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It almost feels inevitable that any relationship will fall apart within the year. It's as if his happiness is eternally tethered to a timer, counting down to the next heartbreak. He’d had a few short-lived relationship attempts in France – lasting mere months, sometimes weeks, before he got scared and started unconsciously pushing them away, or they just grew tired of him.
(Mostly, Aaron believes it’s the latter.)
But when it turns into something that almost resembles stability, and they enter the three hundred and fifty plus region - the stumbling fall into the final hurdle begins.
His relationship with Ed was certainly the simplest he’s ever had, but maybe that was the problem. There’s no doubt that Ed was good-looking, a nice sight to wake up to every morning. But he was also patient, and he made Aaron smile again for the first time in so long. Everyone would say that Aaron was so lucky to have someone like Ed, so lucky to bask in his love, but despite Ed’s seemingly endless list of ‘ideal’ traits – he never understood why everyone believed he was so lucky. He felt something for Ed, but he didn't know what that something was, or if it was enough to build a future on. Either way, he never got the chance to find out.
Three hundred and fifty-one days in, Ed told him he just couldn’t see a future for them anymore.
Jackson was his first, and longest – despite all the months they wasted waiting for Aaron to sort his head out. Or at least, enough for him to take Jackson back to Paddy's, and kiss him in a way that really felt like the beginning of something. Even in the weeks before their anniversary, he had honestly believed they’d make it, despite everything that was going on in their lives. He believed he’d get to celebrate such a huge milestone in his life with the man who’d changed his life in so many ways… who’d changed him in so many ways.
Three hundred and fifty-five days in, he pushed aside his own pain to put an end to Jackson’s.
It’s probably why he feels so on edge as the date approaches. He’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to lose Robert just like he lost Jackson and Ed.
There’s a whiteboard in the portacabin (Robert’s idea) which is the to-do list for the day. They’re colour-coded to increase efficiency (also Robert’s idea), and Aaron’s to-dos are written in red. It was such a Robert thing to do, but in a strange way, Aaron found it endearing. Truth be told, seeing Robert’s eyes light up as he talks about anything business-related always makes Aaron smile. It also helps when Aaron benefits from Robert’s slight organisation fetish...
(“Yours are red.” Robert grinned as he slid up behind him. Aaron rolled his eyes and had to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling when he felt Robert’s arms snake around his waist.
“Yeah, so I see.”
“Liverpool red,” Robert added as he rested his chin on Aaron’s shoulder.
Aaron huffed out a laugh, “what’re you after?”
“What’re you offering?” Robert murmured. Aaron shuddered at the sensation of Robert’s lips against his ear while his hands, chilled by the winter air, swept across his abdomen. He knew he ought to push his boyfriend away, and promise to appease his rampant libido when they returned to the pub for dinner. But as Robert’s fingers slipped down, and teasing under the waistband of his boxers, all rational thoughts were thrown to the wind.)
The whiteboard has other uses, though. Such as counting the days since he could first officially call Robert his and his alone. The days since the dream of calling Robert his boyfriend became a reality. To be truthful, sometimes the little red number in the corner serves as a reminder that it’s real. He’ll wipe the numbers away with his finger, grip the pen tightly, and smile because he can feel it, it’s not a dream, he isn’t going to wake up and find himself alone in bed, while Robert is curled up beside Chrissie. Because Robert is his. He’s his.
At the same time, the fact that this is real means if he loses Robert, then that will be real too. There’ll no waking up from the disastrous end of another relationship.
He knows that Robert’s worried. For the past week, once they’ve finally ushered Liv and Noah to the bus stop and cleared the post-breakfast bombsite, Robert has crowded Aaron against the counter. Aaron always lets him, sinking into Robert as he touches his waist and kisses him gently.
“You okay?” Robert will ask when they part. There’s always the same flicker of concern in his eye.
To most people, it’s just two words. But with Aaron it always means so much more. How are you feeling? Is there anything on your mind? Do I need to worry about you more than I usually do? It should be suffocating, he sometimes thinks. When his mum and Paddy relentlessly fuss over him like this, it makes his skin itch. But when Robert fusses, it’s the opposite. It's almost reassuring. Robert contradicts a lot of his rules.
