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I'll Be Your Favourite Drug.

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It’s been weeks. Three to be exact, about to merge into the fourth. And Regina is going mad.

First it was the latest run-of-the-mill villain leaving them so exhausted after managing to feed the kids that they both fell into bed as soon as the baby went down. Most of the time she wasn’t always sure how they managed to remove their outerwear, let alone other clothing. Then Zelena had a meltdown and disappeared to do some fucking soul-searching, so while Roland was camping with his uncles and Henry was at Emma’s, they still had Olivia which they weren’t expecting. So their ‘date’ by the fire was put on hold to spend time with their one year old. Who had a nightmare shortly after bedtime, and wouldn’t sleep unless one of them was curled up with her, so they had climbed into bed early, Liv lying in the middle of them fighting sleep.

And top of the great fortnight, Roland came home from school with Chicken Pox. Which meant Livie caught them. And because Hook had never had it before, and she didn’t want to expose Neal to any carrier germs, they had Henry to drag out of bed for school as well as two sick children.

So she is pretty damn sure she’s dying. Or that someone will be dying if she doesn’t get some alone time with Robin soon. It’s getting to the point that she is half tempted to drop in on him at work one lunch time for a quickie. Which she has been avoiding doing ever since the time Will walked in on them six months ago, with Robin pressing her up against a wall in the tiny parks department office, hand down her pants while she bit down on his shoulder to muffle herself.

She keeps trying to remember why the Parks department has a shared office type space instead of a private one, keeps trying to remember why she didn’t fix that during the curse when it wasn’t really run by anyone at all. Has to remind herself that it’s an unnecessary cost when the Merry Men who work for it, as sort of Rangers and the like, barely use the fucking thing anyway.

By the time her phone buzzes across her desk just before she normally leaves her office for the weekend, Regina has read the same budget report six times, and at no point did any of it register. Her phone skittering across the desktop draws her focus and she grits her teeth, swears she’ll finish the stupid thing before going home and that she won’t be late for Olivia and Roland’s bedtime tonight.

Meet me at Granny’s when you’re finished?

She looks at her watch and frowns. She knows Robin was planning taking the kids to Granny’s for burgers after picking the boys up from school before dropping Henry at Emma’s. But it’s already nearly five, and surely they’re all finished by now?

Granny’s? Haven’t you four already eaten?

The kids have.

Her frown deepens, knowing that she’d told Robin he might as well eat with them this morning when she’d gotten in and seen the paperwork waiting for her.

The kids have also all been abandoned at Emma’s.

Killian mentioned something about practicing having more than a teenager in the house a while back, I decided to help them out of the goodness of my heart.

Regina is shoving her paperwork into her bag (if she doesn’t touch it all weekend it’s not the end of the world) and scrambling for her things, fighting her way into her blazer as she all but runs out of the door. Waves a hasty goodbye to her assistant as she types one handed on the walk to Granny’s as Robin took the car.

That was noble of you.

Yes, I thought so. Though now I find myself alone and wondering what to do with all this free time.

She might actually kiss Emma for taking the kids. Even the two that aren’t hers (and god help her with Livie who has just learnt how to walk and thinks running away and hiding is hilarious ) so that she can have a night alone with her boyfriend. By the time she reaches the road Granny’s is on, her head is already providing her with wonderfully distracting images of exactly what she plans to do with her thief, each stride making her more and more aware of how damp she’s becoming, and fuck they better not be here long.

It takes her a moment when she opens the door to spot him, sitting at the back end of the counter with two tumblers of scotch and one of the new waitresses leaning over the counter, hand on his arm and giggling at something he’s said.

For his part Robin looks up the moment the bell dings, blinding smile on his face when he spots her and gestures to the second glass. And she knows , she knows full well that he wasn’t flirting with her (for the life of her she cannot remember this girl’s name) but her hand is still resting on his forearm when she reaches them, smile still on her face as she stares at him.

It’s stupid, and petty, and far too much like her sister but Regina glares at the hand until the girl jumps and moves it. But stays standing there, talking to Robin even when he kisses her cheek, wraps an arm around her waist and says hello, love . She clenches her fist around the glass, presses herself into his side as close as she can without actually sitting on his lap (tempting as it is - she is not a high schooler marking her territory), and tries to bury down the jealousy she can feel building. He’s talking to her about trying to potty train Olivia for crying out loud; she does not need to be jealous.

