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It was hardly even much of a choice in the end, if Aaron was being entirely honest about it. Really, if he was being entirely honest about it, the choice had been made the day Robert had returned, when he’d walked into Aaron’s wedding and turned his world upside down for the umpteenth time - everything that had happened in the in-between had been stepping stones on the path to inevitable, which was always going to be him and Robert.
It was something Aaron had long-since accepted – for better, or worse, if Robert was an option, Robert was always going to be where he ended up, who he ended up with. Plenty of people would argue it was for worse, Aaron knew, but he’d argue it was for the better – Robert Sugden loved him, like no one else ever had before, and Aaron didn’t think it was particularly clever to deny himself that love, not when Robert loving him had healed him in ways he still struggled to articulate, even now, a decade on from when it had all began.
Aaron had loved John – the version of John that he’d been allowed to know, at least – but that love had paled in comparison to the all-encompassing feeling he had when he was with Robert, and so the choice had been made, even before John had gone mental and showed his true colours. He knew how it seemed, to the rest of the village, that Aaron had finally chosen Robert because John was out of the picture, and rotting in one of His Majesty’s finest prisons, awaiting trial, but the truth was, Aaron had chosen Robert long before that final stand off in the woods, a gun pointed at Mack’s head, and Robert bleeding out in the ground.
It had been a rough few months, was the thing, and so now, it was over – mostly – and Aaron just wanted to get on with rebuilding a life with the actual love of his life, thank you very much, but every single person in his life had suddenly decided to have an opinion on Robert Sugden, and their relationship, and it was really starting to wind Aaron up.
They were in the pub, for an early dinner, an attempt at normality in the midst of what had been a decidedly not-normal autumn so far, Robert tired from a day working with Moira up at the farm, Aaron leaving the scrapyard in Vinny’s somewhat capable hands so he and Robert could grab a few pints and a curry at the pub.
“Love,” Chas tried to keep her voice low, as she pushed two pints toward Aaron. His mother was anything but subtle, and so her low tone was normal volume for most people, her warning words catching Robert’s attention. Aaron didn’t have to look at him, to know he was listening. “Are you sure about this? About him?”
Aaron fixed his mum with a steely glare. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?”
“When have you ever needed to ask?” Chas bitched back in response. Aaron and his mum were too alike, he knew – both hot-headed and easily wound up, the reason they hadn’t gotten on for years was the reason they were so close now, Aaron very much the male version of Chas Dingle. “I’m allowed to raise my concerns with you, Aaron – I’m your mother.”
I’m your mother , Aaron bitched in his head, rolling his eyes at her concern. “Mum,” he said firmly. “I want to be with Robert. I should have chosen him, that day, when he came back – he’s always been it for me.”
Chas frowned. “I know, but love – I saw how you were, after the divorce,” she shook her head. Aaron definitely did not need reminding of how completely off the rails he’d gone after Robert had sent through the divorce paperwork, thank you very much. He hoped the glare he shot his mother conveyed exactly that. “I thought it was going to kill you, Aaron. I can’t watch you go through that again.”
“What makes you think I will?” Aaron hissed. “Mum – he thought he was doing the right thing, by letting me go,” he didn’t entirely agree with Robert’s logic, but he understood the why of it all now; they’d talked about it, in the weeks since they’d gotten back together properly, Robert explaining his side of the story. Aaron couldn’t hate him forever, for trying to do the right thing, and if they were going to make this work, really work, then Aaron to learn to let things go. It was hardly a special skill of his, but he was trying – he had to, if they were ever going to be happy, really happy.
“He still hurt you!” Chas shot back. “Over, and over – he hurts you, Aaron. That’s where this story always ends up – with him ruining your life.”
Aaron knew that him and Robert were far from perfect – a fair few lives had been ruined, in the pursuit of their happily ever after, but he found it hard to be so sorry about that, when he got to have Robert all to himself. Sue him, he’d never been an entirely unselfish person. “What about all the good parts, eh? Have you forgotten how happy we were, when we figured it all out?” he pushed back, annoyed at how easily his mum seemed to forget how good the good had been, when it came to him and Robert – and the good had been fucking brilliant, the same way the bad had been so very, very bad.
Chas softened, slightly. “I just can’t see you get hurt by him again, love.”