“I’m fine.” Aaron will whisper in response. Because he is. Mostly. When he isn’t counting the days and looking for simple things to ease his paranoia that things are about to fall apart, like they always do. When he isn’t reading too much into Robert’s words and actions, wondering if he needs to prepare himself for the fallout of another disaster.
On the 353rd day, he snaps. The other side of the bed had been empty when he’d woken up, and their plans to meet for dinner were tossed aside when Robert’s meeting overran. There was a quick text here and there, but no contact otherwise.
Robert usually fits in at least a phone call, no matter how busy he is.
“Where’s lover-boy?” Liv teases over tea, using her fork to push away the salad that lay beside her chips. Usually, he’d laugh and tell her to eat her salad too, but his mind is too clouded to focus on anything else, “he’s usually here, nicking all me chips. Second time this week he’s missed tea. You two fallen out again or summat?”
“Liv.” His mum warns. Aaron can feel her glancing at him, even though he’s got his eyes firmly trained on the plate in front of him. Food untouched. Hands tightening around his cutlery.
“What? Just sayin’ it’s a bit suss, innit?”
“Well don’t!” He snaps. She’s right, it is a bit suss. His fork clatters against the plate, and he knows he’ll wince at the memory of Liv flinching later, but right now it’s the least of his worries, “go to bed.”
“But it’s only–”
Chas jumps in swiftly, “Liv, don’t. Just go, alright sweetheart?”
“I’m sorry, Aaron.” Her voice is small. Meek. Timid. Everything his gobby little sister shouldn’t be. Everything he promised himself he'd never allow her to be. He squeezes his eyes shut, not trusting his voice, instead hoping his mum will take over the reins for a little while.
“He knows, love. He’ll come up later. Just let us sort this, yeah?”
As she speaks, Chas places her hand over his closed fist. It makes his jaw clench. He can’t handle all of this sympathy because it all feels so certain... like they all know that their suspicions are probably right, and he can’t cope with it. He just wants someone to say he’s wrong, that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that to him. Not now. Not after everything.
“Tell me I’m wrong, mum. Tell me he wouldn’t.”
“You are wrong. He wouldn’t, love. I know I’m not exactly his biggest fan, but he’s still here, isn’t he? After everything. I really believe him when he says he’d never hurt you again. He’s better, now.”
He scoffs, “bet Lawrence used to say that to Chrissie ‘n all”
“But this is different. You and him are different.”
“How?” He finally turns to his mum, heart clenching as he sees her frown, “how is this any different to every other relationship he’s had? Aside from the fact that, y’know. I know he might be looking at other blokes ‘n all.”
“Aaron–”
“I’m off to bed. Tell him where I am... if he comes back.”
He ignores his mum’s calls as he leaves the room and carries himself upstairs, speeding up his steps as he passes Liv’s bedroom to avoid a conversation with his sister. Much as he loves her, sometimes she asks too many questions. The last thing he needs is any more questions in his head.
Once inside the safety of his bedroom, he releases a shaky breath and leans against the door, looking at the room.
Robert moving in was never made official. There was no question, no conscious move made by either of them. Like the rest of their relationship, it just kind of... happened - snuck up on them over the months. It started with a few changes of clothes, then toiletries, and eventually a spare key that was borrowed but never returned. Hell, Robert essentially stayed over one night and never left.
And now - all of their clothes are thrown into the wardrobe and drawers together, meaning sharing has become a normality. At the bottom of the stairs, Robert's fancy Oxfords sit alongside Aaron's trainers, and they don't look out of place. Nothing about it feels out of place.
When he lived with Ed, there were times when Aaron forgot he lived with anyone, because sometimes it felt all Ed did was train and travel.
And when Jackson moved into Paddy’s, he’d brought Hazel with him, and after a few weeks, they'd mostly unpacked everything. But for some reason, it never felt like they’d settled. Never felt like it was permanent.
