutes to find their way out, leaving just enough time for them to get to the haunted house and maybe sit around the haunted campfire for one story.

The line is pretty lengthy when they reach the haunted house and Henry doesn't seem the least bit fazed that it could shoot their other plans straight to hell. In fact, Henry seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself—Roland, too—and Robin feels pretty proud of himself. All the work that it took to get them here is finally paying off. Henry seems awestruck by everything and Roland is trucking along happily, having his own fun and downing more cotton candy than Robin probably should have allowed him to have. But, Robin has the feeling that the boys don't get spoiled very often, so what the hell. What's one night going to hurt?

Except him, when he has to watch the boys go back to these foster parents that Robin wholly does not trust. And, well, the boys, of course, because it's apparent their foster parents don't give a damn about treating the boys to nice things. So, cock it all, he's going to let Roland eat all the cotton candy his heart desires and he's going to let Henry have as much fun as he could possibly ever have.

Plus, Robin gets to be a little selfish and indulge in his own sweets and fun. And he's starting to think spending time with the boys, period, is becoming a bit selfish.

If that's the case, then call him selfish.

"You boys having fun?" he asks after taking a swig of coke from his cup.

Henry is sipping his cup, too, so he simply nods, while Roland gives a muffled, "Yeah," behind a mouthful of cotton candy.

"Roland," Robin warns gently, "you need to chew your food before you speak."

Roland looks away from Robin sadly, murmuring a somber, "Okay, sorry."

Robin is quick to wipe away his worries, though. "It's okay," he says, tenderly patting his curls, "I just don't want you to choke."

Roland silently nods in understanding and makes a point to show Robin that he's devoutly chewing his cotton candy.

After that they make small talk, conversing over what Henry's learning in Regina's class and which is his favorite subject—it's language arts, he loves language arts, particularly the reading portion, which delegates them to a rousing discussion about the Magic Treehouse books that he adores. Robin makes a mental note during the conversation to buy a few of the books for Henry, but Henry mentions that his foster mother won't allow books like that in their home because she was brought up in a strict home that did not dawdle on anything supernatural (it's why he hasn't started the Harry Potter series, yet, either) so he can only read them at school. Robin will find a way though, of that much he's certain.

Between that conversation and Robin taking advantage of the time given to help Roland practice his alphabet and counting to 25, it carries them through the long wait in line and they eventually reach the door, where they're hurriedly ushered inside with a dark warning to stay in the light and beware of the Evil Queen, who stalks the house at night. Both Henry and Roland snicker at that because they're completely aware that that's just Regina and that they have nothing to fear and Robin has to quietly reprimand them to not give away her secret.

But, despite their disbelief in the ruse, the haunted house still succeeds in getting a few jumps out of Henry, which he will deny later, Robin is sure, and a good, solid scream out of Roland, who's now cowering against his leg as they near the end of the house. They haven't seen Regina, yet, but he figures she's part of the big finale. So, he takes a little time to enjoy the scenery, admiring the intricate designs of shadows and cobwebs and the eerie green and red lighting that's placed meticulously to provide the premium amount of scariness and uneasiness. He should compliment Kathryn on that at some point.

Robin's favorite part, though, is Regina, who is at the very end of a long hallway, following several jump scares in succession. She's sitting in a black bejewled and spiky throne, which matches her outfit quite nicely. In her hand, she's holding a heart, that is made to look bloody and damaged. She's cackling madly, squeezing the heart in her hand and threatening to eat theirs if they don't leave now. Robin takes pause and stares at her for just a second, just a hair longer than he should, and he thinks she gives him a dark smoulder, one that makes his heart stop and his palms sweat and he finds himself wanting to hold onto that look for as long as he can. And if it wasn't for Henry, who has to urge them to leave and lead them out, Robin Hood might have found himself lingering in the darkness with the Evil Queen.

When they make it out of the house and back to a designated pathway, Henry is out of breath but nevertheless exclaiming how cool the attraction was. He even goes so far as to confessing that Regina was still scary, then begs to do it again. But, Robin realizes there's no time. He's got to be at his post in ten minutes, which also means they probably don't have time for the campfire either and he tells Henry so with a frown and a sincere apology. A solitary whine escapes Henry and Roland follows suit with a smaller one. Thankfully though, the pouting from both the boys doesn't even pass the thirty second mark before they woefully agree to head over to the minigame area.

Robin promises the boys that they'll have fun with the minigames as he tosses the remnants of their food and drinks in the rubbish bin and it's met with excitement rather than protest, giving Robin a chance to breathe. It's not like he minds reprimanding the boys—he's made a career out of it—but he'd rather the night be happy and fun. Though, he shouldn't be as naïve to believe that that's possible. But, he hopes anyway. Christ, he hopes.

But a little admonishing is in order, he realizes when they reach the gate of the minigame area. He stops them just shy of the entrance and pulls the boys aside. He squats to be at eye level with the boys and to assure that his point is emphasized.

"Alright, Merry Men," he addresses them sternly, "You see this area?" He gestures at the minigames and the boys nod. "Alright, you are not to leave this area, do I make myself clear? And you are not to go out of my sight. If you cannot see me from where you are, then I cannot see you. And that's not okay. If you leave my sight, I will come find you and I will make you sit at my game table until the carnival is over and you won't get to play anymore. Do you understand?"

The boys nod, but Roland begs, "Can we go in now pleaseeeee?"

Robin chuckles and steps out of their way. "After you gentlemen."

They take no hesitation and jet off through the gate into the area, running well ahead of Robin, who chooses to stroll slowly behind them. He watches their eyes go wide and Roland mouth a big whoa in response to the lights and all the toys hung up as prizes. Robin is thankful that the games are free so that the boys can play them to their hearts' content.

"Hold on, boys," Robin hollers after them, realizing that before he let's them run about, he should probably show them where he's going to be and where they can and cannot go.

They stop and wait for Robin to catch up, still gleaming with excitement and eagerness. Robin tells them the plan and they agree, following him to his table, which is empty at the moment, save Tinka, who is sitting in a sparkly green leotard and tutu, with her blonde hair in a bun on top of her head and spritely little wings peeking out from behind her.

"Well, hello there Tinkerbell," he greets her with a chuckle.

Tinka's head pops up from her phone with a warm, genial smile. "Oh, hi, Mr. Robin Hood," she answers sweetly.

Robin points to Henry and Roland, "These are my Merry Men."

Tinka salutes them, as well, "Hello, Merry Men."

"I don't know what that is," Henry tells her plainly.

Robin frowns. It'd never really crossed his mind that the boys might not have ever seen any version of Robin Hood. He wonders why Henry hadn't asked sooner. He's curious if Henry was worried about admitting that to Robin, which breaks his heart to think about. But, he still answers Henry anyway, "It's like Robin Hood's club. His best mates are the Merry Men."

"So we're in your club?" Henry asks.

"Of course, you are," Robin replies without missing a beat.

Henry beams a bit at that and it soothes Robin's worries, taking it as an opportunity to move on to his orders. He shows them the areas he can't see past and places they can't go. The boys agree to their terms and conditions and get ready to head off, but Robin stops them before they get too far.

"You boys don't want to try your hand at this game first?" he suggests, mostly because he wants to keep the boys around because he already misses them. He side glances at Tink, who's watching him empathetically, probably knowing what he's feeling.

He knows there are other fun games with water guns and knocking down clown heads with a ball, but he wishes that he could keep them for just a little while longer, an urge he knows he's going to have even worse when the night ends.

For the first time, really, Robin can tell that Henry and Roland are brothers because they both make the same scrunched nose frown in response. It's actually quite adorable now that he thinks about it, heart meltingly so. But, Robin is more offended than distracted by the cute because of the boys disinterest in darts. However, he wears a smug smile and steps toward the table to grab a single dart, then lines himself up with the target and aims. Robin tosses the dart, watching as it flourishes in the air and spins in a low arc toward its endpoint. With a soft thud, it collides with the wood, landing just at the edge of the center target, straddling the border between the two circles.

Damn, he's out of practice.

But, Henry is still astounded, standing there gobsmacked at Robin's aim. He turns to Robin with big, curious eyes. "Can you show me how?"

.

"Me next! Me next!" Roland cries out, jumping up and down excitedly, as Robin agrees to show them.

He waves Henry over and directs him where to stand in front of the target. He swipes two darts off of the table—one for him and one for Henry and begins to explain the process. "Alright, now there are certain things you need to remember when throwing darts, okay?"

"Okay," Henry says with a heavy amount of seriousness.

"Now, you just need to remember: F.E.W.T., which is feet, elbow, wrist and throw," Robin instructs, grabbing the boy's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "So, okay, feet first. You right-handed?" he asks and Henry nods. "Okay, good. So, you're gonna want to put your right foot up front."

Robin demonstrates, placing his right foot just in front of his body, while his left stays planted where it is. Henry mimics, moving his right foot to be parallel with Robin's and doing the same with his left. When they're situated Robin continues by pulling Henry a hair to the right to line him up with the target.

"So, now you want to take your elbow," he says, tapping the one he's referencing, "And you want to line it up with the target."

