Author Note:

Hello all. Here's a new AU fan fic that I'm starting. It's completely different from the Storybrooke storyline, but it still has the characters same characteristics and little quirks. Yes, all of the chapters will be this long! Haha. I do hope you enjoy them as much as I've already enjoyed them, and I'm looking forward to a long road of "school year" ahead! G.

UPDATE 10/16/14

To the people who read this and said "Italics overload", I was extremely confused as to what you all were talking about. I just re-read it off of my Word app and realized that changed a whole section to all Italics. I'm at work at this moment, and I apologize for the inconvenience. It was not supposed to be like that. When I get home I will change it to how it was supposed to be. I really do hope you give it another chance, because many said they stopped reading it just because of that.

Again,

Sorry.

G.

...

...

It's the second Monday of August; hottest summer in history of Atlanta.

There's a bit of the sun out at seven o' clock this morning, trying to shine through the storm clouds that's expected to bring lots of rain tomorrow. The humidity was high, the sun was already making it hot, and the kids were all walking to their bus stops.

Another year of school.

It's one of the happiest days of school for many, though, besides the day before break. For Regina Mills, it means going back to school as a teacher of five years. She is a favorite teacher of many students in her classes, including classes whom have already graduated and moved on. She loves what she does, helping students in a lost world and in a generation of teachers who don't want to help their kids.

She walks into her classroom and sets her books up, making sure everyone's desks are properly waiting for them so that they can all get introduced well. That's the first important thing for Regina, is to make sure she has a connection with her students. Some are willing to do so, some…just aren't.

She sits down after perfecting her classroom, waiting for the bell to ring for class to start. She takes a sip of her barely warm coffee in a plastic cup from home, having been washed so many times that it was mostly just paper. She slips her glasses on over her eyes and grabs her book, seeing that it's only 7:45, class didn't start until 8:00.

She sighs and turns to her page, taking a sip once she finds page 64 of her new book she's just start, The Fault in our Stars.

"Chapter Five

I did not speak to Augustus again for about a week. I had called him on the Night of the Broken Trophies, so per tradition it was his turn to call. But he didn't."

Was it the book a little immature for a twenty-eight year old woman to be reading? Perhaps. But this was just yet another way to connect with her students, by staying up-to-date on their culture. Another reason why she's always her students' favorite.

She reaches for her coffee cup again, taking a sip and not taking her eyes off of the book. She couldn't believe that Augustus actually called Hazel Grace. She only wished she could find someone like that, sweeping her off her feet and-

The bell rang. She stood up and put her book away, readying herself to meet her new students for the year. She fixed her form-fitting, dark purple pencil skirt, making sure every inch of the hem on her light pink, button-down shirt was tucked in to the waist of her skirt. She took her reading glasses off and folded them up, putting them on top of her book that was now closed on page 68. She didn't get very far, but it wasn't because she was slow; instead, she absorbs everything in, taking each detail as she reads every sentence.

Her first student walked through the door, followed by another, another, and more piling in and throwing their backpacks down tiredly by their legs once they sat down in their seats. She smiled and clasped her hands together, "Good morning, class. Welcome to Literature 2, I'll be your teacher, Regina Mills." She announces with the same warm, beautiful smile. She pushed a hair back that was wanting to stick out from her perfected up-do, "I hope you all will have a great year of eleventh grade, and I am so excited to be teaching you." She says genuinely.

Some students groan while some male students were only watching her beautiful curves. She pursed her lips together, hating to feel like a piece of meat hanging at a butcher shop. She turns to the board with a click of her tongue, grabbing a piece of chalk and writing:

Regina, no "miss" or "Miss Mills"

She underlined the word no.

Eleventh grade literature, below the first line. Up in the top corner she wrote, August 11th, 2014.

She turned and laid the chalk down, brushing her hands off and smiling, "That's for if you've already forgotten what day school has started." She says sarcastically. She sighs when no one responded to her joke.

First day, Regina. None of them want to be here, don't beat yourself up over it. She swallows thickly and pulls out the drawer for her attendance sheet, ready to call off names. "Now, before I do this, I have a thing in my class I like to do every Monday to make the day a little bit better. We'll start today. I say you're name, and instead of saying here, you give one sentence about you. This gives me and your classmates a chance to know you better." She explains in a warm tone.

She looks down at her sheet and grabs her glasses from her book, slipping them so they set on the end of her nose, "Randy?" She calls out, first name.

"I play football." He says.

She nods slowly, "Good, but short. Let's try to be more detailed. Sandy?"

"I'm a dancer at SBC and I travel around the country and-"

"Oh, Sandy…that's a run-on. We'll be working on that." Regina interrupts gently with a little chuckle, making it known that she wasn't quite scolding Sandy.

She goes through the list one by one, then about three from the bottom she calls out a Timothy.

"I am really horny and would like to slam you against the desk." He says in a cocky way, making most of the class laugh as he sits back arrogantly against his chair.

Regina swallows thickly and takes her glasses off her nose, her anger simmering in her stomach. She held back her sharp tongue and sighed. "Timothy, that is very inappropriate language for the classroom or for anywhere else, for that matter. This will go straight to the principle that you were misbehaving."

"Who cares? I'm the principles son."

Regina scoffs, "She doesn't have a son, nice try."

Another student speaks up in the front of the class, leaning on her desk and toward Regina more, "Tina…her name used to be Tina…" She whispers.

Her eyes widen and she swallows thickly, realizing that an eleventh-grade girl, now guy, wanted to slam her against the desk and she was the principle's daugh- son. This is a great start so far. Just great. "Thank you, ah…" She pauses and looks down at her call sheet, "Patty." She says to the girl in the front of the class.

