Summary: After an accident leaves Regina Mills with several broken bones, her friend Mary Margaret argues that Regina needs some help at home while she recovers. Regina, naturally, doesn’t like the idea. She believes her injuries make her look weak - and she hates looking weak. When Regina chases off aide after aide, the agency turns to Robin Locksley. Though he has left the field for personal reasons, he has a special knack for difficult patients and Tuck hopes he will be the one aide Regina can’t chase off. Robin reluctantly agrees to work the assignment. Will Regina chase Robin off too? Or will he prove to be just as stubborn as her? And if so, will Robin finally teach Regina that it’s okay to accept help when needed? And will Regina provide the healing Robin himself needs?
Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad
Chapter 10: AO3 | Wattpad
Excerpt:
“Here you go,” Robin said, placing a plate of apple slices surrounding a little bowl of peanut butter down on the coffee table. “I hope you both you enjoy.”
“Awesome,” Henry replied, grinning as he closed the game he had just ended. He set the controller aside as he moved closer to the coffee table. “Thanks, Mr. Locksley.”
Robin grinned as he stepped back. “You’re welcome. Just remember to share with your mum, okay?”
Henry nodded. “I will.”
“Good lad,” Robin said, patting his shoulder before turning to Regina as she laid on the couch. “Do you need anything?”
“Just the remote,” she replied. “Please.”
He picked it up and held it out to her. “If you need anything else, I’ll be across the hall. I’ll check in again in about a half hour.”
She nodded, changing the TV back to the cable box. “Sounds good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “And don’t forget to have a couple apple slices. Your choice to include the peanut butter or not.”
“It’s better with the peanut butter,” Henry said, licking some off his thumb. Robin and Regina chuckled before he left the room, certain everything was fine in the living room for now.
He cleaned up the kitchen for Mary Margaret’s return. It was a holiday for the schools and the Nolans had already made plans for the day before Regina’s accident. They asked Robin if he would be okay staying a little later than normal but promised they would be back by five. He had arranged for John to watch Roland for the day and he knew John would wait until Robin got back, no matter what time.
Though Robin hoped they were on time as he wanted to spend some time with Roland before he had to go to bed.
Realizing it had almost been a half hour, he decided to go check on Regina and Henry in the living room. He crossed the foyer and entered the other room, noticing Regina was on the phone. She frowned as she changed the channel to the news. “They aren’t reporting the weather yet. Is it really bad?”
“Henry, who is your mother talking to?” Robin asked, picking up the empty plate.
“Aunt Mary Margaret,” Henry said. “They’re talking about the weather. I don’t know why.”
Regina shushed them. “The weather is on. Let me listen to it.”
They fell silent and watched the TV as the meteorologist stood in front of map of their county. “We are tracking a serious nor’easter that’s already passed over Augusta and is coming our way.
“If we time it out, we anticipate it hitting the towns on the shoreline, like Cabot Cove and Storybrooke, within the hour,” he continued. “They are going to collide with a low pressure system that will keep them stationery over the shoreline for most of the night. The storm is expected to produce high winds, lightning and lots of rain, which means downed trees, power outages and flooding are all possible.”
“It sounds bad, Mary Margaret,” Regina said, frowning. “I think you and David should find a hotel for the night and wait out the storm.”
Watching the large storm mass heading for them on the TV, Robin agreed that was the best thing for them to do. He turned back to Regina, who was listening to something Mary Margaret said before saying: “I’ll be fine for one night. Don’t worry about me.”
He frowned as a pit formed in his stomach. Regina was going to be alone once he left for the day. While Henry was there with her, there were some things a ten-year-old boy wouldn’t be able to help his mother with. Could he just walk away from them when five o’clock rolled around?
Of course not.
“No, no,” Regina replied. “You stop and spend the night somewhere safe. No questions. We don’t need you and David laid up like me.”
“Tell her I can stay with you,” Robin said, hoping that would convince Mary Margaret and David to stop for the night.
She frowned before repeating his words. Regina listened to the response as relief filled her eyes. “Good. Text me where you’re staying and I promise to keep you updated through the night,” she said.
Once she ended the call, Henry grinned. “You’re staying the night, Mr. Locksley?”
“No,” Regina said just as Robin said: “Yes.”
“Henry, can you go to your room for a bit?” Regina asked, her eyes narrowed as she remained focused on Robin. “Mr. Locksley and I need to talk.”
Henry nodded, standing. As he walked past Robin, he said: “Good luck.”
