Work Text:
Robert hadn’t been raised religious. His family had been the sort of, special occasions only, kind of churchgoers, Jack Sugden never one to miss Christmas, or Easter service, but rarely attended otherwise. His mum had been a bit more devout, Robert remembered, but she’d hardly been a bible-thumper. He sometimes wished his family had been, because then there would have been more of an excuse for the beliefs his father had held, about queer people.
If Jack had been some sort of God-fearing, every Sunday kind of churchgoer, then maybe Robert could wave away the way his dad had treated him, all those years ago, when he’d caught Robert with the farmhand in his bedroom. It wouldn’t have justified it, Robert knew, but it would have given him something to explain it away with – and he’d be lying, if he said he didn’t long for a way to explain it, to pretend as though his dad’s actions had been the result of lifelong religious indoctrination and not just hatred of Robert, and of who Robert was.
Being out, being in a relationship with a man, here, in Emmerdale, in the place where Jack Sugden still haunted every corner, it was a lot to deal with, sometimes, if Robert was being entirely honest. His father had died a long time ago, now, but Robert still felt the Sugden patriarch’s presence – still felt his disappointment linger, knew that his dad would have plenty to say about the way his marriage ended, that he’d have lots of opinions about him being with Aaron, being engaged to Aaron.
Robert wasn’t sure which bit would offend his dad more – the fact that Aaron was a Dingle, or that he was a man. Really, it was a double disappointment. Robert had outdone himself.
“I’ve been calling you.”
Robert looked up, Aaron hovering close to the Sugden family grave. “Sorry,” his voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears. “I left my phone at the pub.”
“I know,” Aaron hummed. He didn’t sound mad. “I found it in our bedroom.”
Robert nodded, relieved that Aaron didn’t sound pissed off. He wasn’t sure if he could handle an argument, there and then. “How did you find me?”
“I’ll admit – this wasn’t the first place I looked,” Aaron began, coming around to the side Robert was sitting on, glancing at the writing etched into the headstone. ‘ A good man at rest in the good earth ’ – Robert knew those words by heart, now. He could imagine the discussions Diane, and Andy, and Vic had, back then, after Jack had died, trying to decide the best way to commemorate the man they had all loved so dearly.
It was good, that Robert hadn’t been there. He wouldn’t have had much kindness to offer his grieving family.
“But I thought maybe you’d be upset, about what Diane had said, about having a birthday dinner for your dad tonight, and maybe that had made you come here,” Aaron shrugged, sitting down next to Robert. He gave Robert an expectant look, one Robert had come to know as a plea for Robert to talk, to open up and explain how he was feeling. Robert wasn’t very good at that – but he was trying, he really was.
He wanted to be better, for Aaron.
“My dad – he’s still this perfect man, in their eyes,” Robert began, not entirely sure where to begin. “I don’t know how to match that up with the version of him that I knew.”
Robert knew the truth of who is father was, was somewhere between those two versions, but Robert didn’t have the truth of who Jack Sugden was: he had the version of his father who had made him feel as though he wasn’t good enough, and that was the version he had been left with, when his father had died.
Aaron knocked his knee against Robert’s. “You don’t have to,” he said. “The way your dad treated you, Robert – you don’t have to pretend it was fine, not to Diane, or Vic. You could tell them.”
“Diane knew my dad wasn’t perfect – she was married to him, after all,” Robert couldn’t help the slightly bitter laugh that escaped his throat. Diane knew Jack wasn’t the perfect man – but she’d loved him, all the same. Robert wasn’t sure if he could say the same, sometimes. “But how do I ruin it for Vic? She was fifteen, when dad died. Same age I was when…”
“When he leathered you for kissing a boy,” Aaron finished for him, looking at Robert intently. “Don’t you think she’d want to know?”
Robert didn’t know, was the honest answer. Robert might have been orphaned at twenty-three, but Victoria had been orphaned at fifteen, and he didn’t want to ruin the memories she did have of their father – Jack wasn’t a perfect man, by any means, but he was their dad, and Victoria talked about him with a kind of reverence than Robert couldn’t help but be reluctant to spoil, even if every time she mentioned their father, Robert felt like he wanted to scream, or cry, or both.
Robert shrugged. “Dunno.”
“You know your sister better than that,” Aaron chastised gently, and that was true, Robert knew – Victoria was decent, kind in a way that Robert had never been, and she stuck true to her morals. She’d been a good friend to Aaron, when he’d first came out, that he knew – and she’d done her best, in the time since Robert had less come out, and more was forced out, his sister taking the new reality of her brother dating a man in her stride.
“I just – I’m not ready, to tell her,” Robert admitted. The first time he’d labelled himself as bisexual had been a few short weeks previously, the word bursting out mid-argument with Aaron, Robert having spent months trying it out for size secretly, muttering the word in front of the mirror late at night when no one was around to overhear. It was new, and it was the right word, Robert knew, but that didn’t mean he felt entirely comfortable in his own skin, yet, or that he was ready to sit, and tell Vic, and Diane, why he’d been so deep in the closest he’d had to blow multiple lives up – including his own – before he could accept who he was, and even still, Robert didn’t entirely accept himself entirely. He wanted to, for himself, and for Aaron – but it was going to take time.
Aaron nodded. “Okay,” he agreed easily, not pushing the matter. Robert loved him for it.
“I don’t think I can go and sit through dinner with them and listen to them talking about how wonderful dad was – and toast to his birthday,” Robert glanced at the date on the headstone. Sixty-nine, his dad would have been today. It didn’t sound all that old, especially when Robert counted the years and realised his father had been dead for seven years now.
Aaron hummed. “Then we won’t,” he nudged Robert with his knee. “You go in the back way – go upstairs, to our room, and I’ll tell Diane and Vic you’ve got a migraine, and you need looking after,” he smiled at Robert, that soft grin he seemed to save only for Robert. It was the kind of smile Robert wanted to drown in.
