For OQ Prompt Party 2020

Verse: Missing Year.

Prompts:

13. "Why do I even bother with you?" - "You'd miss my face too much if you didn't."

73. Missing year from John's perspective.

133. John POV.

241. Sneaking around.

I posted this as a two-parter on AO3 because these were two different entries for Prompt Party this week, but decided to keep it all in one piece here. Hope you enjoy!

The castle kitchens have magic, and Little John is very fond of that magic.

He found out about it the very first night he arrived here. He'd been complaining about the enclosed spaces, the stone walls, the lack of trees, the too-fancy tapestries, and then dinner had magically appeared on his plate with a wave of the Queen's hand.

"I trust that'll shut you up," she had commented with thinly veiled disdain.

"In the forest, we hunt our food, we don't just make it appear out of nowhere," John had clapped back. It wasn't the greatest comeback, but he'd been caught unawares, and the smell of the roasted turkey leg, buttery mashed potatoes and perfectly steamed green beans sitting on his silver dish had been utterly distracting.

"Yes, well, we have no need of your primitive nonsense here," the Queen had replied. "I've taken care of it."

"You hunt?" John had asked, intrigued.

"Yes, but that's not what I meant," Her Majesty had said, a roll of her eyes accenting her exasperation when John had stared blankly at her.

"I put a spell in the kitchens," she'd finally explained, turning to the rest of the dining room as she added, "Should anyone need food, just tap the oven door twice and ask for what you want, count to ten, and then open the oven and retrieve your meal."

She'd taken her leave then, her velvety cloak swishing as her heels clicked with every step.

Since that night, John's been a frequent visitor to the palace kitchens. He's become quite versed in how to use the magic oven, and has taken to asking for new and interesting dishes he's heard the prince and princess talk about, like tacos and lo mein and burgers, and something absolutely marvelous called pizza. Just the thought of it makes John's mouth water. All that melty cheese and rich tomato sauce, the little kick from the flaky red pepper the Queen loves to add to so many of her recipes...

He's become a bit of a frequent visitor to the kitchens late at night, when the urge for his new favorite meal strikes him. But after almost a year of living in the castle, he's begun to encounter several misadventures whenever he chooses to steal downstairs for one of those tasty slices of perfection.

Tonight, for example, there are voices carrying up to where he stands just near the landing, and he recognizes the bickering instantly, an exasperated sigh escaping him because yet again, he's run into the Queen and Robin fighting.

It's become a bit of a habit for them to argue when everyone else is asleep. Robin is a bit of a night owl, John knows. Tends to take walks around the castle grounds until the moon is at its highest, and even then, he'll maybe doze for an hour or two on the stone bench in the gardens before heading back inside and patrolling the halls.

The Queen is another story. John doesn't know her very well, but knows something bad happened in the world they came from. She's lost someone, a child, if the way she looks at Roland is anything to go by, and so John assumes the Queen's lack of sleep has more to do with her sadness than anything else.

Still, the fact that the Queen is too sad and Robin is too stubborn to sleep, means they often land in each other's paths. Usually on nights like tonight, when a man is simply trying to get himself some pizza.

It's exhausting, John will never understand why they can't agree to disagree and move on. He can hear them spitting insults at each other even now, in the dead of night, and of course they're right by the entrance to the kitchens, blocking his access to the promised land.

"If you hadn't added those pesky spells, this wouldn't have happened," Robin argues, and John rolls his eyes in the dark. Not this again.

"Well, if you stayed inside the stupid perimeter, my protection spells wouldn't be activated!" the Queen throws back, frustration clear in her voice.

It happens often. Robin will venture a bit too far away from the palace and trigger some form of enchantment or other that lands him in trouble with Her Majesty. John is convinced his friend does this on purpose, there's no way he hasn't memorized the layout of the castle grounds by now.

Robin hisses then, and out of curiosity, John moves a bit further onto the landing, to get a better look while remaining hidden around the corner. He finds them both standing close to each other, their faces partially lit by the candles on the window ledge as Her Majesty examines Robin's hand. It's cut, John notices, and the Queen is...healing it?

She's waving her hand over the wound, a bit of purple smoke settling on Robin's palm for a few moments. John has seen that before, when the Queen has healed a scrape or two on Roland's knee after playing in the gardens.

Robin and Her Majesty continue to bicker throughout the entire exchange, but John sees how gentle the Queen's hands are as she cleans off what he assumes is blood, and wraps a cloth around the tender, newly-healed skin. It strikes him as odd that the Queen isn't using a rag; instead, it seems she's ripped off part of the hem of the nightgown that peeks under her robe, and brought it to Robin's hand.