Taken from a prompt in @creativepromptsforwriting Fall AUs
Prompt: My dog yanked on its leash and now I’m lying in a giant pile of leaves and you stand there and laugh and STOP TAKING PICTURES!
AU town in which there is no magic and Regina and Robin are neighbours
Robin Locksley doesn’t embarrass easily.
There was a time, sure—back when he still wore his brother’s hand-me-down trousers to school and hadn’t figured out how to flirt without losing all control of his body and knocking something over. Once, he’d managed to spill an entire tray of cafeteria meatloaf down the front of the girl he fancied. Another time, he tried to impress a rugby scout with a dramatic dive that ended with him concussed and face-first in a mud puddle.
He’d blushed. Hard. But those days were long gone.
These days, Robin knew who he was. Single father. Steady job. A man who could rebuild a fence, make a decent stew, and teach his kid how to tie a reef knot in under five seconds. He had no patience for pride or pretense. Certainly not enough to get flustered by a few stray leaves and a stubborn dog.
So no, Robin Locksley doesn’t embarrass easily.
Usually.
But now Henry Mills is laughing maniacally, bounding across the park like he’s just witnessed the greatest moment of his young life. And behind him—trailing slowly, smugly, looking like the embodiment of fall in her thigh-high boots, burgundy coat and coffee in hand—is his equally amused (and so very hot) mother.
Regina Mills.
Phone in hand. Camera pointed.
And Robin—who has just been unceremoniously yanked off his feet by a rogue retriever, faceplanted into the leaf pile he’d so painstakingly raked for the town fair cleanup—is flat on his back, leaves in his hair, and dignity nowhere in sight.
“Delete it,” he groans, shielding his eyes from the midday sun—and from her smirk.
Regina lowers the phone but doesn’t stop smiling. “Oh, I will. Eventually. After I’ve shown Mary Margaret. And Emma. And possibly your son.”
“Traitor,” he mutters. He would sit up if the dog weren’t now sitting on his chest.
“Next time,” she says sweetly, “try letting go of the leash.”
He shakes his head with a grin, their eyes lock for a long moment and it’s times like these when he wonders if she feels what he feels. That spark. That ignition of feeling that blooms across his chest.
They’ve been neighbours now for almost eighteen months.
They hadn’t started off on the best foot. He’d had his nephew, Will, to stay with him for the first few weeks.
He’d left England - much to Robin’s sister’s horror - to pursue music. His band of idiots no more reliable or responsible than Will himself. So she’d begged Robin to look out for him and to help him get on his feet.
But he’d been a bit of a handful at the start.
Sitting on the porch and drinking beers with newfound friends, music a constant feature. Climbing onto the roof from his bedroom window to smoke pot in view of any who dared look up.
Robin had curbed that type of behaviour as quickly as he was able to but not before his eagle-eyed neighbour had bore witness to it.
”I have a twelve year-old son, I will not allow him to live next door to a glorified frat house.”
That had been her opening volley—curt, precise, and spoken through the tightest expression he’d ever seen. She’d crossed her arms like she was preparing to formally evict him from the zip code.
At the time, Robin had thought she was overreacting. A bit uptight. Prissy, even.
She thought he was careless, inconsiderate. Possibly feral.
It wasn’t until much later—when Will had finally found a job that didn’t involve busking for weed money, and Henry had wandered over one Saturday morning to help Robin sand the new shed—that they’d begun to shift toward something else. Not quite friendship, but no longer enemies either. They shared tools now. Coffee, occasionally. Little nods of recognition when they passed each other in the mornings.
And over time, Regina had softened.
Not drastically, not all at once. But enough.
She’d knock on his door when Henry forgot his school project at Robin’s place. Robin would keep an eye out for her recycling bin on windy days. She’d even let Roland walk Pongo with Henry a few times—though not without a lecture about leash safety and a signed permission slip like it was a field trip to the Arctic.
So yes, things were better now.
Comfortable.
Which made it all the more disarming that every now and then, like now, she looked at him with that glint in her eye—that spark that made Robin forget, briefly, where he was. That she wasn’t his. That this little back-and-forth wasn’t something more than it was.
Her phone lowers again, and she offers a hand.
He takes it without hesitation, her fingers warm in his. She’s stronger than she looks, and it takes him a second longer than necessary to stand.
Leaves fall from his jacket. The dog finally hops off his chest, tail wagging like he hasn’t just publicly humiliated his owner.
Henry’s still laughing.
Regina’s still smirking.
And Robin—embarrassed or not—realises he wouldn’t change a single thing about this ridiculous afternoon.
Well. Maybe the photos.
Definitely the photos.
