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?

15. Chapter 13 (Part Two)

A/N: Yay, Part Two is here! Again, I'm so sorry this took so long, but I really poured my heart and soul into this one. Big thank you once again to Manuela, Shay and Lisa, without whom you probably wouldn't be getting this chapter this way (you'll see what I mean lol). So, enjoy and let me know what you think.

Oh and one last thing, there's an error in an earlier chapter which I have to go back and fix, but just so you guys know, Kathryn is just about at four months pregnant, not five. She conceives in July and finds out in August.

But that's it, now go! Read! Comment! Enjoy!

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Regina has a problem, and it's that she doesn't hear from Robin for the rest of Friday, or Saturday morning, and she starts to get nervous. She thinks maybe the red dress didn't quite work its magic completely. Or, maybe it did and it just wasn't strong enough to convince him to knock down the wall he'd built.

She spends the entirety of her Saturday morning panicking about it. She thinks that he's changed his mind, that he probably never wanted to do it and she'd painted him in a corner with no way out until the paint dried. It makes her feel shitty, too. What kind of friend backs you into a decision to the point that you have to avoid them just to get out of it?

She considers texting him and telling him not to worry about it, but then she fears that that might also force his hand and she doesn't want that. She wants for Robin to make his own decisions, wants him to open up when he's ready. After all, that's her thing with Phoenix, isn't it? If, and only if, she is ready and willing to share, will she actually do so. She could be held at gunpoint and she'd rather lie than let out the truth to undeserving ears. She has a right to if that's what she wants, and Robin deserves the same courtesy.

Her next move is to call Kathryn off, tell her to cancel the plans and apologize to everyone. But, as she's typing out her text (better yet, her own eulogy), she has an epiphany. She's so stupid, how could she not have seen it?

Robin does it all the time. Ever since they met, he's been doing it, and though, it often gets on her last fucking nerve, it's worked all this time. He's slowly been whittling down the thick walls she's put around Phoenix. Not by forcing her to talk—quite the opposite—no, he encourages her to speak when she's ready, if she's ever ready. He's just there, like a shadow, trying his best not to twist her arm into talking about what happened to her.

She can do that. She can be the shadow he needs, the arms that reach out when he's ready for the trust fall.

But she has to make sure he knows that.

She gets up from her couch, quits bemoaning her failed plan, and tells herself that she needs to get ready, go get Robin and give him the best damn birthday he's ever had.

[:]

Regina is ready to go by 5:30, which she knows will probably make her and Robin a little late, but Kathryn can grant them a little bit of grace.

Besides, she wanted to be well dressed and decent looking, when convincing Robin to come to the party they'd created behind his back. So, she made sure her shoulder length hair was blown out properly and her makeup was done, but not too heavy (she made sure the heaviest bit was her bright red lipstick). She forewent the red dress, though, deciding that it could either be her ace or it could be the play that gets the door slammed in her face. Rather than play a risky hand, she folds and decides on her little knee length blue dress instead.

As she does a final once over in her mirror, she tells herself that she's doing the right thing that this could be good and a big step for her and Robin.

In fact, she doesn't stop telling herself that until she's at his door, taking several deep breaths, which does nothing to ease the heaving of her chest at all. That nagging voice, lamenting about what a mistake this is, is back and louder than ever, but Regina shakes it off. Time is wasting and she's going to get Robin to this party if it kills her.

Her body decides before her brain does, though, because she can feel the subtle wrapping of her knuckles against his wooden door before she's even mentally braced herself.

Robin takes a few seconds before materializing, opening the door haphazardly with a puzzled look on his face and a curious, Regina?

He looks good—a bit disheveled, but good. He's in a dark heather grey t-shirt with sleeves that rather accentuate his biceps. Getting in and getting out suddenly just got much more difficult. But the t-shirt is truthfully the better looking bit. He's in sweats that are also heather grey, but a lighter shade, and his hair is mussed and oily, making it apparent that he hasn't showered recently. Still, she finds him attractive in a musky, rugged, been-out-camping-for-a-week kind of way, even though she knows it isn't the case.

Regina goes to greet him but he beats her to the punch saying, "Your dress is blue."

It's an odd starter for the conversation, but she appreciates that he makes the observation, and that he isn't ignoring the fact that two days ago they were discussing a date.

She shrugs and says, "I'm saving the red dress for when you finally take me on a date."

Robin's brows furrow and he frowns. "Is that not what you're here for?"

Regina just lifts the full bottle of whiskey, she'd nicked from her liquor cabinet, in her hand. "Nope, I came to drink."

She'd taken the whiskey as an excuse, in case things went south. If it went south before the birthday plans were revealed then she could just give him the whiskey and be on her merry way. And if they went south afterward, then she'd be treating herself to a whole bottle of whiskey at Kathryn's.

But the whiskey seems to have another purpose that she hadn't considered before—her ticket in the door.

Robin inches the front door open just a little more and stares down the bottle in Regina's hand. He's actually considering it. Good.

Regina takes it as her one and only chance to push for the rest of the evening and asks sweetly, "May I come in?"

Robin's eyes squint a little more at the bottle, then lift to meet Regina's. He looks tired, she notes privately, and it sets off a little pang in her chest, worrying her again that she may be making a mistake. But, then Robin is pushing his door open wider and moving out of her way, giving her entrance to his apartment.

She pauses, just to make sure that he's okay with it, but decides it's better to take advantage of the situation while she has it. She marches across the threshold and into his apartment.

She realizes, once she's inside that this is the first time she's actually seen it. She knows with a hint of embarrassment that she's seen his lobby, (practically became Robin's stalker there), because it's where she first met John. He had given her their apartment number earlier in the week when she'd invited him to the party, but she'd nearly forgotten that she hadn't actually seen the inside of their apartment until now.

So, she takes a moment to scope the place out, get a peek into Robin's home life. Though, it won't be his soon enough because he's moving out and hopefully moving into her apartment complex. She'd called Mr. Poseidon on Monday and she wasn't able to get a good read on him but he sounded receptive to Robin as a residential candidate.

Regina's eyes zoom about quickly, trying to scan every inch of the room before Robin can come up behind her.

The space is kind of plain though, she makes a mental note to ask Robin at some point how he and John can afford a place like this, because it may be plain, but it's certainly built to be costly. The floors are shiny, well polished hardwood much like the ones in the lobby. The walls are a soft taupe color and are relatively bare, save the framed Star Wars poster that's hanging in the corner. She wonders which of them that belongs to and decides she'll ask him later. She hopes it's John's, because if it isn't, she can't imagine he'll be pleased to know his girlfri— wait, that isn't right. Regina blinks and shakes her head, as if that will rid her of her Freudian slip.

Did she… just try to call herself…?

No, she didn't mean it. It was an accident. An accident. Robin is a friend. A friend she kisses fairly often and wants to kiss again, but a friend.

She tries to dismiss her thoughts that are now running rampant through her mind and return her attention to the bookshelf against the wall, littered with various trinkets and memorabilia and cases most likely containing video games and perhaps a few films. But she realizes, almost too late, when her gaze shifts to the black leather tufted sofa that Robin is talking to her.

What is he saying?

"...I mean I suppose it won't be home much longer, but I guess that all depends on my interview on Monday."

That's enough to get her out of girlfriend mania. She whirls around to face Robin with a smile, "You got an interview with him?"

"Yeah," Robin chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "He called Thursday. I wanted to tell you—thank you—but I've just been off and I wasn't sure if you—"

"You mean that you weren't sure if I'd want to talk to you when you were blowing off our date," she cuts him off.

"Well, no," he reasons, "I hadn't tried to give you the slip yet, but I thought you weren't speaking to me on purpose."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that," she admits softly.

"Were you?" he queries timidly, and it almost breaks her heart the way he looks at her."No, of course not," she sighs, "I just didn't want to crowd you. You were clearly going through something and I didn't want to get in your way."

Robin smiles gently, thankfully, but doesn't speak, so Regina does, even if it is against her better judgment.

"Why did you give me the slip?"

Robin sighs frustratedly. "'Cause I'm a wanker," he grumbles and turns away from her, stalking over to the small wet bar by the door.

He reaches in one of the cabinets to pull out two whiskey glasses and carries them over to the breakfast bar that divides the kitchen from the living room. He sets the glasses down, then pulls out two stools and plops down on the leftmost one. Then he's looking at Regina and beckoning her over. She follows his direction and takes the seat next to him, placing the whiskey on the bar.

"Rittenhouse," he reads the label.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to drink it. I'm more of a Bulleit girl," she tells him.

"You ever had this?" he asks, twirling the nose of the bottle between his fingers.

Regina shakes her head and Robin laughs wryly. "It's rubbish, but I'm willing to drink it with you, if not for anything but the experience."

Regina's cheeks warm a little. "You don't like it?"

"Nah," he says with a wave of his hand, "too fruity for me, but you might like it."

"Why because I'm a woman?" she mocks him.

"No," he grouses. "I just meant that— that you specifically might like it for no other reason than that you are Regina Mills."

Her eyebrow lifts suspiciously. "Mhm," she hums.

Robin just rolls his eyes and pours them a drink in each of their glasses.

While he's pouring, Regina takes the opportunity to get back to her whole purpose of being there.

"Where's John?"

Robin hesitates to screw the cap back on the whiskey. He had to have known that it'd come up eventually. Still, "Errands," he lies.

Well, actually, it isn't really a lie. John is running errands, but for her. She'd asked him to grab a small cake for Robin, which had nearly put Kathryn in cardiac arrest. God forbid she's not in charge of one little thing. But, she reckoned that he would have a better chance at picking a cake Robin would actually enjoy.

But Regina doesn't reveal her master plan quite yet. Instead, she looks to the whiskey, then to Robin and back to the whiskey.

"'Spose I should try this then, huh?" she asks with a chuckle.

But when he only answers with a snort, she looks back at Robin and finds him brooding, almost scowling and she realizes it might actually be time to make the big reveal. She's been prepping for this for days now. She got her foot in the door, now it's time to kick it wide open.

Her eyes go back to her glass and she reaches for it, signaling for Robin to do the same. He lifts his glass, as well, and turns to face her. She extends her glass, then, and he does the same, tapping the two lightly together, with a nearly inaudible, "Cheers."

She watches him sip first and he makes a face, which he hopes is for the whiskey. She knows it definitely is when she takes a tiny sip of her own. It tastes… fruity, yes, but almost perfumy and she thinks she isn't really crazy about it either. But right now it's going to be her best bet at finally getting to the point.

Regina eyes her glass again, grimaces, and throws back the rest of the glass of whiskey.

Liquid courage seems to be the only viable solution to get her through this.

The idea of not going through with it flits across her mind, as she rises from the bar top, but she knows she has to do it, if not for any other reason than Kathryn would kill her. But also, because she cares about Robin and he deserves to know that. Not to mention, he deserves to enjoy a day that's supposed to be dedicated to him anyway.

So, she pushes back her inhibitions and tacitly tells herself to take a deep breath. Her eyes lock on Robin's, which are a bit wild and confused, but equally as curious.

She finally takes that deep breath, then says, "Alright, well, let's get you dressed."

Robin sets his own glass down and takes Regina's offered hand, which helps him off the stool. But, she lets it go, and asks which way his bedroom is. When he points back behind her, she whips around and marches straight to Robin's room without so much as another word, leaving him behind her, stammering dumbly. She ignores him, determined that she's going to pull this off, that she's going to confidently show him an intentional act of caring and goddammit, he's going to accept it.

After all he's done and willing to do, he deserves that much.

She makes a beeline for his closet, heading straight for the doors and ripping them open grandiosely in one fell swoop. Robin lags from behind, probably physically manifesting the crawling pace that his mind is using to process what Regina is up to. Still, she disregards him and begins scanning the closet for something for him to wear to the party. There are several tops and bottoms hung properly on hangers but the majority of them are in heap at the floor of the closet. She knows she shouldn't be surprised at that—Graham was the same way—but it still itches at her neuroses that beg for order.

Thankfully, however, the ones hanging up do have a wide variety and run the whole gamut in color and style. She thinks a t-shirt and jeans should be nice enough, maybe some nicer trousers, since he is the birthday boy—he might want to look sharp on his day. She considers a soft blue or grey for a top because they both look nice on him, really help make his eyes pop. Though, that might be entirely selfish, not that she's very intent on caring, anyway.

As she starts pulling several shirts of varying blue and grey color gradients, Robin finds his voice, demanding that Regina tell him, what the bloody hell is going on.

It gives Regina pause, as she reaches for another shirt that's hanging up, nearly making her choke on the nerves building up in her throat. She does her best to swallow them and pace herself.

She chooses not to look at Robin, because it just makes the words fall easier off of her tongue. And she keeps with her task, perhaps, even concentrating harder than she needs to.

"Robin," she begins hesitantly, worrying if she can make up the proper words with the proper meaning on the fly, "when we first started getting to know each other, you were... obnoxious and persistent… obnoxiously persistent," she chuckles dryly.