The day went on, her first day starting out with fun instead of actual work. She never made them start out working. She had more students come in…and then more…then they finally stopped at 11:50. That was her last Literature class for the day, but she would still have to plan for a new day. She was always planning a week ahead, sometimes even two weeks. She was very organized in what she did because she loved her job, even if she did have a few rude students in all three of her classes.

She sipped at her coffee while writing down the last few things she needed in her planner, checking her small, sporty watch to see that it was already 12:30, the time that she was given to eat at. She closed her things up and fixed her skirt after standing up from her chair, laying her glasses down again and walking out of the door.

She turned around and went to turn the knob, but of course it was locked. She dug her key out from her shirt pocket and unlocked it, going back in to get her coffee cup to refill in the teacher's lounge. She walked out backwards, holding her cup in one hand and the doorknob in the other. She walked out right in front of someone, making the person run into her with absolutely no intentions of stopping.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She exclaims, quickly turning around and gluing against her door.

"It's perfectly fine, I should've watched where I was going, honestly." He replies, a charming smile and gelled hair, made to spike up a little on the top.

She sucked both lips in and stays sucked up against her door, trying not to let her eyes get stuck on him. "Ah…yeah, anyway…" She says, turning around to finish closing the door.

He bends down and picks up the loose key, handing it to her, "I think this is yours?" He asks.

She turns back around and looks at him – his eyes, then his chest, then his hand, finally. "Oh, yes…that is. Sorry, I'm just…it's been a heck of a day, you know?" She says, finally breathing. Goodness, his blue eyes were so captivating, mesmerizing, almost sparkling…

"Oh I know, I've been trying to find the wretched teacher's lounge for ten minutes now. I'm probably about to run out of time for my lunch." He replies, looking up and down the hallway, looking completely lost.

"Are you the new coach?" She asks, seeing the whistle hanging around his neck, his shirt tucked in nicely into his scratchy sweatpants, complete with what looked to be a brand new pair of Nike tennis shoes.

He looks down and nods, spreading his arms out in a look at my clothing type of motion. "I am indeed - football. Who knew a Brit would ever be teaching American football?" He asks, a little chuckle in his voice.

She smiles and chuckles as well, trying not to be awkward. Why was she being so awkward around this man? She was almost sure it was because of his voice, his accent, that beautiful accent. She takes a deep breath and another look at her watch, exactly 12:30, the time she was supposed to be sitting down with her perfectly made ham sandwich with mustard. "I'm heading to the teacher's lounge now, would you want to walk with me so I can show you?" She asks, clutching her coffee tightly.

You're 28 years old, Regina. Stop acting like your eleventh grade girls.

"Sure." He answers, looking into her eyes, "That way I hopefully won't get lost again…" He says, chuckling yet again. She nods and turns away toward the direction of the lounge. She brushes her tongue over her bottom lip, thinking about the way he said the word American.

No. She had a son, she needed to support him, not go fall into someone's arms. So she pushed him to the back of her mind, even though he was silently following her down the hall and to the right, down to the lounge. Regina gets in and sets her coffee cup on the countertop, heading to the fridge and grabbing the clear, zip baggy with her sandwich still made in it. Mustard was on the inside of the bag, where it had rubbed off of the sandwich. She wrinkles her nose up a little when she pulls it out, trying not to get her hand in the mustard. She didn't want to smell like a condiment all day.

She pulls it out and lays the empty baggy on the table by the wall, setting the sandwich on top of it neatly and folding her napkin in her lap. She takes her drink and sets it inches away from the corner of her sandwich as if that was the perfect, most precise way to do it. And to her, it was.

She hears the new coach over in the other corner of the room, rustling around in what sounded like a shopping back, plastic. She looked over her shoulder and behind her while chewing a bite of her sandwich gracefully, watching as he pulled out a half of a large, what looked to be pepperoni, pizza. She wrinkled her nose up again at that. How could anyone eat that big of a pizza in one setting?

She turned away once he sat down, not even heating the thing. He immediately dug in to it, and if he was growling he'd be the perfect image of a modern day caveman. She rolled her eyes and curled her lip, returning to her cleaner, perfect temperature, sandwich. Taking her book and turning to where she left off of The Fault in Our Stars (or TFIOS as she learned it's been called), page 68. She takes a sip of her water once she's about halfway through with her diagonally cut meal, setting it down and almost letting it fall off of the small table.

She gasped and picked it back up quickly before it spilled, thanking silently that she didn't dump it. Not in front of new guy. New guy who had already vacuumed down the half of the half of a pizza…

…

She sighed as she leaned against the door, her head against her car window as she waited in the long, 3:30 pick-up line for Henry. He was in the fourth grade this year already, already ten; Regina couldn't believe her little boy had grown up so fast.

But this was her favorite part of the day, especially after she needs to wind down. Surprisingly enough, Henry always could make her feel better whether he was bouncing off the walls or just watching a some cheesy movie with her, all snuggled up on the couch.

Little by little, the cars moved slowly and finally it was her turn to pick her son up. The ten year old came bouncing to the car with his Superman backpack slapping up and down against his back with each stride. A huge smile worn on his face as he opens the back door to the four-door SUV. "Mom!" He shouts happily, "I had the best first day of fourth grade ever."

She laughs quietly because she knows he can only have one first day of fourth grade. But also because she knows he was excited, she plays along like any mother would. "Did you now?" She asks with a smile, looking into the rearview mirror and putting her car in drive, getting out of the way quickly so that the next anxious parent can finally pick up their child. "Do you like your teachers?" She asks curiously, raising a brow in the mirror to the young boy who was fiddling with his seatbelt trying too hard to get it buckled.

"Yes! I like them a lot, and I think they all like me." He replies, proud of himself as he straightens up after he finally buckled the metal piece into the slot. He takes his box of apple juice from the backseat cup holder, sticks his straw in it, and starts drinking it contentedly. (She had always done that as an afterschool ritual for her son, wanting to give him a happy prize for going to school. She would stop by the vending machine in the high school before leaving, pay for the juice, and stick it there for Henry as a little treat. It wasn't much, but even at ten years old, it showed him that she always cared.)

