A/N: For OQ Prompt Party. #173 Robin gets drunk and tells John he thinks he's falling in love with the evil queen

What is it about those scowls that causes heat to burn in his belly, spreading out through his limbs, singing in his veins?

It makes absolutely no bloody sense. The woman has shown not an ounce of anything but annoyance and contempt toward him since the moment their paths first crossed. In fact, as their acquaintance has grown, as he and his men have begun working with the Queen and Prince and Princess to defeat the Wicked Witch, the hostility has only worsened.

Perhaps it's because Robin can see beneath the haughty mask she portrays to the world. Sees the hurt and broken woman who is grieving her son more than any mother should ever have to. He has witnessed her various moments of what Regina would surely consider weakness (though Robin merely thinks of as strength) over the course of the last several months, however unintentionally. She would never admit to it, of course, and only grows more fearsome with each one.

Just this afternoon when they'd ended up on patrol together, she'd threatened him with a fireball to the face, followed by a warning that she'd rip his heart from his chest if he didn't shut his peasant mouth when he'd commented that she'd looked a bit tired and inquired as to whether or not she was sleeping well enough. He knows she'd meant to intimidate him with her empty threats. Only they are just that. Empty.

Robin doesn't fear her.

Doesn't believe he ever could. Evil Queen she may have been, but Robin has seen Regina within that woman and that is the person that fascinates him. Something about her touches him.

Maybe that's it, the reason that she pushes him away so insistently. This… pull he feels toward her. It's a fierce and persistent tugging on his heart that he doesn't understand in the slightest. But it's there and it's strong. Surely she must feel it, too. The depth of the confusing emotions can't all be one sided. And despite the barbs and insults she throws his way, Robin wants her.

Even now, as she scowls at him from across the dining hall, tossing repulsed glances his way in between bits of conversation with Snow White, Robin can only think of what her lips might taste like. How much he would like to catch her in a quiet moment and press his lips over her skin, to skim his hands over those tempting dips and curves that haunt his dreams.

Still their interaction earlier has him a bit unsettled, worry and confusion swirling within his gut. It's how he's found himself here, drowning what he can of his feelings in tankard after tankard of ale. Not the most responsible of ways to spend the evening, especially with a wicked witch on the loose, intent on ruining their happy endings, but he's already done his duty for the day. He has nothing but his son to worry over and Roland is safely tucked away in bed for the evening. Sweet and content in dreamland.

It leaves far too much time for his thoughts. There must be a way he can get through to her. To sneak his way, like the thief she loves reminding him that he is, around those towering walls that protect her heart. Robin wants nothing more than to soothe the broken woman that hides behind them, aches with the need to comfort her. It's yet another aspect to their relationship and his reaction to her that he doesn't quite understand.

He swallows a healthy gulp of the mildly bitter liquid and wishes it were something stronger, anything that might settle his emotions for awhile. What the hell is this woman doing to him?

A voice in his ear startles Robin from his musings.

"What did you do to piss her off now?" John asks, leaning down from behind him to mutter as he rounds the table, taking his place across from Robin after returning with a fresh plate of food. A stray thought about John and the buffet table that sounds distinctly of Regina flickers through his mind and he takes a quick sip of ale to wash it away.

Lord help him, but he's mad for the woman.

With more than a little effort, Robin drags his gaze from Regina across the room and meets John's questioning expression as he digs into a turkey leg with his teeth. "What do you mean?"

Jerking his head in the direction of the royal table, John grunts, "The queen. She's looking at you like she's contemplating how your head might look on a spike."

A common occurrence, honestly. Regina gives him that look at least once a day. With a sigh, Robin lifts the pitcher between them on the table, pours a steady stream of ale, refilling his glass to the brim and taking another long sip before he finally admits, "I am afraid I may have offended her majesty earlier."

John chortles, chewing for a moment before commenting, "Well, that's not a difficult thing to do. Damned pain in the ass, she is."

Robin chuckles a bit at that, realizing he's a bit drunker than he realizes as he takes yet another drink from his tankard. No point in stopping now. The ale swirls around in his stomach, loosening his tongue and before Robin can consciously realize what he's saying, he murmurs quietly, "Yes, but an exquisite pain."

His gaze is back on Regina and he admires the exposed column of her neck, down to the open bodice of her gown and the rather generous amount of cleavage on display. Desire strikes him sharply and he feels his skin heat. Whether from passion, embarrassment, or the alcohol, Robin knows not, but whatever the cause, he wishes yet again she would let him get close to her.

He will find a way, Robin resolves. No matter how long it takes, how often she threatens him, he won't give up on her, on doing whatever he can to help her heal. There's a pang in his heart, as if he simply knows that's what he's meant to do, his purpose in regards to the queen. And Robin is nothing if not a loyal servant to those he cares for.

The clearing of John's throat draws Robin's gaze from Regina back to his best friend sitting across from him, and he frowns at the puzzled expression on the other man's face. "What?"

One large, bushy eyebrow lifts as he watches Robin, but says nothing for a moment. He rips a hunk of bread from the portion of the loaf in his hand and chews quietly until he eventually comments, "Your face. You're looking at the queen as if you've never seen a woman before."

The alcohol in his blood pumps fiercely, making him brave. This is his closest friend, the man he would trust with not only his own life, but with his son's. Robin glances quickly at Regina, still in deep conversation with Snow White and not paying him an ounce of attention, then back to John's steady gaze.

With a deep inhale, oxygen filling his lungs, Robin admits to the confession that's been bouncing around in his mind all evening. "I think I might be falling in love with her."

It's liberating. Finally saying the words aloud. Giving voice to the emotion that has slowly but surely been building inside him since he'd first saved her and the princess from those abysmal flying monkeys. Growing with every encounter, setting up roots within the veins of his heart and blossoming into this confusing, yet familiar, emotion.

The infamous Robin Hood is falling for the Evil Queen.

Who would have thought it possible?

His friend pauses, bug eyed expression on his face that Robin has to bite back a chuckle at, as John drops the chicken leg he'd been about to bite into back onto his plate. "Are you bloody mad, Rob?"

Robin grins, his dimples displayed as deep crevices within his cheeks as his eyes settle over Regina once more. Just at that moment, her eyes whip from Snow's face to meet his. Deep brown on clear blue and a shiver runs through him. She's glaring at him, but there's something else, something deeper within those fascinating depths that only reinforces his belief in what he's said. He can see a hint of an emotion beneath the façade she shields herself with that Robin thinks his soul might recognize as being meant to connect with hers.

Just as quickly, she goes back to pointedly ignoring him, but it's enough to have Robin feeling lighter. Confused he may be. A fool, perhaps. But of one thing he is certain. Something about the queen draws her to him and he's determined to find out what it might be.

He tips back his mug, lets the ale slide over his tongue and down his throat before eyeing John's shocked expression once more and replying with a chuckle, "I've probably lost my mind."