After last nights episode, I couldn't resist. Heart eyes all around.
A/N: Okay, so Regina and Robin dancing has given me all kinds of feels, and I'm sure that I'll never recover. This is a little fic I wrote in honor of their first dance and also just because I couldn't resist. Heart eyes all around.
Robin has never seen her in pink before.
He's seen her in plenty of other colors. Black. Red. Blue. Purple. Gray. Regina prefers rich, dark colors, he's come to find; they fill up her closet, both in Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest.
He never thought he would see her in pink, either. Robin is almost certain she doesn't own anything in that particular rosy hue, not even her undergarments. The one and only time he'd been able to strip her down, pull away every layer and worshiping every inch of skin revealed until she was squirming in his arms, she had been wearing a deep crimson. Robin can remember the exact shade, and he won't soon forget it. He had proceeded to map out every dip and curve of her body after he had removed those last lacy obstacles. He had also helped her find them the next morning after their wandering hands and unyielding lips led them to bed once more, Robin already starved for her again.
So when he sees her at the top of the staircase, dressed in flowing pink and silver, descending into a crowd who believes her to be someone she is not, he's a bit surprised. It only lasts a moment, though, because Gods he has missed her, and he is constantly realizing how happy he is to be back in her life. Tonight she shines with a lightness and beauty like the sun, and Robin is blinded by it. He never wants to spend another day apart from her, and, if the fates are kind, he will never have to.
Regina reaches the bottom of the stairs and takes his hand. He hears the music start, and couples all around them hurriedly gather, a sea of movement circling them as the dance begins.
"Stunning," Robin says, one hand settling at her hip while the other seeks hers. "I quite like you in pink, milady."
She smiles at him, a blush rising to her cheeks as they begin to move.
"Don't get used to it."
Together they are a beautiful piece coloring the mosaic that billows all around them, but he can't tear his gaze from hers. Robin twirls her, the dress flaring out at the bottom, and when he pulls her back for a kiss the material is soft under his fingers as he holds her close.
As they sway, lips pressed together, Robin thinks that he rather likes pink; and even if she never wears it again, he will always remember the color she wears tonight.