Henry does as he's told and Robin tells him, while taking his elbow and lowering it, "Now, lower it back down here and lock it into place." When he's done that, Robin adds, "Okay, last is the wrist which you flick at just the right time to make it go faster. Some say you don't need it but I learned the technique with it so we're going to go for it. Now, don't throw the dart yet, but I want you to practice a couple throws. Remember to keep your shoulder locked in place. The only things that move are your elbow and your wrist."

Henry listens intently, making movements and adjusting them according to Robin's coaching. A thought briefly flits across Robin's mind of him doing the same with his father in the study when he was young. It was part of the good times before his dad turned into a sodding prick. He can barely remember those years, given that they were before Robin even hit double digits. But those years were favorites of Robin's. It was the only time his dad had seemed genuinely interested and it was probably one of the few times Robin's ever been genuinely happy.

"Am I doing it right?" Henry asks loudly, ripping Robin away from his delicate memories.

Robin watches Henry's arm move up and down swiftly, practicing his throw. Robin knows he won't make it to the center. His throw's a bit lopsided and awkward, something Robin remembers he also did as a young lad. But Robin tells Henry that he's doing well, anyway, to reassure him.

"Alright, I'm going to throw mine and I want you to watch my arm as I do it, okay?"

Robin tells Henry to move over, commenting that they'll get him back in the right place in a moment, lines himself up with the target, and makes certain that Henry is watching, then tosses his dart at the target. It lands further inside the center than his first dart, but still not where Robin would like it. Henry is still amazed, though.

Robin turns to the boy and gestures to where he's standing. "Alright, mate, let's see you give it a go."

Henry takes Robin's place and centers himself with the target (and Robin has to move him slightly to the right again). He practices one more fake throw, takes a deep breath and chucks the dart at the target. Everyone—Henry, Robin, Roland and Tinka—all watch it soar all the way until it hits the board, landing on the ring outside of the center and toward the upper right.

Henry heaves a frustrated sigh, despite Robin and Tinka's whooping praises. When he turns to Robin, he's frowning solemnly. "I missed," he says with a stomp.

Robin's quick to dismiss it. He walks over and gives Henry's shoulder another squeeze. "You did good for your first throw. It took me ages to do what you just did, so well done you."

"Really?"

Robin nods, "Yeah. Couldn't even make a proper throw for months."

Henry laughs, leaving Robin relieved. "You must have sucked, then."

Robin thinks he should scold the boy for the language, but he just agrees quietly, accepting that he actually was quite rubbish when he started. "Yeah, well practice makes perfect."

"Will you help me practice one day?"

Henry's eyes are so hopeful and it kills Robin knowing that'll probably never happen. And yet, he still tells Henry that, of course, he will, because he can't break the boy's heart, let alone his own heart, which wants more than anything to give Henry that opportunity. He side glances at Tinka, who's giving him a wry smile, because she's thinking exactly what he is. Robin is entering dangerous territory, letting these kids get too attached to him and furthermore, allowing himself to get too attached to these boys.

She finally speaks up, too, deciding to interrupt the happy moment, "You boys should go play some games before you have to go home."

Roland protests, citing that Robin has to show him how to throw the dart, to which Robin promises that he will do later. And that's enough for Roland, who concedes with a slight pout and grabs his brother's hand. Henry asks what Roland wants to do (water guns, no surprise there) and they head off, with Robin hollering warnings that they stay together and don't leave his sight.

When they've reached another booth and start to play, Robin finally feels comfortable enough to sit next to Tinka, who does not waste their freedom to speak her mind. "You're good with them," she tells him matter-of-factly.

Robin shrugs it off, still watching after the boys. "Kinda comes with the territory of being a teacher, don't you think?"

"No," she states firmly, "I don't."

He knows what she's getting at, but he doesn't want to quite confront it. He thinks again of his father and thinks about how he hadn't really treated Robin like he's treating Henry and Roland, aside from the scant years of his early youth. Robin's being more of a father to the boys than his own father ever was to him and probably more than their foster parents are to them. And here he thought he would be shit at it, due to the fact that he was never given a proper model for being a dad.

Suddenly, he feels this wave ripple through his stomach, that tells him what he's known all night.

He'd give anything in this world to be a dad, and particularly, to those boys.

It's not anything he's ever felt with a student before, but it's clear and indiscernible, now, sending off bells and whistles and making him want to rise from his chair and scream it aloud. It's crazy. He's only known them for a few months and only spent time with the both of them together a few times, but when he looks over at the boys, his stomach does the wave again and he just knows. He glances at Tinka, who's studying him, observing as his heart sings with his discovery. She's looking back at him all too knowingly, making him feel naked and exposed.

"It's okay to love them, you know," she whispers between them. "You wouldn't be the first."

"You psychoanalyzing me, Tinkerbell?" he tries to pierce their bubble with a joke. He's uncomfortable. Admitting his feelings to himself is one thing, but admitting them aloud and to a relative stranger makes him feel as though he might as well go streaking through the fairground.

Tinka smiles, but it's nearly… condescending. "I specialize in children. And besides, I don't think you need a fairy or a psychologist to tell you what you're feeling. I think you already know it."

She's right. He knows she's right. But, she doesn't need to know that. He doesn't have to tell her a bloody damn thing. Except, he feels that it might be good to at least inadvertently release the burden that now weighs on his chest.

"I promised them that I'd protect them," he confesses to her. "In Regina's apartment, the day their foster mum forgot them."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Robin says dreamily, reminiscing on the day.

Tink hums, then requests, "Tell me about it."

And he does. He tells her all about them teaching him about Trouble and how they kicked his arse (he doesn't leave out the part of him learning how to get under Regina's skin by taking her peg's spot) and how he and Henry had a heart-to-heart and they ate sandwiches and watched cartoons. He doesn't even realize how caught up he gets in his tale until a young boy and his mother interrupt them to play.

They pause their private conversation to allow them to have a go at the dartboard and don't resume until the boy's won a toy and the pair have walked several feet away.

And the second they have, Tinka pounces. "So, you want to be a part of the boy's lives for good, huh?"

It catches Robin off-guard, leaving him stumbling for words. "That's a bit of a loaded question, don't you think?"

Tink shrugs, "Probably, but oh well..."

While confessing all of this has been quite cathartic, Robin feels like he probably shouldn't be bearing his whole soul to a near stranger. He has a brief idea that maybe he should tell all this to Regina—she is his closest friend after all. But, he's scared to. Maybe, because she'll be brutally honest and remind him that what he's dreaming of is nearly impossible, or maybe, because he's afraid he'll scare her off in the process.

It's almost as if Tinka can hear his thoughts because she poses another question, "So in this picture perfect life you've begun to create with these boys—because let's be honest, we both know you have— is Regina there, too?"

It's another question that throws him, but, at least, it's one he has an answer for. Robin scoffs, "You know Regina. She'll only be there if she wants to be."

Tinka laughs aloud and agrees. "Touché."

They have to pause again for more people, which develops into a queue of people and Robin thinks their conversation might just be finished. But, as luck would have it, the line eventually dissipates again, leaving Tinka to continue berating him.

Except she doesn't and instead, sips on her cocoa and eyes him curiously. He knows she's stewing on something, waiting for the perfect moment to drag one last secret out of him.

"Go on," he sighs wearily, "say it."

"Say what?" she asks sweetly, which hits a bit of a nerve with him.

He thinks it comes across, too, when he says, "Whatever it is you're thinking right now."

Tink takes another sip of her cocoa, and mutters something about her boyfriend needing to hurry up with her new one because the one she has is cold. "Can I offer you some free advice?" she queries, returning her attention back to him.

"By all means," he allows, even though he knows he doesn't want to hear it. But, he has a feeling he would have to anyway.

She takes a deep breath and locks eyes with him with a seriousness that shakes him to his core. "Be careful," she warns. "I've seen this before and it doesn't always end well. In fact, it often doesn't end well. I've seen some teachers get too involved and they end up getting themselves or even the kids hurt, whether that be emotionally or physically. You have to be wary about that shit, you know?"

Robin swallows thickly. Once again, she's right even though he doesn't want her to be. He knows he shouldn't dig himself in too deeply, considering he's more than likely at present to get hurt. But he just can't help himself. And that will be his foil.

Tinka clears her throat, "And I don't just mean be careful with the kids either."

Robin tries his hardest not to smile. "I dunno what you're on about."

"Kathryn's told me her suspicions about you two, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Just promise you'll be mindful of her. She's a hard nut to crack, one that I haven't ever been able to open in all the time I've known her. That said, I'm not as close with her as say Kathryn. But I do know that Regina has a lot of walls built up and they've been building since before she and I met. Just promise you won't force her walls down or give up when she's not ready to let them down."

"Oh, I never plan on giving up on her," he answers quickly, but amends when he sees Tink's entire face light up in excitement and it dawns on him what he's just let her on, "whether that be romantically or otherwise."

She's still grinning profusely, undeterred by his amendment. "I'm glad we're on the same page," she sings happily.

"I don't think we are exactly," he chuckles, "but thank you for the advice."

"Anytime."

They make small conversation after that, shifting to lighter topics and less emotionally damning ones. Her boyfriend, (Killian, he thinks), Liam's brother, returns with the hot cocoa a few moments later and joins in on their conversation about Robin's stint in L.A. The boys also return every now and again to show Robin what they've won, which elicits a few stares from Tinka, but still makes him proud. Between that and the spurts of patrons, time passes along nicely, driving straight into the end of the night. And before he knows it, it's a quarter till 8 and Tink is suggesting they go ahead and pack up.

