Outlaw Queen Shorts

Fairytale of New York

Authors Note:
Here is a winter-y drabble because I was listening to Christmas songs before and got all feelsy thinking about Robin and Regina in the snow *sighs happily*
Anyway, enjoy! And Merry Christmas!

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"We kissed on the corner then danced through the night..."

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She loves this time of year. The crisp freshness of the air. The scarves and hats, long coats and fur lined gloves. The way street lamp's orange light bounces off snow blanketing the ground. Robin's hand firmly locked with hers.

He holds onto her fingers as she pulls away from him, only to return back to his arms after spinning across the icy flagstones. She's laughing, the sound so contagious he can't help but join in. With Regina, he always wants to join in.

Her palms are flat against his chest and his arms wrap around her, enveloping her into the warmth of his jacket, his breath leaving his lips in a puff of white vapour and coasting over her ear. She sways them side to side, moving to the song playing in her mind.

The drinks they'd had in the bar have given them both a buzz, not enough so they won't remember this, not quite, but enough that Robin dips his forehead to hers in the hopes he can transfer the music into his own head. Not that it matters in the end though, because she pulls further away again, grasps both of his hands, and he begins belting out the chorus of All I Want For Christmas into the air between them - the last song they'd heard before calling it a night - trying and failing to hit the high note Mariah Carey makes seem so easy. Regina snorts a laugh, bending over double with her arms clenching her stomach and Robin mirrors, bracing his palms on his knees.

Regina manages to compose herself enough to cling onto a lamp post and simply admire the sight of Robin straightening up, gazing at the falling flurries of snow, some of the flakes getting caught in his hair and on the shoulders of his jacket.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He says, as much to himself as to Regina. She hums her agreement, not taking her eyes off him as he stares at the inky sky above them, littered with silver stars. She follows his gaze and in her tipsy mind, it looks almost as if the snowflakes are stars floating down to earth. Almost.

Robin's hand smooths down her sleeve. He walked over to her while she'd been captivated by the view and stands to her right now, pressing a kiss to her temple and snaking an arm round her back. She leans into him, comforted by the way his arms seem perfectly moulded to hold her. A sigh leaves her lips, a chuckle his, before he's moving and then cupping her cheek, his hand cold because he'd forgotten his gloves (again). She doesn't mind though; his icy fingertips against her skin are the last thing on her mind when his lips meet hers in the softest of kisses.

He tastes like whisky, like those nuts they have in little bowls on the tables in the bar.
Like Robin.
Like home.

As the snow begins to fall with less grace and more force, the pair of them stand closer. Robin's fingers lace with the slowly dampening locks of her hair and the wind swirls flurries around them like they're in a snow globe.

"Beautiful." He says again when they part, a lazy grin playing on his lips, his eyes trying to focus on her face despite the alcohol gently pulling him further and further away from the world. The hazy edges of his vision and the pooling light from the moon mixed with the artificial glare of the street lamp above them makes Regina look like she's glowing.

"Let's go inside," she pulls his arm and he follows, happily guided by the woman who clearly isn't as numb to the temperature as he is. It must be way below freezing, but he hadn't noticed, too consumed with her to register the paleness of his own hands. It's worth it though. He smiles to himself, thinking how much better a kiss in the snow is compared to a kiss in the rain. He doesn't get chance to tell her - as they step into the lobby of her apartment building, her hands are on his chest and her mouth finds his again - but he will. In the morning, when their legs are tangled and their memories foggy around the edges but still for the most part fully formed. He'll tell her.