Chapter Text
in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul
All things considered, it's stupid.
They argue a lot, sure - over big things and little things; over Robert flirting with anyone with a fucking pulse and over who left the milk out on an unusually hot day - because it's what they do. They fight and they make up because their relationship is passion and frustration and tenderness all rolled into one.
Aaron loves it.
Those on the outside, though? Not so much.
And Aaron understands it. He does. He can imagine all too well what it's like to see them screaming at each other, red faced and hoarse.
But it's not his fault that he's got an idiot of a husband who likes spending money they don't have.
This time, Robert has bought a dressing table. It cost a tiny bit less than what the scrapyard brings in in an entire month, but apparently that's antique and makes it okay.
Except it doesn't.
He tells Robert as much through raised voices and heated words.
And then Robert's screaming that Aaron knows exactly what kind of man he married.
Now Aaron's yelling things that he won't remember in the morning.
They sleep apart tonight; Aaron curled up in their cold bed with tear tracks on his cheeks and Robert in the same position on the sofa downstairs.
It's the same old story, and Aaron doesn't expect any different. He lies awake all night, waiting for the familiar routine.
"Baby," Robert murmurs, voice husky and low. "I'm sorry." He slides into the bed, onto the cold space next to Aaron, and curls an arm around his waist.
"Idiot," The younger man scoffs, but he accepts the gesture for what it is and promises himself that Robert won't get away with it this easy.
Aaron accepts the morning cup of coffee and swerves the morning kiss, and it lands on his cheek instead. "Are you coming with me to work this morning?" Robert asks brightly, clearly still trying to make up for the mess he'd caused the night before.
"I'm getting a lift with Adam," He says, almost dismissive but not quite. "Because you're taking that fucking dresser back where it came from. I mean it, Robert, if it's still here when I come back from lunch I won't be happy."
He's still pissed off. He can feel it in his bones, and he wants Robert to feel it too.
It thrums through his body all day; an underlying irritation that he can't quite shake off, and even Adam notices something's up. "What's the matter with you?" He asks, but then stops shortly. "Let me guess: Robert."
"Maybe you're not as stupid as everyone thinks," Aaron mutters, tapping his pen against the stack of papers in front of him. The accounts are frustrating him even more because this should be Robert's job, only he's currently at an antiques shop in Hotten trying to fix his mistakes. And once again, it all comes down to that stupid dressing table.
Adam looks affronted before his face shifts, lips pursed and brows furrowed in a way that faintly reminds Aaron of a monkey. "Don't take it out on me because you married a-"
Aaron doesn't get to find out what exactly he married (and maybe it's a good job, too), because there's a knock on the door.
It's a portacabin. People never knock - unless it's a client, even though they haven't got anyone scheduled in today.
Adam stares at Aaron. Aaron stares right back.
"Fine!" Adam huffs, slamming his mug onto the desk. "I'll go!"
Aaron shrugs, focusing his gaze back onto the page in front of him and stares at the numbers until they burn into his brain. None of this even makes any sense - and again, he's angry at Robert for that fucking dresser. He wonders if the rest of their lives are going to be like this, if Robert will constantly make decisions for the both of them (and then he tries to ignore the thrill the rest of their lives sends up his spine). He hears Adam's loud bark of laughter and glances up, ready to just go back to pretending he's not interested but- Adam's holding flowers. A fucking bouquet of flowers, all purples and blues, looking delighted. "Why did Vic chuck you out this time?" He asks, feigning indifference but secretly pleased he's not the only one with a useless husband.
"Mate!" Adam crows, face lit up like a christmas tree. "They're not mine - they're for you!" And then he cackles again, thrusting the flowers at Aaron's chest.
He can feel his cheeks growing hotter with embarrassment because, seriously? He's a twenty five year old man, not a middle aged woman. Who would send him flowers anyway? He fumbles to take them, spies the card nestled in the top. It's marble patterned on one side, shiny and thick, and his mind supplies Robert without even thinking about it.
Aaron,
I'm sorry.
I love you,
Rx
That's all the card says. That's all it says but it's enough because the gesture is making Aaron's heart swell twice the size - despite how much he doesn't want it to - and he can feel the smile creeping onto his lips.
"It must've been bad if he bought you flowers," Adam bellows, still laughing.