This... this gives him a sense of domesticity he hasn’t ever felt before. He can’t even imagine how empty the room would feel without Robert’s presence, let alone how empty his life would feel. They'd started talking about finding their own place, but those conversations have dried up of over the recent months, and it only adds to his doubts about whether or not Robert still wants this, wants him. The thoughts remain in his mind as he strips down and climbs into bed, running his hand over the side claimed by Robert. He tries not to cry.
Tries.
The sound of someone slowly climbing the stairs causes him to stir awake. He glances at the clock on the bedside table, squinting at the red glare until his eyes focus enough for him to read the time displayed – 22:17 – and prays its Liv or his mum. But then he hears the bedroom door brushing against the carpet as it opens, followed by steps entering the room, and as the bed dips, his stomach plummets alongside it.
For the first time, Robert curling around him leaves Aaron feeling so cold.
Robert’s is still dead to the world when Aaron wakes up. It’s 7:30am, and he can hear the familiar clatter of breakfast downstairs, but he isn’t sure he can stomach food. Instead, he fixes his gaze on Robert’s neck, on the bruise that is fading, but still easily visible if you look. He always aims for an unmarked spot of skin, and he remembers leaving that mark. The sound of Robert’s moans. The feeling of Robert clenching around him. But in the back of his mind, he’s questioning whether his mark ought to have faded by now.
During the affair, sometimes Robert would allow Aaron to mark him, but only where he’d also been marked by Chrissie. It should have made his skin crawl, but in reality, it gave him a sick thrill. The thought of him replacing any trace of Chrissie, turning her marks into his. Now he can’t help but wonder if someone else is out there, replacing any trace of him.
“Aar’n?” Robert mumbles into his pillow. It’s quiet, but startles Aaron regardless, and he watches Robert’s hand reach out with searching fingers. When they fail to find anything, Robert finally stirs, blinking awake with a frown.
“Didn’t wanna wake ya,” Aaron mutters, forcing a smile when Robert’s eyes snap to his. He holds the gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes to his lap, “you came in late.”
“Oh, yeah. Thought you were asleep when I got in, did I wake you? I meant to text you and let you know I was running late. Must’ve forgotten. Sorry.”
The words fall out clumsily, and his demeanour appears generally skittish - so unlike Robert. Aaron tries not to let on about his increasing suspicions, though, and shrugs, “anything important?”
“Nothing for you to worry about, I just had to finish something off, but then I got waylaid by a couple pieces of paperwork, you know how it is. All sorted now, though, so I shouldn't have to stay out again.”
Had to finish someone off more like, he almost says. He can taste the words, bitter on his tongue, but then Robert is sitting up, hair rumpled, and they retreat back down his throat. When he rejects Robert’s kiss, he offers a smile and a weak excuse of morning breath, when in reality he’s scared Robert will taste the bile on his tongue. And he’s scared he’ll taste the betrayal on Robert’s.
354. The little red number sits mockingly as he tries to focus on his jobs for the day. He’d tried to sneak away and clear his head, but Robert caught him at the door, made a joke about him trying to escape without a kiss, and they ended up travelling to the scrapyard together.
They’ve been working about an hour – alone, because Jimmy's in Knaresborough, and Adam’s gone to pick up some lead or whatever. Truth be told, he wasn’t really listening. Sometimes Adam talks too much about nothing, uses too many words than are needed in a simple conversation. He's like an overexcited puppy half the time, and while he loves him to bits, sometimes Aaron just doesn't have the energy to deal with him.
Robert’s phone chirps again, and Aaron’s stomach clenches as he watches the slight smile on his face while he types back. Was he this blatant with Chrissie? Or does he just think Aaron’s too stupid to become suspicious?
Or does he just not care as much? He doesn’t have a lot to lose. Not as much as he did when he was with her. He doesn’t have the money, the house or the cars. And his sexual preferences are common knowledge, even if he’s not exactly stood on a table in a declaration of the specifics. All the things he fought to keep are gone. There’s nothing for him to fight for, now. Not really. All Robert has is the scrapper he calls a boyfriend, who still lives with his mum in the pub flat, and is basically playing dad to his kid sister. It’s hardly an idyllic lifestyle. The excitement of getting dirty with someone like Aaron was bound to wane at some point, and he’d been a fool to ever think otherwise.