“Well, I won’t,” Aaron knew he was being petulant, grabbing their two pints off the bar, not interested in continuing this conversation with his mother. “So, you can drop it, yeah.”
Robert was curled in on himself, when Aaron returned to their table, shoulders slumped in that unfamiliar way they tended to be more often than not, these days. It was something he was struggling to get used to, Robert’s easy confidence one of the hallmarks of the man he’d first fallen in love with, all those years ago now. Aaron knew it was a combination of things – what Robert had been through in prison, still not having access to Seb, everything that had happened with John – but that didn’t mean he liked it, that he liked the way Robert tried to make himself smaller, as though his presence was an inconvenience to the rest of the village.
Nudging Robert’s knee with his own, Aaron offered him a reassuring smile. “You’ve got a face like a slapped arse,” he hummed, trying to lighten the mood. He didn’t want their life together to be a constant state of fucking misery. It was going to be good, this time – it had to be good this time. Aaron wouldn’t survive it, if it got bad again – he’d lived that story enough times with Robert, and he wanted them to be happy, this time, really, truly, genuinely fucking happy. They’d earned it.
Robert didn’t laugh. “Your mum is right, you know,” he said quietly. “I do always hurt you.”
“Why have you suddenly decided to start listening to a word my mum says?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. It was strange, to see Robert agree with his mum – they’d had a decent relationship, by the end, but Robert would have generally eaten glass than agreed with a word Chas Dingle said. That was just a fact of life.
Robert didn’t rise to the snarky comment the way Aaron hoped he would, his expression still downtrodden. “Can’t help it if she’s having a rare moment of sense.”
“Robert,” Aaron sighed, putting on the voice he tended to use when he needed to get Eve to listen to him in a busy playground when she had very little interest in doing exactly that. “Robert, look at me properly.”
Robert looked up. “I do always end up hurting you,” he said, clearly choosing his words carefully. Aaron kind of wanted to pick a fight about it.
“And I don’t always end up hurting you?” Aaron retorted. “Robert – I could sit here and go through a very long list of all the shitty things I’ve also done to you, over the years, but I don’t really fancy reliving our worst moments all over again,” he shook his head. He knew he’d been just as cruel to Robert, over the years, biting words and brutal fists he could hardly control a staple in their worst days as much as Robert’s harshness had been. They’d rarely ever been perfect. That’s sort of what made them perfect for each other, actually.
Reaching across the rickety pub table, Aaron pressed a thumb to the thin skin of Robert’s wrist, rubbing gently. “We’ve not always done right by each other,” he agreed, because that would always be true. “But that doesn’t mean we stop trying. Alright? I love you, Robert,” and the words came so much more easily, now, the benefit of time and age and years of loss making Aaron more willing to say it. He knew how easy it was to lose the people you loved, now. “I don’t care what my mum thinks.”
Robert’s expression softened. “I don’t deserve another chance with you.”
“Neither do I,” Aaron shrugged. “I still want it, though. Since when have you been such a defeatist, eh? It doesn’t suit you.”
Robert rolled his eyes, and there was more of the spark that Aaron was used to, snarky and biting, two of the things Aaron has always loved the most about Robert. “Sorry for trying to be self-reflective and emotionally in-touch in my old age,” he scoffed, taking a drag of his pint.
Aaron pulled a face. “Don’t be weird,” he hummed. He knew prison, in particular, had really affected Robert, but he was still figuring out all the ways it had, exactly – this newfound insecurity seemed to be one of the ways it had, and Aaron hated it, craved the easy confidence and casual indifference Robert had always treated their fellow villagers with. His insecurities used to be something for Aaron, and Aaron alone, something Aaron could protect and keep safe. He didn’t like that they were shared with the world, now. “You want to be with me – I want to be with you. Let’s just ignore the rest.”
Robert ran a hand through his already messy hair, taking another drag of his pint. He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded, clearly not wanting to push the argument further. Aaron would take it, for now.
“Hey,” Aaron nudged again. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy.”
The smile Robert offered him was a bit more familiar – that same, secretive, easy smile he’d flashed Aaron so often, over the years, the one that had kept Aaron coming back for more, even when he shouldn’t have, because even then, some subconscious part of him knew that Robert really did love him, that they were destined for more – Aaron was loathe to use desperately cheesy terms like soulmates, but sometimes he thought they might be. Soulmates, that was.