Reluctantly, Robin helps them, but he dreads it all because it's the beginning of the end. Soon, he'll be returning the boys home and then going back to his own apartment to wallow in his sorrows. His heart only aches harder when the boys return, pouting over the realization that the evening is drawing to a close. Henry even says that he wishes they could stay at the carnival forever and Robin can't help but think the exact same thing. But he has to be stronger than that and put on a good facade. So, he insists that it's time for them to go, but that there will be a plethora of opportunities, in the future, where they can do something like this, even though he knows that's unlikely, especially now that Tink's words are ringing in his head. But, it placates the boys, which is all that really matters.

As they're tidying up their area, Kathryn arrives, looking a little less frantic than she was earlier and, in fact, looking almost smug. They greet her and she jumps into helping pack up the table, while asking everyone politely how their night went. After the jumbled chorus of greats and it was funs, Kathryn finally gets to the real reason she's there.

She turns to Tinka, who's handing a few of their remaining prizes to Henry and Roland. "Ti, I got your text. We are going to have to go back to the school for that thing."

Tinka tuts softly, delivering a dramatic, "Darn."

"We should go ahead and leave as soon as you all are done packing," Kathryn tells her all business-like.

Robin thinks they're up to something. They're acting weird, or at least, he thinks they are. Then he knows they are when they turn to him, making him every bit as nervous as earlier in the evening.

"Robin," Kathryn says sweetly, batting her fake eyelashes stupidly. If she doesn't stop they'll get caught on each other and Robin won't be able to stop himself from laughing.

But, at present, he just rolls his eyes, knowing officially that they have something up their sleeves. "Yes, Kathryn," he humors her.

She sighs dramatically and it takes all of Robin's will power not to just blurt out that she can just tell him whatever cockamamie plan it is that she's concocted.

"I hate to ask this," she whines, "but we're going to be awhile and I was wondering, since you know where she lives, if you'd be willing to take Regina home?"

...Oh.

Not exactly what he had in mind. He figured she was going for something a little more deceptive, but it appears not. Of course, he knows this is still some elaborate ruse to get him and Regina alone, but maybe they're just using their circumstance as an opportunity and not anything more insidious.

"I mean, we can even drop the boys off, I know they live nearby," Kathryn pleads, trying to sweeten the deal.

Robin waves it away. "No, no, don't be ridiculous. I don't mind taking Regina home in the least."

"Really?" Both Kathryn and Tinka squawk together happily.

He should tell them to calm down before they blow their cover, even though it's already been blown. Instead, he just whispers sarcastically, "Really."

Kathryn claps her hands together happily. "Perfect. Well, Tinka and I have to run our errand." She reaches out and grabs his arm, "Robin, thank you. I think Regina is still at the haunted house. I can go get her and send her over if you'd like."

Robin dismisses that suggestion, too, citing that there's no need and that he'll go fetch her since they're done packing up where they are. Kathryn thanks him and signals for Tinka and the boyfriend, who just stood by and watched the whole thing unfold, to follow her, leading them back toward the front gate. Robin does the same with Henry and Roland, though Roland ends up in his arms because he notices the boy's lids getting a tad droopy. Not to mention, he can almost smell the unmistakable stench of attitude that reeks from sleep deprived children.

Henry stays close by Robin's side, enough that he bumps into him a few times, resulting in profuse apologies. But Robin ignores them, telling Henry he's fine. Aside from the stream of apologies, their walk is fairly quiet. Robin is almost sure Roland's gone to sleep by the time they reach the haunted house and Henry is just looking around the field, saying nothing at all.

They find Regina easily because she conveniently comes storming out the doors of the building just as they're approaching them.

She comes to a screeching halt just before running right into them. She looks about as frazzled as Kathryn had been earlier and certainly as irritated, if not, moreso.

"Hey," he tries to say with a level of soothing, wishing he could reach out for her.

Regina doesn't take his offer of solace, but asks stubbornly, "Have you seen Kathryn?"

Right. Kathryn didn't tell her. Of course, she wouldn't.

"Uh," he coughs, "she and Tinka left 'bout five minutes ago on an errand."

Regina's level of frustration increases tenfold and Robin almost thinks to tell the boys to take cover before she blows. She huffs out petulantly, "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"I don't," he admits. "But don't worry, I've offered to take you home." He decides to completely omit the fact that Kathryn actually asked him because he can tell she's upset and he doesn't want to make it any worse.

She pauses and softens, caught off-guard by Robin's offer. "I can't ask you to do that," she states plainly.

"You didn't," he says with a shake of his head. "I offered."

He watches Regina swallow and mull it over. He can tell something else is bothering her, it lies just beneath the surface, but it's there, faintly shimmering off of her skin. He wants to ask, but like before, he knows he needs to wait, wait until they're alone in his car before saying anything.

"So, whaddya say, Your Majesty?"

Regina glances up at him and locks on his eyes. If they weren't so gentle, he might think she was trying to square off with him, but they're starting to radiate with that underscored nerve that seems to be bouncing off of her. Her words though are just as bitter and terse, as she begins walking, presumably accepting his answer in silence. "How about I just wait for them to return so I can strangle the both of them?"

Robin just chuckles and pushes the back of his hand against hers, as he walks alongside her. "Y'know, a simple thank you would suffice."

Regina casts her face away, looking off to the south end of the fairgrounds and Robin thinks he can hear a soft, "Thank you," fall from her lips.

She quickly builds on top of it though, requesting that Henry come hold her hand, which he does without question. The rest of their journey to his car rests in sweet silence.

[:]

The ride home is less silent, however. Henry tells Regina every last possible detail about their evening all the way until the pull up to the house. Roland is still sound asleep during the entire ride and even stays asleep when he and Regina lug him out of the vehicle. In fact, it takes them longer to get Henry out of the car, who is adamant that he doesn't want to go home yet. It nearly breaks Robin to tell him that he has to. And it doesn't help that a small voice inside of Robin insists there's a deeper reason that Henry doesn't want to go back, which has nothing to do with the fun he had at the carnival. Thankfully, Regina is there and can force Robin's hand, because if he was alone, there's no telling how this night would have ended.

After Regina's strict reprimand of Henry, they get him to the door, where they're greeted by Mr. West. Mrs. West appears to be missing in action, but neither he nor Regina question it. The man thanks Robin and Regina, though she denies any part in caring for the boys, and doesn't even attempt to make any conversation past that. He insists that it's late and that he should get the boys to bed and before Robin or Regina can really protest, Mr. West ushers the boys inside and closes the door on them.

Regina's the first to leave the porch and head back to the car, while Robin stands there for a moment, still feeling like he's in the Twilight Zone. The encounters with the Wests are definitely weird, but even Regina is exceptionally quiet. But he doesn't push or pry, knowing that if it's anything serious she'll say something.

Yet, she doesn't say anything for the entire ride, aside from briefly asking if he enjoyed himself, which he did thoroughly. In fact, he might go as far as saying, that this was the most fun he's had in ages. He wishes every second could be on repeat. But, he doesn't tell her any of that. Instead, he simply tells her that he had a great time, immediately plunging them back into the heavy silence they've been stewing in.

It stays that awkward for rest of the ride home. Neither of them bother to make anymore conversation and don't really speak at all until they reach her apartment building.

Regina nearly jumps out of the car the second the car is parked at her place. But Robin doesn't let her get away that quickly.

"Let me walk you to your door," he offers on the heels of her thanks for bringing her home.

Regina shakes her head, steadfast in trying to get him out of her hair. He isn't totally thick. He can tell when a woman is trying to avoid him.

"That won't be necessary," she tacks on, as if her body language didn't say enough.

Robin reaches for her hand, which is ice cold he notices, and forces her attention to him. Their eyes come into contact and Robin dips his voice into a careful whisper. "C'mon," he pleads, "besides this is a completely selfish request."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "I selfishly want to spend more time with you. I miss you."

He sees that that wins her over a bit because he gets a glimpse of her smile as she turns away.

"You think that walking me to my door will satisfy that?" she sasses, hand reaching for the door handle.

"I don't but I believe it'd be entirely selfish and rude to ask for more."

She's quiet for a moment before she pulls on the handle and wriggles her way out of her seat. He feels his heart take a nosedive as he watches her slide out. But, his heart's suicide mission is useless, when she turns to him and asks, "You coming?"

Robin doesn't need to be asked twice. He scrambles to undo his seatbelt and get out of his seat, nearly face planting on the pavement as he does so.

Regina's halfway to the front door before he catches up to her, his chest heaving from the short distance he ran. He mentally curses himself and insists he should maybe start going for morning runs or something. But he catches up in enough time to hold the door open for her like the gentleman he is. "M'lady."

Regina just saunters past him wordlessly and apparently walks quickly enough that he has to do more catching up as they make their way to her front door.

"You're a difficult woman to keep up with," he tells her breathlessly, as he catches up once again.

Regina ignores that and fishes around in her bag for her keys. She finds them rather quickly and unlocks her door, but stops before going inside. She turns back to Robin, who's taken to sulking over the prospect of leaving. She tucks the mop of hair behind her ear and steps ever-so-slightly in his direction. "Thank you, for the ride home. I appreciate it."