There is no fucking reason for her to be so pissed off that a girl who cannot be more than twenty-two has a crush on her soulmate. Because she gets it, she really and truly does, can remember the confused butterflies she got when they met in Storybrooke. The infuriated attraction she felt throughout the year before then, where she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to punch him or fuck him (at one point she did both). Still gets that warm tingly feeling almost every damn time she sees him. So she gets why this girl can’t stop looking at him, understands why she is constantly coming back over to check if he needs anything else, and Robin might not see it ( how she doesn't know, the man has no idea how gorgeous he is) but she does.

And by the time she’s halfway done with her second drink Regina has had enough. It’s really in everyone’s best interest that they leave. Now. Because if she has to watch her flirt with him much longer, has to watch her find excuses to brush up against him in some way, she’ll tear the poor girl’s arms off.

Downing her drink Regina slams enough bills to cover the drinks on the counter, leaves a tip even though the petty side of her really doesn’t want to, and drags a shocked Robin into the back corridor of the BnB and slams him into a wall.

He takes all of three seconds to catch up, to wrap his arms around her, one in her hair and the other basically on her ass and pulls her closer as she yanks on his collar, hair, jacket and kisses him with everything. She has no idea how long they stand there, making out like desperate teenagers but she when she whimpers, presses her hips into his thigh, bites down on his lip when he groans and really does grab at her ass she knows it’s time to go.

“Take me home. Now.”

Robin’s eye light up, and he’s dragging her out the side door (she has enough sense still to be thankful they’re not walking back through the packed diner), digs the car keys out of his pocket before he’s yanking her into him once more. Pressing her up against the cool brick of the alley, bites at her neck and her knees buckle and she cannot wait anymore.

“Fuck it,” she gasps out, gets a grip on his hair and pulls him back to her mouth and bites at his lips before they’re wrapped in purple smoke and stumbling back into the front door.

“Impatient,” she can feel his smug grin against her lips before his tongue is flicking at her teeth.

She doesn’t answer him, just drops her bag to the side and starts shoving at his leather jacket, grunts when it stops a few inches down his arms, caught between his back and the door. And the bastard is laughing, a deep rumble she can feel vibrating through her own chest with how she is all but wrapped around him. Before she can growl at him, he’s pushing forward into her, smirking when his pelvis grinds into her stomach and tugging his stupid fucking jacket the rest of the way off.

Regina is back on him before it hits the floor, tears at his henley and ignores the faint ripping sound because he’s got a fistful of her hair and he’s tugging it just right, angling her head back and licking at that spot below the hinge of her jaw, and she sends out thanks that none of her children are home to hear the wanton noise she lets out when he bites down.

Hands scrabble at his pants, fingers refusing to cooperate when his teeth find her earlobe and tug , and Jesus he’s fucking cheating. He knows what that does to her, knows it pushes her closer to a babbling mess and that is not what she wants right now; he can ruin her later. It’s her turn.

She narrows her eyes at him, pulls back and her lips find that tiny patch of skin beneath his adam's apple, sucks at it while her hands finally navigate his belt buckle, pull at the button fly of his jeans. Chuckles darkly when the hand against her skull tightens, his other grabbing at her silk tank top under the blazer now hanging off one shoulder. She has to take a second when his fingers find the zipper at the base of her spine, inching it down until her skirt is gaping around her waist and his hands find their way to her ass, squeezes and runs his fingertips around the lace edge of her brazilian panties. When they start to slip under she bites down on his neck, is half aware she is leaving a bruise, but then he groans out her name, voice gravelly and sandpaper rough, and she can’t stop the grin forming as she licks at him to soothe the sting.

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, and honestly she is no better, but she’ll be damned if he wins right now so she yanks his pants open and rubs him through the cotton of his boxers.

Fuck ,” he grits out, head dropping back against the door with a soft thunk , hips jerking forward into her hand and there is a part of her, a dark little part of her, that loves this. Loves that she can make him fall apart with barely anything. Loves that she has this effect on him. Thighs squeeze together, eyes slipping shut and her breath catching when she feels how slick she is. Mentally shaking herself, Regina lets go off him, ignores the slight whine and moves her hands to deal with his waist band, forces herself to ease it over his cock before shoving both his underwear and jeans down, down, down to mid thigh before she gives up.