Robin brushes a few stubborn leaves from his collar, shooting a glare at the dog, who pants up at him like this was all a brilliant game.
“You’re no help at all,” he mutters.
Pongo wags harder.
Regina lets out a soft laugh—an actual, genuine one—and Robin nearly misses it. It’s rare, that sound. Less polished than the one she uses at town council meetings. More real.
They start walking, the three of them—well, four if you count the canine menace—toward the cluster of houses that line the far end of the park. Henry bounds ahead, expertly kicking through leaf piles like a kid on a mission, his laughter echoing between the trees.
Regina walks beside Robin, coffee in one hand, the leash in the other now that Pongo’s calmed down.
“He’s got your sense of humour,” Robin says, nodding toward Henry. “Wicked. Merciless.”
Regina sips her coffee. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
She glances at him then, sidelong, just briefly, but enough for him to see the flush of pink at her cheeks—not from the cold.
They fall into an easy silence for a few paces. Leaves crunch underfoot, the kind of sound that fills the quiet without needing to be filled.
“He likes you,” Regina says eventually, eyes on Henry.
Robin hums. “He’s a good kid.”
“He is.” She hesitates. “I wasn’t sure, at first. About you.”
He grins. “You made that quite clear.”
“Well, in my defense, you did have an English hooligan smoking pot on your roof.”
Robin snorts. “That’s fair.”
Another silence. Softer this time. Weighted differently.
Robin slips his hands into his coat pockets, resisting the urge to look at her again. He knows that if he does—if she catches him watching her the way he always seems to—it’ll shift something between them. Something that still feels too dangerous to name.
But she looks at him this time.
And says, almost quietly, “You’re good for this place.”
Robin blinks.
Not you’re good with the kids or you’re less annoying now—but you’re good for this place.
It lodges somewhere in his chest.
Before he can find the right reply—because there’s a lot he could say—Henry loops back around, breathless and red-cheeked, and grins up at them both.
“Can we get hot chocolate on the way home? The place with the cinnamon sprinkles?”
“Only if you stop weaponising my dignity in public,” Robin deadpans.
Henry flashes a cheeky grin. “No promises.”
Regina hides a smile behind her coffee cup. Robin catches it anyway.
They turn the corner toward their street, the three of them falling into step again.
And as they walk—Robin with leaves still stuck to his jumper, Regina with that smile still tugging at the corner of her mouth, Henry bouncing between them—it feels, for the briefest moment, like something close to hopeful.
Feeling nostalgic, so for ficlet Friday, can I request OUAT (dealer's choice on ship!) and vampires? ♡
you and @suseagull5914 requested vampires. So it only seems fair, I write two vampire OUAT ficlets. :D
wrote this earlier today, and just now posting!
:.:
Regina had forgotten what silence felt like until she moved among the roses again. The old garden stretched behind the manor, wild now, ivy strangling trellises, marble angels half-swallowed by moss. The moonlight painted everything silver, erasing color until even the blood on her hands seemed clean.
She had come here for quiet. For the small mercy of stillness, but she wasn't alone.
“You shouldn’t wander so far from the house,” she said without turning. “The hunger finds you easier under the open sky.”
“I’m not the one it’s looking for,” Robin said.
His voice came from the shadows behind her, steady, but rough around the edges. He'd learned to move quietly, though she'd always hear him before he spoke. The bond saw to that.
Regina plucked a withered rose and turned it in her hand. The petals crumbled like ash. “No,” she murmured. “It’s looking for me. You’re just the unfortunate consequence of its memory.”
He stepped into the moonlight, arms folded. “That’s one way to put it. You turned me into this ‘consequence.’”
She finally faced him. “Would you rather I had let you die?”
He didn’t answer at first. His jaw flexed; his eyes, no longer green, but touched faintly by the crimson that marked what he was, flicked away toward the dark hedges.
“I think about that,” he said. “More often than I’d like.”
Regina dropped the ruined rose. “Then we are alike.”
He huffed a bitter laugh. “Hardly.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Locksley. You’re brooding in a graveyard garden beside a monster. That’s likeness enough.”
The moonlight caught his smile, brief, unwilling, and real. It vanished as quickly as it came.
“You could have told me why,” he said. “Why save me, of all people?”
“Because you reminded me of someone who believed in mercy.”
“And what happened to them?”
“I killed him,” she said, and it was'n't confession so much as habit, the truth worn smooth by repetition. The silence that followed was almost kind.
He stepped closer, careful, like a man approaching a wounded animal. “You don’t have to keep living like this.”
