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Being sick is a nightmare, Regina Mills has decided.
And unfortunately for her, her magic isn’t helping her recover like it usually does – it seems to be fried, at least for the time being. She tries her very best to muster it, but none of it holds up long enough to do anything. The flames of her fireballs fade within seconds, and the frustration of it has her scowling soon enough.
Worse than that, Robin is treating her as if she’s made of glass. He’s waited on her hand and foot for anything she might need, and it does no good to shoo him away. He comes back every hour just to see if she’s doing okay.
It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate it. Truly, she does. It’s just that she can handle this herself. She doesn’t need anyone coddling her, certainly.
So here she sits on her bed, a frown seeming to permanently place itself on her face while her nose refuses to cooperate with a simple breathing method and her throat continually swallows invisible glass. By the time Robin comes by with chicken soup, she doesn’t have much fight left.
She has enough to insist she doesn’t need anything, however. “I’ll have my magic back soon enough.”
“And until then, you will let me take care of you,” he replies, and even though he’s smiling, there’s something in his voice that suggests he won’t take no for an answer.
As if to prove his point, she starts coughing until her chest feels like she’s ingested fire. Of course, being Robin, he rubs her back soothingly and gives her a sympathetic smile. It’s a little bit infuriating but mostly very sweet, so she can’t really be angry.
Still. She doesn’t need the damn soup. “I’ll be okay, Robin.”
This time, he narrows his eyes at her and his face turns stern. “Alright, then. Prove it.”
“I will,” she almost growls. She eats it as quickly as possible before putting the bowl on her bedside table. “See? I’m fine.”
He looks at her skeptically, but he nods anyway. “Good. Now I just need you to drink this, and I’ll leave you be.”
He pulls out a small blue bottle from his jacket. NyQuil.
“It tastes so awful,” she groans.
She’s well aware that she’s acting more like a petulant child than a former Evil Queen, but she feels useless.
“I know. But it’ll help you sleep, and that’s what you need right now,” he says, pouring her a cup and offering it to her. She swallows it down in one gulp and cringes at the strong aftertaste.
He tells her that he’ll be right back, leaving for only a minute before he returns with a large glass of water and hands it to her. “There you go. That should help the taste fade.”
There it is. That subtle kindness that always makes her chest ache with fondness. She drains half the glass before setting it on her bedside table.
He tells her that he’s going to stick to his promise to leave, but her hand reaches to lace her fingers through his before he has the chance. She tugs his hand toward the bed and he follows, sitting on the bed carefully.
“I want you to stay,” she admits softly.
“Ah,” he hums. “What changed your mind?”
“Nothing. I always want you around,” she smiles when she sees his thumb start to rub soft circles onto her hand. “I just feel like a burden.”
He frowns, and she can tell that what she said troubles him.
“You could never, ever be a burden.”
“Even when I’m a complete mess?”
“Yes. Though from my point of view, you still look quite lovely,” he compliments, grinning and leaning in to kiss her. She quickly ducks and pushes lightly at his chest.
“Robin! I’ll get you sick!” She squeals, but she’s giggling and she’s in a better mood than she’s ever been in, sick or not. He always has that effect on her.
“I don’t particularly care,” he says. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll nurse me back to health.”
Well, that was all she really needed to be convinced. “Hmm. That I will.”
He steals a kiss, then – just a quick peck, but it makes her smile.
When he pulls away, she looks down at her hands and shifts uncomfortably.
“What is it?” He asks. As usual, he’s attentive. She tries to avoid his eyes.
“I don’t suppose… you’d want to… cuddle?” The words sound very odd coming out of her mouth. It’s silly, honestly. They’ve been through practically everything together, and it’s not as if they haven’t cuddled before. But intimacy is still so new, and she’s never asked before.
He doesn’t reply. He takes off his jacket and shoes slowly before making his way underneath the covers. He opens his arms in invitation. “I’m ready whenever you are, darling.”
She practically jumps into his arms, burying her face into his chest as he wraps his arms around her. She breathes him in and closes her eyes, wondering if she’s ever been this content. If she’s ever been this loved.
She listens to the steady beat of his heart and thinks that all the pixie dust in the world could not have predicted this kind of peace.