Her hand finds him again, strokes once, twice, her grip firm the way she knows drives him a little bit crazy, before she stops and revels in the way his hips jerk forward like he’s trying to follow her fingers. When she lets out a broken laugh his eyes snap open to shoot a glare at her, brow furrowing when she steps back on unsteady legs. Pupils are blown black, he has a red tint around his mouth from her lipstick and his chest is stuttering and fuck how the hell has she gone three weeks with nothing more than an interrupted heavy petting session?

Grinning, Regina bites at her lip, slides her hands up to where her black blazer is resting haphazardly about her shoulders, pulls it off inch-by-inch and feels her pulse quicken even more when Robin’s eyes fixate on her hands. Watches her drop it to the floor before she’s pushing her skirt down, wriggles a tiny bit more than necessary just to see him smirk back at her. She has barely kicked it to the side before he’s pushing off of the door and grabbing at her hips, and zoning in on her lips once more.

One hand slips up the back of her top, rests firm and warm between her shoulder blades while the other slides under the lace covering her rear. She whimpers into his mouth when he grips her ass, and they are never going this long without sex ever again. She is so busy nipping at his tongue, licking at the seam of his mouth that when his fingers slip around the front, dip down and trace her from back to front, rub once at her clit before sliding back she can’t help but let out a little cry. Something he no doubt enjoys is his answering moan is anything to go by.

“Gods, you’re fucking soaked.”

“Uh-huh,” words won’t quite form and she would be embarrassed, she would, except he’s running his finger featherlight over her clit and she needs more dammit, and he fucking knows that. Ripping herself away from his sinfully skilled tongue, god she loves his tongue, she grabs his shirt, spins them around somehow without either of them tripping; he still has his jeans bunched part way down his thighs, and shoves him down onto the top step leading to their hallway.

Bites back a cheshire cat smile at the shock on his face as he stumbles a little, and as soon as he’s settled, socked feet on the floor below the stairs (when the hell did he take his shoes off?) she drags her now sodden underwear down her legs. She makes a show of it, bends forward so he gets a good look down her shirt, sees her barely there bra before kicking them away, eyes flashing when they land on his foot.

She doesn’t give him any time to grab them, sees the temptation, but she her patience is gone, and she all but throws herself onto his lap, wraps her arm around his neck and gasps out his name against his mouth as she fucking finally sinks down onto him.

“Shit,” Robin groans into her neck, presses wet, sucking kisses along the line of her throat when her head tips back as their hips meet.

Fu-uck,” she has missed this, she knew she was frustrated, but she is never letting it go this long again, hasn’t been without him in this way since that dark stretch of time believing he was gone forever. Everything feels heightened, nerve ends lighting up with just them breathing, panting against each other.

She almost sits there for a little longer, almosts wants to bask in having him inside her, stretching, filling all of her and she wants to savour it, but then she remembers Granny’s and something snaps. She growls when Robin’s hands snake around to her hips, knows he’s going to grip, try to guide, and normally she loves it. But something has set her off tonight, had her already on edge before walking through the diners door and she wants to make him fall apart underneath her.

Her hands wind around his neck, card through his hair sweetly for a second before she grips strands of his hair, pulls and says don’t you dare, thief, before she finds purchase on the step beneath him with her knees, her feet bracing on the one under that, and she rolls her hips into him.

Robin looks delighted at it all for a flash before his eyes are slipping shut and he’s groaning into her mouth, neither of them having the wherewithal to kiss properly. On her next grind, Regina clenches down around him, stutters out a high-pitched whimper.

“Fuck, love, you’re killing me,” he says, voice hoarse and damn if it doesn’t send a shiver down her spine.

“Good,” she breathes out on a laugh as she moves a little harder, lifts up more so he slides out halfway, before dropping back down and choking on a cry. Robin’s head is tilted back slightly, and she doesn't even try to fight the tempting swatch of sweat damp skin on show, shirt collar torn on one side along with the top two buttons missing, buries her face where his neck meets shoulder and bites down. Using him to muffle cries that she can feel building up even though she doesn’t have to, but she thinks the mark under his adam’s apple could be mistaken for a shadow too easily, and sucks another one along the vein.

Robin doesn't bother trying to muffle himself, moans when she picks up speed, swears everytime she slams back down onto him and whimpers when she clenches down around him. Her pace picks up slightly, breath catching in her throat when he jerks his hips, forces his cock deeper.

“Oh, oh - shit - oh god,” her voice breaks and she gives up on his neck for now. Curls her arms around him more, pulls herself in tighter, hisses when one hand grabs at her hip, fingers digging in every time she drops back into his lap. His other hand snakes up the front of her top, tugs one side of her bra down until he fingers find her nipple, pinches and rolls it as she cries out and moves her hips harder.