The small talk on the way home progressed from his first day of this grade, to the thoughtful little boy asking how his mother's first day was. She said good, though she knew it wasn't her most favorite first day ever. She was actually somewhat disappointed in her new students, wishing they were a little more lively and not so...rude. But she just hopes she's a good enough teacher for them that she can make it a little better tomorrow, hoping that by the end of the month – two more weeks – that they would be on her terms. She didn't let that on to Henry, because she didn't want him to be sad on his Best First Day of Fourth Grade.

When they got to their downtown apartment complex behind the big mall, he plopped down on the couch to turn his daily cartoons on. Regina sees this and frowns, "You know the rules, young man. No tv until you finish your homework." She instructs sternly, but not harsh. She always tried to never be harsh with him unless she absolutely had to. He turns with puppy dog eyes, giving her the but mommmm... look. She flicks her brow and crosses her arms, and the boy obeys.

She walks away and into the kitchen,getting ready to prepare dinner for the night. The first night of the school year, not ready to be on her feet for the remainder of the day. But she does, just because she knows she has an energetic little boy to feed and her friend/Henry's babysitter to feed as well. She usually came over for dinners as a little treat from Regina, because the brunette knows she is underpaying Emma for what she does. She just simply can't afford what she should be paying, though, and she's thankful Emma is willing to be there.

She sighs as she looks inside of her almost empty fridge, kicking herself for spending too much time at the school Saturday instead of going shopping for groceries. "Henry? How's a pizza sound for tonight?" She asks him from the fridge to the table where he was doing his homework. Pizza had sounded so good ever since she smelled New Guy's half of a pizza. She wanted it, and it was a good reason not to be on her feet for another hour.

There was only a short silence before Henry's voice replies, "Duh!", never taking his eyes off of his homework.

"Duh? Excuse you?" She asks, knowing he has better manners than that and also knowing that's how his...wonderful...babysitter talks. She gets a hurt expression back, and a sorry mom in her way. She nods as a silent I forgive you, then goes and orders a large, stuffed crust, pepperoni pizza.

After about an hour, she had already ordered the pizza, went with Henry to pick it up, and now they were all three sitting down to eat at the table. Emma was getting drinks, "Regina? You want lemonade?" She asks, knowing that's her usual. Regina answers back with a yes, and they sit down.

Regina looks over to Emma and sees that she's drinking grape soda. "Where did you get that?" Regina asks, a slight bite to her tone as if she were scolding her own child.

Emma looks down at it with furrowed brows and wide eyes, her lips pressed together, "I...got it from the convenience...store...?" She answers questioningly, sheepishly looking up to find a glaring employer.

"Why?" Regina inquires, furrowing one brow as she kept her eyes set on Emma's drink.

Emma huffs a little laugh, "Because it sounded good? Probably the same reason the cleanest, most O-C-D about food person I know ordered a greasy, messy, pepperoni pizza." She bites back, taking a large chunk from her pizza and letting the cheese string down her chin.

She rolls her eyes from the few manners that Emma has learned, "You don't give those to my son, do you?" Regina asks, still not letting the soda subject go that easily and purposely putting Emma's little 'insult' behind her, not even paying a bit of attention to it.

Emma shakes her head and opens the soda bottle, taking a large swig before she wipes the remaining purple liquid from her lips on to her forearm, "Hellllckk no." She replies, looking over in Henry's direction awkwardly, hoping he didn't take that in.

Regina furrows her brows, "Emma, where did this language come from? I do hope you don't normally use it around Henry?"

"Regina..." She sighs, realizing she's dug herself a hole and now she needs to dig back out, "...No. Look, it was accident. I've never used it around him or given him soda, right kid?" She asks Henry, who was already halfway through his first slice. He simply nods, not paying much attention to what the blonde had just asked. Though if he was paying attention, he would've blabbered about the time she got him soda at the afterschool fair that Regina couldn't make it to.

Regina huffs and continues eating, remembering the way that New Guy ate his, like a caveman. The thought kind of made her smile until she played back the memory of his loud belch, wiping his face on his arm like Emma just did. She returns to her pizza again, trying to get that un-appetizing thought out of her mind now.

But it still played and stuck in her mind, the way he practically growled while biting a piece off. It was completely uncivil.

...

...

August 12th, 2014

That's what the chalkboard started out with today.

This day of school was just as the first day was, but with more work than her first. For the students, at least. She didn't have to talk as much which was a plus, but she also had to check work which was a downside. But she didn't mind too badly.

She escaped her classroom a little earlier today, going on time to lunch. She locked the door behind her and turned to find New Guy again, seeming to not be able to remember his name. But then again, she remembered that he never gave it to her, as she never gave hers to him. He smirked at her surprised expression, "I was hoping you could show me the way again? I've a horrible memory." He admits shyly, a slight grin gracing his face. It did him wonders, she thought, because his dimples showed beautifully under his stubble and it brightened up his eyes.

"Sure." She replies, checking her door to make sure it's locked, then turning the other way like they did yesterday. "Someone should draw you a map, it's quite a large school..." She says teasingly, trying not to make it sound flirty. But he was cute, and she didn't necessarily want to flirt, but it was hard not to.

He chuckles and nods, looking at his feet as they wandered through to the lounge again, "I suppose so. I do at least know where my classroom is and where the football field is." He replies, trying to sound proud but failing. Badly.