"And it drove me nuts. And I constantly asked myself how someone could be that impossibly ignorant when it came to leaving well enough alone, especially given how misogynistic and crude you are—were. It didn't seem like you would be the type of person to reach out at all. But, then I realized that you were deliberately ignorant, because that's just something you do. You have an affinity for helping and caring about people and not leaving them alone even when they want you to, because you want them to feel like they matter. And I almost feel envious because I've never had the courage to do that for someone. And then it made me feel self-conscious because what if you get sick—and don't say you won't because I know you believe that— but what if you get sick of giving so much when I can't do that and you realize you deserve better than that?"

Robin tries to interrupt, but Regina presses on. She's on a roll and there's no way she's stopping now.

"Then, your birthday happened and I decided that now is my chance to step out of my comfort zone and to... reciprocate your feelings, because I want you to know that I—I care about you, too, and that you matter, too. And it's not just because it's your birthday. But, because you are special and wonderful, and you deserve to have a day dedicated to you that is equally as special and wonderful."

Robin tries to interrupt again, uttering something but Regina just barrels right through.

"Listen, I don't know why you've been avoiding your birthday, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to—though, if you do, I am always here to listen—but you should be celebrating, or at least, letting people celebrate you. And I just want to do that for you. So, if you trust me, you'll put this on," she extends the clothes to him, "and let me be the one to be there for you tonight."

Robin stands there slightly gobsmacked when she finishes and finally takes a full breath. His eyes, however, are soft and imploring, revealing that he's beyond touched by her gesture and making Regina feel proud of herself for once. She takes a moment to let herself relish in the way Robin straightens up and closes his mouth to morph it into a smile and how she is the reason for all of it.

She did that. She made him happy.

For once, it feels like she's done something right in a relationship, even though she's not entirely sure she'd say they're in a relationship quite yet. She isn't exactly sure what they are, but they do have a relationship with one another, a relationship that can be sprinkled with grand gestures and affection. And today, she's succeeded at that much.

Robin takes a small step toward her. She thinks she might see a little wetness brimming at his bottom lid and his incandescent smile makes her heart dance in ways she never thought she'd feel.

Her throat is completely dry and sticky, but she manages a wry, "So what's it gonna be, birthday boy?"

Robin's head slowly tilts to the right and the light of the room catches the soft gratitude radiating in his beautiful blue eyes. But he blinks a few times, only giving her glimpse of that thankfulness until he whispers a soft, "Regina," that makes it clear how he feels, and makes her insides go all gooey.

Regina doesn't move, doesn't even know if she can. She's captivated by him, giving her a twinge of that feeling that she can't accept that she feels already—but more importantly, that very same feeling that is currently reflected in Robin's eyes. Suddenly, the air in the room feels heavier, or maybe that's her chest? But her breathing is much shallower than before.

She's so distracted by trying to take a deep breath, that she doesn't notice him moving. He's propelling himself toward her without another word, his steps matching the tempo of her breathing, until their bodies collide and his arms are enveloping her tightly upon impact, while his lips desperately seek out their match, meeting them without hesitation.

Regina shouldn't be surprised by the kiss but she releases a soft gasp as their lips meet.

The kiss grows hotter, wetter, sloppier. Her tongue peeks out instinctively, trying to get that taste she can't stop thinking about. Robin reacts, wantonly opening for her with a groan and letting her tongue find his. It's a brief little moment but it's enough to warm up the core of her and bloom outward to her extremities.

Robin must be able to sense it because he breaks their kisses to mutter a low, teasing, "You know we could just stay here."

His hands trace down her bicep and and continue on downward until his hands are skimming against hers and he's weaving their fingers together lazily. Her face tilts up out of reflex, giving her a front row view of his award winning smile, which is currently wrapped in a cute little smirk that almost sway her convictions.

But she knows better. Kathryn would annihilate them both, then find a way to raise them from the dead, only to give them an earful and smite them once more.

Regina isn't particularly keen on that, so she suppresses a laugh and tells him, "Yeah, nice try. Get dressed."

Robin drops a gentle peck to her lips before pulling back with the dirtiest of smiles. "You don't wanna stay and help?" he asks, feigning a helpless little pout that makes her eyes roll into the back of her head.

But, he isn't the only one who can tease, so she leans back up into him until their lips are nearly touching. "The only thing I'd help you do is get undressed," she whispers seductively, adding a small wink to the end for emphasis, which she instantly regrets because she's never been a strong winker.

Robin pays it no mind, or doesn't comment on it, at least. But he does lift his arms above his head and gives her a cheeky, "If you insist."

Regina says nothing and worries more about looking away from Robin to conceal her smile. She turns her back to him, so he can't see. "Get dressed," she says over her shoulder as she approaches the door.

She hears a tiny huff come from Robin but it seems to be his only form of protest, giving Regina the permission to walk out of the room. But, as she exits she peeps through the crack of the door jamb and gets a small glimpse of Robin removing his shirt. As the garment falls to the floor, he's glancing over in her direction with a smug, knowing look on his face. He knew she'd look back and he knew he could tempt her with it, draw her back into the room and undress him herself. She's got a half a mind to, but she manages to remain vigilant, despite his efforts.

The subtle charge of whiskey in her veins be damned.

[:]

Robin emerges moments later, wearing jeans and a dark blue button up with a considerable amount of buttons unbuttoned, which she isn't entirely sure is for the party. She has tiny inkling that it may also be a bit of retribution, which, much to her dismay, is actually working. It makes her hungry to pepper the bare part of his chest with kisses, sampling his skin and making him shudder beneath her soft kisses. But, she'll resist, if only for the satisfaction of thwarting his vengeance.

But, he must notice the wardrobe change has some effect on her because he walks up to her, closely enough that she can feel his warm breath wash against her brow as he says, "Like what you see?"

Regina realizes too late that her head tips up to look at him, taking in that glorious smug expression. Her lips curve upwards, though she tries her hardest to fight it.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she asks with a smirk of her own.

Robin's eyebrow ticks up in interest, but he says nothing. They're at an impasse, two stubborn minds refusing to give into the tension that's starting to spark between them. She likes this better though, the passive aggressive back and forth of electricity. It's easier than the feelings, so much easier.

So, she licks her lips, trying to entice him to close those final, breathless inches between them and give them what they both want.

"Y'know, I'm still up for skipping the party," he hums darkly, as he reaches for her hips and curls his fingers into them with just the right pressure, "and having a party of our own here."

She's tempted but not stupid. "You wanna pick out our caskets first? " she shoots back.

Robin just chuckles and squeezes her hips, making her press herself closer to him without meaning to. She probably shouldn't because it's playing with fire, but she can't resist. Regina grinds herself playfully into Robin, biting her lip and refusing to break eye contact with him.

Robin lets out a breathy fuck me on an exhale and Regina responds with another grind.

She leans her face closer to him, nearly grazing his lips and teases, "You wish."

"You bet your gorgeous, toned ass I do," he answers her and Regina can't help but laugh at that.

"Must you make this so difficult on me," he whines onto her lips. They're so close to kissing, so close.

"It's my sole purpose," she volleys back softly.

"I've noticed."

Regina hooks an ankle around his and loops her arms around his neck. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Robin hesitates for just a minute, looking away from Regina and probably contemplating the strength of his willpower. But when his eyes stop wandering and settle home with hers, his face breaks out into a wide smile, cunning and mischievous, and very Robin. She knows whatever he's going to say is going to be a smartass comment, and isn't disappointed when he answers with, "'Fraid I can't do much at the moment, I have to take this gorgeous woman on a date to my birthday party."

Regina rolls her eyes as he waltzes past her, but she follows behind him, anyway, knowing that accomplishing her goal is most important.

But that doesn't stop her from getting the last word, "Whoever said this was a date?"

Robin simply chuckles and says, "I can date a girl in blue just as easily as I can in red."

"Yeah, but does she want to date you?" she asks, as they cross the threshold of his door.

Robin waits to answer until he locks the door before telling her, "I suppose we'll see."

[:]

They arrive at Kathryn's at half past 6, making them just a little late. They probably would have been on time if not for all the flirting and kissing, but Regina was trying to take advantage of their seclusion because she wasn't going to be doing any kind of PDA once they got to Kathryn's, she'd told Robin that much.

The less any of them know, the better. It may be selfish, but she just wants Robin all to herself for now. So, she isn't going to willingly give that up, just for a few exchanges at a party, that she can certainly make up for later.

Maybe Kathryn got the memo, too, because she isn't even upset with their tardiness. Regina may have shot her a text or two, apologizing for them being late and promising to be there soon. But Kathryn was easily dismissive of it. Her texts just said no problem and we'll see you when you get here, which is just so un-Kathryn, it's a little scary. Usually, Kathryn would be hot on Regina's heels, insistent and agitated and driving her batshit crazy. Today though, she's relaxed, making Regina fear that it's just the calm before the storm.

Except, when they actually get up to the house, Kathryn is still as calm as her previous texts were. Maybe it's the pregnancy, she thinks, or maybe she's just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

She really hopes it's the former.

Robin moves to allow Regina in first, while bending toward Kathryn to give her a peck on the cheek. They all exchange greetings and Kathryn amiably wishes Robin a happy birthday.

Regina leads the way through the dim, cramped front hall toward the cozy little living room that Kathryn practically slaved over to make as homey as possible. But it's something that reasons that Kathryn was always meant to be a mom. She hits all the tick marks: she's got the warm, family-oriented home, she cooks and bakes, she's organized and is the queen of Groupon, plus she's got that look that could place fear in anyone, which comes in handy at their job.

There's a small portion of Regina that envies those traits. Sometimes, she wishes she could be mom potential, someone who takes kids to carnivals and treats them to cotton candy and soda (even though that isn't exactly a stellar parenting trait) but someone who just makes them feel special when their parents make them feel like shit.

Suddenly, there's a tiny pop in her chest that reminds her that the man she's staring at now is becoming that person.

Regina becomes acutely aware of how much that offsets her when she feels that uneasiness drizzle down her spine and bloom outward, until she is covered in that sticky, gooey dread that makes her feel even worse. She can feel herself tense up a little. This man, who'd been so misogynistic and uncaring, who'd seemed the least likely to be parent material has been more than outstanding in the parenting department as of late.

She frowns mournfully to herself as she takes a seat on the couch. Her worries must be seeping out onto her features because Robin's face contorts, as he looks at her from across the room, tilting his head just so, to indicate that he's trying to ask her if something is wrong. She waves him off though. His birthday is not about to get ruined by her own insecurities.

He goes back to greeting people, smacking palms with John and tugging the bigger man into one of those testosterone filled bro hugs that just scream I'm a guy I can't possibly let people think otherwise!

Regina watches as he does the same with Killian, whom she had forgotten he'd met at the carnival during Halloween last weekend. They could be good friends, she thinks to herself. Killian was born here, but he and his brother Liam lived in the UK for a pretty long time. She forgets just how long exactly, but she thinks it was for the majority of their childhood. Their dad's Irish, and they'd moved back there for a good many years until he'd gotten a better job in the States. He and Robin could probably find a lot of common ground.

She's not a big fan of Killian, though, has told Tinka that on several occasions, not that she ever listens. But, Regina can't seem to bring herself to tell Tinka why she truly doesn't like him.

Although, that isn't the real reason, either. The real reason is that she simply thinks Killian is an ass, but her ways of knowing came long before either of them had met Tinka. In fact, it seems that since he's met Tinka, she has been nothing but a positive influence on him. He's not nearly as much of a pain in the ass as he used to be, she's garnered that much from run-ins with him and the few occasions he's joined Tinka at their social events. When they'd first met, he'd reeked of frat boy, but he's matured a great deal since then, though, he does have his moments that send Regina right down memory lane to their first encounters.

But, given that he's done so much growing, maybe he and Robin could be friends. Robin would be a good influence on him at the very least. Or, it could all go horribly wrong, Robin and Killian could spiral down a long rabbit hole of boyish depravity, and Tinka and Regina would have to just watch the whole trainwreck happen. But she hopes for all involved that Robin and Killian would just be good influences on one another.

Maybe even one day she, Robin, Tinka and Killian could go on a double date. It could be really nice. They could all do something really lax, like bowling or a weekend away to the lake or the beach or something. She'd like that, yeah.

When she's ready to tell people about her and Robin, she decides one of the first things she'll do is ask Tinka about them doing a cute double date.

But, for now, she selfishly wants Robin all to herself. Just for a little while. She'll tell Tink soon enough.

Most of the time, she doesn't introduce suitors to her friends because she doesn't want them in her business and usually because she doesn't want her friends to get attached to someone, who isn't going to be a longterm thing. But, as she continues to watch Robin greet everyone else, kissing all the ladies on each cheek and shaking Frederick's hand when he walks out of the kitchen, she realizes that he might already be too deeply embedded into their lives. She considers most of the people in the room her friends, but at the moment, she's irrelevant. These aren't her friends, these are Robin's friends, the friends he's made since he joined the staff at Blanchard Orchard.

Regina can feel a muddled mix of feeling impressed and worried.

Every other guy she's ever dated has only tolerated her friends. But not Robin. He wormed his way into their circle and became friends with many of them of his own accord.

Every other guy she's ever dated has only bothered to stick his toe in when she introduces him to her world, to her friends. But Robin has built himself an entire lakehouse, settled in, and is ready to dive headfirst into the water anytime he's given the chance.