He startles at the feeling of a hand on his bicep, dragging him from the pits of his thoughts. The hand turns him, and he surfaces as the concerned face of his boyfriend enters his line of sight.
“You alright?” Robert’s voice is as tentative as the hand slipping around the back of his neck, gently stroking the hairs at the nape, “got some stuff to do, but if you... if you want me to stay, I can. Cancel my meetings, take an early lunch and go for a drive or something?”
“M’fine.” He lies. Though Robert offering to stay settles a part of him.
(He tries not to think about all the times Aaron was the stuff to do, only to be cancelled on, probably because Chrissie needed him.)
“You sure?”
“Yeah, just a bit of a headache I think.”
“Okay. There should be some paracetamol in one of the drawers. I'll try and get back for dinner so we can meet,” Robert leans forward, and Aaron is a lot of things, but one thing he isn’t is strong. Not when it comes to Robert. He sighs into the kiss – a gentle, lingering one. The kind of kiss one of them always tries to chase. This time, it's Aaron chasing Robert’s lips when they part, and he can feel Robert smiling against him. He’s still smiling when he pulls back to look at him, “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
And that what makes it hurt so much.
The pub is bustling with the lunchtime rush, so Aaron settles in the backroom to nurse his pint in relative peace, waiting for Victoria to bring his food through. He isn’t sure why she offered to bring it to him, but he’s noticed Diane’s concerned glances over the past few weeks, and he puts it down to some kind of Sugden Sixth Sense. They all seem to know when something’s wrong with him. He isn't sure how he feels about it.
“Rob not with you today?” Victoria asks as she places the plate on the coffee table, “thought you two were joined at the hip.”
“He had some stuff to do. Said he might be back for dinner.”
In his pocket, his phone vibrates, and he pulls out the device to glance at the screen: 1 new message from Roberta, the notification reads. He smirks, but makes a mental note to remind Liv to stop hacking into his phone and changing Robert’s name.
The relationship between his boyfriend and sister has thawed considerably, but he isn't sure how he'd define their relationship. There’s almost a strange reluctance to let go of the constant bantering, and it’s definitely something unique to them. They’ll tiptoe dangerously close to lines that shouldn’t be crossed in a way they wouldn't ever dare do with Aaron (and Aaron wouldn't ever dare do with them). Sometimes it ends in laughter, sometimes it ends in yelling, sometimes it ends in tears – but regardless, it puts a sparkle in their eyes. He doesn't try to analyse it too much. It is what it is.
“That him?” Victoria asks, startling Aaron back into reality. She’s still hovering, looking at him expectantly. She’s always, and sometimes oddly, interested in their relationship. Probably because if anything kicks off – her and Adam end up with a grumpy new house guest, and Vic will end up having to pick a side. He unlocks the device to read the message, praying it isn’t a photo that will embarrass him (and scar Victoria... again).
Nearly done. Dinner in the pub – 20 mins? X
Aaron locks away any questions – (nearly done? So they’re not done? Why is he texting in a meeting? He never texts in meetings. And 20 minutes? He must be fairly close, then. Do they even have any contacts so close?) – and begins typing his reply. Victoria continues to hover, reading over his shoulder.
Already in the backroom, he types, want me to order for you?
No kiss? ;) x
Get stuffed, his finger moves to hit send before he relents and adds an x
Charming as ever. But yeah, fancy bangers & mash tonight I think x
And not Vic’s!! She always burns the sausages x
Behind him, Victoria makes an offended noise and leans over, “tell him I hope he chokes on them.”
Vic says she hopes you choke on them x
Rather choke on yours ;) x
“Oh my god,” she squeaks, “that’s gross. I’m leaving.”
“That’ll teach ya for being nosey.” Aaron calls after her, chuckling as he looks at the screen – the whole exchange still visible.
Nearly done.
20 mins?
Aaron sighs and throws the phone onto the cushion beside him. After a momentary reprieve, that paranoid niggle is growing once more, and his whole body is twitching nervously. Knees bouncing, fingers scratching, teeth biting. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward to make a start on his food. His appetite is mostly gone, but at least it keeps him occupied.