Aaron shuffles to his feet, pockets the card and drops the flowers into the sink before filling it with an inch of water. "Shut up."
The flowers sit proudly in the middle of the dining table, stark against the white plastic. Aqua blue and lilac, hanging bell-shaped petals on thick green stems. They're nice, even Aaron can admit that - but they still probably cost a fortune (even if they are a hell of a lot less than the fucking dresser).
"Hyacinths," Chas had cooed when he'd gone to beg a vase off her. "How lovely!"
He'd just muttered a thanks and scarpered.
He's home first for once. Robert had been stuck in meetings in Leeds, had texted that he was bringing home a takeaway with no mention of the flowers, and Aaron quietly sets the table.
Liv's not home, instead staying at Gabby's, and the house is deadly silent.
That's why he hears the door click open and closed again, the key in the lock and then the sound of Robert toeing his shoes off. He hears footsteps padding through to the kitchen, socked feet on laminate wood floor, and then a sharp intake of breath. He slides his arms around Aaron's waist, shoves the takeaway onto the counter. And presses warm, dry lips onto the younger man's neck, nosing against the skin behind his ear. "You got the-"
"Flowers, Robert," Aaron says plainly, slipping out of Robert's embrace to face him. "You bought me flowers."
The hopeful grin highlighting his face is nothing short of- well, lovely, really, even if Aaron would never use that word in his entire life. "Do you like them?" His tone is eager, infectious, and it's moments like this that reminds them both of how much Robert really loves him.
"Do I look like a middle aged woman?" He asks, incredulous. He sighs at the crestfallen look the words give him, silences Robert with a thumb to his lower lip and ducks his head. "Thank you. I mean it, Robert. I just- no one's ever bought me flowers before."
Robert laughs, short and sweet and music to Aaron's ears. "I find that hard to believe," He murmurs, pushing forward to brush his nose against Aaron's. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"
"You're an idiot. As long as you never, ever, do anything like that again," Aaron whispers softly. "Then I forgive you. And next time, don't send the flowers to the scrapyard." Then he kisses his husband, long and deep, and tells him I love you in a way that words never could.
the fairest flowers o' the season are our carnations
Most of the time, Aaron has good days. Good days mean that he can get out of bed and go to work and function. Good days are great.
Sometimes, though, he has bad days. They plow into him full force, knock him off his feet and leave him feeling breathless.
Much like today.
The nightmares had been relentless last night - a never-ending loop of crashesdrowningcourtroomsrobertlivmumrobertrobertrobert that left him gasping and shaking, tears staining his cheeks when he woke up. Robert is good at times like this. He always is, and today's no different. He presses a warm cup of tea into Aaron's shaking hands and then he presses a soft kiss onto Aaron's trembling forehead. "I don't have to go to work today," He sighs, kneeling in front of the younger man and running fingers through his curls. "I can stay home with you. Nicola will understand."
"Robert," Aaron says. He hates the waver in his voice, the way it shakes and breaks. He just feels so fucking weak when his own mind betrays him like this. "I'll be fine, okay? I will. And if I'm not, well- I'll call, okay? I promise you." He grasps Robert's hand in his own clammy one and wonders how he got this lucky.
Robert nods but looks devastated nonetheless. "I'm sorry," He murmurs, drawing Aaron into a hug. The warmth of him, the way he feels solid and real and certain makes Aaron's knees feel a little stronger. "I'll be as quick as I can, I swear. And then I'll cook us dinner and we can have a film night, alright?"
Aaron tucks his nose into Robert's neck, breathes in his scent and nods. "Sounds perfect."
"I love you," Robert says as he leaves, and the sad look in his eyes, the downturned corners of his lips - well, that's a look Aaron won't forget in a hurry.
It's been a few hours since Robert's been gone, since Aaron's been alone, physically and mentally, when the doorbell blares shrilly throughout the empty house. When he answers it, a bunch of flowers is thrust into his arms.
Peach and white carnations, pastel shades. Delicate petals. A sweet smell. A gold card; metallic, strong.
I'll spend the rest of my life doing the best I can for you.
I'll spend the rest of my life trying to outweigh the bad.
Rx
And Aaron breaks down into tears - except this time, they're the good kind.