"S'no problem," he says, taking his own step to her.

Regina's eyes begin a road trip, looking at him up and down before speaking what's on her mind. "You need to be careful," she warns darkly.

He knows she means about the boys, so he disregards it nonchalantly. "Don't worry, I got a whole lecture from Tinka earlier."

"And as much as it kills me to say, and I'll deny it if you ever tell her, but she's right. Those boys are in a compromising situation and they can be here one minute and gone the next and getting attach—"

"Regina," he cuts her off, "I know."

She takes a frustrated and deep breath. "Okay," she concedes, "just remember that okay. Please."

Robin agrees eagerly, realizing that she is genuinely concerned about all of this. He knows he's pushing his own limits and one wrong move will break his heart and tear him to bits. Maybe, Regina's been there. Or, maybe she just knows him better than he thinks she does. Regardless, she's right and he knows he needs to get out of the pool before he goes in too deep without a way to keep afloat.

"Well," she sighs, clearly changing the subject, "goodnight, Robin."

Her soft, sullen eyes lock on his and bid him farewell.

He's lost, can't take up any more of her time and he knows it and it's clear she doesn't want him to. He needs to do the gentlemanly (and friendly) thing to do and walk away. And he will, right after he gives her a once over, taking in her gorgeous get-up. When he finishes, he tells her goodnight and begins to stalk away from her door, listening carefully for the sound of her door closing behind him to signal the end of the night. Except, it never comes. His mind irrationally goes to the idea that a murderer was waiting for her behind the door and other ridiculous strains. But before he can even turn around, he hears her voice.

"Wait," she calls after him into the hall.

He freezes on the spot and slowly turns back to Regina, who is standing there with tired eyes and a sort of crooked smile.

"Don't go yet," she whispers and his heart lurches forward. Maybe this is his chance to put his hat back in the ring.

He resists the urge to smile like a shameless git, twisting his face into something that probably looks a bit wonky to her. Ah, but to hell with it. Why should he have to cover up his feelings for her anyway? She knows how he feels. And besides, he wants her to know that he cares.

Perhaps, she's doing the same. She's asking him to stay and he wants to, he really wants to. But what would that mean? He tries to remind himself that it could be completely innocent and that he's simply jumping to conclusions, but what if it isn't?

He looks up at her guiltily, as if he's asked or he's up to something. "You think that's a good idea?" he queries nervously. His voice is quiet, with the hope that his words will be drowned out by the symphony of sounds from the rest of the world.

"Oh," she says and he thinks she appears crestfallen but then she looks at him with this soft, sheepish smile. "It's not that," she tells him, as she shoves a loose piece of hair behind her ear and crosses her arms. "I mean, it is partially that, of course," she corrects, "I mean, I like spending time with you, but it's—uh—my costume. Kathryn was supposed to help me get out of it, but you know…"

He blinks at her for a second before releasing a relieved chuckle. Well, that didn't answer the innocence angle.

"Will you help?" she asks, dancing nervously in her doorway. And oh, she's adorable.

He grins boyishly, unable to help himself. But he, otherwise, walks over without answer, and he assumes that's answer enough. He brings himself toe to toe with her and chuckles softly between them.

"This your way of seducing me?" he asks, backing her into her apartment measuredly.

She barks a laugh, but her gaze does not falter from his. "You're going to be the one undressing me and I'm seducing you?"

"You asked," he points out, as he closes the door behind him.

He tries to pay no mind to the fact that he can barely swallow down the bundle of nerves closing off his airway and the way his palms moisten with anxious pools of sweat. His body tries to send him a warning that a revolt of his nerves is afoot, but he stands there with a tight smile waiting for Regina's instructions.

He just can't think about it. Can't think about the fact that he's about to undress the woman he's absolutely mad for. Can't think about the possibility of seeing more skin of Regina than he's ever seen before, which may very well ruin any good intention he ever had of being her friend. He's not a total dog—he can control himself—but he knows he'll just fall more deeply for her and have no exit strategy whatsoever to save him.

Perhaps, he should just be a gentleman an excuse himself. She'll understand, right? Or, she could see right through it, and know that he's being a cad, that he can't restrain himself. He really fancies lose-lose situations.

She's turning back to face him with a smile still shining on her face. "Yes," she whispers conspiratorially, harmonizing with a muted chuckle, "I'm only realizing now how forward that was."

He shrugs, continuously trying to push the concerns in the back of his mind and attempts a blasé angle. "Well, I have been told I've a talent for getting women out of their clothes."

Regina rolls her eyes. "I don't know that I'd so much as call that a talent," she says, as she traipse down the hall toward her bedroom.

Of bloody course, she wants to get undressed in the bedroom. That just screams inappropriate. Nevermind that she probably wants to undress there because it has other clothes for her to quickly change into, but his mind has gone straight to sex.

And he should not be thinking about Regina in any sexual manner.

Regina is wrestling her feet out of the vices women call shoes, as he crosses the threshold aimlessly. He watches her struggle with the buckle on them for a second or two, before he finally enters the room and instructs her to sit on the edge of the bed. She does as she's told without question and he slaps his knee forcefully to instruct her to place her foot there so that he can attend to her imprisoned feet. He carefully fiddles with the buckles, undoes them, and draws each foot out gently.

He can't help but imagine his hands trailing upwards from her ankle, running his fingers smoothly against her stocking-veiled calves, until he reaches up toward her thighs and drives them apart. He'd give many things in exchange for a chance to please her. He thinks, or at least, wants to believe that he could make Regina feel things, feel really good things. His mouth could be buried between those thighs, tasting and teasing and satisfying her. The things he wants to do to her with his tongue are enough to make Hugh Hefner blush. It's a wonder his face isn't aflush with an embarrassing rosy hue for thinking such depraved things.

But who can be conscientious when faced with her gorgeous legs?

Christ, he's in too deep.

Deep enough that Regina has to clear her throat to call his attention back to her. When he tips his head upwards to look at her, he finds that she's looking so guileless and unguarded at him, which initiates the guilt he should've felt a moment ago. She has a smile on her face, that could only be described as wistful, and it makes him a pinch hopeful, and if not, also, a bit more nervous. But her features aren't devoid of the same wonder that he's sure his also carry. They're trying to convey to one another that they're unsure of what to do next, caught in some in between.

She's the first to say something, in a barely audible whisper, "Can I have my foot back please?"

Her smile gets wider, while his eyes do and he scrambles to release her foot, mumbling sloppy and stupid apologies.

As Robin stands, he takes a selfish minute to really look at Regina, who's bathed in the serenity of the moonlight and looks like a poetic picture.

She clears her throat. "Really glad you're here," she whispers almost coquettishly between them, sending every bit of electrified want that's running through him straight to his cock.

"It would've definitely made my neighbor's night very interesting," she adds, moving closer to him.

Fucking wank fuck shit, he cannot do this. He wants her, Christ God, he wants her more than anything right now. She's so beautiful and sexy and he's lost all will to think of anything but that. He just wants to watch her beauty revel in the moonlight, and he could just about do that all night.

He's still dreadfully quiet, stuck in his musings, so she just keeps talking to fill up the silence. Perhaps, because she fears, just as he does, what the silence could lead to. "It's a good thing you're here, huh?" she says with a breathy laugh.

Robin finally finds his voice, choking out, "Very good." He swallows. "Jolly good. Good good good."

Regina hums in agreement, stepping forward, making her close enough that he can touch her. She turns, bearing her back to him and requesting for him to undo the laces on her corset.

"I don't suppose you'd ask them to do this part," he queries, reaching for the black strings and fumbling with them, unable to mask the nervousness he feels in his fingers.

Regina laughs softly. "Well, of course I would. That's the whole reason I need help."

Right, of course, yes. Because, that's exactly what he's doing here. He's just supposed to undo the laces for her so that she can wriggle her way out. That's all he's meant to be doing. It's not like he's going to see her naked. Maybe a good chunk of her back, but nothing more than that. This is totally natural, totally something friends would do for each other. And that's what they are. Friends. Just. Friends.

Robin relaxes a little, enough to untie the binding strings of the corset, giving Regina the newfound freedom to breathe, which she takes full advantage of. She takes in a huge breath, probably the first real one she's had for the whole evening.

"Sweet freedom," she murmurs jokingly, as she turns back to Robin. She's holding the black bejeweled bodice tightly to her chest to avoid anything spilling out and revealing. Her head tips sideways with a fragile smile, one that he knows can easily break. "Thank you," she utters softly. "I appreciate your help."

"S'not a problem," he answers thickly, his throat drier than the desert they live in.

"Do you mind turning around for a sec, so I can get this off and throw on a tee?"

Robin nods, probably more than he needs to, and turns about face when he's realized it, muttering a sorry.

He can hear her bodice hit the floor and the creak of the closet door fill up the room, reminding Robin that he's mere feet away from a beautiful and mostly naked woman. A woman that he's kissed, fucked over, become friends with again, and now wants to kiss more than anything. The old Robin, the one that was a total and complete cad, would turn around and take a peek, but without so much as a second thought, Robin knows that he wouldn't dare turn around.