That's what impresses her.

What worries her is what would happen then if they didn't make it. Would her friends be forced to choose sides? What if her friends like him more? If not, will their worlds be too blended for them to ever truly separate?

And what if things do work out? Will he be more willing to share information when talking to their friends? She'll never be able to hide anything from Kathryn ever again.

Someone's talking and it takes her a second to realize that someone is talking to her. Her cheeks heat vehemently as she notices all eyes are on her while she tries to locate the voice. It's Frederick, off to the side back near the entrance to the kitchen.

She tries her best to tune into his frequency, and finally hears, "Do you want any wine?"

"Yes, of course," she shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts, "I'll take some Cabernet if you've got it."

Frederick tips his head toward Kathryn. "Have you met her? Of course, we have it. Although, I should probably let you have this bottle since we can't make use of it for nine months."

It's the wrong thing to say, because naturally someone in the room was going to notice. Regina isn't sure who to look at—Freddy, Kathryn, or Tinka, who she's sure is totally gobsmacked at the moment. But Regina ends up choosing Kathryn like everyone else, if for nothing else, than for self-preservation.

Nobody says a single word. Regina's pretty sure that no one even breathes. She thought maybe Frederick would be on the receiving end of some nasty daggers, but it appears instead that Kathryn is grateful for the attention. It shouldn't surprise Regina at all that her friend is pleased to have the spotlight even under less than desirable circumstances. After all, that is Kathryn.

When, still, no one makes a peep, Kathryn just looks sheepishly around at everyone. "Well," she drawls, "since you all asked."

Her eyes shift back down to her glass of water and she idly runs her finger around the rim, before softly murmuring, "I'm pregnant."

There's a feeble what? that escapes from Tinka's lips, seconds before the whole room erupts into sound. Everyone is suddenly up from their seats, yelling and hugging. Tinka looks like she's about to combust as her tiny body hurls itself at Kathryn, while the gentlemen are shaking hands with Freddy and clapping him on the back with booming congratulations.

Everything is excitement and happiness and even though Regina knew in advance, the enthusiasm, exuding out of everyone in the room, bleeds out a little bit onto her. She's smiling and laughing as she takes it all in. And somewhere in the mix of it all, she catches Robin's eye and their eyes lock in a way that makes her go breathless. But the thing that really takes her breath away is the way Robin looks genuinely happy, the way his bright, beautiful blue eyes are lit up and his smile is as wide as it could possibly go. Even though he's surrounded by her friends—no, their friends—and he didn't really want to be here, he's actually enjoying himself.

Mission accomplished.

Of course, the night is young, but succeeding this early is success enough.

"Well, that explains the baggy clothes," Tinka jokes and everyone laughs. Regina hadn't even noticed Kathryn's wardrobe change, but it's apparent now that she's looking at her in her baggy button down maternity top and jeans.

Kathryn just sticks her tongue out at Tinka, then turns to Robin and hollers over the commotion to him, "Sorry to steal your birthday thunder Robin."

She's wincing playfully but he just shrugs it off. "Nah," he dismisses, "I'll just consider the good news as my first birthday gift," but his eyes flit over to Regina's, and he corrects himself with a wink, "or well, second."

Kathryn is making a face, Regina just knows it, so she doesn't dare look over at her friend.

But if she is, she must not linger because she is waving everyone away from her and saying, "Alright enough about me. Who wants food?"

Another commotion follows unsurprisingly because nothing can quite stop a room like the offerings of food. Everyone is moving, clamoring to the kitchen in a haphazard, but almost organized fashion. They all wordlessly form a line and Regina lingers in the back, watching Robin all the way at the front of the line, chatting brightly with Belle. She sees him crack a joke, making that silly face he makes when he does it, the one that just makes her heart skip a beat.

God, he's so cute.

She can't even be bothered that he's chatting with Belle, whom she'd thought would be a good match for Robin and might even have had the potential to be with him when she was being stubborn. Instead, she just watches him being adored by everyone in the room.

He remains the center of attention after everyone has gotten their food, too. Everyone's circled around him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. He's telling them about his brief stint in Los Angeles. Naturally, they all wanted to know if he'd seen any celebrities, which he had, though, "It was only a couple and it wasn't even that big of a deal." But it is to everyone else in the room. They're all enthralled with his stories, even Regina, who's listening intently and silently admiring the brightness of his aura and how it only burns brighter with each question about him.

That is, until someone asks him about why he left home. She thinks it was Killian but she's too busy, suddenly laser focused on Robin, whose aura is now starting to dim, wilting slowly beneath the shadow of the question asked. It's a sore subject, one he shouldn't have to get into on his birthday. Regina makes a mental note to kick Killian in the ass later if it was him. But, for now, she's more worried about protecting Robin from certain birthday ruining questions.

There's an awkward silence lingering over the conversation now and Regina panics. But thankfully, sometimes her mouth works faster than her brain and she spits out a witty, "For the American girls, obviously," which has all eyes turning to her. But her eyes stay locked on Robin, whose face breaks out into a goofy grin.

"'Fraid I can't argue with that one," he says, as he winks at her again.

"Eh, I dunno what's so special about 'em," Killian interjects, which earns him a slap to the stomach from his non-American girlfriend, and scoffs from all the other American women in the room. He tries to recover with a bashful, "Only joking."

Thankfully, Kathryn isn't Killian's biggest fan either, because she makes her disbelief in his apology apparent with a scoff, then changes the subject, leading things back to Robin, which Regina is grateful for tenfold.

"So, Robin, do you like Albuquerque? Are you happy at Blanchard Orchard? And don't just say yes because you're in a room full of several of its staff members."

Robin chuckles and glances over at Regina before quickly looking away, mostly trying not to bring attention to them (bless him). "I love it," he says, "my favorite place yet."

Regina clings to watching Kathryn, fighting every possible urge she has to look at Robin.

Kathryn smiles softly and she thinks she sees her mouth an I bet at him, and tip her head a hair in Regina's direction, but it's so subtle and quick that Regina can't be sure her eyes weren't just deceiving her.

Before she can decipher that, or even try to catch either of their attentions with a questioning glance, Tinka is asking if he's planning to make the place a permanent home, to which he gives a firm yes. And this time their eyes are drawn together like a magnet, snapping in place effortlessly. Regina supposes that she often tried not to think about the possibility of Robin just up and leaving if he ever felt like it, but the question creates a new pang of anxiety in her stomach as it takes root, despite his affirmation.

She hopes he means it.

Someone cracks a joke about all the pretty American girls left to see, resulting in a chorus of slaps to the chuckling men in the room from their respective female counterparts. But Robin once again makes a pointed comment about him taking a break from sight-seeing the ladies and even more of America itself. He wants to settle for a bit, maybe see where this venture takes him.

Regina knows that comment is for her, too, even though Robin is no longer looking at her. Regina can physically feel the neon sign being hung above her head. Robin must notice Regina squirm a little in her seat, as the realization washes over her, because he says after a beat or two of silence, "Alright you lot, enough about me, tell me how you all came to work at the school."

Regina takes a breath of relief as the conversation slips easily into one about their colleges, and horror stories of long-term sub jobs some of them had taken before getting to Blanchard Orchard. She relaxes and willingly participates when she has something to interject. Even Killian, John, Jack and Frederick weave their own stories into the conversation, carrying them all far, far away from Robin's hints at their relationship.

That goes over for a good while. They all chat, eat the majority of the finger foods Kathryn made for the celebration, and drink several glasses of wine, whiskey or beer. She's pretty sure they're all good and buzzed by the time Kathryn suggests it's time to play some games.

Tinka throws her vote for Cards Against Humanity in immediately, but Kathryn shoots her down, citing that they should all be a little more drunk for that and they all reluctantly agree.

Except Tinka who sasses her with, "And what is your grand idea, oh great one?"

Kathryn just grins and stands, facing everyone and announcing, "The time honored classic: charades," which receives a couple groans, but a majority of indifference.

Kathryn takes it as general acceptance and claps her hands together in executive fashion. "Alright! Let's partner up!" she barks at them, but before anyone can scramble around the room to select partners, Kathryn is turning to Robin and saying a bit more softly, "Okay birthday boy, you pick first. And I'll just throw my hat in the ring and say, I'm one hell of a charades player," adding a wink to the end of her sentence.

Robin chuckles humbly and glances around the room. When his eyes inevitably land on Regina's, she feels her heart catch roughly in her throat. Part of her wants him to pick her, but the other part is wordlessly begging him not to because she knows it will inevitably incite relentless badgering from her friends. Then again, they did show up together and besides John, she's the closest thing he's got to a close friend in the room. So, she resolves herself to letting him pick her, she can fend off Kathryn and Tinka's sneering glances and passing comments for awhile.

But just as she steels her resolve, Robin's eyes pass from hers and land on the person adjacent to her: Belle. And just as his eyes land on her, her name falls purposefully from his lips and Regina feels her face fall hard in response. There's a delayed sting in her chest, too, that comes once she realizes with full confidence that Robin chose someone else and that someone else is walking over to sit by his side.

She wants to kick herself for it, wants to tell herself to get a grip and not read so damn deeply into it. But instead she feels her whole body tense up, her spine straightens, her head tips upward and her lips draw into a firm line. She doesn't want to, she wants to remain as relaxed as possible and maintain the illusion that she doesn't care, but her reaction is visceral and involuntary, making it impossible to seem like his choice doesn't matter.

No one appears to notice, though, because Kathryn is quick on Robin's heels with claiming Frederick as her partner (no surprise there), then Tinka and Killian right behind her, and John and Jack wrapping up the succession, leaving Regina and Maggie, who awkwardly make eye contact and each give a silent nod toward the other in agreement of partnership.

Still, no one pays Regina any mind, as Kathryn rises and passes out pieces of paper to each person, instructing them to write down 10 movie or tv show titles (and not show their partner, of course), then fold up each piece, and place them in the bowl on the coffee table.

When Kathryn hands Regina her 10 scraps of paper, she just stares down at them dumbly for a few minutes. She doesn't really want to think about movies and tv shows, can't really conjure them up anyway when she is driven to distraction by the intimate chatter going on across from her, which is amplified when Belle tips her head back and laughs at something Robin says to her.

Regina tries her best to return her focus to the pieces of paper and tenaciously reminds herself that she is not a jealous woman and that she has nothing to be jealous of, but her mind is racing away with little regard for her mental speed limits.

It isn't until Maggie leans over to Regina and whispers a tender, "Are you okay?" that she tries to scale back and relax.

"I'm fine," she answers shortly, despite her best efforts to appear fine.

"He talks about you a lot, y'know," Maggie says matter-of-factly, as if that was the direction that their conversation was going.

It throws Regina for a second, making her stumble a bit on her words, but she manages to stutter out a weak, "Who?"

Maggie doesn't look in Regina's direction, or up from her paper at all, as she replies with an annoyed, "You know who."

The poor woman doesn't know Regina well enough to know that her tone is enough action for war, but Regina bites her tongue and takes the sass. Getting into an argument with Maggie about it won't do her any favors, especially in a room full of people. But it does get Regina into thinking about how many people in the room know about her and Robin, or at least, have an inkling about them. Kathryn essentially knows, which most likely means that Frederick knows, John probably knows (she isn't certain, but she wouldn't be surprised) and his girlfriend may too, Tinka has an inkling and she knows that Maggie knows something thanks to her big mouth. Perhaps the sneaking is a waste, they're the worst kept secret in existence.

But, that doesn't dissuade Regina from wanting to keep the blissfully ignorant bubble that they currently have. Though, that bubble may be on the verge of popping now and gravity will pull her harshly to the ground as Belle's stupid bubble swoops in and catches Robin in the fall. She needs to get a grip and stop being so ridiculous. They were literally just making out in his apartment a couple of hours ago. He only picked Belle because Regina had stupidly made it clear that she wanted to make it look like they were friends and nothing else.

Regina's, "He's a really good guy," doesn't exactly have anything to do with Maggie's comment, but she thinks it's vague enough that it won't let Maggie in on anything she may not already know.

But Maggie comes back with a predictable, "Yes, he is, so don't break his heart," and this time she looks up at Regina and locks eyes with her challengingly, as if she's daring Regina to break his heart right now in front of everyone.

Regina should just stay quiet and not entertain Maggie's assumptions, but she can't resist saying, "Not my intention."

"Good," Maggie whispers with a nod, passing a glance over at Robin, who's stopped talking and is more focused on his task. Regina takes a second to just watch him as he sits there stumped, eyes cast heavenward and mouth fixed in a pensive frown, but Maggie recalls her attention, "But, you're more than welcome to kick his ass, so write down some good ones and get your game face on, Mills."

That slaps a smirk right on Regina's face and she nods dutifully toward the other woman. At least, she's competitive like Regina, so they should get along well for this game.

Regina takes a minute to think of some of her favorite movies, she decides to avoid tv shows because she doesn't watch many and she's sure someone else in the room will write down Game of Thrones. Her first pick is Notting Hill because she's a sucker for sappy Julia Robert's films and that's her prerogative. She decides to add Pretty Woman as well because it's easy and also a favorite.