Every single nerve ending is on fire. Robin is all she is aware of, can taste the salt of his skin where her mouth rests open, whimpers falling freely now, against his collarbone, pine scented soap and woodsmoke filling her lungs. She drags herself up higher, til just his tip is in her, the head stretching her before rolling her hips forward. Regina is lost in it now, lost in him, in them. Pushes herself up away from his neck and leans back, arms locked about his shoulders for balance and when he thrusts up into her on her next downward stroke she sees stars.

Shit!” She can feel herself trembling against him, thighs quaking and the tell tale sign of cramp creeping up on her, but fuck she’s not stopping if it kills her.

“Gods, Regina , are - are you…” he trails off, tugs at her top until it hangs off of her shoulder enough to bare her breast, and ducks down to press her nipple between teeth and make her toes curl.

“Ye-yeah,” she nods, frantic, as her hands claw at his shoulders, pulls on the already ruined collar even more. She’s so close, so fucking close and neither one of them has gone near her clit. But he’s rubbing up against that magical fucking spot with every thrust now, feet braced for leverage as he meets every fucking roll of her hips. Has one hand at the small of her back to help keep the angle, the other under her top cupping the breast not busy being tormented oh-so-beautifully by his mouth and Regina is not going to hang on much longer.

Thankfully his strokes are becoming more uneven so when the hand on her back slips around to her front, thumb pressing into her clit, keeps firm pressure and lets her hips grind against it she flies apart. Feels her cells burst and reform, liquid fire spreading out from where he’s pulsating inside of her to the tips of her fingers and toes and she doesn’t even care if people outside can hear her scream before she folds into him.

She comes back down slowly, their hips still rolling together easing off gradually until they come to a stop. Her forehead is pressed against his collarbone, damp skin sticking together as they both try to fill lungs with oxygen.

Regina doesn’t get like this often, hasn’t felt the need to be in complete control of their sex life since they were sneaking around her castle and she could use it to keep parts of herself hidden. It feels too much like before, after she had her husband killed, before the curse broke and the idea of letting anyone control her that way ever again set her teeth on edge, made her want to burn the memories out of her. But she’s felt that with Robin, hasn’t felt the need to control every aspect of their time together since he found her falling apart on Henry’s twelfth birthday, and she likes it.

Likes being equal with him. Likes the give and take aspect more than she ever thought she would.

“Let’s… let’s never go that long again,” she says, limbs still shaking where she’s wrapped around him.

“I don’t know,” he laughs, “the er, the outcome was rather nice.” He grunts when she punches the shoulder she’s not resting on, though she knows he’s teasing because she can barely lift her arm let alone put any force behind it.


He presses a kiss to her hairline, breathes out another laugh, “As much as I want to stay here,” she whines, tightens her arms around him and scrunches her nose when he pats her thighs, “my arse is going numb, and I’m sure your knees are screaming. we should move.”

She whines again but he’s right, her knees are on fire in a not-so-great way, “Five more minutes; I can’t feel my legs yet.”

“Five more minutes,” he agrees. But he’s shifting again moments later, and she feels him slip out of her, a dribble of come following and he is right; they need to move. Grumbling she moves back a little and slips off of him to sprawl ungracefully onto the floor next to him, one leg still caught in his lap and decides that’s far enough. Everything from the waist down is still tingling and she’s not walking anywhere just yet.

Robin grins down at her, “Comfortable?”

“Mhmm,” she closes her eyes, not caring that she’s laying on the floor in her hallway, half naked and fucked out. She feels Robin lay down next to her, smiles when his hand reaches down to rub at the leg still thrown across his lap.

“Reckon we can get Emma and Killian to watch the other two more often?”

“Maybe,” she whispers, her voice still scratchy. She thinks of her younger two and huffs out a laugh, “Maybe not, we should have started them on just Roland… eased them into all three slowly.” She’s chuckling by the time she finished speaking, can imagine Livie causing panic and mayhem when she vanishes from sight, both her and brother hyperactive and Henry probably egging them on before giving in and helping to wrangle them.

“Eh, throw them in at the deep end; they’re the ones wanting to ‘practice’ having more than Henry for a night.” He laughs with her, knows full well that their kids are anything but angels with the sugar they’ve no doubt been allowed to consume. “Wonder how many times Liv played hide and seek without telling them?”