Regina tilted her head. “And what would you have me do? Walk into the sun?”
“Let it burn,” he said, quietly. “Or stop pretending you don’t miss the fire.”
That struck deeper than it should have. The bond pulsed faintly between them, answering the tension neither dared speak.
She stepped past him, the scent of dust and rosewater trailing behind. “Careful, hunter,” she said softly. “The last man who told me he wanted to see me burn didn’t live long enough to regret it.”
“Maybe he said it wrong.”
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. His eyes met hers, steady and human again.
“Maybe,” she said. “But the ending’s always the same.”
Then she was gone, swallowed by the moonlight and the whispering ivy. And Robin stood there alone, staring at the petals she’d left behind, white as bone, scattered like snow over the soil.
hi! this is a long shot but maybe you would know the answer to this but i’m looking for an oq fic that’s like a s4 canon divergent where marian comes back and oq have to deal with? i don’t remember too much but marian tries to hurt regina and even hurts roland in the process too? then regina gets some cold spell on her by elsa and feels frozen right when her and robin are trying to sort things out? any help would be great thank you! :)
Hello, Nonnie!
Sadly, I do not know which fic you’re referring to. A few friends said it sounded familiar, but couldn’t place the title or author.
Robin is waiting for the birth of his godson when he somehow ends up assisting a stranger with her own labor.
For Tueday (Day 1) of @oqmovieweek
Also on AO3
Robin knew he wasn’t normal, but this had to seal the deal. Normal people didn’t do this. They didn’t show up at the hospital the day their ex-wife went into labor with the child they would be raising with their new spouse. Yet, there he was, sitting in the waiting room. Mulan had texted him that Marian had gone into labor and he rushed over. Despite being divorced for 3 years, they were still friends. Maybe it helped that things had ended amicably. Robin realized that while he loved Marian, he wasn’t in love with her and Marian had come out as a lesbian.
Even the best of friends probably wouldn’t have showed up, but there he was. Mulan and Marian told him it could take a while, so he settled in the waiting room. Some people might think that the baby was supposed to be theirs, but he didn’t look at it like that. He and Marian had never discussed children, it wasn’t in the cards for them. He was happy for her and Mulan. They’d make great mothers, and he’d help them in any way he could.
The waiting room was empty, so all Robin had for company was the soccer game on T.V. American teams could not hold a candle to the ones back in England (where it was properly called football, but he had given up that argument a long time ago), but he was still rooting for the college teams. Given that he had gone to Syracuse and they were playing, he glommed onto them.
“Come on!” He exclaimed when they missed a clear shot. “The goalie’s incompetent, you totally had it!”
“Syracuse fan?” A feminine voice from behind him asked.
He turned to find a shorter woman, clearly in the later stages of pregnancy standing there. Her dark hair was thrown back in a messy bun and she was massaging her belly. “Yeah.”
“God, they suck.”
Robin’s eyebrows knitted together. “You have to be kidding me.”
The woman struggled as she found a way to sit on the couch. Robin would’ve offered to help her, but she had a determined look on her face. “You can see that Stanford is clearly kicking their ass.”
“Yeah, they got lucky, once. Syracuse ranks above their pretentious asses.”
“I’ll have you know I went to that pretentious ass school.”
“So, you’re biased.”
“Something tells me you are with Syracuse as well.”
Before Robin could respond, the woman let out a loud moan, clutching onto her stomach. Robin jumped out of his seat and hurried over to her, helping her back up.
“Are you in labor?”
“No, I just showed up here for fun,” she clutched down further on her stomach. “Yes, I’m in labor.”
“Is your husband getting a doctor?”
“No husband, just me.”
“Oh.” Robin frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, it’s…” She let out another scream. “I just need to see a doctor.”
“Come with me.” He noticed the bag she had abandoned on the ground and picked it up. “We’ll get you signed in.”
Robin didn’t realize what he was doing until they made it to the desk and the woman asked for her name. It was only then it dawned on him that he had nothing to do with her, yet a part of him couldn’t let her go through it by herself.
“Regina,” the pregnant woman replied, fixating on her breathing. “Regina Mills.”
Regina didn’t realize that this strange man was still with her, until long after they had gotten her situated in her own room. The contractions had slowed for the time being, but this was really it, she was going to have this baby.
“Can you hand me my phone, please?” She asked. “It’s in the front pocket of my purse.”
The man nodded and handed over her cell. Going through her contacts, she scrolled right past Daniel’s name and instead called her mother.
“Cora Mills, how can I help you?”
“Mother, it’s me.”