Everything else she keeps coming up with is probably not widely viewed by the majority of the guests, like Sense and Sensibility, for example. Notting Hill leads her in the direction of Hugh Grant and it's the first thing that pops in her head, though he does have other great movies (Two Weeks Notice, Love Actually, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Bridget Jones' Diary) and she should be writing one of those down but her first thought goes to the incredibly unappreciated Jane Austen film adaptation. Everyone always goes for Pride and Prejudice, not that they shouldn't, because it's an excellent story, but Sense and Sensibility speaks to her in a different way. Something about Elinor's quiet but deep affection for Mr. Ferrars paralleling alongside Colonel Brandon's loyal and moving love for Marianne makes her feel like maybe all hope isn't lost on her just because she isn't as openly expressive about her feelings.

So, to hell with it, she's going to write it down. Hopefully, she'll draw it, or maybe Kathryn, who's also seen it. But for good measure, she also jots down Bridget Jones' Diary because it's a favorite and she knows both Kathryn and Tinka have seen it. She snubs Two Weeks Notice for While You Were Sleeping, the better Sandra Bullock film of the two, in her opinion.

The rest of her choices are based on things she believes the others have seen: Forrest Gump, Pulp Fiction, The Princess Bride. Then, she throws in Gone with the Wind, just to sneak in one more quality choice of hers, and finally lands on her last scrap of paper. She wants it to be good, because it's her last choice, not that anyone will know that, but still.

She scans around the room. Most people have finished, her partner included, but there's still Kathryn and John's girlfriend who are contemplatively staring down at their pieces of paper.

She tries her hardest not to look at Robin but he makes it incredibly difficult when she finds that he's already looking at her. The second their eyes lock and he begins to crack a smile, Regina casts her eyes away and back down to her paper like she's in middle school. She can feel her face heat and her chest tighten. Why is she being like this? Him choosing Belle was a totally innocent coincidence.

But it should be her anyway. If she'd just stop caging hers— oh.

Caging. Robin. How could she have forgotten the one film he'll know she wrote down, (unless he also writes it down, in which case, he may just think it's his)? But, if he sees her handwriting, then he'll know it's from her. It'll be their little secret, their little moment.

As long as he and Belle don't win and she can't whisk him away.

That's ridiculous. She's being ridiculous.

But nevermind it now, she's determined to kick his ass, if not for anything other than being competitive and slightly because she wants to get back at him for choosing another partner.

She scrawls Breakfast at Tiffany's on her last piece of paper and rises to place them in the bowl. She's the last one to put hers in, springing Kathryn into action. Kathryn shakes the bowl a couple of times to mix up the offerings, as she waltzes over to the fireplace and sets it down on the mantle.

When she turns back to everyone she says, "Alright Robin, you're the birthday boy, you go first."

Robin nods and shuffles over to the bowl, reaching in and pulling out a scrap before smiling to himself and asks Kathryn if she's ready with the timer.

Kathryn doesn't say anything other than a barked go! as she jabs her finger onto her phone.

Sure enough, Robin's very first pick is Game of Thrones. It takes Belle several seconds to figure it out, but she manages to blurt the correct answer before the timer goes off.

Point one for Robin and Belle, who high five and cheer for each other, sending another jealous zing through Regina's body.

The jealousy spurs her to get up and declare that she and Maggie want to go next, which startles Robin and Belle out of their victorious bubble, but no one objects.

Her pull is for Jerry Maguire, something that would be easy to give away if she could say, "You had me at hello," or "You complete me," or even, "SHOW ME THE MONEY," but she's left to just pretend to throw a football and try to silently reenact Jerry and Dorothy's big romantic moment.

It comes as no surprise that Maggie is unable to identify the film title, denying them of any points or victorious high-fiving. She could kick whomever put that one in the bowl. How are you supposed to describe a romantic sports movie when there are about 97 million of them out there?

But there's nothing she can do about it, except accept defeat and return to her partner who looks terribly apologetic for not guessing correctly. Regina tries to play it off and act like she isn't bothered in the slightest, but doesn't really say anything when she takes her seat and can feel herself start to brood.

She has a harder time focusing on the game after that, especially because it picks up with impeccable speed. They go round after round without much pause, save the few times one person would need to refill their glass or one of the titles spurred a conversation. They go through four of the Star Wars movies, someone pulls Game of Thrones again (which does elicit conversation and a murmured snarky comment from Regina about how many people wrote down the TV title), several rom-coms, and every action packed superhero movie in existence. Robin and Belle are in first, with Regina and Maggie trailing behind them by one point.

She's thankful when Kathryn suggests a break to refill drinks and grab some more food, because Regina is becoming overwhelmingly stressed and more heated than when the game began. She decides to get up and refill her wine glass following the suggestion—it's a good chance to stretch her legs and to get out of the microcosm they've built in the living room. But, it's her fourth glass of the evening and she's starting to feel a little wobbly in the knees and her thoughts are beginning to haze together just slightly. Not to mention, she hasn't eaten much in terms of food to beverage ratio and knows that this drink might begin to really tip her over the edge.

She considers only getting half a glass but, she isn't really adept at caring in this exact moment and fills her glass well past what is probably acceptable, while vowing that she is going to drink the whole damn thing.

"Can I get some of that?" she hears that soft, smooth, honey-like British voice behind her.

Apparently, her drunk self is erring on the side of bitter and mean drunk tonight because she spits back with a cool, "You have two hands."

He'd told her once when they'd first started running into each other that she was a mean drunk, which she's sure she indignantly and vehemently denied, but perhaps he'd been right, because, now, she's standing in her friend's kitchen being a bit of a bitch to Robin for an entirely different reason than the one she had many, many months ago when they met.

"So nice of you to notice," he shoots back jokingly, flashing a dorky smile and inadvertently swelling Regina's rage.

"If you're taking that has a compliment, then you have incredibly low standards," she jabs, refusing to look at him.

Robin chuckles and looks around to make sure no one is watching—thankfully, it's just them—before moving toward her and dropping his voice low, "Well, I was hoping you noticed because you were thinking about what these hands can do."

It's smooth. Very smooth. And it irks Regina that much more because she's a little tipsy and grumpy and she's not going to give into his cute charm, even if it is his birthday.

So, she gives into the bitterness coursing through her veins to turn, cap the bottle, and respond with a terse, "Hope one of those things is opening a bottle because it appears I've just capped it on accident," then shoves the bottle into his torso and saunters past him.

Regina has to fight every impulse, telling her to look back at Robin. She knows she shouldn't be acting this petulant on his birthday, but she realizes it too late, as she walks back into the living room like the brief encounter didn't just happen.

Robin walks in a few seconds after her, looking dumbfounded and very confused. He immediately seeks out Regina and tries to catch her eye, while she childishly turns to Kathryn, who's talking to Jack (undoubtedly about pregnant life), and says, "Isn't it your turn?"

Robin chimes in, though, with a weak, "I have to piss," drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Regina thinks Kathryn is just about to give him directions to the bathroom, when Robin cuts her off, "Regina, can you show me the loo?"

"Do you need a map drawn for you?" she asks dryly, trying to avoid the looks of everyone else in the room.

"Regina," Kathryn hisses, placing a hand over her stomach and making sure to give Regina a certain death glare no one really wants to be on the other end of, "can you please show Robin the restroom?"

Regina hesitates momentarily before groaning and rising from her seat. She snaps at Kathryn once she's standing, "Do you want me to hold his hand, too?"

There's a littering of snickers through the group, which instantly becomes full-blown laughter, as Killian murmurs, "Or you could hold something else," and makes a gesture, which she can only guess is meant to symbolize jacking off.

"Excuse me?" Regina answers indignantly, while trying to remain some semblance of cool.

"Ah, c'mon we all know you could both use it. Don't make the poor man do all the handiwork on his own," Killian slurs and there are a few more snickers.

"You're about to only have one hand if you keep at it," Regina fires back. So much for cool.

Everyone laughs again, and even harder, when Killian responds with a crass, "One hand is all I need."

"You're drunk," Regina scoffs condescendingly, as if that's meant to be an insult—they're all a little drunk.

"And you're a stuck up bitch," he counters, standing up with a bit of a wobble.

The comment garners several defensive cries, but it's Robin who makes an actual move. He steps in front of Regina and faces a palm to Killian.

"Alright, mate," Robin says softly, "that's enough."

"Look, man, I'm just trying to get you laid."

Robin lets out an empty chuckle, "Don't need your help."

Tinka gasps behind Killian and Regina realizes that Robin just insinuated that they are sleeping together. Regina passes a glance from Tinka to Killian and can physically feel herself shrinking into Robin's back.

But the gentle touch of his elbow against her arm grounds her, as he shoots his own arm out to recover his comment.

"What I meant was," he flounders, "I'm not trying, so your help isn't needed, nor wanted."

It stings a little even though Regina understands that Robin is lying for her sake and not actually meaning the words coming out of his mouth. But when his arm settles a little more firmly into hers and drags her attention upwards to his face, any remnants of doubt fade away.

His eyes are soft and sweet, accenting his kind, dimpled smile, and melting her into nothing as he says, "I respect Regina and whatever she wants, and should she ever change her mind on what she wants, then I trust she's capable of letting me know."

She could kiss him. Right here. Right now. She could just kiss him for that.

But her little bubble is popped as soon as Killian scoffs, building the diffusing tension right back up to where it was. "Please," he slurs, "Regina wouldn't know how to express her feelings if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Hell, I'm sure most of her friends in this room don't even know if she really cares about them, because that's what Regina does best, uses and abuses people as she sees fit, but doesn't give a damn about the consequences."

"Killian," Tinka murmurs gently behind him, grabbing his wrist, but he swats her away and turns on her.

"Don't," he huffs out wetly and it takes Regina a moment to realize that he's on the verge of tears.

"Don't do that. I'd say, you know I'm right, but she's brainwashed you to be just like her. It's why we're not together, yeah? Because she planted all those seeds of doubt in your head about how I'm a bad guy, all because she and I fucked some ages ago and because she can't stand looking like the bloody bad guy, so she puts it off on me."

Regina freezes, everyone in the room does. She's not sure if everyone just doesn't know how to react, or if they're all still processing what Killian said. All those revelations are hard to swallow in one fell swoop.

She knows that she needs to be the one to confront it all, especially about her and Killian's past dalliance, but the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, "You're not together anymore?"

Killian chuckles brusquely to himself, wobbling a little in place. "She didn't tell you? Oh yeah, we split up a week or so ago, but then you invited us both to this stupid party and Tink just dreaded going it alone, so she called and begged for this one favor, sit and pretend to be her boyfriend for a few hours, and I thought, sure why not, there'll be booze, I can make it through, but I forgot what I'm dealing with when it comes to you lot. It's exactly why I thank the heavens you and I never became anything more than quick fuck here and there."

Regina can feel a little pinch at the 'quick fuck,' and she wants to say something, but Robin beats her to the punch, stepping further in front of her and saying, "Alright, mate, really now, that's enough."

Killian just scoffs again, and stumbles over to Robin until their nearly toe to toe. There's a bitter glint in his eyes and Regina can see the prick of each word before they even come out of his mouth.

"I feel so sorry for you, mate," he spits the sentiment, "you think you're so different and that you're really going to have it different, but you're just like anyone who's come before you and they'll treat you just the same. Especially that one," he nods to Regina, "she's got you right where she wants you."

Robin doesn't flinch, and instead, just rests a palm calmly on Killian's chest, "Listen, man, I'm sorry that things didn't work out for you, but don't take it out on Regina, alright? You've had a touch too much to drink, why don't we just take a walk?"

"Don't fucking patronize me," Killian snaps, knocking Robin's hand away, "you know I'm right. Regina takes whatever she wants and she'll do the same thing to you. You're just another warm body to her, just someone to take up space in her bed, and then she'll throw you away just like every man before you."

Regina sees Robin's jaw clench hard, but she's lucky her attention is drawn elsewhere to his fist, because she sees it ball up just in time to scurry behind him and grab his arm before he swings it. Robin startles a little and snaps his gaze to hers when she grabs his wrist.

She doesn't say anything but just gives him a tender smile, before glancing down at their hands. Her hand skims down lower and carefully eases open his harshly clenched fist until his fingers are loose and spaced out, leaving enough room for her fingers to fit in between, lacing them together easily and following it all with a little squeeze, which Robin reciprocates.

It takes her a minute to glance up at him, and even longer to look around at all the expectant faces, trying to understand the scene in front of them. But Regina can't be bothered to worry about them in this exact moment. This isn't about them. This isn't even for her own jealous heart. This is for the man beside her. Not just because it's his birthday (which will probably go down as another disaster but she tried her best) but because she genuinely cares about him and isn't about to let Killian Jones convince him otherwise.

She opens her mouth to say something but she realizes no amount of public declaration is going to make Killian's words unreliable. She falters for a second, unsure exactly of what to do, but she can't just let it be.

So, she decides to just stop thinking and just do. She turns 90 degrees to face him, giving him another gentle, heartfelt smile before sliding both palms against the scruff along his jawline and gently pulling his head downward to hers. He submits, allowing her to carefully tug him down until her lips whisper softly against his and she can feel the beginnings of a smile before she chases it away with a kiss.

