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Aaron's not quite sure what wakes him up. Usually, he'd say it’s the idiot down the wing kicking off again because he wants breakfast now, but as Aaron lays there, he notes that all he can hear is... well, nothing. Nothing aside from the faint sound of someone laughing outside, which only confuses Aaron further - nobody's allowed outside before midday.
As he slowly continues to stir, he becomes distantly aware of the warmth resting on his stomach. Aaron moves to curl his fingers, aiming to wipe away the sticky feel of sweat below his palm but–
His fingers don’t move.
Not at first, anyway. A second passes before the hand on his stomach twitches; fingers curling and absently stroking at Aaron’s bare skin, index finger slipping under the waistband of his boxers. Aaron lays paralysed by the realisation that it isn’t his hand.
His eyes snap open, then immediately clamp shut once more as the brightness filtering into his cell blinds him. When the colours behind his eyes fade, he allows them to flutter open once more, this time adjusting properly. It takes a moment for his surroundings to sink in; the geometric grey wallpaper, the rich purple sheets pooled around his waist...
Fear leaves him in a single sigh of relief.
He’s home.
Glancing down at the hand on his stomach, Aaron's eyes immediately focus on the glimmer of a silver band wrapped around its ring finger. The last time he was here, he was naked, curled around his husband and waking up to his first day as a married man, with the crushing realisation that it was also his last day as a free man.
But that’s over now; he’s free again. Not only from the confines of his cell but also free to be himself; to love his husband without fearing the repercussions.
Shifting under the soft, freshly-washed sheets, Aaron rolls onto his side to face Robert. It’s been six weeks since he was last able to watch him sleep, but as he takes in the smudge of darkness under his eyes and the faint frown lines in his forehead, Aaron wonders whether Robert has even slept since then. It’s startling, to think about how worn-down they’ve both become in such a short time apart. Aaron tries not to think about what state they’d be in if he’d served another month, let alone the whole year. He’d done that a lot, inside, usually on a night when Ethan was snoring below him and his inner voice refused to ease off – but he’d never worried about how Robert would cope.
Not until now, anyway.
The thought only adds to the guilt that he carried for putting the people he loves in that kind of situation, and he instinctively edges closer, curling his hand around the back of Robert’s neck and pressing a feather-light kiss to his husband’s lips.
“Aar’n?” Robert mumbles sleepily into his pillow.
“Yeah,” Aaron breathes, sinking closer as his fingers continue to brush back and forth through the fine hairs at the nape of Robert’s neck, “it’s me."
A moment later, Robert begins to blink awake. Slowly, much like Aaron when he woke however-long ago, but when Robert’s eventually eyes settle on Aaron’s face, matching smiles bloom across their faces. There were moments, between missing everyone back home, when he worried that things would be different when he came out, that they wouldn’t fit together like they did before. It seems so stupid now. If anything, they feel stronger; like they could take on the world together.
"Morning Mr Sugden," Robert whispers, breath hitching slightly. It's only then that Aaron notices the tears in his eyes, in both their eyes no doubt. He drags his hand from Robert's neck, across the sharp edge of his jaw and up, cupping Robert's cheek as he feebly attempts to wipe the wetness away with his thumb.
Aaron swallows, mind flashing back to their teary goodbyes, and smiles, "morning Mr Dingle."