“Is everything alright?”
“I’m in labor.”
There was a pause. “Oh.”
“Oh? Are you going to come?”
“Is he there?”
Regina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “No, Mother. I told you, he wants nothing to do with me or this baby.”
“Maybe if you had actually accepted Leopold’s hand in marriage…”
“I don’t want to go into this with you. What’s done is done and I’m having Daniel’s baby. You’re the only family I have, are you going to come or not?”
“I have a meeting on the Upper West Side in a half hour, it controls the future of our entire fall line. If I miss it, it will mess everything up.”
Regina bit her lip, looking up at the ceiling. “So, you’re not coming?”
“If it were a better time…and perhaps a better father…”
“Or maybe for once in my life, you could support a choice I made!”
The line went dead and Regina sighed, ending the call. She looked up at the man in front of her, who looked confused.
“She’s not much of a phone person.”
“I can tell. So, this Daniel…he’s the father?”
Regina went back to rubbing her stomach. “Yup.”
“And he’s not coming?”
“Does it look like he’s here?”
“Did you even give him a chance? If someone was having my baby, I’d want to know.”
Regina rolled her eyes. “Did I ask for your views on fatherhood? No.”
The man frowned and Regina realized that she had maybe crossed a line. “Maybe I should go.”
“Yeah,” Regina said, despite meaning the opposite. “Maybe you should.”
He started walking out the door and Regina collapsed against the pillows, folding her arms over her chest. She could practically hear her mother’s voice.
Nice job, Regina. You chased another one away.
The man paused at the door, before turning around. “You want to know what Stanford’s problem is? They let the players run the team.”
Regina’s mouth dropped open. “That is so not true!”
“Yes, it is.” He made his way back over and adjusted the pillow beneath her.
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Robin.”
“What brings you to the hospital, Robin?”
“You won’t tell me your story, why should I tell you mine?”
“Because I’m in labor and need a distraction.”
Robin chuckled, plopping down in the chair besides her bed. “Fair enough. My ex and her new wife are having a baby. Right down the hall.”
“And you wanted to be here for that?”
“We’re all good friends. As weird as that sounds.”
“Very weird. I don’t think I’d want anything to do with any of my exes.”
Robin shrugged. “I’m not normal.”
“So, I’ve noticed, you’ve helped a complete stranger prepare for her own labor.”
“I’ve told you mine, you tell me yours.”
Regina unfolded her arms, allowing them to fall back to her bump. “I met the father when I decided to pick up horseback riding again. We fell for each other, but we were from different worlds. I found out I was pregnant and my mom scared him off.”
Robin frowned. “And he just listened?”
“I mean, he’s tried to talk to me since…but he walked away.” Regina could feel Robin’s eyes on her. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Look, I just met you, so I don’t know this Daniel guy…but maybe he feels he made a mistake.”
“Maybe.” Regina looked down at her stomach. “But I can do this on my own, if he really wants to be here, he’ll come.”
“How can he, if he doesn’t know?”
Regina had spent the last 8 months with her mother in her ear, telling her that this was what was best. She would have the baby and be a single mother. That was the better alternative than raising him alongside a man that didn’t want to be there. Daniel had tried calling, but Cora had convinced her that they were better off alone. In a way, it was what her mother felt she deserved for refusing to marry Leopold-the wealthy business man that had tried to woo Regina many times.
Now, she was finally getting advice from someone outside her circle. A person who probably hadn’t been raised with elitist parents, a man at that. He knew how a non-deadbeat dad would feel. Regina knew Daniel, she had fallen in love with him once. He wasn’t a deadbeat…was he?
“Maybe, but it’s too late now,” Regina murmured. “I haven’t heard from him since I was 6 months along. He’s probably long moved on by now.”
“Maybe…”
Robin couldn’t finish his thought, before Regina was hit by another contraction. She was so focused on the pain and moaning, that until it passed, she didn’t realize that Robin had slipped his hand through her own.
Regina was convinced that Robin would leave as soon as things progressed, but to her surprise, he didn’t leave her side. Occasionally he’d get texts from his ex’s new wife about the progress of their own labor, but it seemed that things had stalled. He vowed to be with Regina through the long haul. He held her hand as she contracted, distracted her from the pain with debates over college soccer and told her that she would be a good mom, even if her taste in teams sucked.
Robin was the one that ran to get the doctor when her water broke and stayed by her side when they announced the baby was crowning. A part of her knew that maybe she should insist he leave, but a bigger part of her didn’t want to. She liked having him by her side. He had made the entire thing actually bearable.