He doesn't hesitate to kiss her back, but they don't deepen it past shallow, yet intimate, kisses because they both know they're in front of company. (Plus, Regina still isn't a big fan of PDA and this is no exception—well, it is, a minor one, but it doesn't entirely erase her stance on the matter.) She's just proving a point, and that point involves a little smooching. But that's as far as she lets it go. After a minute or two, she parts and locks eyes with him, relishing in that starstruck twinkle in his eye.

But Regina gets serious. "You know what he said isn't true," she says, though, there's a question buried inside of it.

Robin nods, hesitantly cracks a small smile.

"Good," Regina whispers and returns the smile. "What are you doing right now?"

Robin is visibly confused, but nevertheless answers, "Er, nothing?"

"Excellent, would you like to go on a date with me, then?"

Robin tries to perpetuate his confusion, but the smile that's spreading across his face like an egg cracked on to a plate sells him out. "Now?" he asks with a laugh in his voice.

Regina nods this time. "Right now," she says, "what do you say?"

The smile finally consumes him and Regina can feel her heart beat a little harder in her chest.

"I'd say I have a bit of time on my hands, so I'd love to," he murmurs between them, making Regina grin, mirroring his vibrant and exuberant one.

It's as short-lived as the kisses, though, because Regina turns to Kathryn to thank her for setting up the party and helping her plan all of this. But she doesn't even get a word out when she turns to her friend because she immediately gets the direction, go, and Regina doesn't even hesitate one second to follow it.

She grabs Robin's hand with her right and pulls her phone out with her left to order an Uber. Then, they're out the door and on their way, leaving the mess behind.

[:]

They make haste when they bolt from Kathryn's, wasting no time when the Uber gets there. Regina requested to go to her favorite restaurant, known for its assortment of award-winning steaks, but remains her favorite because of the mouthwatering rosemary lemon chicken served with their grilled radicchio, which she could practically kill for. And, of course, it's no surprise that that's what she orders when prompted. Robin gets a ribeye with the eggplant fries that she insists are much more delicious than they sound. He also suggests a bottle for the table, but Regina declines, citing that she's had more than her fair share of wine and even though it's only 9:30 and she's planning to eat the majority of her meal, another bottle will do her in.

He obliges and gets himself a glass of whiskey and her a small glass of chardonnay.

Then they're left to their own devices. They both dither on who should speak first but Robin manages to brave it… and fails miserably.

"So," he clears his throat awkwardly, which Regina notes how absolutely adorable that is, "tell me about your childhood."

Regina sucks in a sharp breath and makes a face that she knows will reveal she isn't keen about the topic, which she thinks he realizes anyway as soon as he gets it out of his mouth.

He winces apologetically and adds a verbal apology as well, "Sorry, should've thought that bit through before I shoved my sodding foot in my mouth."

Regina just chuckles and reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together easily.

"It's okay," she whispers softly, as she trails her thumb up and down his forefinger. "It's a reasonable thing to ask. Our pasts mold us into who we are. It's okay to be curious."

"Was there any part of your childhood you enjoyed?"

Regina's heart clenches at the answer her mind jumps to. Still, she tells him anyway, as a gesture of good faith. "Of course I did. Horseback riding with my dad, watching him mind our little vineyard, hanging out with Mal, and even sometimes with my parents together."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Regina answers nostalgically, "I specifically remember this one night when I was, I think, twelve. My parents let me stay home by myself for the first time because Daddy was going to take Mother out to this dancing class she'd been dying to go to for years. So, they let me stay home, told me I had to finish my homework before I could watch TV. But after they left I went outside and rode Rocinante for about an hour and broke my record, which had gotten me a medal the year before.

"Anyway," she swats at the air, "when they came home, I was sitting on the couch, pretending to be asleep when they came in, and they were so happy and giggly, and my father was twirling my mother all over the living room. And I just remember her shushing him and telling him not to wake me, but he didn't listen and she still didn't get angry. She just laughed and went along with it and then eventually Daddy carried me to bed and I could still hear them giggling after they'd put me to bed. It's one of my happiest memories of them. I mean, the next day my mother was back to being the colossal bitch that she is, but for one night it was nice."

"That's a wonderful story," Robin muses peacefully.

God, his smile so is genuinely beautiful and his eyes— he's perfect. This is perfect, everything is perfect. Not even the usual crippling anxiety that comes with discussing Phoenix can get in the way. And she realizes with an odd twist in her belly that it hasn't. Usually, that story would have something churning deep in her gut, making her sick and uncomfortable. But for once, the happy story is just that—a happy story.

This could be dangerous, letting someone in bit by bit and getting comfortable with them. That false sense of security could lead to her telling him what she did. But she knows—hopes—the logical part of her will override her feelings. She can't tell him, it'll ruin everything.

In fact, if she keeps thinking about it tonight, it could start ruining things now. So, she's just going to stuff that in the back of her mind where it belongs and pay it no mind while it withers and dies back there

Thankfully, the food arrives, as she's digesting her thoughts and organizing them in a way she likes. Perfect opportunity to change the subject.

"So," Regina sighs with a hint of a chuckle, and sips her wine after the waiter leaves, "What about your childhood?"

"Oh, it was rubbish," he dismisses with a wave of his hand.

Regina just laughs. "That's it? That's all you're going to give me? I mean, that's fine, of course. But you're more than welcome to share with me."

"I appreciate that," he tells her with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Regina shakes her head and makes an executive decision that a moratorium is going on conversing their pasts. Instead, they switch to lighter conversations, mostly about work, things they're planning to do for their classes, how their students are doing (time, which is mostly spent on the Cassidy boys, who are still big concerns for both of them), and complaining about some of David's school-wide initiatives.

By the time they get down that winding path of conversation, the waiter is returning and asking about dessert, which Regina is usually quick to turn down. She never had dessert with Graham, or frankly anyone ever. But she wants to enjoy the hell out of tonight so she's going to order dessert, laugh at some more of Robin's jokes, flirt some more with him and then get him to take her home, or at least, let her take him home.

When she gives that awkward considering look to Robin that many couples share after being asked the dessert question, he seems to be of the same mind because there's a kind of hopeful look in his eyes, and she doesn't think that it's because he really wants the cheesecake. They end up settling on a yes vote and get tiramisu because they both like it and it's light.

The waiter returns with it in under ten minutes along with the check, which Regina tries to grab but is still bested by her date.

"Y'know, technically I asked you out on this date, so technically I should be paying," Regina reminds him with a smirk.

"Well, I don't play by the rules, so sorry," he answers with an equally smug expression, placing the bill in his lap where it's out of reach for Regina.

She's got half a mind to get a little frisky and run her leg up and down his and get him to give it up but she abstains, and instead, focuses on the tiramisu.

They fall silent for a moment, save the tandem moans they let out when they take their first bites together. Regina loves tiramisu, but she's also incredibly picky with it, but this one? This one meets her qualifications just fine.

But once they fall silent, Regina decides to take advantage of it to discuss and apologize for everything that had happened earlier.

"So," Regina hums, forking another piece of the dessert off, "I'm sorry if the whole Killian thing put a damper on the evening. I really didn't think our miniscule time together would ever matter or ever come up. He always seemed as keen about burying it as I was, but I guess that makes me pretty stupid for thinking it would never come out."

"Hey," he chides softly, placing his hand back on the table, open-palmed and reaching for hers, "you are not stupid."

"I know," she frowns, putting her hand in his and letting him give her a gentle squeeze, "but I still feel horrible for putting a dent in your birthday."

"Nonsense, it's okay," he shakes his head in an attempt to nose away the worries filling her up. "Still the best birthday I've ever had. 'Sides, the whole public display of your love for me kinda undid all the mental trauma of imagining you two together anyway."

Regina fights a smile, but it's ever present in her voice. "Shut up," she says playfully.

Robin struggles with a smile of his own and Regina knows what he's thinking without him uttering a single word. She chuckles, says, "If you say make me, I'm getting up from this table right now."

"Someone's an eager beaver," he teases, even though she knows that he knows that is not what she meant.

"And someone is pressing their luck," she volleys back flirtatiously.

Robin does this thing where his eyes darken just so and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips, giving Regina that telling scrape against the hollow bottom of her gut. It's a tease and she knows it, but she refuses to let him have all the fun, so she mirrors that same look and maybe she takes her time wetting her lips, and maybe she pushes out her breasts.

It works, too, because Robin whispers a gentle fuck just before the waiter returns to get the check.

While he's gone, Regina makes sure to have the purest, most unadulterated eye sex with the man sitting across from her, while mentally trying to calm the chaotic butterflies in her stomach.

It's silent, deadly, but so thrilling and is doing things to her body, things she's more than ready to let him take care of, but she's trying her best to play coy for a little while longer, make the wait worth it. That doesn't mean she doesn't have any preconceived notions about where this night is headed. Oh god, she hopes it's headed where she thinks it is.

Their waiter returns, bids them goodnight and Robin is more than eager, it seems, to get out of there. At least, they're on the same page.

They make their way outside to wait for their Uber, and they've barely made it out the door before Robin's arms are wrapping warmly around her waist. His hands lock at the base of her spine, while hers take place behind his neck.

It's a little chilly out but Regina can barely tell because of the heated spark dancing all around them. She's warm and malleable in his hold, her whole body just melding effortlessly into his. And she's happy, genuinely happy in this exact moment.

Why aren't they kissing right now? Her eyes dart down to his lips and she licks hers on impulse.

"Hey," Robin murmurs, drawing her eyes up just a little, as he tells her, "really, thank you for tonight. It's better than I could've hoped for."

Regina smiles softly and tightens her grip on him. "Happy birthday, Robin," she answers, then lifts up on her toes and finally presses their lips together.

She's glad they had that tiramisu because he tastes just like coffee and chocolate, and it makes it that much better. But despite the subtle throbbing between her legs, Regina tries to maintain a steady and polite balance with their kisses. They are still in public after all. Though, she doesn't particularly care too greatly about how people are viewing her right now.

Everything is so soft and warm and perfect. And she thinks she might just be falling a bit in love. She's not in love with him, of course. Not yet. But this just might be the beginning of it all, and she is helpless to stop it.

Nor does she want to.

[:]

Their Uber finally arrived after giving them a few successions of seven minutes in heaven, not that that she really cared. The wait was worth it, after all.

They're quiet in the car and just play with each other's hands while the Uber driver just stays silent and takes them back to Robin's place.

She's thankful that John texted Robin that he and Jack were going back to Jack's apartment, giving them the privacy they need. When they reach the door, they stand outside it just briefly, studying over one another, wordlessly trying to agree on what to do next. Regina knows what she wants without a doubt. She's certainly more than ready to go inside, accidentally drop her dress to the floor, and jump Robin's bones like there's no tomorrow.

Robin seems to be of the same mind because he's eyeing her hungrily, sweeping his gaze from side to side all over her body. Though, he does take a second to linger on her breasts, which she pushes out, filling up her lungs just enough to have her chest swelling and making Robin murmur a curse. She takes it as permission to step closer to him, closing that gap to press her chest against him. His arms loop around her on instinct, one drawing slowly around her waist, while the other ventures not-so-politely to her ass. He gives it a little squeeze, making her arch into him.

But Regina is still busy trying to familiarize herself with every inch of Robin, admiring the way his eyes pop against his tight, dark blue button down, which nicely clings to every curvature of his torso. Suddenly, she's very grateful for the few buttons that he'd left undone. She itches to put her tongue in that open V, knows she will before the night ends.

Her tongue peeks out at the thought, wetting her lips, like she's about to feast like never before.

Robin must take it as his cue to make a move because one second he's looking at her and the next his lips are on hers, kissing her more fiercely than he ever has, fingers getting themselves lost in her hair and body pushing impossibly closer to her.

Regina answers with a moan into his mouth, doesn't concern herself with chaste kisses. Her tongue is in his mouth almost immediately, seeking his out and tangling with it, getting that warm taste of whiskey she missed.

She loves it, is nearly addicted to the taste of him.

She pushes him lightly, back against the door as a little nudge that she's ready to go inside. There's more to do than heady kisses outside is apartment door. Thankfully, it works because he's fumbling with the knob behind him, as soon as his back comes into contact with the door, while he still tries to wrestle tongues with her.

He gets flustered trying to stick the key in properly to get it unlocked, making her smile a bit against his kisses.

Regina skillfully drags one hand from his shoulders, trailing it down blindly until she settles on his fist. "Kiss my neck," she tells him as she gently coaxes the keys from his hand.

He's more than happy to oblige, handing over the keys willingly and taking his lips to her neck. She can't stop the moan she releases when he sucks that one spot beneath the apex of her jaw, almost drops the keys because of it. Fuck, she nearly can't focus, she's so turned on. She thinks she should be concerned with how turned on she already is, how slick she feels between her thighs as she finally turns the lock and starts to walk again.

But she doesn't care, couldn't possibly care in this moment, all she wants is to jump Robin's bones, wants him naked and on top of her, wants him panting her name in her ear.

They're back in his apartment, she can tell by the sudden drop in temperature. She hadn't really noticed how cold it was before they'd left, but now she's acutely aware because she can already feel her nipples getting harder.

