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The first time Aaron Dingle properly realised he hated Robert Sugden was over something completely ridiculous.
Robert laughed.
That was it.
He knew it was stupid. People laughed all the time. But there was something about Robert's laugh — the smug curl of his lips, the glint in his eye, Even the way the laugh echoed practically made Aarons ears ring.
Aaron had just finished tearing strips off him in the middle of the Woolpack, listing every reason he couldn't stand him: the lies, the arrogance, the way he seemed to think the world revolved around him.
And Robert had leaned back against the bar, arms folded, with that infuriating little smirk.
"Finished?"
Aaron had nearly punched him.
Very nearly.
Instead he'd stormed out, leaving Robert looking far too pleased with himself.
That was the problem. Robert always seemed pleased with himself.
It didn't matter whether he was winning an argument, losing an argument, making a terrible decision, or making somebody else's life miserable. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who expected to land on his feet.
Aaron couldn't stand it.
Which was unfortunate, because Robert suddenly seemed to be everywhere.
At the garage.
In the pub.
Outside the shop.
At Home Farm.
Every time Aaron thought he'd escaped him, Robert appeared again wearing another expensive shirt and another smug expression.
"Morning."
"Go away."
"Charming."
"Still here?"
Robert would laugh.
Actually laugh.
Aaron hated that laugh.
The strange thing was that Robert never seemed genuinely offended by Aaron's hostility.
Most people eventually snapped back.
Not Robert.
He'd wind Aaron up, certainly. He'd make sarcastic comments and deliberately press every button available.
But there were moments Aaron caught something else.
Moments when Robert looked tired.
Moments when the smile slipped.
Moments when Aaron realised the confidence wasn't quite as effortless as Robert wanted everyone to believe.
One evening Aaron arrived at the Scrapyard, long after closing time, just to grab something he'd forgotten.
The lights were still on.
Robert sat alone inside the office.
No smirk.
No attitude.
Just staring at paperwork with his head in his hands. For a moment Aaron simply watched and Robert looked exhausted.
Human.
It unsettled him more than he expected.
Robert eventually looked up. Neither spoke, but for a moment something strangely vulnerable passed between them.
Then Robert straightened immediately— the mask sliding back into place.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer."
Aaron rolled his eyes.
The moment was gone.
But he couldn't quite forget it.
Things changed gradually after that. Neither of them would have admitted it.
They still argued.
Still bickered.
Still found ways to annoy each other almost daily.
But somewhere between the arguments came conversations.
Real conversations.
The kind that happened accidentally.
Late at night.
Outside the pub.
During work hours.
Moments where Aaron stopped seeing Robert as the troubled farmers boy, or the rich pillock on the hill who constantly caused trouble.
And started seeing the person underneath.
The person who was lonely far more often than he admitted.
The person trying desperately to keep control of a life that kept slipping through his fingers.
The person who looked strongest when he felt weakest.
Aaron wasn't sure when caring had started. Only that one day he realised he was doing it.
The real turning point came after a particularly vicious argument.
They'd both said things they regretted.
Aaron had stormed off.
Robert had pretended not to care.
Standard procedure.
Except later that night Aaron found Robert sitting alone outside the Woolpack. The rain was falling, his shoulders were slumped. Aaron would’ve teased him if Robert wasn’t looking utterly defeated.
Aaron hesitated.
Then sat beside him.
For once neither of them spoke.
No insults.
No sarcasm.
Just silence.
Eventually Robert laughed quietly.
"You know, this is probably the longest we've gone without arguing."
Aaron smirked.
"Don't get used to it."
Robert looked at him.
And something shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just enough.
Enough that Aaron suddenly realised he didn't want to be anywhere else.
And judging by the way Robert was looking at him, he felt exactly the same.
After that, Aaron started noticing things.
How often Robert looked lonely when nobody was paying attention.
How quickly his confidence disappeared when he thought nobody could see.
How desperately he seemed to need people to like him despite pretending otherwise.
It didn't fit with the version of Robert Aaron had built in his head.
And that was inconvenient.
Because hating someone was much easier when they stayed two-dimensional.
Aaron should have gone home twenty minutes ago.