23 minutes later (not that he was counting), Robert enters the backroom. He’s grinning, carrying two pints he’s no doubt helped himself to while Chas or Charity had their backs turned. Aaron’s mouth twitches against his will – his body’s automatic response.
“How’d it go?” Aaron asks. Robert drops down next to him with a huff, hooking an arm around Aaron’s neck to pull him in. Smiling against his skin, Robert presses a kiss to Aaron's temple.
“Good,” Robert mutters, lips still on Aaron. After a beat, he pulls away, but stays close, “knackered, though. You alright?”
“Yeah.”
He can practically hear Robert frown as he pulls back, eyes no doubt scanning his face for some kind of answer, before eventually asking, “you sure? You seem a little... off. What’s wrong?” Aaron rolls his neck, knee still bouncing nervously. He can’t remember the last time his heart pounded like this – like it’s tearing itself apart just to burst from his chest. “Aaron.” Robert presses, bringing his right leg up on the sofa and twisting to face Aaron. He’s definitely alert now, and when he meets Robert’s eyes for a moment, he’s almost taken aback by the steely determination lingering in them. He pushes out a sigh. Now or never.
“Right... right, ok. Remember we promised we’d be honest with each other? And you said you’re a different man now,” Aaron starts. He pulls the sleeves of his jumper over his hand, a habit he’s been trying to kick recently, to stop Robert complaining about the frayed cuffs of their shared jumper collection. He pauses to take a deep breath, steady himself. The word is sat on his tongue but his lips are fighting against forming it, “I need you to be straight with me. Is... shit I don’t even know how to do this...”
“Just say it, you’re worrying me.”
Aaron bites his lip and forces himself to look at Robert in the eye, “is there someone else?”
“What?” His eyes are wide as he meets Aaron’s gaze head-on. He looks horrified by the accusation, but then again, he’s had plenty time to perfect his cover-ups, hasn’t he? “No! Aaron, there's not- I’m not having an affair! Why would you even think that? How could you even think that?”
“You’ve been coming home late... and you keep shooting off to business stuff or whatever, without ever actually saying what it is. Gone hours, you are. And you don’t call me or text me. I tried to think of what else it could be, but nothing fits and I- I keep thinking-”
“Aaron, I’m not- fuck...” Robert's words fade into a sigh as he reaches out, taking Aaron's hand in his, “look, it’s our anniversary soon. And, well, I’ve been sorting out your present. It’ll make sense when you see it, I promise.”
He squeezes Robert’s hand, forcing himself not to let his gaze drop and pretending his own hand isn’t clammy with nerves, “tell me what you’ve been doing.”
“Aaron, it’s a surprise. Supposed to be for our anniversary, can’t you wait—”
“Tell me,” he pleads. Robert’s mouth is slightly open, a protest forming in his eyes, so he continues quickly, “please Robert, just tell me. I get that it’s- this is just doing my head in. I just feel like I'm gonna drive myself mad if I don't-”
“Alright,” Robert interjects. He drops his spare hand to Aaron’s knee and squeezes, nodding, “ok. Just... wait here, yeah? I’ll need to nip to Vic’s.”
Robert has barely closed the back door when Victoria edges in from the kitchen, carrying a plate. She offers him a smile, though he doubts she means for it to look so much like a grimace, “you okay?”
“Not sure.” He admits. With the door open, the sound of chatter within the pub is even louder. It’s a startling contrast to the silence of the backroom. Reminds him of the thoughts that seep into his head while he lies in bed.
“Got Rob’s food, didn’t want to interrupt,” she says, moving to place the plate beside Aaron’s. As she stands upright again, she squeezes his shoulder, “you really think he’s… y’know?”
“I hope not, hope he really has been getting me a present, but I don’t know. He’s been weird for a couple weeks now. Just doesn’t add up.”