She nods and raising her brows, acting impressed, "That's good, at least." She says, mimicking his words from before. She goes to the fridge while he takes out a bag of fast food. She grabs her pot of homemade spaghetti she'd made Sunday night for a few days of lunches, then starts to warm it up. New guy sits down at the table, same as yesterday's, and she suddenly hears a curse word being hissed from his lips. She turns to face him, leaning against the counter top, "What is it?" She asks, but realized she didn't need to when she saw his pre-made hamburger/mystery meat, laying on the dirty floor.

He sighs and gets up grumbling, "There goes my lunch." while he throws it away in the trash. He thanked her for her directions and was about to leave until Regina caught him with her words.

"Do you want some spaghetti? I have plenty..." She asks quickly without even thinking, lifting the lid from the pot. "It's homemade." She bargains with a little grin, her eyes sympathetic, though, as she knows he's upset still that he dropped his food.

He smiles a little, "Directions and food, I feel like I'm starting to take advantage of you, Miss Mills. It is Miss Mills, correct? Literature 2?" He asks, making sure he didn't get it wrong.

She presses her lips together shyly and nods, "Indeed, but please don't call me Miss Mills. It makes me sound far too old and I really would rather stay young a little longer. Just call me Regina." She replies, somewhat, politely demanding in a way. If that was possible.

He nods and bends at the hips slightly, almost as if he were bowing. "Ah, pleasure to officially meet you, then." He says with a little smirk. The smirk that made her smile inside, but it was trying to show on the outside too.

"Why are you bowing?" She asks, dipping another plate of spaghetti for herself as she puts the other, now for him, back in the microwave a while longer.

"Regina: the latin word for Queen." He explains.

She raises her brows and replies, "Ah, you know." with a smirk. "I've always said I was a queen but no one believed me." She teases, not being so much flirty this time but more playful than anything, just as she would with anyone else.

He smiles a bit before replying, "I'm the 11th grade vocabulary and spelling teacher, and I've...hardly...dabbled in a little bit of Latin language in my college years. It didn't last long, it was too confusing." He says, chuckling slightly as he sits back down where he was before. "But I do have to teach my students a foreign word every once in a while." He replies, sipping at his Coca-Cola.

She nods, leaning against the counter again after she finished dipping her plate. "I see, I see...where did you attend?" She asks, going back to the college subject.

"Ah, nowhere special. Just a little community college back in London."

She nods again and turns back to the beeping mircrowave, taking his spaghetti out and sticking a plastic fork in it. She gives him a napkin, slightly hoping he'll use that instead of his arm again. Otherwise her food OCD may come out. "And your name is?" She asks curiously, heading back to put her plate of spaghetti in, then notices he's waiting for her to come back and eat. What a sweet little gesture.

"Robin, Robin Locksley." He replies, looking back at her. After she's back at her table across from him, they both start eating. "This is absolutely magnificent, Regina. You said this was homemade?" He asks with a mouthful.

She sighs, trying to move past the smear of sauce beside his beard and the piece spaghetti hanging in his stubble. "Yes, it is. Secret sauce; family recipe."

He smiles and nods once, almost like a bow again but only with his neck as he chews his mouthful of pasta. "Well, I'd tip my hat to the chef if I had a hat..." He says with a subtle hint of playfulness in his voice.

Regina was too busy getting her own spaghetti to her mouth to even realize he was flirting with her, so she goes completely oblivious to that simply replying Thanks and eating her spaghetti.

...

...

Another school day goes by uneventful. New Guy, now actually named Robin, brought his lunch Wednesday again and managed to not drop it on the floor. Once again, it was something completely unhealthy. Regina tried ignoring it as she ate her spaghetti and salad, fresh from her terrace garden. Every summer she'd get beautiful, red tomatoes with so much delicious taste to them. They were so good, she couldn't wait for it to be time to plant more again.

She comes home with Henry around 3:45, going up the outside, metal stairs to their second floor apartment, then going inside. Regina had stopped to get groceries on the way home from getting Henry yesterday, and that was always so much fun going up the stairs and down the stairs a few times for groceries, hauling them to their apartment in the disgusting Atlanta, summer heat. It was an event that usually (and pathetically) made Regina's legs sore the next day.

And that they were, she noticed, as she climbed each steep step. Her hamstrings tightening up a little as she held her heels in her hands, thankful that she wore panty hose today that went around her feet too, otherwise she'd be walking completely barefoot and that would just be...a no. She'd decided for the tenth time in just this year that she needed to start going to the gym again. As if she had time for such frivolous things.

They walk inside to their spotless, tiny home. Henry rushes off to the table to do his homework so that he can watch his cartoons before dinner. Regina stalks in further and sees that his shoe is lying on the staircase for the loft. "Henry Daniel, what did I tell you?!" She almost shouts, quickly growing angered that her hard work cleaning doesn't pay off, "Do not leave your shoes lying around on the stairs." She says, calming herself down when she sees his little eyes, nodding softly to her. "Someone could get hurt." She says, even calmer now. She proceeds to tell him to put it away after he finishes his homework, otherwise there will be consequences.

She goes into her kitchen, thankfully clean still, and starts preparing dinner for their night. Emma wasn't coming over tonight, and it would just be her and Henry. She decides to make Henry's favorite, macaroni and cheese with hamburger pieces in it, complete with a mandarin orange, fat-free pie.

Forks clink against plates as Regina looks up at her son, "Make sure you eat your peas." She instructs, seeing the boy avoiding them and almost being finished with his pasta. He sighs, doing a slight eye roll and thinking Regina couldn't see it. She let it go, this time, because she was too lost in her thoughts. Her little boy was getting so old, rolling his eyes at his mother already. Too old.

She stayed silent as she reminisced over the first time she held him in her arms. 7 lbs, 5 oz of pure innocence. Only hours before Daniel would die. She teared up thinking about it, and stopped by biting her lip and emerging into conversation with Henry again, making herself forget about her past pain.