Her nipples, she wants him to touch her nipples, wants those firm hands on her nipples, that mouth—fuck her dress needs to come off.

But she doesn't get to because Robin is talking as he steers them to the couch. "Today was so wonderful. You're wonderful, so bloody wonderful. I've thought about kissing you all night, doing other things with you all night. I jus—"

"Robin," she murmurs against his lips, interrupting him, "stop talking."

She puts enough distance between them until her eyes can lock onto his, strong and unrelenting. Her mouth curls into a wicked smile and she drops her voice low, to an almost whisper, "And do those other things with me."

His head draws back further and he blinks. "Yeah?" he asks breathlessly.

Regina's hands tug at the hem of his shirt. "Yes, please," she whines, "now take this off."

"Well, when you put it so politely," he jests, pulling another laugh out of Regina.

He doesn't argue, at all, just lifts his arms like he had the night of Halloween—oh, she should have done this on Halloween. Should've gotten him naked, should've done all the dirty things with him. But they were right not to. She wasn't in a good headspace. In fact, she was distraught and worried for her mother's sake. Having sex then would've been bad, or at least, very ill-timed. But now nothing is holding them back. Nothing is stopping her from pressing kisses to each patch of skin that becomes visible with each button he undoes. Nothing is stopping her from laving her tongue across his collarbone as her arms scale up his chest and gently push the fabric off of his shoulders.

When the shirt is off, she pecks everywhere while her hands scour every inch that her lips aren't touching. It's awkward, though, her neck will undoubtedly start hurting. They need to sit, so that she can touch more, feel more, kiss more. She guides him more quickly toward the couch, still trying her best to place kisses where she can.

She waits until she hears the resounding thud of his legs and his hissed ow! before she braves the separation long enough for him to fall back on the couch. But the minute her hands and lips are free of him she aches painfully, misses the warmth of him, the taste of him.

Except, her head is filled with other surreptitious ideas and they involve a lot of teasing. Regina grins wickedly at him and revels in the way his eyes are scoping her out again.

She wants him to keep looking at her like that, but she draws his attention from her body up to her face when she sings, "Robinnn," as she kicks off her shoes, and he answers with a mused hmmm, not paying a lick of attention and probably undressing her with his eyes.

"Did you have a good birthday?" she asks, batting her eyelashes coquettishly and feeling ridiculous for it, but, whatever, it is his birthday after all.

Robin licks his lips and nods eagerly, like a man being asked to his own private Victoria's Secret lingerie party.

Regina bites on her lip, as she struts to him, and she realizes then how unbelievably nervous she is. Her legs are wobbly, her gait sloppy, her hands shaky. She can't remember the last time she was nervous about sex with a man. God, it was probably Daniel. She doesn't think she can recall a single other time that made her heart beat as quickly as it is now.

She doesn't know if they're going to have sex. They haven't really talked about it. But, at this rate, she thinks they've passed the possibility of talking about it because if they go anywhere near where her mind has wandered since this began, they are, without a doubt, having sex tonight.

And she wants to. She really wants to, wants to feel him pushing inside her, wants to come on his cock, wants it all.

So, she chokes her nerves back, tries her best not to think too much. In fact, she wants to stop thinking altogether.

Best way to do that is to put her eye on the prize, an orgasm (at least) for the both of them.

Regina stops short of the couch and uses the chance to gain her composure. She turns her back to him, and takes a breath, then peeks over her shoulder, wearing that naughty smile once more and says to him, "Wanna make it better?"

Robin nods eagerly once more before Regina instructs him to undo the zipper of the dress.

He does as he's told reaching up and pulling carefully on the little piece of metal. He drags the zipper down painstakingly slow, but stops just below the top of her spine.

She turns awkwardly to him, cracking her back in the process, which cracks a bit of the tension between them—it's so quiet. They laugh for a second or two before getting back to business.

"Come down here and sit on my lap," he urges quietly, patting his knee.

Regina nods and descends, perching herself carefully on the edge of his lap, but that isn't what Robin wants and he instructs her to sit all the way back in his lap. She smiles to herself and wriggles her ass backward until her backside is nearly flush against his front, but she finds herself distracted when her thigh touches the bulge in his pants. He's already hard for her and she instantly regrets not situating herself so that her clit is resting on top of the bulge.

She regrets it even more when Robin's voice is in her ear, spilling his warm breath all over her neck and igniting a pop of electricity all over her lower half.

"Don't take this off before you get up, I want to see those glorious tits when they're revealed, but I wanted to have a bit of fun first," he whispers, sending a shiver down her spine.

Robin goes back to unzipping the dress, but now he's doing as she did before with him, swirling his tongue playfully across the skin that he uncovers with each pull of the zipper. Regina moans softly with each stroke of his tongue and the urge to touch herself is stronger than ever.

"Robin," she breathes, "I need—"

"What is it?" he murmurs.

She grabs the hand that's not toying with her zipper, and has actually been groping at her breast this whole time. Her hand leads his, trailing carefully down her ribs, her stomach, down to her thigh, where he gropes hungrily and pulls another moan out of her. But her thigh isn't where she wants him. She takes his hand again and leads her closer to the warm heat between her thighs. He understands, then, pressing fingers to her pantyclad sex.

"Fuck," he curses softly into her shoulder, "I can't wait to feel how truly wet you are."

She wants that, too, wants him to feel how wet she is, how wet he makes her.

Still, he doesn't stick his hands down her panties without permission, and instead, presses two fingers to her panties, trying to give a little pressure to her clit and she is grateful. So fucking grateful. She moans again at the pressure as he slowly starts to rub tiny circles into the cloth. It won't nearly be enough to get her off but it's enough to get her a little riled up.

Her head is tipping back, back until it reaches his shoulders and falls to them. Robin doesn't seem to mind that his dress unzipping has to come to a halt. Instead, he's groaning into her neck and placing kisses there—this time even biting a little, nipping where you'd find her pulse. She feels dizzy, drunk on every sensation she's experiencing, lost to sense and logic in favor of the nearly unfathomable desire to come.

She may also be actually drunk, not terribly so, probably just buzzed, but she did have several glasses of wine, which might explain the carefree spirit coursing through her veins. Then again, she's wanted to do this all day, all week. She's just using the alcohol as an excuse to be courageous and daring.

Speaking of which…

She had a plan, one that didn't involve her coming in her panties before getting Robin as hyped up as she feels. Though, it seems that really isn't an issue given how stiff he feels below her. Still, she wants to make his birthday memorable and the experience as enjoyable as possible.

Much as she's enjoying the heavensent handjob she's getting, it's time Robin gets a bit of the attention.

Regina sits up and grabs his wrist, stopping the tight circles, nearly regrets it, but reminds herself that it's not really fair if she spends his entire birthday getting off and he doesn't. Robin does make a small protesting scoff, but otherwise allows her to guide his hand away, back to her breasts where he last had them.

Robin squeezes them and Regina unintentionally rocks her hips against his thigh. Of course, he's making this difficult.

Then again, she could be still rocking her hips against him and baring her breasts to him, if she'd just turn around. Not to mention, she could actually situate herself on his cock, where they'd both rather be.

That's enough. That's all she needs to brace the lack of his body heat once more. She gets up then turns to face him. Her legs wobble noticeably as she stands, already coming undone, marathoning after the sweet release of orgasm.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he breathes out, and it strikes her how much he means it. He's short of breath and almost appears mesmerized by her, making her cheeks heat just slightly. It feels good to be wanted.

He'll feel the same, soon enough, she hopes. Or, maybe he does already, she isn't sure. But, she'll make sure by the end of the night he definitely does.

But for now, he's going to get the show he deserves as the rightful birthday boy. Especially, while the encouraging way he's looking at her is boosting her self-esteem.

Regina's hands reach up to her shoulders and grip lightly at the edge of the garment. He hadn't completely unzipped the back of her dress, but enough so that she can get out of it. She takes two fingers on each side, plucking the dress between them and begins to slowly slip the dress off of her shoulders. She watches as he swallows thickly, rubbing a hand on his leg, no doubt trying to ease the tension in his pants.

She thinks briefly to tell him to touch himself as she undresses, but dismisses it. She wants to do the treating around here. Besides, as soon as her dress is off she is going to be on him like white on rice.

Her dress finally hits the floor after what seems like forever and Robin groans appreciatively. His tongue peeks out, licking his lips voraciously, as he finally gets a good look at her naked body—well, not naked, she still has undergarments on (thank god, she actually wore a lacy set tonight), but still pretty bare for him. Except, she's ready to be actually bare for him.

Her hands return to her shoulders and playfully snap her bra strap. Robin jumps, making her chuckle. He's got so much built up tension, she can only imagine how distracted he is.

Regina hooks a finger beneath each lacy strap and guides each one separately down her arm and she can see Robin's breathing visibly quicken. When she's down to just the cups covering her she reaches back to the hooks of her bra and undoes them one by one. Then her bra is falling off, propelling to the floor to join the ever-growing heap of clothes.

"Christ afuckinglive," Robin is murmuring softly to himself, his eyes a bit wider than before and mouth agape.

Regina's teeth scrape against her bottom lip nervously, but she can't resist the urge to tease him. "Like what you see, Mr. Locksley?" echoing his statement from earlier in the evening.

"I am one lucky bastard," is all he says, eyes glued to her breasts, not moving at all. The only thing that is moving is that hand still trying to conspicuously rub that bulge in his pants.

She should probably be helping him with that.

"You know," she drawls, strutting back to him slowly and watching as his eyes still skillfully follow her breasts, "I think you might just be a little overdressed for the occasion."

"Mhm," he hums and she's pretty sure she's lost him, maybe should've waited to show him her breasts, but it's too late now.

As soon as she's within arm's length again, Robin is reaching out for her, fingers eagerly stretching for her hips and digging in as soon as he gets his grip. He tugs her gently forward and Regina willing parts her legs, slinging one over his lap so that she's straddling him, but this time it's more calculated, making certain that her clit is lined up with that bulge. She thinks they both let out a moan when she finally settles against him. Though, she isn't sure if it's the pressure for him or the fact that her boobs are in his face.

It's the pressure for her, no doubt. That pleasurable, tingling, mind-blowing pressure that has her slowly starting to grind against him. Her head tosses backward as her body ignites in an electric storm, powering her up to move a little quicker, chasing after that delicious orgasm just over the edge.

Robin's obsession with her breasts comes in handy (literally) when his palms finally reach up and begin to knead them roughly, while his lips find hers again, open-mouthed and fervent-tongued. They tangle heatedly, wrestling almost violently this time, in a way they never have, but she can't help it, she isn't in control anymore. An animalistic hunger has consumed her, overpowering any sensible thought and restraint she might have once had.

Their lips soon part, in favor of Robin's lips heading elsewhere, blazing a trail of kisses down her neck. Then he does this thing, where he takes a hand from her breasts and trails a finger up her spine while taking a solid bite out of her shoulder. She cries out loudly, arches into him and then she realizes what he's doing because when she bends all the way to him, his mouth descends on her right nipple, sucking it firmly between his lips and—fuck!

She doesn't mean to, but can't be bothered to stop it. She hadn't meant to come quite yet, but his mouth on her breast and her hips bucking faster into his cock is too overwhelming, too sensitive, too everything. She can feel it, the beginning of that spiral, that spark that comes just before she actually comes. It signals that she's past the point of no return, it doesn't matter what she does now.

All she can do is give into the overwhelming rush speeding through every vein and jumping between every nerve fiber. Her hips grind harder against him, bucking faster, and her nails are raking through his hair, pushing him more firmly into her breast.

"Suck," she begs him, meaning to ask him to suck harder, but can't quite think straight enough to get the second word out. He gets the idea, sucks harder, even nips at her a couple of times.

"Robin, I'm gonna come," she whines into his ear.

He lets go of her breasts long enough to tell her cheekily, "It's okay love, be my guest."

Regina hadn't even realized how tightly screwed shut her eyes were until she pops them open and locks eyes with Robin, scolding him, "Now is not the time to be an ass."

He just grins. "You're right m'love. Terribly sorry," he murmurs against her lips and gives her a tiny peck, but his smile doesn't fade, even as he returns his attention back to her breast, taking her nipple back in his teeth.

She should reprimand him, but she's too far gone to come up with anything witty. All she can think about is the morse code like rapping of her hips against him in a wild attempt to hurl her body into bliss.

Her voice is low, husky and wanton as she breathes his name again, begging him to make her come.

"Can't wait to watch you come," he huffs when he comes up for air. "C'mon, Regina, come for me."

As he descends and takes her left breast between his lips on a particularly hard suck, Regina feels it, that drop of warmth that cascades down her back, inaugurating the entire shower of warmth on its way.

She comes hard, slapping a hand into his shoulder and crying out his name as she loses absolute control of her body, twisting her hips in every direction, riding out her orgasm as that warmth drowns every cell in her body.

Robin is kissing her suddenly, hard and fervid and she kisses him back equally as rough. The moans in the back of her throat move forward and buzz lazily against his lips. She kisses and kisses as her hips slowly decelerate into a few very long, drawn-out grinds.

When she finally stops, Robin gives her one firm kiss. "Fuck, I wanna watch you do that again," he mutters against her.