“I’d noticed that he was being more secretive… but hey, since getting back with you, all he’s done is prove everyone wrong, hasn’t he? I’m sure he’ll do it again.” Not even Victoria seems convinced by her words – her eyebrows furrow and she bites her lip. It’s a face Aaron knows well. It’s usually him pulling it.
But at least now he knows he hasn't been imagining things.
Robert re-enters with a large bag, and whatever’s inside is clearly square... large and square. Not an elaborate proposal then, he thinks, before quickly locking that thought away. When Robert nods at the dining table, he doesn’t hesitate to move, following Robert across the room to take a seat while keeping his eyes cautiously fixed on Robert. Aaron frowns at the sheepish, slightly nervous expression that begins to spread across Robert's face as he takes the seat slightly adjacent, and then he looks at the bag. Through the thin plastic, he tries to read the words underneath, but Egyptian is all he can make out before Robert pulls the bag closer, removing the contents and pushing them across the surface between them...
“Duvet covers.” Aaron deadpans after a moment of staring. The plastic packaging crinkles as he reaches out to touch it, to check he isn’t imagining things. Robert’s smile stays resolute, confident.
“One-thousand five-hundred thread, Egyptian cotton duvet covers,” Robert adds as if it should mean something. To Aaron it doesn’t, he doesn’t know what difference the number of threads makes, but as he stares at back at the hopeful eyes opposite him, the meaning finally registers.
(“Careful!” Robert shouted at Aaron, who was clambering back into the bed with a cup of tea. It was the sixth morning of his stay at Home Farm – late enough for the sun to begin seeping through the cracks in the curtains, but still early enough for them to not begin thinking about work.
Aaron frowned. He tried not to let his eyes wander down Robert’s body, still legged out and tangled in the bedsheets, temptingly naked, “what?”
“Don’t go dropping that. Not if you want round two.”
“Round two,” Aaron snorted, “round twenty-two more like. Anyway, y’can wash them can’t ya?”
“They’re Egyptian cotton, Aaron!”
“Big deal, still just some bed sheets. You can wash 'em.”
“Just some- god, remind me why I put up with you?”
Aaron smirked and placed his mug on the bedside table next to his phone, trying not to think about how normal and domestic it felt. Roberts' eyes were on him as he slid back across the bed, “is that a joke,” he slipped his hand under the cover and feathered his fingers up Robert’s thigh. With a grin on his face, he took Robert in hand and tugged teasingly, revelling in the way Robert's eyes flutter closed without argument, “or do I need to jog your memory?”
-
“We stayed at this hotel once,” Robert began later, as they lay tangled together. Aaron’s head was on Robert’s chest, as Robert’s fingers gently traced his spine. It was an automatic position they assumed, the days of Aaron nervously edging closer to Robert and hoping it didn’t ruin the moment long gone. They both sought to remain as close as they could for as long as they could, “mum was still alive… can’t remember what it was for... some do where the room was paid for, cos dad wouldn’t ever pay for a hotel, especially not one so nice. I just remember the bed. Me and Andy were top and tailing – one of those pull out double beds. We were both small enough, I wasn’t always this–”
“Lanky?” Aaron offered after a moment of vague gestures. Robert laughed and reached up to squeeze the back of Aaron’s neck. Warmth spread through him like wildfire, and his hand moved to hold Robert’s hip.
“Watch it. But you know what I remember most?”
“What?”
“The sheets. Stupid, I know, but they were so warm and comfy – I’d never had that. Proper luxury, y’know? You could tell. And my mum...” Robert’s sentence trailed into a slightly breathless laugh, one that made Aaron prop himself up on his elbow. Robert just smiled up at him, “she told me one morning that if she could have anything in the world, she’d have us sleep in soft, comfy sheets every night. Told me I was smart. I might not be as good on the farm as Andy, but she said I’d find something I’m good at and be really successful. Made me promise I’d buy her the same Egyptian cotton sheets when I became a millionaire.”
Aaron smiled sadly. It wasn’t often Robert opened up about his childhood, and mentioning his mum was even more of a rarity. Knowing Robert was so willing to share a memory with him made Aaron’s heart jump, stumble and fall even further, “she’d be proud of ya, y’know. Your mum.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I do... even if you are a prat.” The smile Robert gave him was blinding, and Aaron couldn’t help but reciprocate it.)