Soon after dinner, it was bed time. They had watched an hour's worth of Disney channel, then she picked him up like she used to do and carried him to the stairs for the loft. He slept up there, since it was a two bedroom apartment and the second one was used for an office. (Not because Regina couldn't use the loft for her office, but because Henry thought it was cool once he turned seven, to sleep up in the loft. So she let him.) She stood him back to his feet at the edge of the stairs, he climbed up with her trailing behind him. She laid in bed with him, reading from the first book of the Kingdom Keepers series, a book about Disney holograms that came to life at night. She wasn't too awfully impressed with it, but Henry was so emerged with each other the characters. He fell asleep only about three pages in, and she kissed his forehead gently, whispered goodnight, and turned his light off after tucking him in.

She went downstairs to finish cleaning the kitchen up, turned everything off, then went to the bathroom for her shower. She stripped down until she was nude, slipped inside the shower to turn it on, then decided she should take a bubble bath instead. After all, she deserves it, right? After making it through three days of high schoolers already, she should treat herself to some bubbles and red wine.

So she does. She turns the bath water on, wraps a towel around her naked body, and goes downstairs to pour herself a glass of red moscato, refreshlingly sweet and fruity. The wine bottle was only about halfway used, and she hoped it'd still taste okay because she's had it for months now. She didn't get much time for herself, but once in a while she would drink a glass.

Once she got it back upstairs, her bath water was almost finished pouring and the bubbles came to the top of the tub. She slipped in, turning the faucet off, and took a sip of moscato. She lets a quiet and content moan vibrate against the glass as it slides down her throat, shutting her eyes softly as she takes in the full taste. She turned the music on in her phone, listening to her favorite playlist named 70's. Not that she was particularly a hippy of some sorts, but she did enjoy that music from a time before she was even born. She couldn't connect to the music nowadays the same way she could back then.

She stays in the tub for a while, reading from TFIOS:

"When I reentered my room, I could hear people talking, so I sat on the edge of my bed for a while and listened through my hollow bedroom door:

Dad: 'So you met Hazel at Support Group?'

Augustus: 'Yes, sir. This is a lovely house you've got. I like your artwork.'

Mom: 'Thank you, Augustus.'"

Regina had to pause and snort there, taking a sip of her wine as her lips curved up into a smile. "Kiss-up." She groans quietly, rolling her eyes. Men...that's what they were most of the times. Kiss-ups.

She kept reading until her bath water started getting cold, she ran out of wine, and the bubbles all disintegrated. She stepped out of the bath, draining the water and wrapping a towel around her. She dries her short hair off first, then proceeds with the rest of her ivory-skinned body.

She doesn't dress, instead, she locks her bedroom door and rummages through her underwear drawer. All the way in the bottom, she pulls out a little toy that gave her all the pleasure she's gotten since she called it off with Graham five years ago. That was enough for the most part, but sometimes she wished she had more, the real thing.

She quieted herself as normal by sticking the pillow over her mouth, keeping her moans of pleasure down inside her chest. She pleased herself, getting off quickly, then put some underwear and a t-shirt on. She slipped under the cold covers, turning off her light and going to sleep with her music still playing.

...

...

Not surprisingly, Regina woke up the next morning with a song stuck in her head. It was the last song she'd heard before falling into a deep sleep. Take it to the Limit was being hummed as she goes to wake Henry, then gets dressed herself, replacing the robe and few clothes.

On the way to school at 7:30 AM, stuck in the typical Atlanta traffic, a curious little boy in her backseat looks over at the construction site. "Mom? Can we build something?" He asks innocently, thinking it looked so easy to build those tall buildings.

She smirks at him in the rearview mirror, "What do you suggest?" She asks, stifling a yawn as she sticks her coffee mug to her mouth.

There was a few moments of silence, maybe even a full minute. He was thinking, she could tell. "A tree house." He finally announces.

A tree house? In an apartment complex? I'm sure that would go over just fine with the landlord. "Maybe one day, buddy." She says, moving a few feet thanks to the finally, somewhat moving traffic.

He sighs, "If I had a daddy we could build something."

His words broke her heart, resulting in her closing her eyes and taking a harsh breath before explaining, "Sweetie, you know you had a daddy. He loved you very much..." and then another shaky breath, "He would've loved to have met you." Silence. Again. She finally looked back at him fully, seeing as how they were at a stand still. "I've told you about daddy, remember?"

He nods, "Yeah. I just wish I had one now...I don't even know how to play baseball." He says like it was the worst thing ever. Which in his eyes, it was. It was hard not having a daddy to teach him how to throw or catch, or how to build things.

Regina sighs and brushes her tongue against her lips, "I know. How about when we get home, we can go to the park and we can play catch. How does that sound?" She asks, turning back around again so she can move a few more feet. After a long silence, he finally answers yes, and the car ride felt even longer than it normally was.

Suddenly, she wished she never even came to work today. It ruined her whole day, making her think about Daniel and Henry's lack of physical father. It made her realize she really needed to step up and teach him the things that Daniel would've, otherwise Henry would resent her for it one day.

...

...

She stands up and straightens up her pencil skirt (which was black, today) and announces, "Make sure you remember to bring note cards in tomorrow and all of next week, as we will be taking study notes on The Great Gatsby." to her last class before lunch as they're packing all of their books and pencils up. Some have already left, and she was hoping to get out soon as well. She wants the day to be over with already, and she hasn't even had lunch yet. The morning talk with Henry earlier just ruined her whole day, and she wished now more than ever that Daniel was there to hold her.

She makes her way out of the door – finally, at about 12:20, and there he was as he has been for the past four days with his bright blue eyes, sparkles in them, and the whistle around his neck. "I do hope you don't mind me walking with you every day." He says, leaning against the wall outside of her door.

