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It’s two weeks after he and Charity officially split when Mack decides he’s going to see what all the fuss is about when it comes to Robert Sugden.
He knows, objectively, it’s not a very long time to wait, but who was he to go against the old saying - the best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else, and from the stories Mack’s heard, Robert was quite the village casanova once upon a time, so sue him: he wanted a good shag. He deserved a good shag, for everything he’d been through, the last couple of months - who wants to end up a forty-something year old divorcee?
Sexuality was never one of those things he thought about too much, if he was entirely honest - Charity was bisexual, and Mack had always seen the appeal of a strong, broad-shouldered man, and he wasn’t precious, so it only made sense to go down the Robert-shaped route. It’s not as though the village was teaming with other viable options anyway, was it?
The only problem was - well, the Aaron of it all. Listen, Mack had heard all about it - from Charity, from Moira, and even from Aaron himself, eventually, when they’d moved past their animosity and decided to become fast friends - best pals, even.
Mack knew Aaron and Robert were a great big love story that had a messy beginning, and a tragic ending, and that they’d been disgustingly, happily, sappily, in love in the in-between. He knew that Aaron still loved him - and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t rooting for Aaron to cheat on dull as dishwater John with Robert, because Robert was interesting, at least - and Mack didn’t know Robert all that well, yet, but he knew Robert was desperately in love with his ex-husband.
It was a mess, really - and that should have dissuaded Mack from getting in the midst of it, but honestly, it added to the appeal of it all.
Mack didn’t want to fix Robert Sugden, or his laundry list of life and personality problems - but he really, really wanted to shag him.
He’d never pursued a man before, but Mack figured it couldn’t be all that different.
He’d just go with his tried and tested methods.
“So,” Mack declared, leaning on the gate, hoping he looked suave, and sexy. He was good at that - it was mostly the accent, and the good hairline, he figured. That was a combination that had done him no harm in his life so far. “You look nice today.”
Robert looked at him as though he’d grown an extra head, glancing down at his muck-covered overalls. Okay, maybe Mack could have picked a slightly better moment to compliment the other man - but it was sincere. Robert’s hair was messy, and sweaty, blown every-which-way in the early autumn wind, and he was unfairly gorgeous.
Mack could see why Aaron had married him twice.
“You - what?”
“You look nice today,” Mack soldiered on, determined to commit to it now. He’d started, so he might as well finish, and all that. Well - he was really hoping to finish, sooner, rather than later. “Did you cut your hair?”
Robert ran a hand self-consciously through it. “Vic cut it for me,” he mumbled, looking vaguely embarrassed to be admitting that his wee sister had cut his hair for him, that he hadn’t gone to that fancy barber on the Hotten high street that Aaron frequented, only admitting months into their friendship that he went there because it reminded him of Robert, even now, six years on.
Mack knew it was hard to get back on your feet after prison, and he knew Robert wasn’t exactly flush with cash. He got it.
“It’s nice,” Mack hummed. “Maybe your sister has a career in hairdressing when she’s bored of being a chef.”
Robert snorted, the sound disbelieving. “I just didn’t want to deal with Mandy,” he admitted. “Dingles - you know how they are.”
Mack certainly fucking did. Marrying into the Dingle family, even when you did it with your eyes wide open, was the most unpredictable experience. They were all half feral, if you asked him - not that he’d ever admit that out loud - and you could be asked for a police alibi as easily as they’d ask for a cup of sugar. Mack got wanting to avoid them. He was definitely trying to avoid them.
He made an agreeable noise. “Well,” he hooked the lock back into place, Robert easily hauling himself over the closed gate, the cows settled in their new pasture. “You look good, that's all.”
Robert’s laugh was a startled one. “Uh - thanks?”
Mack beamed. “You’re welcome.”
He could get the hang of this flirting with men thing.
Or not.
Robert was wearing a blue jumper that made him look, frankly, model-like, and Aaron was staring across the pub at him, trying very hard to pretend he was staring at the wallpaper and not the way the blue material stretched across Robert’s broad shoulders.
Mack got it, because he was staring at the same thing - Robert, not the wallpaper. Robert was gorgeous, and it was very frustrating that he hadn’t looked Mack’s way the entire evening so far.
He’d been really trying to step up the flirting - Mack had been handing out compliments left, right and centre, but Robert didn’t seem to be taking the bait.
It was infuriating.
“Mack, are you listening?”