He hasn’t really recalled the conversation since then. It was at the start of a day that quickly spiralled out of control, and caused the moment to be shoved aside. He’d found out Chrissie was coming home the next day – reality smacking him in the face and cursing him for forgetting that the bubble surrounding them was only for a week. So he went on another run to help lock it firmly away in the drawer labelled history.
Until now.
Some kind of recognition must show on his face, as Robert smiles and continues talking, “what I told you, about my mum... I’ve never told anyone else. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about my mum to anyone I’ve been with. Not in that sense, so it was a big moment for me. Hell, that whole week was a big moment. It was amazing... But anyway, I know that you care more about the sentiment than expense, and that’s one thing I love about you.”
“Is that a nice way of saying I’m cheap?”
“You got me,” Robert laughs. His eyes drop to the table, “I’m a bit shit at finding presents and I wanted to treat you, for giving me another chance. For believing in me. So I asked for some help when I went out. I told the woman I wanted something meaningful for our first anniversary, maybe a tradition for us both to do every year... and that’s when she started talking about anniversary materials. Y’know, diamond, gold, silver. And apparently the first anniversary is cotton, so I got you cotton duvets. I nearly bought you a shirt, but this fits in nicely with the other part of your present and—”
“Innit paper first?” Aaron asks, the thought accidentally slipping through his mouth and halting Robert's rambling (yet oddly endearing) speech.
“What?”
Aaron ducks his head as warmth quickly spreads across his cheeks, “paper’s first, cotton’s second,” a few weeks ago he’d had the same idea, only he’s researched it to such an extent he knows the list by heart now. He doesn’t want to admit that, though, not when Robert looks so proud of himself, so he quickly adds, “they mentioned it on some show I was watching.”
“No, I’m pretty sure she said- oh.” Robert pauses, frowning at the packaging on the table, still with Aaron’s hand placed on top. He looks distant but focused, most likely recalling the conversation that actually occurred, opposed to the one that he’d fabricated in his mind. The pause ticks on for a moment longer, and Aaron goes to assure his boyfriend that it's ok, when Robert seemingly restarts with a shrug and drags the bag closer to him. Increasingly intrigued, Aaron watches on as Robert pulls out a piece of paper, along with... something he isn’t quick enough to catch. Something small and tucked away in Robert’s palm. The speed of his heart kicks up a notch, only, this time, it's more in anticipation of whatever’s about to happen. Robert surges on before he can begin to speculate too much, “it doesn’t matter. It still fits with the rest of your present, which... well, telling you now might actually be even better. So, the cotton-”
“Was for two years of shaggin’... as of last December.” Aaron mutters, sending a smirk across the table. It elicits something akin to a cackle from Robert, eyes creasing at the corner.
“Alright, that. But I guess this’ll have to be your proper present, the paper present,” Robert pushes the sheet across the table, dropping... a key on top, “the paperwork confirming the purchase of our first house. And before you have a go- it was your mum’s idea, she’s been in on it the whole time,” lost for words, Aaron’s eyes drift from the paper and key to the eyes of his boyfriend. Robert smiles and continues, “why do you think she’s been asking you so much about home décor lately?”
(They were watching Homes Under The Hammer, a guilty pleasure if truth be told. He blamed it on Chas, to which she had scoffed, "you're telling me you wouldn't love to get your own place? You, Rob and Liv? It’s crowded here at the best of times."
"Is that a hint?"
"No, love. Course not. I was just saying, you're a little family, now. Families need their own family home and space."
He frowned, "you're my family too."
"I know, but you've been with Rob a while now. It's only natural to want your own place."
"Well yeah... we've, uh. Talked about it a bit."
She nodded, a smile on her face, "what'd you want?"
"Dunno," he shrugged, "not bothered, really. It'd be nice to stay in the village, y'know, since Liv's settled in and knows everyone. But I'd be happy just s'long as it has enough room for us and Liv..." he bit his lip and diverted his eyes, "maybe a spare bedroom..."