He held her hand and reminded her to breathe through every push. After a while, it didn’t seem weird anymore. Robin was like her weird doula, one she hadn’t asked for but also one that she wouldn’t trade for the entire world.
After 6 grueling hours of labor, the cries of a baby could be heard, followed by the declaration that it was a boy. The tiny baby was placed on her chest and she stared down at him in awe, stroking his chubby, sticky cheek. Regina looked up at Robin, who was beaming down at the baby with tears in his eyes.
It wasn’t until the baby was cleaned off and she had delivered the placenta, the little one back in her arms, that Robin got the text that Marian had also given birth. He looked down at Regina, almost unsure.
“The hard part is over,” she said, nuzzling her son to her chest. “Go, be with them.”
Robin smiled, reaching down to touch the baby’s hat. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“You don’t have to, really. Robin, you’ve done more than enough.”
“No one should ever go through something like this alone.”
Regina wasn’t sure if it was the hormones or the excitement of the day, but when Robin looked down at her, she felt her stomach flutter. He kissed her cheek before exiting the room and Regina returned her eyes to the baby in her arms.
“I only know one person fit to name you after,” she whispered. “My father, Henry. He was always so good to me.”
As she stared down at her son, she realized that she had never loved somebody so much. This was the greatest gift she had ever received and she couldn’t imagine how she had lived her life without him. If she felt that way, she couldn’t rob someone else of that chance.
“Excuse me,” she said when the nurse walked past her. “Would you be able to make a call for me?”
Robin walked into Marian’s room, smiling at the scene in front of him. Marian looked as exhausted as Regina had, but was beaming just as much. Mulan was perched beside her, both staring down at the bundle in Marian’s arms.
“Well, you two did it,” he said. They looked up, grinning and motioning for him to come over. “He’s amazing.”
“Isn’t he, though?” Marian whispered.
“He looks just like Marian,” Mulan said. “And a bit like Specimen 5204.”
Robin chuckled, cradling his hand behind Marian’s that held up the baby’s head.
“Does he have a name?” He asked.
“Roland, Roland Zhou Dubois-Fa.”
“That’s perfect.”
“Where were you, anyway?” Mulan asked. “I poked my head in the waiting room when I went to get Marian some more ice chips and you were nowhere to be found.”
“I was uh…” Robin scratched the back of his neck, realizing how crazy it sounded. “I was helping someone deliver a baby.”
Marian and Mulan exchanged a look, before cracking up. Robin tilted his head back, not blaming them for not believing him.
“I’m serious.”
Marian stopped laughing, tilting her own head. “You mean you played doctor?”
“It’s a long story, but I started bickering with this woman in the waiting room and she went into labor and one thing lead to another and I just stayed with her.”
“Was she cute?”
Robin rolled her eyes. “She just had a baby.”
“I’m assuming if you stayed with her, the father didn’t,” Mulan pointed out.
“That’s another long story.”
“My point is, these things don’t just happen, you know.”
Robin did know. He tried to fight it off during his visit with the newly grown Dubois-Fa family, but he couldn’t shake it off. So when it was clear that Marian needed some rest, he headed down to the giftshop and got some balloons, along with a bouquet of blue tulips. He carried them back up to Regina’s room and went to knock on the door, when he found it was already slightly ajar. Regina was already sitting up in bed, a man sitting beside her. Robin paused, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“So, this is him, huh?” The man asked.
Regina rolled her eyes. “No, Daniel, this is a loaner.”
Daniel chuckled. “I was surprised you called. I didn’t think you wanted me around.”
“To be fair, you told me that you didn’t want to be.”
“In the early days, I was scared.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Regina. I shouldn’t have said that. Your mother isn’t going to stop how much I love this baby, or you.”
Robin felt his heart sink a little in his chest, especially when he saw Regina give Daniel a small smile.
“I know,” she whispered.
Daniel placed his hand on her back. “I’m sorry you had to go through this alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. I had a doctor, a nurse and a…” Regina trailed off, her smile growing wider. “A helper guy.” She paused, looking over at Daniel. “Did you see who won the game?”
“Syracuse, by ten.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “They suck.”
Regina shrugged. “They’re not so bad,”
Robin took a step back from the door, debating his options. He could walk in and deliver the presents, but he also knew that could possibly cause drama. The fact was, Daniel, Regina and the baby were a family. They needed to work on that, without him messing things up. Besides, it wasn’t like they had known each other forever.
He set the flowers down by the door and tied the stork balloon to the door, before turning and walking away.