It strikes him how much he's changed, making him face the idea that he might just be growing up. He's finally taken responsibility, he's gotten a job, he's stopped making horrible decisions—okay, not completely, but well enough—and he's actually doing well for himself. He takes a moment to be a little proud of himself for it.

Blanchard Orchard Elementary School might just be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Well, and maybe, something else.

"Alright, all done," Regina announces, giving him permission to turn around.

He finds her in a brown sweatshirt and burgundy leggings and pulling the crunchy mop on the side of her head into a ponytail. She looks smaller, more delicate now, but equally as stunning and gorgeous.

He trots back to her carefully. He's waiting for her to say something, assuming that it'll be an excuse to kick him out. But, she actually says nothing and simply watches as they pull together like magnets.

Robin decides to speak, hoping a joke will calm his nerves and break the tension. "Now, I feel a tad overdressed."

Regina cracks a smile, which doesn't help at all. "I can help you out of that. Quid pro quo and all," she teases.

Also, not helping.

Robin stammers, trying to get some answer out, but no words can justify the absolute chaos that's going on in his mind. Regina can see what's happening, can see that he's afraid, but desperate, to say yes, and knows that he needs to say no.

She steps toward him. Then, again. And again. And she keeps moving until they're finally face to face once more. He's still stuttering despite the fact that he feels like the bloody wind's been knocked out of him. Regina reaches out for him, placing her palms against the armour, and locking their eyes.

They both know what this means. It's crossing a threshold; it's stepping over a boundary with no plan to cross back over. Their eyes are solid on one another's and neither makes a move to indicate their stance on the matter.

"May I?" she finally asks, gesturing to the armour.

All Robin can do is nod… and then, wait.

They just watch each other, at first, without a single word. His chest begins to feel heavier and he's grateful the armour is coming off. But that doesn't cure the warm, jittery sensation beating wildly against the lining of his stomach. And the jitters only rage harder when his eyes fall to her lips and her palms reach up and rest on his chest. He tries to breath steadily as she slides them over until they reach his scarf, which covers the top of his outfit. She tugs on it gently and pulls it away, revealing the shoulder armour and an off-white tunic peeking out from underneath. Her fingers intertwine with the threads of his tunic and she yanks carefully on them until they begin to unravel, revealing more of him. Even then, the pressure on his chest sticks to him like glue, restricting his airway to the point of nearly choking him.

Her fingers finally skitter over to the buckles of the armour, but they stop short and Regina's face tips upward to look at him. Her eyes have a touch of warning in them, telling him that she's about to do the deed, that there isn't any turning back. It actually helps some of his worries slip away because it reminds him that her thought process is most likely parallel to his. So, he gives her a tiny nod and allows her to proceed, undoing the first buckle—agonizingly slow, he might add, but nevertheless undoes it. It helps relieve some of the pressure weighing him down, and even moreso with the second, but doesn't purge it entirely.

When the final buckle snaps open, the armor slips from his shoulders and begins to fall away. Regina's hands lift to the shoulder pads and she pushes them off of Robin's shoulders until they both hear them thud to the floor. Regina winces slightly at the noise, most likely because the silence has been pretty deafening between them. His reflexes get the better of him and he raises a hand to push back a stray hair behind her ear. It's a mistake because the minute he does it, he's back to thinking about kissing her. She must be thinking the same because her breathing has noticeably quickened.

The hand he didn't even notice was resting on her hips, tightens just so, and he finds himself pulling her infinitesimally closer. She willingly lets his pull guide her closer and closer to him. He should stop, they both should stop, but he doesn't want to. He's weak. He's a pathetically weak and impotent tosser, who just wants to kiss the woman he fancies. But, it isn't that simple and he knows it. He can't just think about what he wants, he's better than that, he wants to be better than that for her. She's asked that they be friends, and only that, and he has to respect that and stop being so fucking… like his old self.

He's about to suggest that they break away, when she starts muttering something. He doesn't quite understand her, partially because he's distracted, and partially because she's speaking so quietly.

He can barely croak out a huh to ask her to repeat herself.

They're still close, too close, so so close. It wouldn't take much now for him to lean in and take those lips b—focus Robin, you daft git.

Regina's eyes skim what's left of his outfit, which are his long tunic and the tights. She sighs, "You probably want to get out of this, too, huh?"

Robin swallows and almost chokes. That would essentially leave him naked. And that could lead to... well, nothing good.

"Maybe, we should leave that," he says dryly.

But Regina shakes her head, having none of it. "Don't be ridiculous, Robin, I have plenty of oversized shirts in my closet for you to use."

"And here I was hoping you'd let me borrow one of your skin tight blouses to wear," he jokes with a tiny smirk feeling himself slip back into the flirty Robin that he likes to be around Regina. That Robin isn't a disaster like he is just now.

Regina bites down on her lip, suppressing the smile he knows she's trying hard not to make. But her eyebrow ticks upward and she doesn't resist the urge to sass him, because she answers with, "I mean we can always arrange that, I guess, but if you stretch out any of my shirts, I'll be forced to kick your ass."

Robin chuckles, while his hand reflexively squeezes her hip. Regina flinches slightly at the touch, causing him to quickly regret it, but she recovers in the same instance, and he proceeds with his response. "Yes, well I would like to avoid that at all costs so maybe we should forgo that bit."

Regina laughs hollowly and squares off with him. "Probably for the best," she tells him, "but, I'm serious, I have plenty of shirts you can use."

"You've been collecting from all your gentleman callers?" he teases her, peeking over at her closet as if he could see anything.

She whaps his shoulder lightly and rolls her eyes. "Jealous?"

"Very," he answers without missing a beat.

"Well, in that case, I probably won't mention that it is quite possible to go to shops and buy t-shirts that are several sizes too big for you."

Robin shrugs. "Probably best to let the little green monster fester."

Regina hums and skirts her fingers around the hem of his tunic. "What's it gonna be, Locksley?"

Robin can nearly feel a brick in his throat. He feels restricted and bound tighter than he's ever felt before. It feels like he's been singing the same tune for ages but he can't stop the way he feels for Regina, because it's deep and passionate and everything in between. Why shouldn't he just say fuck it and tell her that he's not over it and that he can joke all he wants, but, at the end of the day, all he wants to do is kiss her and kiss her and kiss her? He wants to tell her she's beautiful, especially in a moment like now when they're open and exposed in front of one another. He wants her to feel wanted and moved.

But he has to be stronger than that.

Robin tells himself to sack up and stop playing these games. He needs to get out of her bedroom, out of her apartment, so that he can get out of her way and let her figure her shit out and then let her decide what their future entails.

He glances downward, then returns his gaze to hers and shakes his head. "I can drive back in this, Regina, I'll be fine."

Regina purses her lips, then, looking a little put off by the statement. He watches as she tries to undo it, and dismisses it with a shake of her head, but Robin's already caught it in all of its miserable glory.

"What is it?"

Regina shakes her head again. "It's nothing."

But oh no, no. She isn't getting away with it that easily. "Regina, what is it?"

She begins to hesitantly retreat from his touch. "It's silly. Don't worry about it."

"I mean, if you want me to wear your shirt, I will," he jests playfully, hoping to lighten the mood and erase whatever newfound anxiety just arose for her.

It pays off because she laughs, but it's still contrived and disingenuous. "I was just going to ask if you'd maybe want to stay and watch a scary movie or something."

Oh. Well, then. Robin can't even be bothered to prevent his stupid smile at her idea. "Why didn't you just say so? In need of someone to protect you?"

Regina rolls her eyes. "Don't make me change my mind."

"How could a man deny taking off his clothes and watching scary films with a beautiful lady?"

She scoffs, trying her damned hardest to feign annoyance. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you're looking forward to the prospect of spending more time with me," he ribs with her and taps her on the nose.

"I ought to throw you out of my apartment in that ugly tunic."

He's chuckling again, but he takes it as an opportunity to keep flirting.

"Or," he sings as he brings both hands down to her hips and begins steering her toward the closet, "You can get me that shirt after all and we'll curl up on the sofa and watch a film, because that's my best shot at holding hands with you in the popcorn bowl."

Regina bites down hard on her lip and eyes him suspiciously. "I'll see your hand-holding popcorn bowl and raise you no hand-holding and a free t-shirt."

Robin lets out a booming laugh and squeezes her hips again. "I'll take that bet. Could we compromise on the cuddling bit, yeah?"

Regina gives him a wry smile and a tips her brows up toward her hairline. "Don't push your luck," she warns him.

He grins and decides there's nothing left to do but lift his arms slowly and hesitantly put them in the air, giving Regina permission to take this tunic off. She pauses just for a second to gather herself. Her eyes flutter closed serenely and she takes a deep breath, and when she reopens them, they lock instantly with his. A spell of deep concentration has befallen them and he feels that electric surge of panic ricochet through him again.