Instead, he was standing in the doorway of the scrapyard trailer watching Robert scowl at a spreadsheet.
"You know that's not gonna change no matter how hard you glare at it."
Robert didn't look up.
"It's wrong."
"It's numbers."
"It's wrong numbers."
Aaron rolled his eyes and stepped inside.
Normally that would have been the end of it. A sarcastic comment. A sarcastic reply. Then they'd both move on.
Instead, Robert looked eager.
A sort of eagerness that sat behind his eyes, the kind Aaron had started noticing more often lately.
"What?" Robert asked eventually.
Aaron shrugged.
"Nothin'."
"Liar."
That earned a snort.
For a moment neither spoke.
Outside, the sun was practically radiating across the valley, As Robert finally pushed away from the desk.
"Why are you still here?"
Aaron frowned.
"What?"
"The scrapyard, you should’ve left nearly half an hour ago?"
Aaron scoffed as he leant against the doorframe, Robert mirrored it and leant directly aside him.
"Well.. I was just about to crack open a few beers, hide from paddy, mum and whoever else decides to get on my nerves today.”
Robert laughed quietly.
"Yea I did notice.. he was right on your case today weren’t he? Flittering around you like an old woman.”
A small smile tugged at Robert's mouth.
There it was. The real smile, not the smug one he gave everyone else.
The one Aaron only seemed to see when they were alone.
And suddenly that felt important.
Dangerously important.
"he reckons he’s worried.. we’re going to get it on again.." Aaron said.
Robert looked up immediately.
For a second Aaron thought Robert was going to brush it off.
Suddenly neither of them seemed interested in the conversation anymore.
The air felt different.
Charged.
Like something had shifted.
“Oh yeah?” Robert’s smile instantly turned cocky, that curl of the lips that Aaron used to detest, now aroused him.
”yeah”
Aaron went for it, grasping onto Robert’s black leather jacket and pulling him in, he may have hesitated if Robert hadn’t immediately leant forward.
Practically military like — Aaron yanked at the sleeves of Robert’s jacket, pulling them away from Robert’s (surprisingly muscular) arms and throwing it to the ground. This revealed a dingy light grey t shirt that Within the same second, got cast out in the same manner, after Robert had lifted his arms and allowed Aaron to do as he pleased.
They slid against the trailer wall, making it shudder slightly due to the drastic change in motions. Robert grabbed at Aaron’s jacket and within a moment it was gone.
Within a minute they’d both assumed formation ontop of Robert’s desk— very classy.
Aaron had thought so anyway.
They hadn’t meant to start their relationship.. fling.. affair? Up again, but for some reason they couldn’t stay away.
Afterwards, everything should have become simpler.
Instead it became infinitely more complicated.
Because Aaron was no longer dealing with someone he hated.
He was dealing with someone he cared about, immensely.
And that was far more dangerous.
The worst part was how easy it became. Not the secrecy, not the sneaking around.
Them.
Aaron found himself looking for Robert everywhere.
Listening for his voice.
Noticing when he walked into a room.
Robert seemed just as bad.
Every conversation became longer than necessary.
Every excuse to spend time together was taken.
Every goodbye felt unfinished.
It was ridiculous.
And neither of them stood a chance.
Because somewhere between all the arguments and insults and sarcastic remarks, they had accidentally learned everything about each other.
Aaron knew when Robert was lying.
Robert knew when Aaron was hurting.
Robert knew exactly how to calm Aaron down when his temper flared.
Aaron knew which jokes made Robert genuinely laugh, and he’d milk them as much as he could.
Which was weird, Because he had hated Robert’s laugh hadn’t he?
They understood each other in ways nobody else did. Which was probably why falling in love happened so quietly.
Neither noticed it until it was already too late.
One day Robert was simply Robert.
The next Aaron couldn't imagine a world without him in it.
And that terrified him far more than hatred ever had.
By the time either of them admitted their feelings, everyone else had already figured it out.
Including Chrissie, Victoria, and Chas — who had been immensely irritated by the entire situation.
Aaron blamed Robert.
Robert blamed Aaron.
Some things never changed.
But for the first time, neither of them really minded.
Because somewhere along the way, the person they couldn't stand had become the person they trusted most.
And neither of them had seen it coming.