Hi, so…

I decided to try and write another little oneshot.

I know this is even later but my god I was multitasking with so many different things and so I'm just going to say I'm operating on US time and nobody can tell me otherwise.

Hope this one goes down ok, I was in the mood for fluff.

…

The room is too bright. He opens his eyes and then scrunches them closed again with a groan. No room should be this bright. And whose idea was it to put the lights directly over the bed? It was like the hospital's own brand of torture.

"Robin?" A low, familiar, male voice asks. "Robin, mate? You alright?"

He forces his eyes to open, squinting and waiting for his vision to clear and for the ache behind his eyeballs to dissipate a little.

"Robin!"

When his vision clears he's met with a large man in green uniform with curly hair and a large grin on his face. It takes Robin a second to place him as his old friend 'Little' John, but when he does, his face breaks out in a smile.

"John, my old comrade!" Robin says, though his voice is scratchy from not using it in a while. "How have you been?"

"Considerably better than you, my friend," is the reply, though the jest is a little closer to home than it should be; John can still remember getting the news his best friend and twice-comrade had been injured and necessitated in transference to better facilities to 'improve his chances'. It is not something he likes to dwell on, but thankfully, his injuries in this second war had been substantially easier to treat than they had in the first one.

Robin frowns as he looks at his friend. "You look old."

"Thanks mate," he scoffs, "you know, you're no spring chicken yourself."

Robin registers that there is a weight on his left hand that is not from John, and when he turns to see who else is here with him his jaw goes slack.

There's a lady holding his hand. The most beautiful lady he has ever seen.

Her eyes are beautiful, dark and expressive, like liquid chocolate, framed with long, dark lashes, and Robin wants to lose himself in them forever. Her lips are painted red, there's a smile tugging at the corners and there's a scar upon her top lip, and Robin can't help but want to trace it with his finger before kissing her. The raven locks at the side of her face are coiffed and pinned to the crown of her head, the rest falls about her shoulders in loose curls and Robin wants to tangle his fingers in them and never let go.

His eyes skim over the green dress – that fits her form and flatters her figure – before landing on the hand she has resting over his. She wears two rings, a gold, diamond ring and a gold wedding band.

Typical.

The most beautiful woman in all the world, and she's already married.

It was over before it had begun.

Robin doesn't recognise her though – oh how he wishes differently – and soon his mind starts trying to work out why a woman such as herself would be at his bedside.

She's not dressed as a nurse so she's not here to heal him, and she's not in military uniform so she has not been sent to keep an eye on him…

"What are you doing here?" He asks once he's fed up with trying to think and starting to get a headache.

She scoffs before her small smile turns into a teasing smirk.

"Well, I was on my way to see my husband, but then I decided to come and see a random stranger instead."

Robin doesn't process her words initially; he's too busy being mesmerised by her voice. She sounded as good as she looked, and her low, sultry tone had his mind wandering places inappropriate for a first meeting.

"Your husband is a lucky man," he mumbles.

"I like to think he is," she jokes with a bright, adoring smile and a perfect laugh.

John lets out the full-bellied laugh that he usually reserves for close friends and Robin frowns; apparently he's missing something here.

The lack of reaction from Robin has the two other people in the room start to exchange concerned glances.

"Are you feeling ok, Robin?" John asks, his voice quiet and completely unlike the loud man he is.

Robin looks between the two visitors, assuring them; "I'm fine."

He scoffs when John asks him; "Do you know where you are?"

"Of course I do; I'm in the hospital you buffoon."

The lady beside him chuckles at the insult, one Robin had called John ever since they first started serving together in the territorial army.

"Robin, what day is it?"

"Uh, May twenty-something," he answers; "I'm not sure how long I've been unconscious."

"The year?" John asks, and then repeats at his friend's dismissive scoff.

"nineteen-thirty four," Robin responds, though with less conviction than expected.

Robin looks at John, John looks at the pretty lady. "John, what's going on?"

The room falls silent upon the words; "It's nineteen-fourty four, Robin."

Robin's mind whirrs. Ten years? He'd lost ten years? Anything could have happened! But that's… No… It can't be…

When he looks towards the woman by his bedside Robin's heart clenches and the memory loss doesn't seem that tragic anymore.

Her beautiful smile had dropped from her lips, her forehead is crinkled in a pained frown and her eyes have lost that brightness he fell in love with the moment he saw it.

Robin frowns too; he can't handle her looking so unhappy.

"Why are you sad?" He asks, his hand turning under hers so he can grasp her fingers. "A pretty lady such as yourself should be smiling."

The corners of her mouth twitch and Robin counts that as a small victory. "'Pretty lady'?"

"You're married, I know..." Robin starts, looking back down at their hands. "But I think you are beautiful, Milady. And I don't know who your husband is but I would gladly steal you away from him in a heartbeat if you'd let me."

Her smile is back – albeit significantly more watery than before – and she goes to open her mouth to speak. But Robin refuses to let her dismiss him so easily. He wants to know her. He wants to know her favourite flower, her favourite movie, her favourite food. He wants to know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry, what makes her moan… He wants to know everything.