She takes a deep breath, not really wanting to deal with him today. She locks her door, "Haven't you figured out how to get to the lounge by now?" She asks curiously, a subtle hint of annoyance in her tone of voice.

He walks a little bit behind her through the hallway and replies, "Yes, I have. I just enjoy your company from time to time."

Was that a flirt? Her stomach flipped as she realized that. She's pretty sure it was. Her eyes widened and she looked to the ground so he wouldn't see her blush, trying to think of a sassy comeback and shoots back, "Ah, or is it my spaghetti you enjoy?" with a sassy tone, still not enthralled that he insists on walking with her every day. Especially not today.

He tilts his head to the side guiltily, "That too." He says, turning to the right for the lounge. "But I did bring my own food today, unless you just want me to eat your delicious pasta..." He secretly suggests, though she caught the hint immediately.

She smirks and grabs two plates, one for him and one for her. "I suppose you can eat some of the pasta again." She says, even though she knows this will make her bring something else tomorrow, because she's almost out of the pasta now. But she didn't mind, he clearly liked her dish and she was glad she could show it off a little to someone other than Emma and Henry, and sometimes Emma's scraggly boyfriend, Killian.

She prepared it and he waited standing on his feet. Once she went to her table, he sat down across from her in the seat. "Do you mind if I sit here?" He asks cautiously before fully down on the seat, squatted over it with his plate hovering the table. She purses her lips together to the side, then shakes her head. "Thanks, it gets kind of lonely over there, don't you think?" He asks, sitting down fully now.

She nods as she takes a dainty bite of food, "You don't look too lonely, usually. You always have your phone with you, doing who knows what..."

"Oh trust me, nothing I want to be doing, no one I want to be talking to, either." He replies, not letting on to what he was talking about. Or who, it seemed. She dropped it, not wanting to barge in on his personal life. He takes a bite of food in his usual barbaric way.

She sighs, "Have you ever been shown how to properly eat spaghetti?" She asks, trying not to sound rude but from the look on his face, she was pretty sure it came off that way. "You twirl it around your fork, that way you don't get it everywhere, including in your beard and on your cheekbone." She instructs, showing him how with her own fork. He nods as he tries it, then takes the bite. He was still looking at her like he'd been scolded like a child. "I'm sorry...it's just – my son tells me I have food OCD. And I'm beginning to think he's right, because I am constantly concerned about people's food manners. And it comes off rude, just like now...and it – i didn't really mean for it to sound-"

"It's okay," He finally interrupts her, chuckling softly, "I don't mind. I just...I'm not used to being around many people when I eat, that's all. I live alone except for when my boy visits, so therefore I don't think much about manners."

His boy. He has a kid. She tries to not smile at that. She takes the opportunity to ask, "You have a son?" taking another elegant bite. He nods, tells her that his son's name is Roland, and then takes a bite to mimic hers. She laughs a little before she replies, "Well, I didn't pin you as the father type, I guess."

He raises a brow, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs, "Simply because in only four days you've managed to eat two plates of my spaghetti, walk with me each of those days, and eat like a-"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't be a father." He fires back, not in an irritated way but more playful than anything.

Touché, she thought. She didn't dare say it, letting him know he was right. But he somewhat got the hint when she shut up and took a drink of her lemonade. Instead, she sighs softly as her eyes drift down to his whistle around his neck, the red against the royal blue polo – one of their school colors. "So..." She starts out, swallowing her bite of food, "Why do you wear the whistle everywhere you go?" She asks out of curiosity.

He furrows a brow, looking as though he was not sure of what she was talking about until he saw where her eyes were fixed, "Ah, because I like to. Is that a problem, your highness?"

That was so a flirt. It had to be.

She smirked a little and gave a one-shouldered shrug, "Possibly." She answers simply, trying not to let her voice jump all over the place because he definitely just flirted with her.

He clears his throat and shifts in his seat a little, looking uncomfortable (which wasn't surprising, these chairs were harder than sitting on concrete). "Then I have to ask you, why do you wear stockings in the middle of August?" He asks, going a little out of line and out of her comfort zone, but for some reason she liked it.

She sniffled, trying to seem unphased by his little remark. She looks down at her lip with one, sharp brow flicked upwards, "Ah, because I like to. Is that a problem?" She asks, mimicking his words almost identically.

He sits back in his seat, laying the fork on the empty plate and crossing his arms over his chest, opening his mouth and saying, "You're a little spitfire, aren't you?"

She smirks again and does the one-shoulder shrug thing again, trying to play it cool though her emotions were bouncing off the walls. She tilts her head over and shoots back, "You'll never know, Mr. Locksley."

And that was that. Neither said much more until she finished, but it was a very comfortable silence. He also just made her day 80% better, which made it a lot easier for her to go back in and plan for another day of school ahead.

They got up at about the same time, cleaned off their plates, Robin thanked Regina for the delicious lunch once again, then surprised her – somehow...still – with hisnext words, "I'll see you outside of your classroom tomorrow, same time?" He asks, she could tell that flicker of hope in his tone and it made her hold back a smile.

She tilts her head to the side as though she was pondering her answer, "I suppose you will."

...

...

Thursday night was not her normal cleaning time, (especially not after a long, hot playtime in the park with Henry) but she spilled her wine under her bed last night and when she got under there tonight, she realized what a mess it trulywas, and how much she wished – suddenly – that she had a housekeeper or maid.

She was half naked, only in underwear and a t-shirt. Why? She was too hot to wear much else. Their air conditioning was broken, of course, and right, smack in the middle of the hottest August in Atlanta. Just perfect.

She was so sweaty and stuck to the cheap carpet that she was actually thinking about just quitting, getting it tomorrow when she's not so tired. But she couldn't let herself do that, her clean-freak mind kicked back in and wouldn't let her.