Mack raised his eyes from Robert’s torso, blinking away thoughts of biting into the meaty bit of his shoulder, right between his jaw, and his collarbone. He’d bet he’d make quite the mark, in Robert’s pale skin. Looking at John, he barely held in a sigh.
“Yes, Jonathan?”
John frowned. “That’s not my name.”
Mack sighed. “Isn’t it? I thought you looked like a Jonathan - an uptight name for an uptight man.”
“Mack,” Aaron’s admonishment was half-hearted, and Mack knew he needed to get under Robert sharpish - it was only a matter of time before Aaron realised he’d married the wrong Sugden, and got bored of eye contact and missionary while being regaled of tales of John’s heroism, and once Robert and Aaron were back in bed together, Mack stood no chance.
Time was of the essence, on this one.
“I need to speak to…” Mack paused, watching as Robert quietly sloped out of the pub, shoulders slumped. Fuck. There went his escape plan. “Moira. I need to speak to Moira.”
Leaving his half-drunk pint on the table - a worthy loss, Mack decided, in order to get out of a conversation with Saint John - heading for his sister. “Hiya,” he greeted, sliding into the booth beside her, as if he wasn’t living on her couch while he figured out what to do in a post-Charity world and they couldn’t easily have this apparently urgent conversation at home.
Moira raised an eyebrow. “That was a quick exit.”
“Moira, he’s the most boring man I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting,” Mack sighed, taking a swig of his sister’s gin and tonic. It was disgusting. Really, Charity and Chas needed to think long and hard about the kind of gin they were selling - he’d read Charity the riot act about her lack of appreciation for Scottish gins, if Charity were speaking to him. He’d had to wait twenty minutes for Chas to come around the bar to get a drink, Charity refusing to so much as look at him, let alone pull him a pint.
“He’s your best pal’s husband,” Moira pointed out, taking her gin back, though her grimace made it clear she shared Mack’s opinion on the quality of the Woolpack’s gin. “I think you have to play nice.”
“I do, mostly,” Mack glanced toward the door. “But I have ulterior motives this evening.”
“Do the ulterior motives have anything to do with you complimenting Robert every chance you get?” Moira raised an eyebrow.
Mack sighed. Had he really been that obvious? Maybe he had been. He had tried not to be, really, he had. “It’s not working,” he shook his head. “Honestly - what am I doing wrong? The compliments, the flattery - the Scottish accent - it usually all works for me.”
“I don’t know what to address first - the fact you think that’s enough to get someone into bed with you, or the fact you want to get Robert Sugden of all people into bed with you.”
“Moira, the judgment is not necessary here,” Mack rolled his eyes. “I’m about to get divorced - and the man clearly has a reputation for a reason. And, he’s gorgeous.”
Moira pulled a face.
“Anyway - none of that actually matters, because it’s not working, is it?”
Moira sighed. “From what I’ve heard, he responds better to being shoved against walls, than compliments about his skincare routine, Mackenzie.”
And, well - Mack had never been one to refuse good advice.
Victoria was working at The Hide, that evening, Mack knew, Harry sleeping over at a friend’s place, and so it felt like the perfect opportunity to bang the front door of Keepers in.
“What is wrong with you?” Robert pulled open the door, hair askew and his eyes wide. He looked confused by the fact Mack was standing on the doorstep, and even more confused by the banging on the door.
Mack marched inside, ignoring Robert’s snarky comment about how he should feel free to make himself at home. Standing, hands on hips, he stared intently at Robert. “Are you really fussy, or do you just don’t want to shag me?” he demanded, watching delightedly as Robert’s face went through every emotion under the sun in a split second.
“I - I don’t understand.”
“Why do you think I’ve been complimenting you fucking constantly? It wasn’t out of the goodness of my heart, Robert,” Mack rolled his eyes. “Do I not meet your standards, or something?”
Robert’s face schooled into something smug, and confident, and Mack felt his heart thunder in his chest. This, he knew, was the famed Robert Sugden he’d heard so much about - the confident, cocksure man that had arrived back into Emmerdale village eleven years ago and turned just about everyone’s head. He looked like he could eat Mack alive.
Mack sort of wanted him to.
“I’d say you meet my standards,” Robert hummed, voice honey-smooth. “I’m just not sure you can handle me, Mackenzie.”
