Chapter Text
Robin draws in a breath and slowly exhales it, his eyes closing as he says a silent prayer for patience. Christmas shopping was never something he found enjoyable. He hated the lines and the crowds, the loud music and excessively decorated stores, and the pushy sales people who followed him around, recommending items he didn't want or need. For years, he'd tried in vain to avoid it and for the most part, he'd been successful; but today, his luck had run out and not only was he Christmas Shopping the day before Christmas Eve, he was Christmas shopping with his ex-wife.
Or almost ex-wife.
The papers hadn't been signed. But that was just a technicality.
Robin leans against the mall's facade, watching as Regina walks toward him—his eyes roll at the realization that she's wearing heels.
"You're late."
"There was traffic. The exit ramp was backed up for at least a mile."
"Imagine that, traffic leading up to the mall the day before Christmas Eve."
Regina sighs. "Well, we wouldn't be here if you—"
"Explain to me how this is my fault," he interjects, gesturing toward the mall. "You know I hate shopping. I'd rather be doing anything else right now."
"Exactly Robin. Exactly."
He blinks and looks away, exasperated. Lately, it seemed all of their conversations went this way—coded accusations that only succeeded in irritating them both.
"If you had actually consulted the list—"
Robin looks pointedly back at her. "How could I have done that if you didn't give it to me?"
"Just because you didn't see it—"
"You left it on the fridge, next to the take out menus that have been clipped up there since Reagan was in office."
Regina's brow arches. "It's not my fault you haven't cleaned in a decade."
Robin's jaw tightens. "Let's just get this over with, okay?"
Regina mumbles something under her breath as she walks past him that he doesn't quite catch, but is nonetheless annoyed by—but he decides to let it go, instead fishing his sons' Christmas list out of his pocket as he follows her inside.
"Alright," he murmurs, "How do you want to do this?"
"What do you mean? It's shopping, Robin. There's only one way to do it."
Robin glares. "Do we want to divide and conquer or—"
"No."
"Why not? Seems the fastest—"
"You don't know what I already got them," she cuts in, her hands on her hips as her eyebrow once more infuriatingly arches. "So, unless you want to spend the day after Christmas right back here returning duplicate gifts—"
"We both had the same list?"
"Yes."
His eyes narrow as he stares down at the list, examining it before looking back up at Regina. "That… doesn't make sense. With one list between the two of us we were always going to run the risk of duplicate gifts."
"It's highlighted, Robin."
"I can see that."
"My gifts are in yellow, yours are in orange."
For a moment, he just stares down at the list, his jaw tightening and his cheeks flushing beneath his beard. Her explanation does make more sense, and now that he's actually looking at it, he can't see how his explanation made any sense at all. "Oh… I, uh… I thought one color was Henry and the other was Roland."
Her brow furrows and she's looking at him as if he were a complete idiot. "So you thought one of our kids was getting two Skip-Its and the other kid needed two pairs of the same pajamas but in different sizes?"
His eyes sink closed. "Apparently so."
"And this is why you need me," Regina says, sighing as she takes the list from him. "Come on, let's get this over with."
Robin follows behind her, allowing her to lead him to one of the department stores at the other end of the mall. Despite the fact that she's in heels, she moves quickly through the crowded store, taking shortcuts and weaving around displays. On more than one occasion, he nearly loses her.
Finally, they find themselves in the boys' clothing department.
"Alright, pajamas… there's got to be something here."
Robin grimaces at the messy and picked over display in front of them, plucking up a toddler-sized flannel shirt and a pair of pajama pants that would easily fit a teenager. "Do they have to match?"
Regina stares at him, her eyes wide—she looks hurt, and instantly he regrets the thoughtless question.
Christmas pajamas have been a tradition in their family since Henry's first Christmas, and had evolved over the years. It'd started by chance when Regina's father brought Henry a footed reindeer onesie on Christmas Eve. As soon as he left, Regina changed their five-month old son into the pajamas and propped him up in front of the tree. She took nearly an entire roll of photos—Henry sitting on top of a wrapped box, Henry holding an ornament, Henry chewing on the foot of a stocking embroidered with his name.
She'd developed the role that night, and the one of Henry and his stocking was their favorite. The following Christmas Robin had gotten her a holiday-themed frame with two openings—one for the first year, and one for the next. Then, Roland came along the next year and Regina started buying matching pajamas, and her Christmas Eve photo shoots became an annual thing.
After taking the photos, they'd all cuddle up on the couch, drink hot chocolate and eat Christmas cookies as they watched a Christmas movie.
Or at least, that's what they used to do.
This was the first year Regina wouldn't be spending Christmas with the boys, and the first year, she wouldn't be taking that Christmas photo. He'd made a mental note to do it for her, he'd even taken the boys to pick out a frame for it.
"Regina, I didn't mean…"
"It's fine," she snaps, pushing her hand through the pile of pajamas. "Just… find something, okay? I'm going to go see if there's another display somewhere around here."
His eyes sink close and his head falls back as she walks away—he feels like an absolute ass.
He spends the next fifteen minutes rifling through the pajama display, finally finding similar bottoms—blue and red plaid in Henry's size, green and white plaid in Roland's. But there are no matching tops in their sizes. Biting down on his lip, he looks around, and simply by chance, a display of plain long-sleeved t-shirts catches his eye—and he feels a rush of adrenaline as he spots stacks of both red and green shirts. Quickly, he makes his way over and plucks up a blue one for Henry and a green one for Roland—then, for good measure, he selects two pairs of socks, adorned with snowmen wearing red, blue and green scarves.
A sense of triumph washes over him, followed by relief as he meanders around the store until he finds Regina, standing in the little girls section, looking lost and disappointed.