When he’d brought that tulip upstairs earlier, Regina had assumed that he’d only wanted to make her smile after their long spell of depressing conversation—or that he just didn’t want it to end up trampled underfoot.
She hadn’t expected this.
She hadn’t expected to be fisting the sheets, licking her lips, eyes shut and breath heavy as he drags the flower lazily over her torso. He’s barely touching her, just enough to feel it, just enough for her skin to be prickly with goosebumps, her nipples tight, her toes curling. He drags the silky soft petals along the underside of one breast, then in, and up and over to roll across her nipple; Regina inhales sharply and bites her lip.
She’s not nearly as sensitive as he is, but she can certainly feel a tickle, and it sends a new flock of goosebumps migrating up the back of her neck.
“I could do this to you all night,” he murmurs warmly, and Regina lets loose an airy laugh.
“I'm enjoying it immensely,” she pants, “but I'm not going to lie—that would be a disappointment.” Robin chuckles as she confesses, “I think you've got about five more minutes before I plead mercy.”
“Ooh, will you be begging?” he wonders, clearly intrigued by the prospect.
“You wish,” Regina snickers, her back arching slightly as that tulip drags down her sternum, headed slowly southward.
Robin grins, and tells her, “I really, really do.” She tries to fight down a smile of her own (she wouldn’t want him getting too smug), but it’s useless. The tulip tickles over her navel, and then Robin makes her heart stutter and her mouth go dry as he tells her in this low, promising tone, “Open your thighs, Regina.”
Six Senses prompt: Robin wants to learn how to apply Regina’s makeup so he can do it for her
Combining two prompts. This one and “I know you would do anything for me.”
Regina knew that she’d have to sacrifice her independenceand eventually her career to her failing sight, but she’d never counted onsacrificing her vanity. Not until the day that she pokes herself in the eyewith her kohl pencil, and Robin comes running into the bathroom to see what madeher yell loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood.
“Let me see,” he says, trying to pull her hand away from theeye that’s rapidly tearing up and ruining her makeup job.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You’re half dressed and weeping into a handtowel. Let me see.”
She huffs her irritation but lets him pull her hands away tolook at her eye. “Doesn’t look like you’ve done permanent damage.”
“Well, thank God for small favors,” she mutters. She alreadyhas enough permanent damage to worry about.
As always, he ignores her salty remark. “I do believe,though, that makeup is supposed to go outside your eyes, not directly into yourcornea?”
She bites back a bitchy reply, something she catches herselfdoing more and more lately, and she’s really starting to hate herself for it. It’s not his fault, she reminds herself.Not his fault he couldn’t fix her, not his fault he couldn’t stop what washappening, not his fault that his cheerful can-do attitude sometimes makes herwish she could see better so that she could punch him right in the face.
Not his fault that something as simple as eyeliner is enoughto make her want to crawl back under the covers and not come out again. Ever.
“You’re angry.”
She is. These days, she’s almost always angry. She canbarely stand her own bitter company, and the fact that Robin not only toleratesit but tries to make her feel better makes her even more angry. Sometimes sheunderstands why her father, with his patience and his kind words, made hermother such a bitch when she was growing up, and she hates herself even morebecause she’s afraid that she’s just one poke in the eye with a kohl pencilaway from turning into full-blown Cora Mills.
“I am angry,” she sighs, “but not at you.”
“I should hope not. I’ve barely gotten out of bed. I haven’thad a chance yet to do something to make you truly angry.”
“Well, it’s still early,” she says, with a laugh that soundsfar too forced to be convincing.
“Tell me what I can do. You know I’d do anything for you.”
That’s the problem, isn’t it? “I know you would do anythingfor me,” she sighs. And she’d do the same for him, but the reality is, he can’tdo the one thing she needs him to do – stop her from going completely blind bythe age of 40. And she can’t do the one thing he needs her to do – stop feelingso sorry for herself that it overwhelms everything else around her. They havethis new house, this little family that they’re slowly building with Roland,and two careers that require every inch of their focus. It should be the fuckingAmerican dream, and instead of enjoying it, she’s punishing him for what shedoesn’t have rather than for what she does.
Why isn’t he sick of her? She’s sick of her, so why isn’t he?
He’s still waitingfor an answer, one she honestly doesn’t know how to give. “Can you run somecold water on this towel?” He does, and she presses it to her eye. “Thanks.Just…give me a few minutes?”
And because she asked him, he does that too. If she spendsthose minutes crying into a cool, damp towel, he doesn’t need to know that. Onceshe’s done, she wipes her face with the towel and starts over, compensating forher unsteady hand with a very light touch of her makeup.