It's...intimate, a little too intimate, and John feels like he's intruding, despite listening to the same whispered arguing he's witnessed a million times before in council meetings.

"You should not be exposing yourself to danger like this," the Queen snaps then. "What if the worst had happened? Roland would be robbed of his father and it would be my fault."

"Is that what this is about?" Robin asks then, and his uninjured hand closes around her wrist gently. "Regina, you could never hurt me."

It's the first time John's heard Robin using the Queen's name, and he's lost all interest in food now, shocked by what he's seeing. Robin's always called him a bit of a gossip, which John tends to find offensive, but he has to admit the curiosity over what's happening right now far outweighs his craving for pizza.

"Yes, I could," the Queen replies, her tone firm as she looks at Robin's hand on her own. "Those spells are designed to keep intruders like Zelena out, they're not gentle."

"I'm fine," Robin argues.

"This isn't fine!" she interjects, shoving Robin's own bandaged hand back at him as she turns around and crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm the Evil Queen, in case you forgot. I use dark magic, and dark magic should not be taken lightly, you know this."

And then, to John's utter amazement, his friend, the prince of thieves, the man the Queen has called a forest-dwelling beast on more than one occasion, wraps his arms around her waist from behind and holds her there.

"You're not evil," John hears him whisper. "Not anymore."

"That's neither here nor there," Her Majesty stubbornly replies.

"Regina, look at me," Robin pleads, and slowly but surely, the Queen turns in his arms, facing him for a moment before she looks down at his hand.

John shouldn't be here. He should go back to his room. Go to sleep and forget he ever witnessed any of this...affection between them. But he finds the bizarrity of it so enthralling that he can't look away. In all their time here, Robin and the Queen have not stopped fighting each other on absolutely everything. To see them in such a soft exchange is jarring, to say the least.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more careful," says Robin, putting a finger under the Queen's chin and lifting her face towards his. "I promise to be better at it in the future. But please, don't blame yourself for this."

"I'm not, I'm blaming you," the Queen replies, and John has to resist the urge to laugh, lest he give away his position. Her Majesty would not take kindly to him eavesdropping.

Robin chuckles in response to the jibe and apologizes again, moving closer and closer her until, to John's complete and utter stupefaction, their lips meet under the glow of the candlelight.

"Are we alright?" Robin asks when they pull away, and the Queen sighs, scowls, but nods.

"Just stop walking so close to the perimeter limits," she orders, her tone allowing no rebuttal.

"But then there would be no reason for you to yell at me," Robin flirts, his hands holding tight around her waist as his head ducks to land a kiss on her neck. John finds himself rolling his eyes.

"And you would miss that so much, I'm sure," the Queen replies sarcastically.

"Mmm," is all Robin says in response. "Maybe not the fighting, but I'd definitely miss the making up bits..."

He kisses her again, and-oh, no.

John blinks a few times, rubs at his eyes, hoping his hunger and sleepiness are making him see things, but the view does not change. His friend is smiling, and the woman in his arms is grinning back, and they're-oh, for fuck's sake, this cannot be happening.

Robin is backing her against the stone wall, their kisses growing frantic, hands roaming, and why are they doing this? More importantly, why are they doing this by the kitchen of all places?! The sheer disrespect...

When Robin hikes the Queen's leg up and around his waist, John decides he's seen enough. He scrambles back up the stone steps, getting out of there as fast and quietly as possible and leaving them to their dalliance, hoping there's enough ale in his room to erase the image now burned into his memory.

He'll never be able to eat pizza again.

"Uncle John! Uncle John!" comes Roland's excited shouting one morning. John has only just woken up, so the yelling is not exactly welcome, but he loves the kid, so his greeting is cheerful, even if he feels a bit groggy.

"Uncle John!" he says again. "Regina is gonna teach me how to make pizza!"

John's yawn becomes a coughing fit instantly.

"Pi-pizza, huh?" he asks nervously, but Roland notices nothing, proceeds to detail his conversation with the Queen in the same giddy tone.

"Yeah! I was sad because I don't have magic to make it like her, and she said she'll show me how to make it with my hands!"

"That's great, kiddo," John tells him, smiling fondly at the tyke's eagerness even as his own stomach rolls a bit.