But Regina just shakes her head committedly. No way. This isn't about her. "Your turn," she heaves breathlessly.

She doesn't even give him a chance to protest before she wills herself to extract her body from his hold. She climbs dutifully off of his lap and sinks to her knees between his legs. She directs him to scoot his ass to the edge of the couch so she can reach him and he does so, but leans his top half back against the back of the couch, giving him better access to watch her. Good.

Once he's settled, her hands take no time at all to fly to his crotch and fiddle with his belt. Her fingers dexterously undo the belt and toss it somewhere across the floor. She doesn't even bother watching it, too distracted with the task at hand to care. Her hands are back to his pants, wrestling with the button and zipper, then attempting to ruck his pants down as soon as they're undone. But she can't until he lifts his hips just enough to let them slide beneath his thighs and pull them all the way down to his ankles.

Regina realizes with a frown that Robin still has his shoes on. She scoffs and yanks them rather forcefully off his feet so that she can completely discard his pants. But as she takes off his shoes, she gets hit with a terrible lick of nostalgia. Beneath his shoes, of course, are soft grey crew cut socks, something Graham would often keep on when they had sex. When she pouts, she knows it isn't because she misses Graham but because that was a symbol of the lack of intimacy she and Graham had.

And that isn't what she wants with Robin. She wants more with him, even if it's just a blowjob, she wants more than sock-clad sex in any form. They're coming off, she executively decides. But, she frowns again, knowing that she has to take the socks off herself, but she tells herself it's almost like a significant moment for her, a metaphorical right of passage, where independent, detached Regina Mills finally makes an active choice to be closer to someone.

She sucks it up and just grimaces, as she plucks the grey cloth between her index and thumb and slides it off his foot. She quickly does the same for the other then finally pulls the his jeans off of his legs, leaving him bare and making his erection much more noticeable.

Regina rises as high up as she can on her knees and rubs him slowly through the cloth.

Robin whispers an expletive or two and Regina just laughs, knowing that this might be all too fun. She thinks about teasing him, making him wait, and she will. Not for long, but she will.

Her hand slides again against him, feeling how hard he is beneath his boxer shorts. "I thought about sucking you off in Kathryn's bathroom," she confesses quietly into the air above her, making Robin groan and making her feel even hotter.

"Mmm, I wish you had, love," he pants, as she works him a little harder.

"My mouth couldn't wait to be on your cock," she tells him in the most low, gravelly voice she can muster.

Robin moans and begs her, "Regina, please."

She mourns the idea that her taunting isn't going to last as long as she'd like, but he's desperate. It's obvious by the whine in his voice and the pitiful pout on his face. And how can she refuse that cute face? Much as she'd like to have the willpower to do so, her resolve is weak and all too complaisant, which is why her index fingers are currently curled inside the waistband of his boxers. She drags them downward, inching them slowly down his legs—her final tease—but he's a good sport and doesn't complain as she finally rucks them all the way to his ankle.

Her eyes linger on his legs for a just a second because she knows that when she looks back up at him, he's going to be bare, not a stitch of clothing on his body. But she shakes off the anxiousness she feels and reminds herself how badly she wants this, how badly she wants him.

Her nails dig gently into his legs, just below his kneecap, then she trails her hands upwards, lightly scraping her way up to his thighs and enjoying the way he hisses at the sensation. She loves how turned on he is right now, loves the goosebumps that flare up at the pass of her fingernails, the way his eyes are screwed shut and his teeth are buried into his lip like he's trying so hard to concentrate. It makes her heat up, suddenly feeling a bit warmer in her midsection.

It gives her the courage she needs to finally rise back up to the highest of heights her knees will offer. Her eyes, of course, go immediately to his rock hard cock, sending ripple straight through her and creating a deep throb between her legs. Her primary thought is about having him inside her, buried deeply and making her delirious with pleasure. She thinks about just climbing into his lap, sinking down on him and riding him until they've both come so well, they can't see straight.

On the other hand, though, she does want to have a little fun, has a plethora of despicable things she'd like to do, many of which may have to be on hold, given how ready she is and how desperately she wants him. Seems without even trying, Robin surpassed the master in teasing. But, as he's learned tonight, she's quite the competitive individual, so she'll be back on top in no time (literally and figuratively).

Her hand finally reaches for him and she lets a finger trace the length of him first. He's not very long at all, but fairly thick—she prefers thickness—and warm, very warm to the touch. Robin lets out a shuddering breath as that idle finger starts to loop around to the head of him, smearing the beads of precum against him and drawing a louder moan from him.

He says her name again, a soft but strained Regina, pleading with her.

Regina finally grips him in her fist, realizing with a mix of reluctance and excitement that the teasing hour has to end. She grips him firmly and then drags her hand down slowly, giving him one good stroke. Robin's head tilts back and he groans into the air of the living room.

"Again," he implores, tipping his hips just a little to move her hand down him again.

Regina pumps him again, this time a bit harder and quicker and he's grunting, telling her she's beautiful and wonderful, and how much he wants her. She wants him, too, wants to climb into his lap this instance and slide her soaked heat around him.

And why shouldn't she? She has no reason not to do it. They're together, as far as she's concerned, had practically announced that to all their friends tonight, and she wants him. Besides, she's come to this conundrum before, has thought about having sex with him on several occasions, even before they knew each other well. But every other time had been bad timing, or she feared that they weren't intimate enough to last, that maybe he would end up being a Killian. That's why Killian's statement hurt as much as it did, because it is a fear she has—a very real fear. Tonight had never been about proving anything to her friends. No, it was about proving to herself that Robin is worth more than her irrational fear of intimacy.

Typically, Regina would rather not be aware of what others are thinking, but in this very moment she wishes she could be in Robin's headspace, could figure out where he wants them to be. She needs to know if he's all in like she's all in, or if she's just another body to him. She knows she's not, she doesn't even need to ask for that, but still she just needs the confirmation.

"Hey," Robin's soft voice interrupts her thoughts, "where are you?"

She sighs and peeks her eyes up at him, taking in his adorable, perplexed and worried features and her heart takes a little leap in her chest.

"Sorry," she murmurs quietly, looking away, "it's nothing, just got a little sidetracked. That's all."

Robin's fingers reach for her and gently cup her chin, even though it's an awkward angle. He coaxes her to return her eyes back to his, and she doesn't fight it, just lets his fingers guide her home, until her vision is filled once again with that heart-stopping blue she can't get enough of.

Or maybe it's his whispered, "You know you can tell me anything," that makes her heart stop, but whatever it is, it's made everything stop—her heart, her breathing, time itself.

She feels selfish for taking up time that's supposed to be dedicated to him. It's his day, his moment, the moment he should be spending feeling relaxed and good from the her mouth on his cock. He deserves to have that.

But when he nudges her shoulder with his knee, she realizes he isn't going to let up on her that easily.

Regina backs a little out of the hold of his knees to really look at him. She already regrets what she's going to say before she even says it, but she takes a deep breath and tells him, anyway, "I just—I don't know… where we stand," she takes another breath, "or, well, where I want us to stand."

Robin frowns at that and she knows it doesn't make any sense to him. She threw him a birthday party, he's stayed over at her apartment, hell, just tonight they went out on a date. And now she's suddenly going back on what she's said?

Still, being the Robin that he is, he can't resist a joke. "What, d'you want me to ask you to be my girlfriend?" he teases and actually cajoles a smile from her. "Write you a wee note that asks you to check a box—yes, no, maybe?"

Regina can't help but laugh, as she says, "No, it's not—I mean it is, but I—I just want you to be aware that tonight isn't an anomaly. The kissing you, the," she swallows, winces, "sex. Any of it. I haven't had the best track record with men, as you know, but this is different. Very different. And I want it to be. We don't necessarily have to define what we are straight away," (of course, she can't be all in, she never can be), "but this is not a one time thing," she pauses and adds, "at least, for me anyway."

Robin's face splits into a grin and his eyes have suddenly gone softer than she's ever seen them.

"Come up here," he tells her with a gravelly, but affectionate voice, kicking up every butterfly in her belly.

She does as he asks, rising painfully from her knees and tacitly reminding herself that she's not 20 anymore and to remember that in the future. She straddles him again, assures that her wet heat is pressed against the length of him, eliciting a moan from both of them. God, she wants to feel him inside her.

But now she's focused on how he's kissing her voraciously, sparking little bursts of electricity in her stomach. His tongue is wrestling with hers, the kisses are sloppy and all over the place, but she can feel it, the slow wave of intimacy that never seemed to quite catch up with anyone else she's ever been with. It has her pushing into him harder, kissing him deeper, if even possible, dying for every single bit of him.

Robin is responsive, meeting her with the same urgency and lust and passion. But he breaks at a point to make sure that he reassures her. He's looking deeply in her eyes, promising and doting. Then, he whispers softly, "This is more than a one time thing for me, too," before taking her lips again.

But it's only a few pecks before he parts again and adds, "Though, I do rather like the idea of calling you my girlfriend."

Regina chuckles against his lips, leans forward and nips his bottom lip between her teeth, then tells him, "Why don't you take me on a date and then we'll go from there?"

"Fine by me," he murmurs against her lips.

She doesn't get a word in edgewise before he's kissing her again. They're back to the hungry, deep kisses that are making her dizzy and wetter. She meets the heat of the kisses with a few rocks of her sex against him, rubbing her slick heat against him again and again, resulting in more heavy moans from both of them. Robin starts kissing her neck, nipping and sucking and Regina is practically mewling in his ear, releasing little hisses of unnnghs and yessses.

His hips are starting to vibe with hers, picking up a matching rhythm and moaning in melody with her.

She thinks about how close they are, how easily it would be to just reach between them, line him up with her and sink down on him. She wants that, craves it so deeply, you'd think she needs it to survive. Fuck it, she can't take this any longer.

"I want you," she pants aloud, driving her hips a little harder, she's so ridiculously turned on she starts think she's gone crosseyed.

"You have me, darling, every bit of me," he tells her breathlessly.

Regina has to resist rolling her eyes, as she answers with, "No, inside me. Want you inside me."

Robin croaks out a soft oh into the nape of her neck, then presses a kiss to it and says, "I would very much like that, too."

Regina draws her face back until their eyes lock. She can tell that his are nervous and curious, making it clear that he has no idea what to do. He doesn't want to overstep, doesn't want to goad her into this. Neither does she. But they can't do this dance forever.

She'll make the first move, and if he reciprocates, then it's a go. If not, they'll call the whole thing off and hopefully never speak of this again.

She settles a palm on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before tracing it lightly down the length of his chest until her path veers down into the space between their crotches. She curls a hand around the length of him again and gives him a few lazy strokes. His head just tips back as he starts to thrust a little in her hand, while she's strongly fighting the urge to touch herself again.

"Do you want me Robin?" she whispers to him and, god yes, he practically yells in answer.

When he brings his head back up, Regina tips her head forward to unite their foreheads. She can feel his breath tickling her chin and mixing with hers. Her hands release him and lift to cup each side of his jaw, thumbs stroking idly through his scruff—oh, she loves that scruff.

"Fuck me," she murmurs into the space between them.

Robin groans enthusiastically and pulls her infinitesimally closer to kiss her desperately, like a man who's been starving for days on end and has finally gotten a meal. She kisses him back just as hard, lips sloppily smacking together as she moans into his mouth. His hands find her breasts again, groping at them gluttonously. It takes her a minute to get as riled up as she was a few minutes ago. They'd had their sweet little moment, with her nearly revealing the blooming buds of her affection for him that she'd planted deep within her, but she's more than ready to shovel a little dirt over them for awhile until she's ready to show Robin the whole garden.

Besides, right now, she's certainly more eager to entertain the sexual tension instead—less thinking involved, more doing.

She focuses on his hands rubbing, his fingers rolling her nipples, his tongue dancing with hers, his erection bumping into her over and over again as he tries to pick up some friction.

They're going to have sex. She is going to have sex with this man she'd met in a hallway as he was sneakily trying to duck out on a one night stand, this man she thought she'd never see again, this one chance encounter that happened to turn into something more.

Boy, has she never been this grateful for serendipity.

Robin's hands are moving again, sliding down the sides of her and landing on her ass, while his lips take up residence again with her boobs, switching between the two, lathering his tongue across them, and sucking in her raw, hard nipples each time his tongue passes over them.

She needs the friction again, needs to come.

"Robin, I need you," she can barely pant out.

He gives her left nipple a particularly hard suck in response and reaches between their sweaty bodies to shift her underwear and align himself.

"Wait," she stops him, and "Condom?" queries quietly.

He gives a gruff groan, then pats her leg, requesting for her to get up, and says, "Come with me."

Regina's stomach is in all kinds of knots as she rises from his lap, takes his hand and follows him wherever it is that he's leading. She assumes it's the bedroom, the most likely of places for condoms to be—she hopes anyway, hopes he doesn't just have condoms lying everywhere in the event that he plans to fuck any and everywhere. Although, it does send a ripple of pleasure through her as she conjures up the idea of the two of them making use of those condoms all over his apartment.

Another time, maybe.