She's equally as nervous again, he can tell, because her hands shake aggressively when they grip the bottom of the eggshell garment harder and she pulls on it. His hands move over to cover hers. They smooth over her soft skin gently before closing in on them and lacing his fingers with hers. He tries to keep his own hands firm and unshaken as he guides them upwards, revealing a trail of bare skin as the garment rises higher up on his body. A lump forms in his throat as he reminds himself that she's about to see him shirtless—hell, she's about to see him essentially naked. His head is screaming, his chest is aching, but every fiber of his being is alive and electrified. He craves her touch, her caress, the whole burning flame that is kindling between them. Her eyes fall on his chest, which is toned but not terribly so, but hopefully the mix of moonlight and darkness help contour in all the right places, covering up the tiny gut he has, which is most likely a result of his excessive drinking habits. But he believes he still looks rather fit, especially when his well-built arms fall back to his side.

He watches her study his chest intently, tracing every line in his torso with her eyes. Her mouth is shaped in an odd sort of way, that could only be described as muted pleasure. It's no longer the harsh scowl she often wears, and instead, it's been traded for the delicate smile that makes her look suddenly much younger and more vulnerable. He can feel his heart racing even faster as he just admires her beauty radiating in the moonlight that is still streaming inward and washing her in light.

Fucking Christ, she's an absolute piece of art and he is an absolute disaster.

While he's memorizing every piece of her that he can, her hands are stretching out anxiously and tentatively, but, as they near his chest she stops altogether and draws her hand back, balling it into a fist. But he's a man so desperate for her touch that he releases her hips and reaches for her tiny hands. He kneads them tenderly until they spread open beneath his grasp and then slowly places them onto each side of his chest. He doesn't move his hands from hers, and instead, re-laces their fingers to steer them across his chest and torso. He moves them slow and methodically, as if they are painting a canvas.

He can't stop thinking about kissing her, for no other reason than he wants to. He really, really wants to. They can cover it up and pretend that they only want to be friends, but the truth is there and he can see it easily in her eyes as they curiously study his. His lips tingle, desperate to feel her mouth on his. That lingering hunger he's had since mid September returns with a vengeance and nags at him to lean down and satiate it. But he has to be strong and remember what he's promised.

But his hands betray him and pull Regina's, which are finally warming up after incubating under his warm touch, to the center of his chest. He lifts and cups them between both of his hands and brings them to his lips, pressing a tiny, sweet kiss to them. His lips linger before he pulls away. He's taking his sweet time to delay the inevitable. His stomach is churning vehemently and his airway is practically closed. Every nerve ending, every cell in his body, is tingling and vibrating and making him violently anxious, but he doesn't even bother trying to put a stop to it.

His hands take hers, once his lips graciously retreat, and place them with painstakingly slow speed around the back of his neck. He removes his hands, finally, from hers at the same speed and waits to see if she moves her hands or decides to do something else. But, his main focus is on her eyes, which are panicked and nervous and shy and apprehensive and just a mix of every emotion he feels and doesn't want to. He doesn't want either of them feeling doubtful or uneasy about this. He knows what he wants and she—or at least he believes—knows what she wants. Why should they hold off? Why should they put away what will make them happy?

And yet, he still won't kiss her, simply because she's asked that of him. But for fuck's sake he cannot think of anything in the world other than kissing her.

"Um," she clears her throat, "I think you should handle the tights portion."

"Right," he murmurs, looking down, "wouldn't want you putting a run in them."

She laughs hard and he once again craves to kiss at that beautiful smile again and again and again.

He will not disrespect her wishes, though. He will not take advantage or push her. He wants her to want him of her own volition. But, he's tempting fate by the way he's looped her arms around him and one of his palms has found a home in the small of her back, while the other has reached for her face, his thumb softly caressing her cheek.

He thinks she moves in closer. Her arms have definitely tightened around his neck and he can feel a slight pull downward. His eyes continue to scan for hints on where this is going. There's a newfound hint of contriteness, like she's almost apologizing for the state they're in, even though it's entirely his fault. But, she's definitely pulling him closer now, because he can feel the light wash of her breath across his cheek and their lips are certainly almost touching. He has to remind himself that he can't kiss her, he cannot be the one to kiss her. But, she's so close and everything feels right and all he has to do is close the gap.

He thinks he should say something, maybe opt out so she doesn't have to, because, after all, that is mildly embarrassing. But, Robin is unable to get a word in edgewise because the moment he opens his mouth to speak, Regina is pulling herself upwards, licking her lips and tilting her head, then covering his mouth with hers, leaving those words to dissolve into the space between them. Robin can hear the guttural moan echoing out of the hollow of her throat, as their lips meet passionately, and he pulls her tighter to him. She melts into him easily, pressing their bodies as tightly together as possible.

He breathes hard through his nostrils, expelling all the air he'd trapped in his lungs. But his mouth steadily opens further with each kiss tangling his cotton candy scented breath with the taste of the chocolate chip cookie she must have swiped at some point during the carnival. But when his mouth is finally open wide enough, he feels her tongue sweep across his bottom lip then enter, seeking out his and tangling fervidly with it, the taste of chocolate becoming even sweeter as they collide.

Robin feels them shift suddenly. Regina is pushing—no, just guiding—him gently backwards, inching them away from the closet and back toward the center of the room. He tries not to let his mind anticipate that they're headed to the bed, but he is a man after all—and a pathetically weak one at that. So, he lets her lead, waltzing them backwards, mouths still meeting headily, desperate and sloppy and warm.

Christ in Heaven, he wants her, wants more of her, wants all of her. He wants to take the blasted t-shirt and leggings she's just put on and toss them away, baring all of her for him. He wants to kiss every inch of her and have her moaning and writhing beneath his touch. His hands move subconsciously at the idea, travelling toward her waist and slipping beneath the cotton fabric. They skate delicately along her curves, gunning aimlessly for her breasts, but he takes his time, as best his patience and libido will allow for.

Regina is still leading him backwards but her hands have also begun to traverse the expanse of his chest and torso, touching every muscle and every trough between them. Her nails begin to rake over his skin, pressing gently enough that it doesn't leave a mark but hard enough that it makes him hungrier for more.

Robin can see where this is going from a mile off. He's nearly rock hard at this point and her lips are just as ravenous as they were at the start. And if those aren't any indication, then her finally getting him to the bed and pushing him down lightly might just be answer enough. They part just long enough for him to fall backward and scramble into a seated position, so that she can straddle his lap. He watches as she looks down for a split second and meticulously lines herself up to be placed right on top of the bulge in his tights. They both moan aloud as she settles and starts an agonizingly slow and lazy rhythm.

The center of her leggings are warm and it occurs to him just how thin the fabrics separating them are. He feels that hungry desire burn brighter in the depths of his abdomen. He wants to feel how warm and wet she is, wants to bury his cock deep inside of her, wants to feel her come around him again and again and again.

His self-restraint is practically nonexistent at this point because his hands have certainly gone to taking off her bra beneath the t-shirt and are groping blindly at her breasts. They're warm, soft and supple and just as he'd imagined—not that he's been imagining them—and he doesn't shy away from grabbing them. He wishes the shirt would simply disappear to give him more access and his hands a little more freedom to roam in general. But, he doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he takes this blessing as is and revels in the sound of her breath hitching harshly when he kneads and thumbs her nipples.

Her hips have picked up in rhythm, driving her circles just a bit sharper and quicker, which only makes him needier. His tights need to come off before he's come off.

This is bad. What he really needs is to think more clearly. Somewhere his super-ego is crying out a list of all the things he should be doing rather than touching all over Regina's breasts and allowing her to rub up against him the way she is. He needs to ask what is happening, to assure that what is happening is okay and to figure out what the bloody hell this all means.

"Christ Regina," he breathes into the nape of her neck, as he finally braves abandoning her lips for more skin.

It doesn't help that she answers with a soft, breathy Robin, with her nails digging hard into his scalp and pressing him harder into the base of her throat. He's a right bastard for not having a stronger will to break away and apply some reasoning to this heavy petting. He shouldn't be kissing her neck, shouldn't be inching up her t-shirt with his elbows to give him more room, shouldn't be jerking his own hips now and again to meet with hers. And he certainly should not be thinking about having sex with her. He can't, one hundred percent cannot, have sex with Regina Mills.

They'd just agreed to be friends—what? Two weeks ago? And they were doing well with that. He's been bringing her coffee and they've been chatting and it's been nice, easy, simple. But, this. This is anything but that. This is complicated and messy and bound for trouble.

He wants to ask what it is exactly that she wants. He doesn't want to be pushy, though. Hell, what he really wants is to just keep kissing her and fondling her, but that's ill-advised. He just needs to say something. Just needs to remove his lips from the hollow of her throat and speak.

C'mon you tosspot, he curses himself quietly, just speak.

But, he resolves himself to speak—or, at least, that's what he's going to tell himself, anyway—just as a new noise disrupts the hot and heavy mood they've set. Robin finally does tear himself away in favor of glancing over at Regina's nightstand, where her phone is lighting up and playing a twinkly little tune.

Regina eyes follow suit and gaze over at the table. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she freezes and goes rigid against him.

Ah, so that's it.

Robin faces Regina again and studies her, but she keeps her eyes glued to the table. He pauses, waiting to see if she'll look at him or say something. But when she doesn't, he clears his throat and gives her thighs a gentle squeeze.

"That about your mum?" he asks, rubbing his thumbs up and down her thighs and tilting his head in hopes that she'll look at him.