It's been a month since that pizza excursion had landed him as the unwilling third wheel in a very, very graphic exchange between Her Majesty and Robin, and the mere mention of the tasty dish brings the vivid image of his friend and the Queen groping each other by the kitchens to the forefront of his mind.

John shudders, once again cursing himself for eavesdropping long enough to see such a sight.

He's since stopped venturing down to the kitchens after dinner, terrified of running into a similar scene, especially now that he's been **noticing things.

Robin and the Queen continue to bicker as usual, throwing thinly veiled jabs at each other throughout meetings and meals. But as the weeks have passed, John has started to see other things, too.

It's their own fault, he reasons. If they hadn't been fooling around by the kitchen and traumatizing him in the process, he probably wouldn't be so aware** of them now. If he hadn't seen what he saw that night, John probably wouldn't think twice of the little smirks the Queen gives Robin when he walks by, or of the way Robin bites his smile when Her Majesty hurls a particularly colorful insult in his direction.

He's secretly caught them sneaking away more, too. Has noticed how they leave a room within minutes of each other during the day and come back separately, but equally disheveled; how Robin creeps away from the Merry Men's quarters in the castle almost every night after Roland is asleep; how they are always both coincidentally late to meetings.

These are all things John would be blissfully ignorant of, had the image of them going at it not been burned into his head. And it's annoying him that he can't turn a blind eye to it now. He never asked to keep this secret, all he wanted was a damn slice.

"You have to come with us, Uncle John! Regina's gonna teach me and Papa!" says Roland, and John groans. He has absolutely no desire to be in a room with Robin and the Queen making eyes at each other when they think he's not looking. But Roland is looking at him with such enthusiasm, John knows he'll break his heart if he says no.

Sighing, he tells the lad, "Alright, you all go get started and I'll join you after I bathe, yeah?"

The boy cheers, smiling the biggest smile John has ever seen, and then practically skips out of the room, calling out to Robin that, "Papaaaaa! Let's get more ingredients! Uncle John is coming!"

This will not go well.

He takes his time getting ready. Takes a long bath, dresses slowly, even goes to the trouble of combing his bushy hair as a way to pass the time.

When Roland comes bounding back into his chambers and demands that he hurry, though, John can't get away with stalling any longer, and reluctantly follows the boy downstairs.

Fortunately, Ruby is making her way out the main gate, and Roland, never one to miss a chance to speak to his crush, runs over to greet her, giving John a few more minutes of reprieve.

Still, as he waits for the boy by the entrance to the kitchens, he hears a bit of a commotion inside, and instinctively peeks in to find the source.

Robin has just dropped a set of bowls on the floor, looking sheepishly up at the Queen as he kneels to pick them up.

"Why do I even bother with you?" Her Majesty sighs, one hand on her velvet-clad hip as she stares down at him.

"You'd miss my face too much if you didn't," Robin says, and John rolls his eyes at the same time as the Queen rolls hers, only he is not sporting the fond smile she's aiming at his friend.

Robin gets up then, placing the regrouped bowls on the large wooden table behind the Queen, lingering in her proximity and brushing his nose along hers.

"Stop," the Queen admonishes, turning her head away when Robin goes in for a kiss.

"I've wanted you all morning," Robin says, adding yet another drop to the proverbial bucket of trauma for John. Great.

"Roland and John will be here any minute," Her Majesty says then, but her voice is all breathy and low. John wonders, not for the first time, why they seem so eager to do this in the kitchen of all places. On the table where he eats, no less!

"I can be quick," he hears Robin tease, and nope, fuck that, this has gone on long enough.

Deciding not to wait for Roland, John clears his throat and barges in, because if he's gonna be forced to keep this stupid secret, he sure as hell isn't going to let them keep turning him into an unwilling peeping Tom.

They jump apart almost immediately, and he thinks she can see the faintest blush on the Queen's cheeks. Robin, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber as he greets him.

"Little John! Thanks for coming, my friend. Roland was very excited about you joining us."

And speaking of Roland, here he comes now, happily reporting that he and Ruby have made plans to go gather berries later this afternoon.

"But it's pizza time now!" he announces, and urges the Queen to begin her teaching.

John grumbles throughout the entire lesson, and doesn't even eat any pizza when it's done, mumbling about drinking too much last night and feigning a hangover. Robin, the git, mocks him for it as he takes a bite, moaning at the taste in an exaggerated fashion and detailing just how delicious a meal he's missing.

So later, when he takes the red pepper flakes and sneaks a couple of pinches too many onto Robin's slice, making him cough and sputter, John does not feel one bit guilty.