However, she's right about the bedroom. Robin guides her all the way down the hall to his bedroom, but he stops just before entering, turning back to Regina with a concerned look on his face.

"You're sure about this?" he asks her softly and it makes her melt in a way he hasn't quite managed yet.

She feels overcome with emotion, doesn't even bother answering him, and instead just settles for a bruising, passionate kiss. She pushes him into the door with a thud as she tries her level best to actually climb him.

Robin doesn't hesitate to open the door, then, taking that as his cue that she's ready and that she wants him. Their lips don't part as they cross the threshold, Regina even thinks that he's kissing her harder, most likely trying to ease the growing tension between them. The growing tension she's trying not to think about and apparently failing miserably at.

That failure only grows when Robin finally breaks away from her, turning his back to her and giving her a full moon view of his bare ass. And it hits her all at once. He's naked. Robin is naked right in front of her. Which means… she's naked in front of him, almost. Nearly bare and defenseless as she stands in his room, watching him dig manically through the nightstand by his bed. It takes him a couple seconds, but when he finally aha!s, he turns with the precious cargo in hand.

"Starting to think for a sec there, I'd run out," he chuckles as he struts back over to her, tossing the condom on the bed.

Regina laughs, as well, reaching for him as soon as he's close enough, sliding her fingers over his ribs to pull him back to her. He files all the way in, coming nose to nose, sex to sex with her.

"Now, that would have sucked," she whispers, while her lips hedge his.

He gives her a peck. "Terribly," he says and she hums in agreement as his lips join hers again.

Robin's hands fall to Regina's ass again, giving it several squeezes as he walks them back, back toward the bed. Regina groans, asks him to grab her harder and he does, groping and digging his nails into her bare ass, while she rakes her own nails down his back and even along his ass.

He starts to push them faster, walking at a much quicker pace toward the bed.

Not even a breath later, Regina is bumping into the bed and falling back as Robin eases her down, but doesn't dare stop kissing her. He has to, eventually, so that she can get out of the awkward angle she's in. He breaks away from her long enough to allow her to turn her body about 90 degrees, giving her head access to pillows and her whole body access to the mattress.

In that time, Robin's eyes start dancing back and forth again, scanning all over her body.

"You are the most gorgeous creature to walk this earth, I swear it," he tells her.

Regina smirks and shrugs, looking over every inch of Robin, and says, "You're alright."

His nose crinkles in the cutest way as he picks up the condom wrapper at the foot of the bed and rips it open. She watches as he carefully rolls it on, unable to stop her tongue poking out and wetting her lips.

Robin pads back over to her side and climbs onto the bed, swinging a leg over her body and straddling her thighs. She frowns, as he grins down at her mischievously, clueing her in that he's up to something. Still, when he lowers himself down on her, and reaches down between them, she thinks maybe he isn't. His fingers loop inside the elastic of her panties, pulling them down, down, while murmuring something about waiting to take this blasted lace off of her, until that black lace is up and off and he tosses them somewhere on the floor. So much for delicates.

But then she realizes what mischief he's up to when his fingers touch her wet heat.

He parts her, and whispers, so that she can feel his breath against her lips, "Y'know," he drawls, "you say that I'm alright," and he drags a single finger through her, pulling a hiss right out of her, then brings that wet finger up between their lips and finishes with, "but I care to disagree."

Regina lets out a shuddering breath as his tongue darts out and takes that wet finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste of her. As soon as that wet finger leaves his lips with a wet pop, his mouth is back on hers, giving her a taste of herself.

Regina pulls each leg from the cage he created with his. She circles them around his hips, locking her ankles behind him. She tilts her hips upward as their lips meet headily, hopefully signaling that she's ready for him—more than ready. Robin understands, moans again as he reaches between them once more, drags his cock through her wetness, then lines himself up with her.

Her jaw goes slack as he finally sinks into her slowly, pushing in bit by bit until he's pressed all the way in.

Robin looks at her with those soft blue eyes and asks, "Good?"

She nods ardently, spanning an arm across his shoulders and tugging his lips back to hers as she kisses him heatedly. He takes a few seconds before finally drawing out of her slowly and pushing back in. They moan together in unison and he does it again, then again, and again until he picks up a slow steady pace, thrusting in and out of her.

"Robin," she whines into his ear as he starts to nibble on her neck, "you feel so good. So good. So so good."

Robin sucks hard behind her ear and she cries out, hopes his walls aren't too thin and begs for him to do it again. He does, sucks harder this time and Regina's brain almost short-circuits.

"God, I fucking love hearing you make those sounds," he pants.

She wants to keep making those sounds, knows what will do it, but wants to drag this out as long as she can. His cock feels so good inside her and she hasn't wanted anyone this much ever, she doesn't want him to stop, doesn't want this to stop.

But she can tell he's getting closer to the edge already by the way he's pistoning into her faster. It shouldn't take him much longer to get there, he was probably almost there before they even started. She wants to meet him there, jump off of that cliff with him.

Wait, he's talking—what is he saying? "You feel so incredible. Can't wait to feel you come on my cock." He's encouraging her, she realizes, and she finds a new level of appreciation for him.

"Harder," is all she says back, knowing that he'll get the picture.

And he does, he starts pumping into her faster, taking off like a racehorse. But it's still not going to do what she needs. She needs to rub her clit, needs to rub those tight circles until she's spiraling into oblivion.

Robin knows she needs it, too, because he's pleading with her, "Regina, touch yourself, please, touch yourself. I wanna feel you come. Let me feel you come."

(If he keeps talking like that, it may do the trick…)

But, despite that pipe dream and the perilous way their skin is slapping together as he fucks into her harder, she still weasels a hand down to her clit. She immediately releases a guttural groan the second two of her fingers touch the sensitive spot. Her head presses further into the pillow as starts slowly rubbing circles. She moans and moans, crescendoing with each circle her little fingers make. This will do it, she can tell because she feels the warmth creeping up again, ready to spill all over her.

"That's it, love, yes," he says breathlessly as he fucks harder and harder.

Regina wants to respond, wants to tell him how incredible his cock feels, how much she loves having sex with him, but she's too far blissed out to think of anything coherent to say. She gives any bit of energy or thought she has left to the drop of warmth that has returned, trickling down her back.

"I-uhhhnn-Robin fuck-unnngh," is all she manages as she finally feels that drop hit the bottom of her stomach and turns to oil, popping and sizzling madly on impact.

Regina fists the sheets beneath her erratically as she hollers Robin's name loudly, sending up another prayer that his walls aren't too thin. And then she's coming hard and fast, babbling wildly, as her body is washed out in unspeakable pleasure.

She can feel herself going boneless, turning into a human-shaped jello mold, but she's trying to fight it, trying to stay checked-in as Robin thrusts into her several more times, blabbering about how great she feels on his cock. But her wait isn't long (thank god!), as he grunts and gives a few final, clipped pushes before collapsing against her.

He sighs against her and she answers with one of her own. They lay there for a minute and say nothing, just breathe the same air and let things settle. Regina feels far too blissful and relaxed to say anything. And also because her mouth is extremely dry now. She could really use a glass of water, but can't even get the words out if she wanted to.

After a minute or two, Robin finally rolls off of Regina and she realizes she can breathe a bit better. But her throat remains thick and cottony, so she just lays there and watches as he gets up to toss out the condom.

But, as he chucks the rubber in the trash, it hits her all too harshly.

They had sex. She had sex with Robin. Robin, who used to be the very definition of lechery and degeneracy. Robin, whom she'd loathed for months despite not really knowing him well at all.

But that isn't him anymore. Now he's Robin, the guy that brings her coffee when they're just friends. Robin, who picks up less fortunate students and takes them to a carnivals. Robin, who is the very definition of truthful, righteous, and good.

She doesn't know when his metamorphosis began, but given the stark contrast between the man she met in late May and the man she's now lying naked in front of, she'd wager a guess that this place has been the cause of it. The idea gives her a tickling rush of pride. She suspends her nonbelief for just a second to entertain the idea that maybe Albuquerque is a magical place. It's done wonders for Robin. And it's certainly done wonders for her, becoming a safe haven from the vice-like grip of Phoenix.

Maybe this could be it, the place she settles, officially. Sure, she's lived in the city for many years now, and could probably qualify as "settled down," but she means really settled down, as in with a family—maybe it won't be with Robin, or maybe it will be, but either way, she thinks that maybe this little old city is where she's meant to rest her bones. She never saw that until now, until she saw the magic of the city take effect on someone else.

She sounds like a crazy person, she knows, but she can feel that she's right in her gut. That much she knows.

Robin smiles gently at her as he struts back to the bed. "What's going on in that pretty little head?"

Regina shrugs, waves him off with a hand. "Nothing, just thinking."

"About?" he prods her, as he takes a seat on the sliver of mattress she left on the edge, pressing her to scooch over a little and give him some room to actually sit.

She reaches for him quickly once he's situated, already craving to touch him again. Her fingers weave lazily with his and she chuckles dryly, supposing it's better to be honest with him.

"If you'd have told me back in May that this was going to happen—that you and I were going to have sex, I'd have never believed you," she says, then adds, "well, unless you said it was hate sex, in which case I may be more inclined to believe that."

Robin smirks. "Oh, we should try that sometime," he jokes, earning him a slap to his knee. "Ow!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby."

Robin's pout shifts into something impish. "Oh, we doing the hate sex now?"

Regina scoffs, rolls her eyes. Maybe the magic of Albuquerque isn't as strong as she thought.

Robin just leans down and presses a sweet kiss to her lips. He rises and grins down at her with twinkly eyes and she thinks that she might be falling just a little bit more in love with him in this moment. Something in her heart melts just a little, making her feel more relaxed and warm and tingly and just… right.

"I don't think you understand how much this day meant to me," Robin whispers, looking over to his bedside table.

It's the first time she actually gets a good look at it. It's fairly bare, aside from the antiquated digital alarm clock, the matte black lamp and a picture frame that's face down on the surface. Regina knows that that's what he's looking at, and she knows that the picture is face down for a reason. Regina's heart lurches in a fit of worry for him, which has her weaving their fingers together again and clasping their hands together more tightly.

Her eyes find his newly sullen blue. "Help me understand, then," she murmurs with a squeeze to his hand.

"Well…" he drawls, looking between them and taking his gaze meticulously down Regina's body.

Regina snorts, getting his suggestion right away. She lightly kicks his leg as punishment but he doesn't really react.

He reciprocates with his own squeeze. "Not much to tell. Just have had a long running cycle of rubbish birthdays. Started when I was a kid, about eight, I think, and ever since then it's felt like I've had shit luck with birthdays. Something always goes wrong. When it started, it was because of my mum and dad, but then it became Marian and I always getting in fights, or once I came to the States it was I would get in fights at bars or get told I'm too bloody—what was the word— 'mopey' to fuck—"

"Someone said that to you?"

"Yeah," he chuckles wryly, giving her fingers a little squeeze. "To be fair they were right so I've no right to really complain, but it still sucks."

"Yeah," Regina answers musingly, "well, if I may say, you are not at all too 'mopey' to fuck and I rather enjoyed tonight."

"I very much enjoyed tonight," he whispers, giving her another soft kiss. "I know I keep saying it, but tonight really meant a lot."

"I'm glad. You really deserved it, Robin."

They fall silent as Robin places a kiss in her hair. And for a few minutes it stays just like that, two people peacefully quiet, taking in the gentle mood of the night, the blissful calm in their bones and the intimate silence of two lovers. Regina is intoxicated with it, just wants to lay here forever and never move.

Everything feels so right, she almost begins to worry when she realizes the voices that shout her every fear and insecurity are silent, buried underneath the overwhelming serenity she feels being wrapped up in Robin's arms. Normally, those voices would be running rampant at this point, reminding her that the other shoe will drop and convincing her to go ahead and leave while she can.

But, instead, she just curls herself easily into his side and mutters, "Is it alright if I stay the night?"

Robin dips his chin to look down at her the best he can. Despite the awkward angle, she can still see his smile, stretching wider than she thinks she's seen yet. "And have you take up room that could be mine in the bed?" he tuts softly.

"Or, I could just leave…" she sings as she starts to roll away from him.

But Robin isn't having that at all. His hands fly out for her waist and catch her, drawing her back into his side as quickly as she left it.

"Don't you dare."

Regina doesn't say anything. She just cuddles herself further into his side and even gives a small peck to his chest.

"Now," he sighs, "it's been a long time since I've shared a bed with someone so who knows what dodgy shit I do in my sleep. So, if I start anything too barmy, wake me up or make a run for it."

"Am I gonna become a Lifetime movie?" she asks worriedly.

Robin chuckles, "Let's hope not."

"Comforting," she says flatly.

Robin just continues to laugh and rolls over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table, then he returns and drops a kiss to Regina's head.

"Will I see you in the morning?" he queries hopefully and she knows that he isn't asking because of the Lifetime comment.

Still, she doesn't resist the urge. "I suppose that depends on whether or not you're going to kill me in my sleep."

He laughs once more and hums a quiet, "Goodnight, Regina."

Regina clings to Robin just a little bit tighter and presses one final kiss into his chest.

"Goodnight, mopey. Happy birthday."

---

A/N: That's why this is M rated.