Regina shakes her head, remember the sheer panic they’d felt the first time she hid from them, “so many new places to crawl into over there.”

Robin hums in agreement, sighs and then sits up and moves her leg off of his lap. She blinks her eyes open to see him kicking his jeans off and his boxers back up before standing and cracking his back.

“Hey, no, come back,” she makes a half-hearted attempt to lift her arms to reach for him, but he just shakes his head a her, smirks down at where she’s still collapsed against the hardwood floorboards.

“I’m getting a drink,” he says before moving to the kitchen. He’s only gone for a few seconds before a damp towel is splatting onto the arm she has spread out to her side, leaving it where it landed when it flopped back down as he left the hall, “You might need that, milady.”

“Throwing things at your Queen is a good way to get killed!” she shouts after him, but sits up to wipe between her legs anyway, makes sure to get the small puddle on the floor beneath her too as Robin’s laugh reaches her ears from the kitchen.

She sits up further, rolls her neck and shoulders til they let out a satisfying crack and stretches out her legs as she takes stock of herself, can’t help but grin at the state she is in. Her forest green silk tank top is hanging off of her right shoulder, exposing a breast, her bra is tugged under them at an awkward angle, Robin being too impatient to undo it. Her lacey underwear sit a few feet away, skirt by the door with her blazer and one heel lies on it’s side at the bottom step, the other still on her foot. She coughs out a laugh as she kicks her foot until the stupid thing falls off, clatters to the floor next to it’s twin.

She’s a mess.

She is a mess and cannot find it in her to care. She also cannot find it in her to stand so she uses magic. Lands on the couch, and wriggles around until she’s lying down, head propped up on one of the cushions, situated so she can see Robin when he comes back.

When she hears him start to move her way, she grins, tugs her top off and the bra follows not long after and she throws the top out into the hall. Her bra lands in the doorway, creates a trail of her clothing that he follows with a smirk, jaw clenching and blowing out a breath through his nose when he spots her, one leg hanging off the side of the couch, the other bent against the back cushions. One hand traces circles around her breast, closer and closer to the tip, while the other is between her thighs, spreading the wetness still clinging to her entrance up to her clit when she sees him.

He freezes, a glass of water in each hand, swallows, eyes fixed to the hand toying with her clit, breathes out harshly when she moves down for a moment to slide two fingers into herself before moving back up to her clit. She keeps her eyes locked on him, watches as his jaw ticks when she tips her ass up to get a better angle, whimpers and presses down harder. Her eyes flick down to his boxers, smirking when she sees them starting to tent; he’s not there yet, not like she is, and will need a little longer but that doesn’t mean she can’t have some fun while she waits.

“I did te-ell you to come back,” she reasons, voice catching slightly when her fingers slip back inside.

Robin snaps back to attention at that, eyes darkening as they land on hers, he moves at her next sharp whimper, puts their drinks on the coffee table, yanks his ruined beyond repair henley off as he kneels between her spread legs.

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”

She brushes off the way her heart clenches at that, locks her gaze with his and forces her smile to turn cheeky, wants him to forget the guilt that flashed across his face when he said that.

“But what a way to go,” she jokes.

He’s hovering over her, a hairs breadth away from touching, noses bumping together and the back of her hand keeps grazing against his gradually hardening cock where she doesn’t stop her fingers movement. He ducks down to kiss her when she moans but she stops him, presses the fingers that were just inside her against his lips.

If possible his eyes blacken even more, the blue barely visible as he bites at her wet fingertips before pulling her index and middle finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around them. When he pulls back, teeth grazing the underneath of them and sending shivers along her spine his grin has turned wolfish.

“Minx,” he says, presses another sucking kiss to her fingertips and when she uses the hand resting against his lips to press him down he goes oh so willingly. Knees drop to the carpet by the edge of the couch, not having quite enough room for both of them to lie down, tugs at her legs until she’s twisted slightly, head still on the cushion, but lower body hanging off of the seat. She shifts a little, presses the foot furthest from the couch flat to the floor and drapes her other leg over his shoulder, sighs when he turns to presses damp, teasing kisses along her inner thighs.

Fuck , she loves it when he does this, loves when he savours her, loves that he is always eager to go down on her. When he finally presses an open mouthed kiss to her clit her eyes shut with a sigh, one hand snaking down to tangle in his hair, just resting for the time being. He groans into her and she can feel it vibrate all the way down to her toes, rolls her hips further into his face and is rewarded when he kisses his way down to her entrance, dips his tongue inside and licks his way back to her clit.

