Rating T/M.

Can be read as prequel to Patience, or as a stand alone halfshot.

Prompt: Making reference to Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show.

After five years spent together, anyone would think that Maria Merryweather would have lost the ability to surprise Robin. But she does exactly that when, finding him at their usual meeting place in the forest, instead of sitting down beside him, as was their usual routine, she seats herself in his lap instead.

"What are you doing?" he demands, less in surprise and more in alarm.

"Proving a point," she replies.

"Do you have to do that from my lap?" He asks, frozen in place as she leans back against his chest.

"Yes," Her voice is firmer this time. Normally, he'd ask what this point was, but he's too busy trying to distract himself from her sudden nearness -her scent, her skin, her weight on him- to ask. Because the strength and speed of his own body's reaction to these things is unexpected and downright terrifying to him. Especially when it occurs to him that if she turned around she'd be straddling him-

"Is something wrong Robin?" Maria asks in a mild tone, probably because he'd involuntarily clenched his hands, which had, at some point (without him realising), drifted up to her waist.

"No," This reply is too quick, his own tone too forced. He bites back a curse and leans back against the tree, closing his eyes. Un-arousing thoughts; he needs to think completely un-arousing thoughts. Like hunting on freezing winter nights. Gutting game. His father in woman undergarments. Singing.

Maria interrupts his rather desperate direction of thought. "Would you like me to move?"

God no, he doesn't want her to but yes, he needs her to. If he says so though, he'll have to explain why, and admit defeat. Neither of them ever do that. But his previous idea isn't working. In fact it's failing miserably; he can't get his mind to focus on anything other than her and if she moves any further backwards into him he's probably going to...offend her.

"How much longer do you need to prove this point of yours?" His voice has a desperate edge to it now.

"I'm not sure. It depends..."

"On what?"

"You, I suppose," She shifts a little and sweet God above he can't bear it-

His eyes fly open, but this turns out to be an even worse idea because he's confronted with the pale expense of her bare neck, so very, very close-

He starts panicking. If this is a test from above, he's going to fail it. He desperately reminds himself that she is a lady and you did not attack ladies necks. You did not kiss ladies as if you want to drown in them and you most definitely did not turn and crush them against trees.

But then what sort of ladies seated themselves in the laps of men in the first place? Either innocent ones, who had no idea what they were doing, or ones that knew exactly what they were doing. He's not sure which Maria is, but either way, he can't stop his arms from sliding around her waist. She hums contently at this, but he barely hears, because she's started tracing patterns on the backs of his hands.

"A gentleman called me pretty today," She muses. "Do you think I am?"

"I think you're beautiful," He mumbles, very far away now as her fingertips continue their delicate work.

"And then he tried to kiss me,"

"Did you let him?"

"No. I didn't want him to,"

"Tell me to kill him for it and I will. You know I'd do anything you asked,"

"What if I asked you to kiss me?"

"I'd struggle to stop,"

"Is that why you haven't? Why you're always keeping me at arms length?"

"You should marry some proper gentleman. It's not my place to interfere,"

"And if I don't want to? If I think it is your place to interfere?" She shifts again and he can't contain the groan this time.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you, I'm proving a point since I've ran out of other ways to convince you,"

"And this point is...?"

"I love you. And I only want you,"

He lets out a breath. And lets go of everything else as well.

"Fine,"

"Fine? That's it?" She sounds surprised, "I thought you'd put up more of a fight than that..."

"Then you've grossly overestimated me," He tells her distractedly, the feeling of defeat never more glorious as he gives into her, himself.

"Oh. Oh," The second is much more breathless than the first given his lips are skimming down her neck. And then it's not long before he's kissing her as if he want to drown in her too. He manages not to shove her against the tree, compromising instead with turning her to face him, since she seem apparently determined to stay in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself as close as possible...

But given the circumstance, he thinks two out of three isn't bad. Not bad at all.