Because her rump wouldn't fit underneath the bed, only her legs were sticking out from under there as she waded through dust bunnies and long-lost socks. Just one sock, none matched to any others. This is where she decided she loses all of the mismatching ones, so she threw them out from under her bed and planned on collecting them when she gets out from under here.

Henry came in the room silently at about nine o' clock. Regina had already put him to bed an hour ago, and she most certainly didn't hear the door openwhen he came in. "Mommy?" A small voice calls out, startling her because she knew she was almost half-naked.

Regina's eyes widen and she hits her head on the top of the bed, hisses a curse word under her breath, and shimmies out. She holds her t-shirt down around her thighs, not really wanting her boy to speak of this in recess or something. She mutters out, "What is it, sweetheart?" while nervously squatting, her t-shirt pulled tight over her knees and stretching the fabric out. She didn't care in this moment.

"I had a really, really bad dream." He admits, clutching on to his stuffed dragon toy that he's had since he was three.

So she got up and went to her closet, pulled some shorts over her legs, and crawled into bed where her son was already waiting. He had his little dragon tucked up against his cheek, somehow still under the covers when Regina had to lie on top of them. "What was wrong in your nightmare, sweetie?" She asks in the motherly tone she carried, stroking his hair off of his forehead.

He sighs and shuts his eyes, swallowing thickly and seeming awfully nervous. "I had a dream that...that Daddy died first and then you died too. And I didn't have you or him..." He goes on further, but most of it becoming babbling. Though she didfeel very sympathetic for him, she knew she couldn't delve in to his nightmares because it could possibly even make them worse. So she continues to stroke his hair and make a Mm or Mhmm noise to let him know she was listening.

She finally sang him a song about fifteen minutes later, and before she could even get all the way through, he was out like a light.

It was hours later that she wished someone could sing her to sleep, because Henry was out of the covers now, his dragon named George was between his hip and her belly, his sweaty arm was laying on her drenched, sweat-covered forehead, and he was snoring loudly. Oh, and his foot just landed harshly on her hip. Precious angels, that's what kids are. Precious. Freaking. Angels.

...

...

Ah, Friday morning. Finally. The birds are chirping, the sun is almost shining (only because it's not quite 7 AM yet), and Henry's still snoring.

Maybe that last one wasn't as cheery as expected.

She pushes his leg off of her, realizing how surprisingly heavy he was for being such a short and compact kid. "Henry? Wake up, sweetheart. You have to get ready for school." She coos, trying to wake him up but all he did was turn to her, smacking her arm in his sleep. More like punching her arm, with a fist. She groaned and wondered how he could pack such a hard punch. "Henry...wake up." She says with a little more sternness in her tone than before, shaking him slightly.

It took about six tries to get him up, but she finally succeeded. He scurried off to his bathroom in the loft and got ready for school, leaving George the dragon behind. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling fan, still drenched in sweat, and watched the blades go around and around and around until she finally made herself dizzy.

By 7:30 AM, they were sitting in traffic like normal, ready to drop Henry off at the elementary school. "It's your last day of your first week of fourth grade." She says, looking forward through her windshield with one hand on the wheel, one hand resting on the door. When he doesn't answer, she looks in the mirror and smirks, seeing that he'd propped up against the door completely out.

By 8:00, she was running late and rushing in to the school, in to her classroom. She dug for her key and finally found it. She was never this unorganized, nor was she late. It was the heat from last night that threw her off, having to sleep in the bed with her hot-blooded child while the air conditioner was broken was not one of Regina's most favorite memories in her time as a parent.

She sits down at her desk, prepares a few things, then stops when she finally looks up and sees the vase of flowers. She was appalled, but certainly not upset about the beautiful set of various flowers. It was colorful and cheery, something that brightened Regina's day already. She took the note on the card and read it:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

I may not be a Lit champ,

Butpoetry is more you.

Thoughhere I am, sending you this vase,

All because of my clumsiness and your beautiful face.

-Robin Locksley

Her heart skipped a beat. Robin Locksley?! As in...Robin?!

She sighed contentedly and admired her bouquet, reading the poem over and over again and losing track of time. When she finally drifted out of her little haze, she realized that it was already 8:45 and she'd only done about three-quarters of the things she needed to do. She mumbled something explicit and then hurried to finish before her students came in.

Another day, August 15th was written on the board, and they were beginning their day.

...

...

Regina's last class consisted of her constantly checking her phone to see when it was 11:50. At 11:49, she let the students leave early because it's Friday. Or so she says, but her real reason is because she wants to get more water for these flowers, and meet up with Robin.

She finishes her work in her classroom at about 12:00, telling herself she's planned far enough ahead for now and it wouldn't kill her to not do it just this one day, and it's for something important too. So she heads out of the room at 12:05, a little early and hoping Robin would be too. She waits outside of her locked, classroom door for about five minutes, then sees him strolling up.

"Ah, wow...such beautiful flowers you have there. Where did you get them?" He asks as if he knows nothing about it, his hands behind his back as he walks the rest of the way up to her.

She smiles as she watches him come down the hall to her, just then realizing that he actually passes the teacher's lounge to come to her classroom. She messes in the flowers a little before smiling at him, replying, "Someone who could use some poetry help, but got all of the spelling correct." She says, talking as if she didn't see the -Robin Locksley on there. He leans against the wall with one arm, the (red, today) polo shirt coming up on his upper arm a little, making it look tight around his muscle. He sighs and then she finally gives in, "Okay okay, and why did I deserve such a thoughtful gift?" She asks, raising both brows as she waits for his answer.

He makes her wait for his answer a few seconds, then pushes off the wall. "I think it said that it had something to do with your pretty face...correct?"

"Beautiful, actually." She playfully corrects him, taking the card in between her thumb and index fingers. She bites at her lower lip and awkwardly shifts her weight to one side. It was so unusual for any man to unnerve her the way he has, but he's somehow succeeded and she's not sure if she likes it just yet. But for now, she enjoys the flowers and the nice words he has to offer.