There is no way she can keep quiet while he does this, normally relies on magic to soundproof their room, but the kids are all out and she’s already screamed once.


He’s teasing her again, dancing the tip of his tongue over her clit once, twice, each time feather light, before moving to nip at her lips, lick at the wetness constantly gathering at her entrance before moving back to start the cycle again. She lets him for a little while, whimpers and moans at every pass of her clit, every flick of his tongue pulling at the still sensitive rim of her hole, but she needs more and he is enjoying himself far too much.

Tightening her grip on his hair to get his attention she forces out the word “F-fingers,” and smirks up at the ceiling when he chuckles darkly into her, presses one thick, perfect finger inside and says as you wish, milady.

And because she can’t resist, she tugs sharp at his hair and says, “It’s Your Majesty, thief.”

He looks up at her then, and everything burns when his blown-black eyes lock onto hers, that stupid fuckihng smug smirk of his firmly in place, “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he mocks before diving back in.

She gives up all pretense of staying coherent after that, throws her head back and cries out when he slips a second then third finger inside, curls them forward and drags them out before going back all over over. His mouth never leaves her clit for long, alternates between butterfly kisses, firm licks and deep sucking pulls that have her losing her god damn mind. Regina isn’t even capable of forming complete words right now, just pulls tighter at his hair, her other hand tangled and tugging at her own, hips jerking against him as nonsense falls from her lips punctuated with sharp cries, whimpers, curses, and gasps.

“O-oh fu- Ro bin, haaah,” she’s coming apart at the seams, breaking into a million little pieces and being glued back together all at once. There is a brief moment where she worries about yanking out his hair when she presses his mouth against her harder, digs her heel into his back to help, but all he does is groan and redouble his already fucking marvellous efforts.

His fingers are constantly rubbing up against that wonderful little place inside, and her heart is racing, sending blood and magic and life through her veins, and she thinks if she were to curse the world in freezing again, she’d do it now.

“I, I’m, fuck Robin!” He does that evil little trick, swirls the tip of tongue around her clit, flicks under it before sucking hard and rubbing that spot inside over, and over, and over in tight, firm circles. The stars implode as she cries out, body trembling violently and her heart might stop for a second or two. She definitely loses sense of time, because by the time she’s back down on Earth, Robin has shifted her back onto the couch properly. His fingers drift up and down her torso, as he lies beside her, cock now solid and pressing into her thigh as she tries in vain to breathe normally.

“I love you,” he presses the words into the salted skin of her clavicle, chases it with kisses along the line of her shoulder.

“Love you, too,” she manages to force out, her lungs still fighting to draw enough breath into them as she trembles beside him.

He waits until she’s calmed down, until she is back in her head completely, body zinging with aftershocks still but not so far gone as she was, his fingers keep tracing up and down the length of her.

“So,” she can feel the grin spreading against her skin, “what room will round three be in?”

Regina laughs, full bodied and delighted, bites her lip and turns her head to look at him, eyes wide with mock-innocence before she’s transporting them to the dining room, her back on the table with feet resting on the edge, and Robin standing between her legs.

Robin rolls his eyes at her, swats playfully at the side of her ass, but he can’t stop his eyes from raking over her when she raises her arms above her head, spreads herself out for him even more.

“You’re incorrigible, woman.”

“And what, my dear outlaw, are you planning to do about that?”


They don’t get much sleep, wake up tangled together in their bedsheets, sticky and sore and satisfied. Robin follows her into the shower, makes it twice as long and leaves them rushing to actually get clean when the water starts to run cool. But she can’t wipe the smile off of her face, and when he gets dressed and can’t work out a way to hide the bruise on the side of his neck (the one under his adam’s apple hidden by shadow and stubble) she just smiles wider at him.

Hook calls them and says they’d taken the kids to the park in the morning to try and wear them out a little, so they arrange to pick them up from Granny’s after all getting lunch. Robin squeezes her thigh under the table and rolls his eyes at her, before he’s reaching over to stop Roland spilling his drink as he bounces up to them. Hook and Emma fall into the booth opposite them looking dead on their feet, Henry sliding in beside them laughing, and Olivia is clambering into her lap babbling away.

And if Regina acts a little smug, is a little freer with her touching Robin, bites her lip when she catches the girl from last night behind the counter blushing, that’s neither here nor there.