"I would treat you right milady. I'd never let you want for anything. I'd take incredibly good care of you. I assure you."

"Robin-" Little John starts.

"I know. I'm acting crazy. It's most likely the medication." Robin dismisses, before turning back to face her with confused, nervous eyes. "But I... I can't help but feel connected to you, strongly connected. And pardon me for being so forward, but… I believe we're meant to be together..."

The lady shakes her head, muttering 'stop' and Robin could kick himself for being so stupidly stupid to mess this up as much as he has.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"We're married."

His breathing stops, the world stops, everything stops…

"What?"

"We're married," she repeats, and it's still as shocking to him as it had been the first time she said it.

Robin frowns. "I'm married?"

"Yes," she nods.

"To you?"

She smiles as she repeats; "Yes."

Robin pauses for a second, licking his lips and frowning even more before turning to her again. "You're my wife?"

"Mate, no matter how many times you ask her, the question will always be the same." John intercepts. "You are man and wife; I was there at the ceremony."

"As was I," the lady jokes, her teeth showing in a brilliant smile that has Robin dazed.

He can't help but blurt out; "You're stunning."

She ducks her head, blush tainting her cheeks as she mutters; "Thank you."

There's an awkward pause, John looking between the pair as their gazes meet again and a lot of unspoken words hang in the air.

The larger man clears his throat, puts his hands on his legs and stands. "I'll go and get the nurse, tell her about what's going on and leave you two be for a moment."

"Thank you," the woman – his wife, Robin thinks with a smile – says.

As soon as the door has closed Robin finds himself blurting out; "I love you."

She's quiet for a moment before she frowns, pointing out; "You don't know me."

"I don't remember you," Robin corrects. "But I love you, so very much. I can feel it."

"Are you sure that's not the hospital food?" she jokes, and he can't help but laugh.

He has married the perfect woman. She is stunning, kind, funny, perfect… Whatever powers above that had aligned their hearts and souls, Robin will be forever indebted to them.

The need to be a little bit closer to her has Robin trying to sit, bracing himself and wincing at the stiffness in his muscles as he pushes himself up.

"Robin, you're going to hurt yourself," he hears, but he's over halfway there and he will not stop now.

The bed to his left dips and he feels a dainty hand rest on his back to aid him in his quest. Once he's fully upright he releases the breath he had held, taking in a few more before he opens his eyes again.

"I'm going to have to teach you to listen to me again, aren't I?" She sighs, and her breath tickles along his neck.

He raises his head to see her a mere few inches away.

Robin tries to memorise the different shades in her eyes, tries to burn the shape of her lips into his memory and tries to put a name to all these beautiful features that stole his breath and heart…

He fails.

"I… I'm sorry," he stammers, "I don't…"

"Regina," she offers with a sad smile, "I'm Regina."

"Regina," he breathes, and the name suits her. Beautiful, elegant, royal… The Queen of his heart.

He wants to kiss her. He wants to feel her lips against his and hear her sigh into his mouth. He wants to tangle his hands in her hair and press against her until there is no space between them.

"May I…" He starts, but the words die in his throat.

Regina tilts her head, humming in question.

"May I kiss you?"

Robin feels a bit foolish when she softly laughs, but then she looks back at him, tells him 'you never need to ask' and everything fades away but her smile.

He reaches up, one hand cupping her cheek as his thumb traces that scar on her upper lip. Her lashes flutter as she looks down at his lips, subconsciously parting her own.

With a small smile Robin leans forwards, glancing at her perfect mouth once more before closing his eyes and kissing her.

He holds back, doesn't let the kiss deepen past the slanting of lips and the occasional soft drag of teeth across slightly swollen flesh. But it's still heavenly. And when the tips of her fingers stroke across the stubble on his chin, the hand he has on her cheek slides into her hair and he can't help but sigh at the softness wrapping around his fingers.

When he pulls back, a little dazed and still somewhat unsatisfied, he opens his eyes to see Regina – his wife – with the same slightly frustrated expression he's sure is on his own face.

"Is that all?" she breathes.

No, Robin thinks, it isn't.

His free hand cups the other side of her face and he crashes his lips onto hers. Gone is the restraint from before, gone is the notion that he has to hold back his affection, gone is the oh-so-very gentle tenderness he had treated her with. His mouth opens against hers, and his tongue sneaks out to sweep across her lips and it feels like magic. The moan she releases has him tilting his head and exploring her mouth further. Her hands come up to grasp his shirt and she shifts closer him, her knee bumps into the top of his thigh as both of her legs come to rest on the bed and one of her heels falls to the floor with a thunk.

The door opens and there's the clearing of a female throat and Robin wants to tell them to just sod off.

Robin pulls away from Regina – albeit reluctantly – and looks towards the door to see little John with a nurse.

His friend stares at him with a reprimanding glare.

Robin merely points to the woman next to him, shrugs, and says; "That's my wife."