Thank God she doesn’t stab her corneas with her eyeshadowbrushes. He’s already seen enough of her tears for one day, and it’s not even8am.
***
She makes it through the rest of the day, and the week,without having another meltdown. And thank God, because they have Roland thisweekend, and he’s still struggling with change, and she doesn’t want herinability to be an adult to interfere with Robin’s ability to parent his son.
It helps that the bathroom lights are brighter now. She’sglad that she can’t see, because judging by the change from soft light to surface of the sun, she’d be terrified of picking out every single wrinkleand crease in her face. It’s a good thing Robin isn’t nearly as vain as she is,or she’d be the one spending her mornings picking his ego up off the floor.
They make it through the weekend with a minimum of tears –this time, only from Roland – and when she wakes on Monday morning, she’ssurprised that the anger that’s been her near-constant companion has gonesomewhere else for the day.
I can do this, shereminds herself. She makes it into the bathroom and through her shower withoutdropping the soap, and if she skips shaving her legs, well, Robin doesn’t seemthe type to be put off by a little bit of stubble. And it’s a good thing too,because she’s had to suffer through beard burn on enough delicate parts of herbody that she knows her anger at thatwould be absolutely justified.
She’s just pulling the magnification mirror out when shefeels him behind her. “Let me help,” he says.
“I don’t need help.” She tells him that at least six times aday, sometimes with affection, but usually with irritation, but this morningshe means it. She doesn’t need help. He has a tough day ahead of him – two eyesurgeries and a consult with a cantankerous glaucoma patient, and she doesn’twant him wasting time to babysit her while she puts on her makeup.
“I want to help.” He drags the hamper next to her stool andsits, turning her face to him so he can study her under the new vanity lights.
“Now first, primer.”
Dear God, he’s actually digging through her makeup. “Robin,please-“
“No, no, I spent a large part of last Thursday watchingmakeup tutorials on YouTube. If I could make it through medical school, I canat least do this.”
“You did what?”
“My lecture at BU was cancelled. I had some free time.”
“And you used it to watch makeup tutorials? Robin, that’sthe stupidest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
His hands smooth over her face. God, she hopes it’s her primerand not some of that expensive night cream her mother insisted on buying her. Wrinklesbe damned, she’s not putting snail mucus on her face.
“You need to set your bar lower, Regina. I’ve heard farstupider things. Usually from you, when you’re insisting that you’re fine whenyou’re not.”
Well, he has a pointthere.
“Now, concealer.” He hums, then tilts her chin this way andthat. “I don’t see anything that needs concealing. So let’s move on tofoundation, shall we?”
He does, dabbing at her face with one of her very expensivemakeup blenders, then brushing her with blush and powder, and finally followingup with eyeliner and shadow. She closes her eyes and let him pamper her, enjoyinghow he hums with delight when he gets her contouring right and his little huffsof frustration when he accidentally smears mascara on the bridge of her nose.
“I read something about this,” he mutters. “Q-tips and babyoil.”
She reaches out and finds his wrist, stopping him from diggingin her vanity drawer. “Just wait for it to dry and scrape it off.”
And because she asked him to, he waits, then flicks a fingernailagainst her skin and wipes away the offending smudge. “There. Now you’re perfect.”
“I look like an 80s hooker, don’t I?”
He laughs out loud at that. “Have you so little faith in me?”
Sometimes she does, when he puts up with her moods and herinsecurities and doesn’t kick her out of their house when she’s the worstpossible version of herself. She doesn’t have enough faith that he’ll see thisthrough, that he’ll do what her father never could and decide that being aloneis better than living with a woman who’s never satisfied.
Today, though, she’s satisfied. Even if she looks like she couldstar in a Madonna video from the early 80s, she doesn’t care. “I have so muchfaith in you, it would scare you.”
Robin kisses her nose, careful not to disturb his handiwork.“I could say the same about you.”
She tucks that comment away, close to her heart, somewhereshe can easily find it when she’s angry and depressed and wondering if any ofthis is ever going to be ok. And it’s a good thing, too, because Mary Margaret’sfirst words when she arrives for lunch are, “Wow, you look great! Have you donesomething new with your makeup? I love it.”
“Me too,” Regina says through gritted teeth. She does loveit, but she’s going to tuck that comment away too. The next time Robin annoysher, she’s going to take it out on Mary Margaret. She never thought she’d everlove anything as much as she loved tormenting her stepsister until Robin showedup, but that doesn’t mean she’s not still going to get downright giddy at MaryMargaret’s expense.
