"You're…pregnant?"

"Eight weeks. It has a heartbeat."

She couldn't even look at him. She sat on the sofa with her arms crossed, swaying back and forth like she was on the edge of a panic attack.

"But I thought—"

"My doctor used the world 'miracle'. A god damned miracle. Lucky me." She stopped swaying back and forth only to bury her head in her hands and moan "God this is a mess."

"So that's why you've been feeling so sick?"

It was a dumb question, but he's still in a fog, he has no idea how to respond.

She nods faintly.

"How- how are you feeling? I mean, I mean feeling about all this?"

"It's…I don't need anything from you. I don't want anything from you. I just told you because, I feel like you should know."

It wasn't an answer to the question he asked, but it certainly answered the question he did not dare to ask. There was no polite way to ask whether he was the father. It certainly wasn't like they were exclusive. Hell, they were not even dating.

After nearly a decade of friendship, they had finally found themselves single at the same time, and had fallen into bed a few times. More than a few times. It was never planned.

The first time was a late night where he finally – finally – felt he could bash Graham. He had wanted to for years, but there are some unwritten rules for best friends, and not bashing one's significant other is definitely on that list.

When he called her to ask if she was going to David' barbecue that weekend, her voice kept breaking. She had tried to hide the fact she was crying that night, and he told himself he should not pry – she would share what she wanted when she wanted, and it wasn't his business to interfere. But he couldn't help asking her what was wrong. And then she tearfully admitted that Graham had left her. And it was truly over this time.

Robin insisted she come over, told her she didn't need to talk about it. They could just watch a movie and drink and order in. Hell, she could come in and yell at him, beat him, stare at the walls and refuse to interact with him – she could pretty much do anything but stay in her apartment alone, crying. That, he would not have.

They were midway through the second movie of the night (and second bottle of wine) when Regina opened up about where things had left off with Graham.

Ironically, Graham had told her the reason their relationship would not work was that he desperately wanted children of his own, and Regina could never give him that. He didn't see the point of getting emotionally invested when there was an end to this. He didn't want to adopt. He didn't want to try egg donors or surrogates. He wanted a baby of his with his wife, traditionally, and Regina could not provide that.

And as she admitted this to Robin that night, admitting it had happened weeks ago but she hadn't had the strength to tell anyone else (and everyone else would know at that damned barbecue), as she cried into her wine (there was so much wine that night, 3 bottles at least at this point), Robin reminded her that Graham was not good enough for her, anyway.

Graham never appreciated her cooking and made horrendous jokes about how he wished she would just order a pizza for once, when there'd be a gourmet meal that took time and effort right in front of his face. Graham's favorite movie was Fast and Furious. Or was it Fast and Furious, II? Graham rolled his eyes and was annoyed when Regina would get that spark, that hint of attitude that made her so bold and daring and alive. He had disliked it, wanting a more demure woman. Graham didn't appreciate the thousand little things that made Regina "Regina", and Robin was glad, very glad, he had left her, because had Graham stayed, he worried Graham could have convinced her to change, or at least hide her true self, and that would be a shame. Because Regina was pretty much the perfect woman.

All of that had spilled out of him at once, after years of bottling it in, and she had stopped crying. She kissed him, and he returned the gesture eagerly, responding with his body now that the alcohol had dulled his better senses. Before he knew it she was removing his clothes and straddling him, grinding into him, moaning and telling him how good he made her feel. And he was responding with everything he had, kissing her everywhere he could touch her, until she was begging him to fuck her hard, and she was panting and moaning, needy and aggressive, so fucking hot he had to bite his lip to hold himself back from coming too soon, even with all the alcohol he had drank that night.

If he had thought more about it, he would have waited that night. Told her he would not be her rebound because she was more to him than that. He'd have been braver. But it had happened, and when he awoke with her in his arms, she was smiling at him, kissing him, telling him thank you. She ran to the bathroom, came back showered and changed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and left.

The second time had been just four days later. It was David's barbecue, and she had a few beers before she sat next to him on the bench, grabbing his hand with her free hand, a beer in the other.

"I guess we need to talk," he started, because, didn't they?

She scrunched up her nose, staring off into the wooded area behind David's home. "Do we have to?"

"I…don't you need to talk about it?"

"It happened, we're still friends, right? It doesn't have to happen again and it doesn't have to change anything."

But it had happened again just a few hours later. She asked him to take her home, but when he dropped her off she was hesitating before getting out, finally admitting that she didn't really want to be alone just yet. So he came up to join her, just to talk.

She popped on the TV and was just laying her head against her shoulder on the couch, like she was melting into him, and he was so happy at that point that he kissed the top of her head, and she had responded with a kiss on his cheek, which he answered with a kiss he meant for her cheek that had landed on her neck, and she shuddered, looking at him like that, and that was the end of even pretending these kisses were innocent. It was a slower, sweeter time that night. He took his time with her, and she let him get to know her body, search and explore what she liked, what she needed. She had responded in kind, her body kissing and caressing him, taking him in her hands (and later her mouth) until she found the exact touch, the exact rhythm that made him crazy. They had multiple times that night, without so much as a conversation about what they were doing to one another, and if he told her she was perfect, and if, in the heat of the moment, he said she was the most beautiful woman in the world, that was just pillow talk, wasn't it? And if she said she had wanted him so badly, she was just flattering him, wasn't she?

