Outlaw Queen Shorts

Remember Summer?

Authors note:
Another missing year fic because that's the type of mood I'm in. This is from a sentence prompt I got on tumblr: "it's not my fault"
Hope you like it, and as always all comments/votes are much appreciated!

The pleasantness of spring, with it's subtle breezes and just-warm-enough sun coating everything in a glaze of honeyed light, had come and gone. It was now the height of summer, far enough in that the days seemed to stretch on forever (even on the darkest of summer nights, the sky was like watered down ink, indigo and splotchy, lacking the substance of winter's pitch black) with no foreseeable end to the heat. Tempers flared easily and tantrums in the council room had become a frequent occurrence.

Robin held an arrow tip in his hands, nimble fingers examining the blunted edge from weeks of hunting with no repairs. He lifted his dagger and began to sharpen, metal dragging against metal, the action second-nature, relaxing. Sweat was already gathering at the nape of his neck; the sun wasn't even poking fully above the mountains yet but humidity pressed down with an almost suffocating weight. There was no rustle in the trees because the thick air kept everything still, and while he usually loved summer, Robin felt like this year something was...off.

Twigs crunched underfoot behind him, the noise rousing him out of his trance as he whipped round, eyes alert and scanning the forest. Her skirts came into view first, crimson red like a beacon against the browns and khakis of the tree bark, before those dark eyes met with his and he had to keep his lips from turning up at the corners for the millionth time at her beauty.

At closer inspection, she did not look in the flirting mood one bit. Whether she'd call it flirting was another matter, but their back and forth banter would always end with wry smiles, eyes narrowed seductively, and on the rarest of occasions, a heated kiss behind a pillar or in an empty room that under no circumstances would be spoken of afterward. At least not when other people were around.

But no, today, the queen's perfect brow was pinched in the middle, her plump lips pursed in a scowl that set her eyes ablaze.

"Mil–"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Her venom filled words punctured the air between them before he even stammered a greeting.

"What? I'm sharpening arrows." He offered, trying to be the calm for both of them.

"I see that." She snapped, sneering at the tip he held lightly in his fingers before stalking over to him until they were less than a foot apart. He was taller than her, not by much when her heels were involved, but he was taller and so she had to look through her lashes up at him. She looked so angry it was almost comical. He would have laughed had he not seen the capabilities of her fireballs first hand. "Why are you and your men not on guard?"

"It's not our turn."

"Bullshit!" Gods, she was angry. "You and your band of outlaws are treading a thin line. I don't have to keep you here. I don't have to offer you shelter. All I've ever asked in return is for you to pull your goddamn weight."

"And we appreciate everything you've done for us." Calm. He just had to stay calm and collected, and deal with this sensibly. "But it's not my fault if no one informs us of our duties."

Her nostrils flared. Her eyes danced so brightly it looked like flames were igniting in her soul. And then she turned on her heel, storming back off through the forest as an actual growl of frustration left her lips.

Robin dropped his arrow tip - the muted silver blending in with the soil as it hit the ground - his arm reaching out for her shoulder instinctively as he caught up to her in a few steps. She wouldn't turn to him, but she didn't shake him off, so he rounded on her, stepping onto lower ground so his eyes were more or less level with hers. There were two tracks running down her cheeks, swiped away ferociously with the back of her hand, but she wasn't fast enough - he saw them and his stomach dropped.

"Regina,"

"Don't." She held up a hand, her eyes falling closed for a fraction of a second, long enough for her to piece herself back together and stitch up the fragments of whatever just made her fall apart.

"Please," he coaxed, thumbs running down the satin material covering her arms - she must be sweltering, he thought, but saved that comment for later, when he'd dealt with this - "Tell me."

Her shoulders sagged slightly and her lower lip quivered, but she composed herself again and stepped out of his grasp. "Just please get your men together quickly and send them on a patrol of the western gate."

His protests fell of deaf ears, the purple smoke engulfing her and whisking her away like it so often did; her weapon against the outside world, her safety blanket when someone tread too far into the realms of caring.

He wouldn't push her, he'd wait until she was ready to tell him. But life carried on. Flying monkeys were fought and wicked sisters plotted against, and Regina's moment of weakness was forgotten.

---

It was only years later, when the forces of evil had settled down enough for things to return to normal, that Robin understood her outburst in the forest. They were all at Granny's - Regina, Roland and Henry, the Charmings, Emma and Hook - in the height of summer. The air was thick, but not in an overbearing way. In a way that was reminiscent of a life left behind, but not forgotten. It was Henry's birthday, and the laughter of their mish-mash family filled the room.

He realized suddenly, like waking up and remembering a vivid dream. Robin reached out across the table and squeezed Regina's hand, linking their fingers and smiling at her with a knowing look, only slightly aware that she didn't know. She tilted her head at him, wondering, and squeezed back, her eyes asking what? but he shook his head. He'd tell her later, when she's wrapped in his arms and he can pepper her neck and collar bone in kisses, content with the knowledge that their future would be so much brighter than their past.