She looks up, frowning. "Do you think they'd humor me and wear nightgowns?"
A little chuckle bubbles out of him as he pictures his sons wearing the frilly nightgowns on the rack in front of Regina. "Honestly, if you let them lick the beaters the next time you make brownies, I think they could be convinced."
"They'll get salmonella," she sighs, looking back to the nightgowns.
"Then I guess it's a good thing I found some pajamas."
Regina turns to face him, her eyes wide—and as a slow smile tugs up at the corners of her mouth, he feels that sense of triumph return. "They're, uh… they're not identical, but—"
"They match."
"And they're in their favorite colors."
"They're perfect," she says, smiling as she touches her fingers to the socks. "Absolutely perfect."
He feels a grin forming on his lips, but a pang of guilt stabs at his core. "I, uh… I got a frame this year, just like always…" His voice trails off as Regina looks up, her smile fading. "I know I've already screwed up Christmas—"
"You haven't, actually," she interjects.
"I did," he tells her, sighing—it's not just about messing up the gift lists, it's far more complex than that, but he doesn't know how to voice it nor is it a conversation to have in the middle of a packed department store. "Anyway, I know it's not the same, but you'll have your picture."
Her eyes fall back to the pajamas. "Thanks," she murmurs, taking a breath as she pulls the list from her pocket. "I, uh… I think there are a few more things we can get here, and then we'll head back into the mall."
Robin nods, turning as she walks back to the boys section, guilt still stabbing at his core.
Together, they wander around the boys section, picking up some clothes for both boys. Regina gets the practical things—jeans, socks and thermal underwear—and he collects a few graphic t-shirts and sweatshirts, his favorite being the Sonic the Hedgehog tees. They check out and he takes the bags, and for the first time in a long time, they seem to be getting along.
They make their way to KB Toys for the Pokémon cards Henry wanted. They find the cards easily and select a few Hot Wheels for Roland, then set out looking for a board game that both boys would enjoy and didn't already have.
"What about these?"
Regina's brow furrows. "That's not a board game."
Robin looks at her, reaching for a package of Beast Wars action figures. "I know. It's so much better."
Regina laughs as he leans up on the tips of his toes, checking the top shelf to see if there are other versions. "Neither Henry nor Roland asked for action figures."
"They're not just action figures, Regina. Look at how cool these guys are!"
Her eyes widen a little. "Regardless of how cool you think—"
"Oh, I don't think it. I know it."
Again, she just stares for a moment. "They're for you, aren't they?" she says, placing her hand on her hip. "You want those."
"Not at all. Will I enjoy them, sure. But I also enjoy playing Mouse Trap and checkers and—"
"Robin, they asked for transformers once, years ago, and never again."
"They still play with them. They're classics."
Regina shakes her head. "You still play with them."
"I play with them when I play with Henry and Roland."
"You mean when they watch you play with their transformers?"
"It's a bonding experience."
"If you say so," she sighs, turning and reaching for a kids chemistry set on the opposite shelf. "I'm going to get this. I don't see any games, but—"
"Oh, and you're telling me that isn't for you?"
"Science is Henry's best subject."
A grin tugs up at the corner of his mouth as her shoulders straighten and her chin tips up. "Right. In school."
"I don't see the point you're trying to make."
"School work isn't fun."
"Chemistry is loads of fun."
Laughing softly, he takes the chemistry set from her. "Fine. You'll get them this and I'll get them these cool transformers. We'll see which they like better."
Regina's eyes roll. "One lets them create their own snowballs and slimes, the other is a plastic bee that turns into a robot that doesn't actually do anything. This is hardly going to be a contest."
Robin scowls and stands up a little straighter as they get into line. "It's a scorpion."
Regina just blinks. "I, um… I'm going to check out the dollar bins and see if there's anything else we can put in their stockings."
Robin shrugs and watches her go, grinning as she plucks up a little slinky, watching as she transfers it from one palm to the other, giggling softly to herself. A smile pulls onto his lips as he watches her…
They spend the next few hours wandering from store to store—and amazingly, they find most of what's left on the list. They get books at B. Daltons, hand-held electronic games at Radio Shack, and a whole slew of Lion King, Hercules, and Mouse Detective toys, plushies and games at the Disney store. Then, finally, they make their last stop at a frozen yogurt shop, getting a gift card for each of the boys.
Robin frowns as he crosses the last item off the list.
"Well, it looks like we're done," he says, looking up, feigning a smile.
"Yeah. Looks like it."
"That wasn't so bad."
A wry little laugh escapes Regina. "Oh? Mr. Anti-Capitalism enjoyed shopping?"
"Well, you know, I like experiences over—"
"And shopping with me was a worthwhile experience? Once upon a time that would've been quite a win for me."
His eyes roll, but nonetheless, he smiles. "Who'd have thought, huh?"
For a moment, they both just stand there, a bit awkwardly in the middle of the crowd—at this point, there's no reason they shouldn't part ways, but no part of him wants to do that. Throughout the afternoon, there were multiple instances where he'd privately wondered why they'd ever wanted to part ways. In fact, he'd been wondering that for months now.
"So, um… are you hungry?"
Regina looks surprised. "I could eat."
"There's a little diner just down the road," he says, gesturing toward the parking lot. "Maybe we could split a burger and fries or something?"
"That, um… that actually sounds pretty fantastic."
Grinning, he shifts the bags he's holding into one hand and offers her his arm, his stomach fluttering. "Shall we, then?"
She hesitates momentarily before nodding, and slipping her arm through his. He feels a little jolt of something—and as they make their way to the parking lot, from the corner of his eye, he sees her blushing and wonders if she still feels the spark, too.