He can visibly see Regina swallow. Her eyes betray her, too, glistening in the mix of the faded moonlight that barely reaches her bed and the sliver of light from the hall. Regina grumbles something and begins to wipe furiously at her face, so much so, he fears she might scratch herself. He releases her thighs to reach for her hands, but it's a mistake because she uses it as an opportunity to get away from him. She backs off of his lap and stands, turning her back toward him.

He's an asshole. He could tell something was bothering her earlier once, and again, he let his feelings take precedence.

"Hey," he whispers, as he stands.

He walks over to her and gingerly places his hands on her shoulders, but she pushes him off the second he touches her and steps forward.

"Regina, c'mon," he says a little more strongly and fills in the newfound gap between them. He doesn't touch her though, not yet.

"You should go," she mutters bitterly and crosses her arms across her chest.

"Like hell," he scoffs, still not reaching for her. "I was really looking forward to some scary movies."

She doesn't laugh, actually doesn't say anything at all. He thinks now is the time, so he cautiously takes a final step toward her and extends his arms outward, looping them around her midsection and pulling her backward to fall against his chest. She stands there stiffly in his embrace, refusing to concede to the gesture. But he remains persistent anyway and holds onto her tighter, refusing to let her go.

"Talk to me, m'love," he whispers softly against her, then presses a kiss to her shoulder. "What happened?"

"If I knew, don't you think she wouldn't be calling," she snaps at him and he knows she doesn't mean it.

Robin just answers by hugging her a little tighter to him. He doesn't really know what to say. He fears the worst for her. He wishes he could shield her from all of this, wishes the bullshit with her mum didn't plague her so much. He just wants to help her, but now he just feels like a helpless, useless git.

"Tell me what you need," is all he can think to say.

Her answer takes him by surprise, maybe because it was so sudden, or maybe because it was unexpected, but either way, it shocks him when Regina turns in his hold, fists his shirt and crashes their lips together vigorously. Robin stumbles back just slightly at the level of force but nevertheless kisses her back. It's hotter and headier and nothing like before. There's no trepidation, no level of restraint this time. It's just hot and heavy lip (and tongue) action.

Her lips are strong and bruising and relentless as she tastes him like a woman famished and Robin is slave to her kiss, letting her have her way. He staggers backwards haphazardly, while she leads them back toward the bed, following her lead blindly as she pushes, with their lips still meeting earnestly.

He needs to put a stop to this immediately because he knows this should not be happening whatsoever. Regina is hurting visibly and he knows that whatever this is isn't going to help at all. But even as he tries to pull away, she just counters with stronger and more needier kisses.

Robin can feel his calves collide with the edge of the bed, sending him backward with an oof! As he lands. He watches as Regina falls with him and then crawls the rest of the way until their faces are level again. She pauses for a brief second and he can see the anguish in her features, the pain radiating from her. Robin can nearly sense her heartbreak by just studying the grief stricken look she wears, but then he can taste it in her kisses, which are now tainted with the salty taste of the tears that have welled from her eyes. She's kissing him so that he can't see her, but he can still feel them pelt his face as they dribble away from her eyes.

Robin tries to speak as she peppers him with kisses, but Regina is refusing to listen and chooses to concentrate very intently on kissing him. Her breathing is ragged and irregular and wet and Robin feels sort of at a loss. He's never had this happen before. Sure, he's seen women cry, he's even had some cry after they'd had sex, for reasons he hopes have nothing to do with his performance, but he's never experienced anything like this. She's deflecting, avoiding the real issue at hand, and not that he isn't grateful for all the kissing and, well, other bits, but he knows that this isn't what she needs. She needs someone to hold her and tell her it's going to be okay. She needs a friend.

Regina is moving, lifting herself away from him. He watches as she scrambles to take off her shirt and meanwhile mask her tear-stained face. Robin, out of reflex, rapidly scrunches his eyes closed. It's not that he doesn't want to see Regina's breasts—of course, he does—but not like this. He reaches out blindly, which in hindsight isn't his most brilliant of plans, and tries to grab the t-shirt to pull it back down. But he only makes contact with her skin, forcing him to open his eyes.

Her tits are as glorious as he'd believed when he was feeling them up just earlier. They're small, but not too much so, and rounded just enough that it nearly makes his mouth water. Had the circumstances been different, he would've immediately sat up and taken one in his mouth, but now is not the time. He manages to tear himself away from her breasts, to pull her shirt back down and glance up at her face. She's pointedly not looking at him and her face is still full of steadfast concentration.

She realizes she isn't going to succeed by distracting him with her breasts, even though she does try to reach for his hands and prompt him to cop a feel. But, he's resilient and evades her hands, reaching for her elbows and attempting to still her. Regina doesn't yield, though, and, instead, tries to lean in for more kisses, but Robin holds tightly to her elbows, causing her to remain stationary.

In addition, he speaks her name clearly and resolutely, accenting each syllable harshly.

He can tell she's trying not to listen, so he repeats himself. "Regina," he states even more harshly this time.

Regina falters the second time and finally stops fighting him. Her eyes flutter closed and she lets out a shaky, albeit loud, breath. He answers by moving his hands to hers and giving them a firm squeeze. He tugs them gently forward, pulling her along with it. She makes an awkward descent down to him, but eventually falls to his chest. Upon impact, she breaks down, her body suddenly wracking with silent sobs. Robin smoothes a hand up and down her spine and coos softly, trying to calm her, even though he knows that she just needs to get a good cry out. So he clings tightly to her and lets her cry her heart out. He doesn't speak aside from the tender murmurs that tell her she's going to be okay and that he's here.

His heart is so broken for her that he can't help but tear up a little himself. He wishes with all his heart he could ease her pain but he knows there's no easy way to dismiss the deep-seated pain caused by a parent. He certainly has his own irreparable scars from his parents. If there was an undo button, he would definitely have used it by now. But alas, such a thing does not exist quite yet, so they still have to suffer as a result. He feels a shred of hatred for a woman he doesn't even know because she's caused Regina this insurmountable level of agony that he cannot soothe or fix. And he just hates her for it.

He almost thinks that the woman deserves the cruel and vicious fate she was given. Serves her right for being a cold and callous bitch to the point that her daughter is still in bits many years after their estrangement. But the better and far more considerate part of him understands that everyone, even the most evil souls in this world, deserve to be treated with kindness and civility, especially when they don't believe that themselves. Despite growing up in a home that didn't exactly enforce that idea, somewhere along the way, he'd adopted the notion and it's stuck with him ever since.

Sometimes, he just needs to be reminded.

Regina's tears eventually subside, or at least, have calm enough that her body is finally still. Nevertheless, Robin presses a kiss into her hair and continues to stroke her back, still murmuring his reassurances.

Regina coughs, choking slightly on her tears, but manages to croak out, "I never got to say goodbye."

Robin mutters an I know, but Regina shakes her head and says, "To my dad. I never said goodbye to my dad when he died. I wasn't home when he—when it happened and I feel so guilty and that's why I didn't go because she treated me so horribly. Why should she be worthy of my goodbyes when I didn't even get to say goodbye to the one person who's truly loved me? But now, I feel all this guilt about not going and—"

She isn't able to finish her sentence because her tears overcome her. Robin shushes softly and reminds her, "Darling, the only reason you're feeling guilty is because you didn't take the chance and now you're telling yourself you're terrible because you can, because you want to fault yourself for something that is entirely not your fault. If you felt, leading up to this moment, that you didn't want to see your mum, and you felt justified with that decision, then you are perfectly vindicated."

"But what if I made a mistake?" she laments, burying her face into his torso.

Robin shakes his head. "Everyone makes mistakes but there's no use in blaming yourself or hurting yourself over something you can't take back."

"Then, what are you supposed to do?"

"Learn," he answers without missing a beat. "You learn from them. It's why we make them in the first place."

"Well, I've kind of run out of parents to apply this lesson to so I might be shit out of luck on this one," she grumbles against his skin, making him laugh aloud and trying to ignore the tingly feeling he gets with her lips there.

"Perhaps, it's a sign to not shut out everyone else you love or care about," he suggests, giving the crown of her head another kiss.

Regina's head snaps upward and looks intently at him. She probably thinks the statement is pointedly about him, which it isn't, but now that it's out there, he isn't going to just deny it. He gives her a wry smile and she goes about biting that lip he sort of wishes he was still kissing. She must be thinking the same because she wriggles upward until they're face-to-face again.

But she doesn't kiss him. Instead, she tips her head sideways and smirks, "You're right. Maybe I should give Mal a call."

Robin snorts a laugh. "That your lover?"

Regina purses her lips and glances back toward her phone. "No," she says. "Although, she is gay."

"Oh?" he asks, as she rests her head back on his chest.

"Mm," she muses with a nod.

He can tell she feels comfortable talking about the woman with the way she melts a little more into him. She's relaxing. Her palm rests steadily on his bare chest, while her thumb traces back and forth lightly. He wants to keep her this way so he presses the conversation on, "Were you two close?"

Regina shakes her head just so. "Not when we first met, no. She took riding lessons from my father, so we saw a lot of each other, but she was three years ahead of me at school and I'm pretty sure she thought I was just an annoying brat. But then, the summer before my freshman year, everything sort of changed. We would ride together sometimes, or just hang out in the ring after dark. She became like my mentor, my confidante."

Robin absentmindedly starts stroking her hair and hums along to her tale.