“Nothing ever is, with us,” Robert hummed his agreement. “I just – I don’t want them all thinking I’m back to ruin your life,” he gestured vaguely to the half empty pub, but Aaron knew who he meant – the Dingles, mostly. Aaron loved his family, but the way they closed ranks was objectively kind of terrifying, and they hadn’t welcomed Robert back with open arms. It would take a while. “We were good, in the end – I want us to get back there, Aaron.”
“I want that too,” Aaron reassured, leaning across the table to give Robert a quick kiss, revelling in the fact he could just do that now – he didn’t have to longingly look across the village at Robert, and pretend he didn’t want him, desire covered up with grumpy looks and harsh words, Aaron desperately clinging to a marriage that had been the wrong fit from day one. “And we will,” he promised, though he’d not quite figured out the how of it yet – Aaron didn’t want to move back into The Mill, after everything, and Robert still lived with Victoria, and didn’t exactly have a stable job, yet, so finding somewhere to live was going to be a nightmare, but they’d figure it out. They always did.
“You’re so different sometimes, now,” Robert’s tone was one of wonder, a reassurance that the differences he saw in Aaron were good ones. Aaron knew it wasn’t all good, but some changes had been upgrades – he was proud of those. “So – confident,” he decided. “You know what you want.”
“I’ve always known what I want, when it comes to you,” Aaron pointed out.
Robert nodded. “I know,” he paused, for a second. “It just sometimes feels like it’s all the other way around, this time – you’ve got it all figured out, and I need my hand held for everything,” he grimaced, slightly. “I don’t mean – I didn’t see you like that, back then.”
“I did need my hand held a lot,” Aaron agreed, not offended by the observation. He’d been a mess, after all. He reached for Robert’s left hand, intertwining their fingers tightly, feeling the bumps and callouses of Robert’s palm bump against his own, hands telling years’ worth of stories that Aaron hadn’t heard yet. They had time. “Good job I like holding yours then, isn’t it?”
Robert rolled his eyes, but the pink flush to his cheeks betrayed the delight he clearly felt at Aaron’s admission. Before he could say anything, they were interrupted by two pints being slammed down on their table.
“What – Cain ?” Aaron couldn’t help but look at his uncle, confused.
Cain shrugged. “Nice to see you two together,” was what he decided on, and for a second, Aaron had to question whether or not he was on another planet entirely. Cain had been mostly quiet, about the Robert of it all, had mostly stayed away from Aaron, too, and Aaron hadn’t begrudged him it – Aaron’s husband had been the one who’d killed Cain’s son, and Aaron hadn’t seen it, had missed the red flags. Aaron would have been furious, too.
Robert’s expression was one of matching confusion.
Cain rolled his eyes. “Is it so hard to believe I’m happy, for the two of you?”
“Uh – yes?” Robert replied on their behalf, brow furrowed.
Cain huffed out an annoyed sigh, a sure sign he was going to attempt to say something emotionally intelligent. Aaron knew his uncle well. “Robert, you saw John for who he was – tried to warn us all, tried to get the truth out there,” he paused, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. “Because of you, my son gets justice. Course I’d rather see Aaron with you, than not,” he cleared his throat, shaking off the awkwardness of his admission. “Moira wants you up at the farm for eight, there’s a delivery.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Aaron and Robert in stunned silence.
“Did that actually just happen?” Robert eyed his new pint with suspicion, as if he couldn’t imagine Cain Dingle doing something genuinely nice for him. Aaron couldn’t blame him – Cain wasn’t exactly known for his soft, cuddly side.
Aaron snorted, draining the end of his first pint. “I think so,” he grinned. “See? I told you – everyone will come around eventually.”
Robert raised an eyebrow. “I think your exact words were more like, well, you’ve always been a dickhead Robert, so you can’t expect people to like you – but I like you, so it’s alright,” he quipped, and yeah, okay, maybe Aaron had said something to that effect. He’d meant that people would come around eventually, though – they had last time around.
Nicking one of the cold chips from Robert’s plate, Aaron grinned. “You only need one Dingle to come around to you, you know, before the rest of them get on board,” he hummed. “You’ll be up at the Well for Sunday lunch before you know it.”
Robert sighed, the happy glint in his eyes the only thing that betrayed his true feelings about his slow reacceptance into the Dingle clan. “I couldn’t think of anything worse, actually.”
Aaron grinned. They were going to be fine.