He clears his throat and nods once, "Right, that's right..." He says, starting to walk with her to the lounge. "So, I was hoping maybe today, since I've eaten your food every other day, we could go off campus for a bite? My treat, just so I can pay you back for what the pasta had to have cost you." He explains, stopping before they ever got to the lounge. Before Regina could make herself protest, she was slowly nodding. They set a place, and agreed that they would both drive.

She was pulling up to Panera bread in her black SUV, looking around for him. She didn't know what he drove, but she figured he'd be here by now since he left way earlier. She still had the flowers to tend to even after he was walking down the hall to the outer doors.

Once she spotted him in his deep red polo and scratchy, navy blue sweats, she got out of her car with her purse in hand, even though he offered to pay. She smiled when she got up to him and he opened the door for her. Her heart jumped as she tried to not show her excitement and her smile, just from his little gentlemanlike move there. "Thank you." She says as she slips under his arm and into the cold restaurant. Ah, it felt so amazing to be in a place with good A/C.

He nods as a reply and they go in, order, and sit down to wait for their number to be called. Regina put her purse under her feet. He ended up not letting her pay, just as he said before, and she was kind of happy about it.

"So...what made you decide to write the poem, Mr. Literature beginner?" She asks with a little tease in her tone. Maybe this time, just this once, she would admit it was a flirt.

He leans over on the table, not in an un-mannerly way, just to get a little closer to her. It made Regina slightlyuncomfortable, but she didn't ever back down, and now would not be a first. "Why, because you're the Literature teacher, are you not? I'm sure you've read finer poems than that, but it was my best attempt at something I was never good at in high school."

She chuckles softly and sips at her lemonade in the plastic cup with the Panera logo on the side. She takes her lips off and replies, "I am indeed. And I have, maybe, but none quite so sweet as the one you gave me." with a little flirtatious hint in her tone again. She liked this whole flirting concept once she got the hang of it.

Truthfully, she had never had to flirt to get Daniel. They had been best friends through junior high and high school, and they finally gathered up enough courage for each other to date. Things went on from there, the ups and downs. And with Graham...he was more of someone who would hit on her before she ever needed to flirt.

Before Robin could reply, their number was called at the pick-up counter and he goes to get it. He comes back with a bowl of soup and a half of a load of bread for Regina, and a panini sandwich for him. When they started eating, she couldn't imagine him being the type to really enjoy this kind of lightweight food, but she kind of settled on the idea that he may have just done it for her.

Even if that wasn't his thought, she was going to think it until said otherwise.

"I see you've been reading The Fault in Our Stars," He starts out, giving a nod toward her purse on the table that clearly shows the electric blue book. She nods, explains that she's just started. "Is it any good?"

"Coming from a Literature teacher almost in her thirties, it's not something I'd read again. But coming from a teen's point of view, I can see why it's so popular."

He tilts his head and smirks a tiny bit, probably the 20th time he's done that since he sat down across from her today. "Well, I am just a teenage boy at heart..." He replies playfully.

She laughed, though it wasn't really all that funny. To her it kind of was, and it made her feel completely stupid and like an adolescent for acting this giddy in front of a grown man. But she didn't care, she just wanted to laugh.

Lunch went on, they chattered a little (mostly about school, misbehaving students, and Timothy aka Tina), then went back to the school so that Regina could finish her work, and Robin could teach his two classes he had before football practice tonight.

"You could come watch?" He suggests, "It ends at 8:00, so you could come any time. Maybe bring your boy, Henry?" He asks, remembering she mentioned him earlier.

She nods slowly, pondering the idea. "I'll think about it. Thank you so much, again, for lunch. You really didn't have to. And for the beautiful bouquet."

He smiles and shrugs, "Wonderfully nice people deserve it sometimes, Regina." He answers before waving goodbye, beginning to walk the other way toward his class.

She got in the classroom and turned the light on, leaning against the inside of her door and trying not to squeal as she went through all of what happened. She stared at the beautiful flowers on her desk, her stomach churning from excitement. She only hoped this could be the start of something new.

...

...

The unpredictable Southeastern rain made Robin cancel the football practice for Friday night, but letting her know that they'd be there on Saturday morning and she's more than welcome to come. So she does.

She got up at 8:30, letting herself sleep in. She woke Henry up and took him to his friend's house where he was having a playdate all day, then heading back to the school. On a Saturday. This was just odd...

He came up and greeted her before she sat down on the bleachers, watching him coach from afar. She was actually somewhat surprised at how good he was at American football as he called it, coaching it and knowing what all to do. But then again, she's almost sure the school trained him for it. Right? Yeah...

She thought that until she watched him do the tire line, where the players had to pick their knees up to their chest and land their feet in the tire each time they ran. Robin was – air quote –"showing them how to do it" and fell flat on his face. He got green grass stains all over his pure white polo, luckily he still wore dark pants. He turned his hat backwards as he got up and laughed it off. Regina rolled her eyes.

She was falling in love with a clumsy, British, American football coach and Spelling & Vocabulary teacher, and she just wouldn't let herself know that yet.

...

...

How did we like it? Has it been a good start so far? What did you think of Robin's poetry, a yes or a no? Lol.

Remember to follow this story so you can get updates! The rating of this story WILL change in a few chapters to M, so please keep that in mind.

Let me know how you liked it by leaving a review! And remember, please:

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say nothin' at all." -Thumper, Bambi.

G.

UPDATE 10/16/14

Like I explained above, I had issues with the formatting bringing it from my word thing to the site. Each italic word got ran together with the word behind it, and also the last three or so paragraphs were turned into italics. Sorry that it did that and for the confusion!

G.