Mack was beginning to think he probably couldn’t, but he’d never been one to back down from a challenge - especially not one wrapped up so deliciously in a blue-jumpered package. Mack could even forgive the dinosaur themed socks Robert was wearing, because Robert was cupping Mack’s jaw in one of his giant fucking hands and for the first time since Charity dumped him, Mack felt like he was alive.
Swallowing his nerves, Mack inclined his head slightly. “I can handle you.”
Dear reader: Mack could not handle Robert Sugden.
But he was going to die a very happy man.
“You okay?” Robert asked, one arm tucked under his head, a confident, sure smile on his face, the duvet on the floor, most of the pillows on the other side of the room.
Mack needed another second to catch his breath before he could string a vaguely coherent sentence together. “We’re doing that again. At least a dozen more times, actually.”
Robert snorted. “Yeah. Alright.”
Mack would never call Robert his boyfriend. He’d gone into the situation with his eyes wide open - he knew Robert wanted Aaron back, and anyone he met in the meantime - Mack included - was a pitstop on the way to happily ever after with Aaron Dingle. Mack was fine with it, really - he still felt a little bruised, and tender after the breakup with Charity, and it would be a while before he wanted to actually fall for someone for real.
Robert was just - introducing him to the wide and varied world of having sex with another man. An introduction to queerness, if you will.
Still - he thought it might last a little longer than this.
“He came back here to ruin my life - ruin my marriage, Victoria!” John yelled, having finally gained a personality in the few weeks where Mack’s focus had been on learning to give a stellar blowjob. It was a plot twist he hadn’t expected, in all honesty - the personality change, not the blowjobs. As it turns out, Mack didn’t have much of a gag reflex, and he was an eager student with a consistently horny teacher.
John swung around to glare at Robert, Mack an unfortunate by-product of the glare, given he was having a quiet pint with his not-boyfriend, having had a fairly spectacular shag in a barn on Moira’s farm earlier that afternoon that felt like it deserved a toast. Mack had been having a perfectly good day, until then.
“Tell me, Robert, how long have you been sleeping with my husband?” John spat, his face like thunder. One look at Aaron made it clear to Mack at least that Aaron was definitely, one hundred percent sleeping with Robert. Mack had expected it to happen, really, he had, but not so soon.
“I’m not,” Robert drawled, and the denial was half-arsed, even to Mack’s ears.
“I overheard you!”
Robert pulled a face. “Creepy,” he looked at Mack. “Creepy that, isn’t it?”
“Creepy,” Mack agreed. “Especially because it was me you overheard Robert shagging, not Aaron. Can you really not differentiate the accents, John? Maybe Liam can do you a deal on getting your ears syringed.”
John looked positively apoplectic. Mack was keeping his fingers crossed that his head might actually explode, at the rate they were going. “No,” he shook his head. “No - it was Aaron, I know it was Aaron.”
“What you heard was my Aaron impression,” Mack offered solemnly. “Look - what Robert and I get up to in bed is our business, John. You married Aaron, I know, but both of us would happily shag him too - we roleplay that, sometimes. It’s fine.”
Aaron was definitely going to murder Mack, if John didn’t get there first - which was rude, really, given Mack was trying to help Aaron save his sham of a marriage to Doorknob John, there and then.
“John - can we just go?” Aaron pleaded. “You’re making a scene.”
“Nowt wrong with a healthy sex life,” Robert said, taking a swig of his pint. “Unless - don’t tell me you’ve fallen victim to lesbian bed death this early on in your marriage, Johnny boy? That was never an issue for me and Aaron, back in the day.”
Mack’s barely held in snort probably didn’t help ease the tension in the pub, but in his defence - Robert could be funny, when he wanted to be.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Chas intervened, the look on her face suspicious enough to make Mack think she was also fully aware that Robert and Aaron were shagging again, and Mack was just helping cover it up. Maybe he’d get a free pint out of it, for helping her son’s marriage last another couple of unfortunate days. “Aaron - take him home.”
Aaron was dragging his irate husband out the door, when Robert leaned in, his breath hot against Mack’s ear. “I am actually sleeping with Aaron,” he admitted, a genuinely apologetic look on his face.
Mack patted his knee. “I know,” he hummed. “We had fun though, didn’t we?”
Robert grinned. “No reason we can’t have one last go of it.”
And, well, Mack would have been a fool not to agree.
Mack didn’t expect to end the summer of his queer awakening kidnapped, in a barn, with only his thoughts, Saint John, and an unconscious Robert Sugden for company, but, well -
Dear reader, that’s a story for another day.