“You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do anything for you,” Aaron reminded, standing up as though he hadn’t just taken Robert’s breath away, offering Robert a hand, a hand Robert readily accepted, letting his fiancé tug him to his feet. “You know that, right?”
Robert nodded, not trusting himself to say anything, for fear he might say too much – that he might tell Aaron how he wasn’t sure if he had lived at all, before they’d met, that his life had started in that layby all those years ago, and if Robert had to imagine life without Aaron, even for a single second, the thought of it alone made him want to die.
Aaron’s grip on his hand was tight, as they walked back to the pub, the silence between them companionable. Aaron sent Robert upstairs with a brief kiss and a promise that he wouldn’t be long, leaving Robert to sit on the edge of their bed, waiting for Aaron to return.
Ever since that day in the words, when Robert had told Aaron about what had happened, back then, what his dad had done, Robert had thought a lot about his dad, and his dad’s reaction to Robert kissing a boy. It hadn’t gone any further than that, and Robert wasn’t sure it would have, even if his dad hadn’t caught them, sure his nerves would have gotten the better of him, even when guided by Tom’s sure hands.
He couldn’t help but wonder why his dad had been so offended by it. If Robert let himself think about it – really think about it – the way he’d felt as Tom had kissed him was no different to how he’d felt about Katie, at the time. He didn’t understand the offence, the disgust – not then, and especially not now, not with Aaron.
How could anything about the way Aaron touched him be sinful?
The way Aaron touched him was so reverent, as though Robert was worth something, every press of Aaron’s fingertips loving. Robert couldn’t understand why his dad wouldn’t have wanted that for him – how Jack would have been against the loving, genuine way that Aaron wanted him. He wasn’t a parent, or anything – but he was sure that every parent was supposed to want their child to be loved, really loved.
Aaron loved him – like no one ever had before.
“Hiya.”
Robert looked up to see Aaron standing in the doorway of their bedroom, sleeves of his jumper rolled to the elbow. “Hi,” he returned the greeting.
“Are you okay? You don’t look like you’ve moved since you got upstairs,” Aaron’s concerned expression was genuine, his touch light as he ran a hand through Robert’s hair, scratching at his scalp. It felt good.
“My head is a bit melted,” Robert admitted. He knew it had been an excuse, but a part of him felt like maybe he did have the beginnings of a migraine starting, his head swimming.
Aaron gave him a sympathetic look, pressing a kiss to Robert’s hairline. It was the kind of casual affection that still made Robert’s heart stop in his chest, even now, months after they’d gotten together. “I ran you a bath,” he said, and oh – maybe Robert had been sitting there for a while, staring into space. He must have been, if Aaron had time to run him a bath.
Robert gave him a grateful look. “I love you, you know.”
“Soft lad,” Aaron’s tone was affectionate, as he tugged Robert to his feet, confident and sure as he manoeuvred them both down the hallway, the bathroom door clicking shut behind them, Aaron giving Robert a pointed look as he locked the door.
The bath was steaming, the scent of the fancy eucalyptus and peppermint bath salts that Robert had bought him a few weeks ago familiar.
“Let me take care of you, eh?” Aaron nudged, hands tugging at the buttons of Robert’s shirt, the action terribly intimate, despite the fact it didn’t feel a bit heated, no promise of more to then way that Aaron undressed him.
Robert wasn’t very good, at letting Aaron – or anyone else – take care of him, but he was too tired to argue, letting Aaron strip him out of his clothes. It was a kind of intimacy he’d never imagined having with Aaron, a familiarity and softness to Aaron’s actions that sort of made Robert’s heart ache. Aaron was softer, gentler than anyone – including Robert – gave him credit for, and Robert was the lucky man who got to reap the benefits of that gentleness.
“In you get,” Aaron nudged, keeping a grip of Robert’s elbow as he stepped into the steaming bath, his muscles aching as the hot water washed over his body. Aaron sat by the edge of the bath, as Robert tried his best to relax, eyes heavy as he looked up at Aaron. “I know that I can’t say anything to make what your dad did any better,” he began, stroking a hand through Robert’s steam-damp hair. “But I’m proud of you, you know.”
“Aaron…”
“Don’t brush me off,” Aaron interrupted, shaking his head. “I’m proud of you. It’s not easy, to come to terms with your sexuality. Trust me – I know – and I didn’t have to deal with a parent who’d made it very clear they wouldn’t accept me. But you’re here, with me – and you sit in that pub, and kiss me in front of the whole village, despite what your dad did to you, and that’s something to be really fucking proud of, Rob.”
Robert hated the way tears welled up in his eyes, at Aaron’s words. He wasn’t sure if he was proud of himself – but Aaron was, and somehow, that meant more.
“I love you,” Aaron said, and the words came more freely, now, but Robert still wanted to luxuriate in them every single time, the disbelief that Aaron Dingle loved him – despite, despite, despite – something he never wanted to take for granted. “I’m so glad you’re mine, Robert.”
Robert had never been the kind of man who’d wanted to belong to someone else, but he wanted to belong to Aaron – he was glad, to belong to Aaron. If he could tattoo Aaron’s fingerprints on his body, he would – brand himself as Aaron’s, let the entire world know that Robert Sugden belonged to Aaron Dingle. The engagement ring that sat on his left hand was the best he could do, there and then, an advertisement to the world that he was spoken for.
“I love you,” Aaron repeated, brushing Robert’s damp hair back off his forehead. “Let me take care of you.”
Robert nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, the tiredness he felt entirely overwhelming. He wasn’t good at being vulnerable, but he was okay with being vulnerable if it was with Aaron. He was safe with Aaron. “Okay.”