I went in circles somewhere else

I'm revisiting the works that I put on pause for FMI, so here's a bit from a doc titled "robron emotional thing" aka extra vulnerable Robert Sugden because that's how I roll in here 😅.

“Well, well, I’d like to say I’m surprised, but not really.” Cain’s tone is almost amused as he leans against the doorframe, a little smirk playing at his lips, “I hope you’re not distracting Aaron too much, Sugden.”

Aaron feels himself tensing, ready to step in if needed. 

“I’m only providing my very professional expertise." Robert says, smooth and bright. He’s still smiling, looking calm and-

Beautiful. He’s so beautiful and he matters so much that Aaron has to curl his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palms so he doesn’t think about it, doesn’t think about himself, because it really shouldn’t matter now.

“Haven’t lost your touch, eh?” Cain hums, taking a step closer, looking at fiat 500 Aaron has been working on, “Looking good. Why don’t you go have a pint? Tell Chas to put it on me, I’ll stop by after closing up here.”

“I think we’ll pass.” Aaron says, taking his overalls off and quickly wiping his hands before making his way to Robert, touching his elbow, “Do you want to hop off?”

Robert nods, looking distracted, and he follows Aaron’s touch as he slides off the table. He wobbles a little when he lands on the floor, leaning forward, and Aaron’s hand flies to wrap around his waist instinctively, making sure to keep him upright. Robert exhales deeply, leaning into him, and his thin shirt is sweated through on the small of his back, clinging to Aaron’s arm, the damp heat making him breathless. 

Robert’s breathing hitches, and Aaron tries to swallow around the pressure in his chest.

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Jimmy's smile turns sympathetic, as if Robert were his very dear, very delusional child.

Aaron doesn’t think much about that wedding night during the next few years, when the village has become his home, when some strangers have become his friends, and stories have become truths. 

He learns about Sarah Sugden, who talks to birds and hides burn marks under her long-sleeved shirts and floral dresses. He learns about the fire that charred her skin, and about a son who saved her and has been scarcely seen since then, and during long autumn evenings, the tales echo in between the quiet walls.

They say he is even more scarred than Sarah.

They say he caused the fire and is hiding now.

He didn’t come to Jack’s funeral.

They say he is sick.

He was at the wedding, wasn’t he?

Aaron thinks about a pale stranger, appearing like a fallen star.

“What’s the deal with your brother?” Adam asks one night, drunk on beer and curiosity, and Vic’s eyes are round and upset. 

“The only thing that you should know is that I miss him very much.”

This weekend is insane, but I've dug out a silly bit from my poor Serendipity AU that I haven't updated since beginning of April, I can't abandon my child.

A little look won't do any harm. He might buy himself a little gift if he finds anything interesting.

He got so good at this odd half-denial thing that he keeps on impressing himself.

The front of the shop is full of incomplete sets of tableware, piles of clothing from a couple of decades ago and an obscene amount of knick-knacks. Robert has just locked his eyes with an absolutely terrifying porcelain dolphin when an elderly gentleman pops from behind the shelves. 

"Can I help you?"

"Do you have any books?" 

The short stacks in the back contain mostly cheap copies of Jane Austen novels, worn-out dictionaries and a couple of detective novels. Robert skims through the titles, his squeezing in a way that should be worrying for someone his age, but also something he is used to by now. 

Five minutes later, he's sitting at a corner table in a dingy pub, taking a swing from his pint, beer going down his throat smoothly and a dam in his brain opens. He thinks about a beer he had in another part of the city, about flickering lights and the most beautiful eyes in the world.

"So, can you just tell me why you hate me?” the demanding prick urges, and Aaron opens his mouth to list all the reasons, but suddenly, he can’t.

Robert looks at him like a bird thrown out of its nest and Aaron’s tongue doesn’t cooperate, because what exactly could he say? I’ve watched you kiss a dozen girls, and it pissed me off for some reason, then once you looked at me like I was an eight wonder of the world AND THEN you fucked off for three years. Now you’re back all gorgeous and talking about your grand life like nothing happened, and I, I-

Robert looks away for a moment, takes a sip of his beer, and decides that he might as well be honest with a total stranger, now that he has finally learned how to be honest with himself.

"I'm not really good at it. Not anymore." His therapist would be so proud.

"You? Now, that's hard to believe." The man smiles, a little sexy smirk that feeds the little flames licking at Robert's insides. "I'm Aaron."

There's a short, cold spike of doubt shooting through Robert's skull, a way too familiar fear circling in his veins, his thoughts racing to what happened, what could happen, and–

"Robert."

He's safe. He's abroad and he can't get to him.

My first Forgot My Invitation fic is now on AO3 near you.

This week and especially this day don't sprinkle joy, so I've decided to share a bit from one project I really need to get back to.

They finish their ice cream and Aaron’s breathing gets easier, but just as thet raise up from the bench, Robert grimaces.

“Ouch. My face hurts.”

Aaron looks at him, alarmed, and he doesn’t know how only now he notices the unhealthily pink shade of Robert’s skin.

“Oh. Yeah, I-” he looks around, spots a lady reading a book on a bench nearby, a toddler playing with a teddy next to her, “Just give me a second, alright? I’m not going anywhere, just a few steps.”

He’s back in mere moments, clutching a small bottle in his hands.

“You got sunburnt.” he explains, popping the cap open, “And you can always count on a mother to have a bottle of sunscreen on them. Don’t move.”

It only registers to him now, that he is going to touch Robert again, and his mouth goes dry, his heart skips a beat in a way it absolutely shouldn’t.

“Do your worst.” Robert says, more quietly than Aaron would expect, and stays absolutely still.

Robert’s skin is hot to the touch. Tender, if judging by Robert’s soft whimper, and Aaron can’t stop himself from making a little soothing sound, pushing through his hammering pulse that climbs its way from his chest and up his throat.

It’s almost as intimate as that time a couple of weeks back when Aaron helped him shave, and he allows himself a couple of more strokes before be withdraws his hand and jogs to give the bottle back, the woman’s eyes glimmering and smile shiny.

“You look very sweet together.” she says, and Aaron only nods, lost and lightheaded.