"Before I knew it, we were becoming pretty good friends. But, we didn't really become friends until the day she came out to me."

"Friends, huh?" Robin interjects jokingly.

Regina just ignores him, but he's fairly certain he sees her roll her eyes and crack a smile. "We were hanging out at this tree that we used to sit under—one of the only ones on the property—and she told me that she wasn't going to take riding lessons anymore. And when I asked her why, she just… blurted it out."

"How did you respond?" he queries with a chuckle.

"Exactly as any stupid, naïve, and ignorant person would. I kinda just stared at her and processed and when I was able to swallow it enough, I told her that it was amazing and that I'd never met a gay person before, to which she informed me that I absolutely had, I just didn't know it. That blew my mind," she starts laughing and Robin warms to the sound.

Mission accomplished.

"Anyway," Regina continues, "so she told me that she couldn't take lessons anymore because her mother was throwing her out for being gay. And me, being the naïve, little princess that I was, ran to Daddy and threw an absolute fit. Mal tried to dismiss it but my father was having none of it. Much to my mother's dismay, although she tried to hide it, Mal ended up living with us until she got into Grand Canyon University. But even then, she wasn't far and I visited a good bit. She even took me to a party once when I was in eleventh grade.

"God," she sighs, "my mother would roll over in her metaphorical grave if she ever found out."

Robin winces at the mention of her mother. So close.

Regina pauses, licks her lips and sighs again. "Or maybe not so metaphorical anymore."

"I know," he whispers quietly, still stroking through her locks.

They lay there quietly for just a moment, not saying a word. He just combs his fingers through her hair and feels the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his.

But after a moment, "I'm sorry," is what she answers.

Robin is confused, knitting his brows together and tipping his chin to glance down at her the best he can. "For what?" he asks.

"For earlier—trying to jump your bones and all."

"Ah," Robin says with a sharp intake. "Right. That. You were upset. It's okay."

"It's not," she rebuts.

He muses for a brief second, then says, "You remember what I said to you when we went for coffee?"

Regina shrugs. "We said a lot of things, but I'm assuming you're referring to the regret part?"

Robin nods affirmatively. "I am. And do you?"

"No," she confesses quietly into his chest.

Robin only hums in response, unsure really of what to say, but Regina takes his line, instead. She lifts herself once more and wriggles until their noses are aligned again, while studying his eyes tacitly. Her eyes are back to being hesitant and worried and he's flooded with more concern, but his heart betrays him with hope, begging for her soft kisses once more.

He watches her delicate, rosy lips open, then close before she says anything at all. And he watches as she gathers her nerve, licks her lips and opens her mouth again. "Don't take this the wrong way," she whispers, though, he can feel the gentle tickle of her breath on his face, "but you're one of the better things that's going on in my life. And I am…" she pauses, searching for the word, "scared to death I'm going to fuck this up."

Robin can feel that disgustingly stupid grin that he always does mold onto his lips. But how could he possibly help it?

"You shouldn't worry about that," he chuckles. "We're so passed fucking this up, I think the only thing we can do is just sit back and watch this shitshow unfold."

Regina tries to stifle her snicker, biting down on her bottom lip, which she continues to chew on long after she's stopped laughing. She's back to studying him, her swollen, heavy lidded eyes dancing back and forth, curiously analyzing and making him feel as naked as the day he was born. He wants to know what she's thinking, would almost love to be inside her head. He wonders if she's looking to see if he'll make a move. Should he make a move? He's unsure, now that they're in this awkward limbo state. Did her apology mean that she didn't want to kiss him anymore or did it simply mean that she didn't want to kiss him again, yet?

His mind circles around with these questions, deriving several possible answers each time they rotate through. But this isn't helping, he's a sodding nervous wreck and with each passing idea, he only grows more nervous.

Maybe, he should change the subject.

He decides it's the best course of action, so he clears his throat and directs his attention to her pristine, white ceiling. "You've got a nice apartment complex, you know?"

He can see Regina frown out of the corner of his eye and he wonders if it's because of the subject change or her apartment building itself. But she shrugs against him, saying, "Eh, it's okay."

Robin ignores her and continues, "Any vacancies you know of? I'm actually in the market for a new one."

That catches her attention. "Wait, what?" she exclaims, sitting up a little and nearly crushing his ribs in the process. "You're being kicked out of your apartment?"

Robin shakes his head vehemently. "No, no," he denies quickly, "It's just my roommate, John, and his girlfriend," he pauses to smirk because, at heart, he's still nine, apparently, "are expecting. And no offense to the parents to be, but I'm not particularly looking to be a manny. Besides, they're gonna need my room for a nursery eventually and, well, if three's a crowd I don't wanna know what the bloody hell four is."

Regina snorts softly at that. He notices her eyes are closed serenely, now that she's lying back down, and he worries that he's kept her up past her bedtime. But her voice is not drenched with sleep quite yet, so he thinks he might be in the clear just a little bit longer. "There actually is an apartment that's about to go up for lease on the third floor. I could maybe call and put a good word in for you."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I would."

Robin is touched, truly. He kisses the top of her head before whispering, "I would really appreciate that. Thank you." Then his arms lift and engulf her in an awkward embrace, hugging her tightly to his chest.

Robin buries his nose in her hair, as he holds onto her, enjoying the sweet scent of her apple shampoo filling up his nostrils. His eyes flutter shut slowly and his breathing levels out. He thinks that to any outsider, this may be weird, like if her walls had eyes, they would oooh and ahhh in wonder and confusion at Robin and Regina's relationship. He feels like they've barely had the time to get to know each other, and yet, he feels as though he's never been closer to another human being in his life. It makes them complex, a little unconventional, but overall, complex and profound and he craves more of it. But, he wonders if it's all moving a little quickly, or if maybe, he's pushing too hard?

He sighs heavily into her hair, unintentionally making his internal frustrations known.

"What's wrong?" Regina follows concernedly.

Robin decides to be honest because why not at this point? "D'you think they'd make it?" he asks, and when Regina replies asking who he's talking about, he references Kathryn's comment she made earlier, "Robin Hood and the Evil Queen? Do you think they'd make it as a pair?"

Regina snorts a laugh. "I don't know," she answers pensively with a hint of dreaminess that seems to weigh on him as well. "They'd make an interesting couple, that's for sure. He'd have to be able to handle her temper and she'd have to accept that he's a thief… but anything's possible I guess." She shrugs against him.

"I'd like to believe they would," he says. "Just because she's broken and he's a mess, doesn't mean they couldn't bring out the best in one another. Call me hopeful, but I think they'd turn out to be one hell of a strong and dynamic couple."

"Yeah," is all Regina answers.

Robin has no idea if she caught on that he wasn't particularly referring to the fairytale characters— well, he was, but only metaphorically. He chooses not to push the issue, though, deciding that it's best to just let the chips fall where they may.

"So what's it gonna be, Your Majesty?" he changes the subject. "You wanna watch a movie or have I kept you past your bedtime?"

Regina sighs wistfully, "I owe you a movie, but I doubt I'll be awake for most of it."

"That's okay."

"Okay," she croons. He can feel her hesitate getting up. She lingers for a second, but long enough that he knows it's reluctance. Or, maybe, he's just projecting his own reluctance on her and she senses that.

But there's only the flicker before she's shimmying and attempting to stand up. As she goes, she offers out her hands to Robin to help him up, too. He takes them and lets her pull him like a magnet until they're both standing face-to-face and in very close proximity to one another.

"I should probably get you that shirt," she says quietly and turns toward her closet.

But he grabs her arm and tugs her lightly back to him. He has to make sure that she's going to be okay first. "You alright?" he asks with every bit of concern he has bleeding out of him.

Regina gives him a small smile and nods. He can tell it's forced and a little strained but he thinks her answer is still genuine.

"I will be," she whispers and stands on her tip toes, giving him a small peck, "it'll take some time, but I will be. I'll call Mal in the morning and do what I need to—"

"And I'll be by your side whenever you need me," he interjects.

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "I know you will and I appreciate that, Robin. Really."

"Anything for you."

Regina doesn't answer and goes about fishing around in her closet to find a t-shirt for him. When she emerges, she asks, "So, you'll stay? Maybe help me pass out candy tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course." He nods in compliance, trying to ignore the butterflies that kick up a flutter in his belly.

Regina extends the shirt to him. "You can sleep on the couch…" she instructs, glancing past him at the bed awkwardly. He feels an urge to reach for her, to soothe her worries about what transpired a few moments ago, but he refrains and listens as she closes the gap between them even further, licks her lips and presses on talking, "and I don't just mean tonight— anytime you need to until you find an apartment."

It means a lot, even though he's sure he'll probably refuse to take her offer because he doesn't want to put her out or make her uncomfortable. But the offer itself touches him and he tells her so by giving her a modest thank you. His hands reach for her without thinking, reaching out to offer a hug, which she enters willingly.

They settle in that position for good few minutes before breaking away. When they do, Regina holds out her hand to him, which he takes, weaving their fingers together properly. She gives his hand a tiny squeeze and his eyes seek out hers, finding them as soft as they possibly could be… and dare he think… hopeful?

Regina pulls his arm and tips her head to the doorway. He nods and follows her lead, as she guides them out of the room, holding his hand the whole way out.