She had asked that they not talk about it, so he hadn't. He hadn't talked about it any of the other times they wound up in bed together. He hadn't bared his soul to her, told her how it made him feel to have her in his arms not knowing if each time would be the last. He didn't need to burden her with this so close to a breakup.

It was only after the third night that they wound up in bed together that Regina had said anything about it. Her head was laying on his chest, skin was still glistening with the sweat of their very recent, far too incredible sex, her breath still labored, when she said "I really like this."

His mind flashed through the three, very obvious, very vocal orgasms she had that night, and he chuckled. "You don't say."

She whacked his head playfully, turned her head down, and he sensed a hint of embarrassment from her, so he added quickly "I really like this too."

"You're good at this." She offered the compliment quietly still not looking at him, still laying on his chest, breathing in.

"Did you ever have any doubt?" Robin asked proudly.

Regina lifted herself to face him, half scowling, half smirking. "You're my friend. I don't – I didn't ever think about you this way, before…wait, did you think about me?"

"I'm a guy," he answered sheepishly, "and you are my friend, my very hot friend." He pauses for a second and then adds, "You're even better than I imagined to be honest."

That had made her happy. She looked touched, lighter than she had in awhile, before she pretended to be offended, of course.

"I don't want our friends finding out about us." she pressed on. "It's just, I don't want them to make more out of this than it is. I just want to keep this fun and casual."

"Fine by me." He said. And it was, as long as he could still have her.

"I mean, if it even happens again." She added.

And that was their only talk about their friends-with-benefits arrangement.

But she was kidding herself if she thought it wasn't going to happen again, and after that night there were many stolen glances, many times his hand touched her legs under the table while they ate dinner with their friends, times they were grabbing each other to a semi private place for a heated makeout session while their friends waited for them just out of eyesight.

—-

And now here they were, after months of…whatever it was they were doing, here she was. Pregnant. With a miracle. And the irony was they would never have slept together to begin with had she not gotten that (obviously very wrong) infertility diagnosis.

"What do you want to do now?" Robin asked, coming back down to earth after a few moments of silence, to process this.

Regina is still shaking, still won't look at him. He goes to put his arm on her shoulder and she winces at his touch.

"Regina, look at me." But she won't meet his gaze.

"I'll support you in any decision you make." He offers trying to get her to turn to him. "Anything you want – except….if you decide to keep it, let me be a part of his or her life. Let me be a real father."

And she looks up at him, her eyes are bloodshot, filled with tears. "You want to be…involved?"

He nods his head vigorously, and she can't help but laugh. "I've always wanted kids, and it might not be the ideal situation or the ideal time, but I have no doubt we'd raise a wonderful child. But…I'm not pushing you. You can decide whatever you want with regards to this pregnancy."

She takes a deep breath and looks down at her lap. "I feel like I was just granted a wish, and it came true at the worse time, under less than ideal circumstances. I wanted to be married, settled…"

"I'll marry you."

He means it, she can tell just by looking at him. But she laughs and waves him off. "No no, I don't need that. I just…I feel like I can't let this baby go. It might be my only shot…"

"Then let's do this." He's shocked by how excited he is – all the fear seemed to melt away into this anticipation for something new in his life.

"Thank you" she says, her body finally relaxing, going soft, looking at him. "This could have been so much harder. Now all I have to do is tell my family that I'm pregnant with no husband, no fiancé, and not even a boyfriend." She laughs in that overwhelmed way, as if the whole situation is absurd. "Everyone's about to find out I'm a bit looser than they even imagined."

"I haven't slept with anyone else, since the first time we were together." Robin says out of nowhere.

Her eyebrow lifts and she responds "Neither have I..so?"

"We go out together, we make love - (Regina snorts at the phrase "make love") – we make love , we do Regina….and we're exclusive. You have a boyfriend. You've had one for several months."

"Robin…"

"Let me be there when you tell your parents. Deflect some of the anger. I'll play the part of the committed boyfriend, of course, not your casual sex friend." He winks at her, and she smiles again.

"What happens when I am say, six months pregnant, big as a house and puffy and gross, and you want to see someone else? If my mother finds out you're with someone while I'm pregnant…you know her. She will destroy you, humiliate you. You did not sign up for this. We're just friends."

"You're going to carry our child for nine months, I think I can handle a commitment to you for at least the same amount of time. And my bet is you are going to look beautiful at 6 months pregnant." He would bet his life that she'd be beautiful to him at 6 months pregnant, just like he bet she'd be beautiful to him thirty years from now. There was something about her that just pulled him towards her, always.

She rolls her eyes at the notion and sighs.

"Come on Regina, let me help you with this" he presses just a bit more.

There's a slight nod, this time, and he's surprised, excited. "Really?" She nods again smiling, looking at him.

"It would be so nice to have you there when I tell them," she admits.

"Great."

"I'm so sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am, I feel like I ruined your life—"

"Do I look like a man whose life has been ruined?" He's smiling, a goofy, big smile, and he knows Regina didn't expect this reaction to an unplanned pregnancy. She looks completely shocked.

It's not ideal, in an ideal world, he would have married Regina Mills years ago, maybe this would be their third child. In a slightly less ideal world she would simply love him back, and know that he loved her, and they could raise this child as a committed couple. But there were worse things in life than having a child with your best friend, your best friend who you are in love with, your best friend who may not love you back right now, but maybe will one day.