"Just in case?" She prompted. The glee in her eyes was evident, and he could feel the burst of excitement in his stomach. They hadn't explicitly talked about children, but between Liv, Leo, and vague pillow talk about the future... there'd been a seed planted. Something he never believed would even be there. Their relationship had a habit of breaking his rules, though.
"Yeah. Just in case.")
(“I fancy redecorating...” his mum had said a few weeks later over breakfast, “not sure what colour to go with, though. What colours would you want, if you got your own place?”
Aaron frowned, “why? Not like I’ll need to think about that anytime soon.”
“Just humour me.”
“Dunno, really. Guess I’d just paint it all beige and have done with it. Have my room similar to now. Keep it simple. But Rob’d probably call me boring, he likes faffing about.” Chas nodded, a smile on her face that Aaron couldn’t decipher.)
Now, all Aaron can do is laugh, “she wasn’t even subtle about it.”
“Not exactly one for beating round the bush is she, your mum?”
“No, she isn’t...” Aaron’s smile fades into a frown as the revelation sinks in, and he thinks back to what road his mind was travelling down not even an hour ago. A shaky sigh tumbles from his lips, “God, Rob. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Aaron gestures to the items on the table, guilt and embarrassment bubbling within him, “ruining your big surprise. You’ve been doing all this, and all I’ve been is a paranoid sod.”
“I don’t want you to apologise. If anything, I should be apologising for not even considering how it'd look to you. Especially with everything that's happened. But maybe we need to talk—”
“No, Rob, I trust you, I swear! It was just-”
Robert smiles, placing his hand over Aaron’s, “it’s ok, I know. But something’s going on in your head, something set all of this off. I’ve seen the numbers, y’know... on the whiteboard.”
“That’s- that’s not important.”
“C’mon, Aaron. This is me you’re talking to.”
This is me you’re talking to. Aaron sighs. How many times has he heard that phrase? How many times has Robert called him out on his bullshit because Robert just gets him? Sometimes, he hates that there’s someone who can see past everything, that he’s allowed someone to embed themselves into him to the point he’s practically transparent. But he knows that sometimes Robert feels the same. Perhaps it's why they work so well – bullshitters can spot other bullshitters a mile off.
Aaron shakes his head, “not today. Another day, maybe. Don’t wanna bog this moment down with all of that stuff.”
“Oh,” Robert’s smile transforms into the arrogant, smug kind of grin that set his heart racing all those years ago. For all he loves Robert’s new attitude, there’s another side to him that Aaron also fell in love with. Foolishly, yes, but it happened none the less, and he enjoys seeing flashes of the 'old Robert', “this is a moment is it?”
There’s a mocking lilt to his voice, and Aaron reactively throws his leg out, grinning when his toe meets shin, “piss off.”
“C’mon, how about we take this moment into Hotten. I didn’t want to start buying the big bits of furniture until you knew – but at least now we can spend our first anniversary in our first bed, in our first house.”
“With Liv.” Aaron makes sure to add.
“Yeah, well... I’m sure I can convince her to stay here for the night... or two.”
“You mean bribe her?”
There’s a pause, before: “pretty much, yeah. C’mon, we can talk about it in the car. Let’s go buy our bed.”
“I haven’t actually said yes yet.” Aaron reminds him, his lips twitching as Robert leaps to his feet before spinning back around to face him. His eyes are wide and bright, a face of childlike excitement, and a grin that that almost splits his face in half.
“Well, I guess I didn’t actually ask you...” Robert quips back, and Aron remains still as Robert crosses the short distance between them. A pair of hands brace themselves on his thighs, and Robert dips his head to murmur, “move in with me? You and Liv. Our little family in our little house, yeah?”
For all his teasing, as soon as Aaron caught sight of the key, there was never any doubt as to his answer. With a small smile, he nods his head, “yeah. I’d like that.”
Robert matches his smile, before moving to close the gap between them. As their lips meet, there’s a moment of gentleness, before smiles break out once more, and they’re left laughing into the kiss.
Three hundred and fifty-four days strong, and for the first time – Aaron can feel see himself leaping over that final hurdle.