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“Go home, yeah?” Aaron says, brushing a hand over Robert’s cheek. They kiss, soft and gentle, and Robert lets himself drown in it. His touches to Aaron have been fleeting, careful, trying to reaffirm that Aaron’s here, alive, Robert’s.
“No,” Robert says, reluctant to leave. He wants to keep Aaron where he can see him.
“M’only gonna sleep anyway.” Aaron pats Robert’s chest, giving him a smile. “Go home, get some yourself. That chair can’t be as comfortable as you’re making me think.”
That’s definitely not something Robert can refute; his back is protesting the constant folding, and the appeal of his bed, no matter how empty, is too much. “Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow though, yeah?”
“Might even be allowed home,” Aaron tells him, brightly.
Robert’s not overly sure that’s a wise idea, but he holds his tongue, mostly because he wants Aaron home more than he wants him in the hospital. “I love you.”
Aaron’s smile softens and he draws Robert in for another kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Leaving Aaron isn’t easy, but knowing there’s only hours between seeing him again makes it easier to leave the room.
He wishes it was as easy to turn his back on the lingering after effects of the crash.
The first time Robert gets into a car post crash, it takes him a while to even start the thing.
It’s still up at the barn, so he decides to walk, knowing the fresh air will do him good after spending so long cooped up in the hospital, even if that’s where he wants to be. It makes his skin crawl when Aaron’s not in sight, but visiting hours aren’t till the afternoon. He’s tried to break them three times already but gets told firmly and politely that there’s no special treatment, not now that Aaron’s out of danger.
Robert tries not remember the in danger, the flatline, the aftermath. It’s not easy, shoving it down so far, but he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.
When he gets to the barn, his heart aches with the memories; wanting to make the proposal perfect, the picnic basket that’s still sitting on the blanket. Part of him wants to grab it, take it back, but it’s enough of an effort just to get to his car. It’s exactly where he left it, when he and Aaron peeled away in Aaron’s car towards the woods, Lachlan tied up in the boot.
Robert digs in his pocket for his keys, swallowing thickly as he unlocks the door and slides into the front seat.
The car starts immediately, rumbling to life beneath him, but as it does, it’s like something sputters and stops in his chest. He goes cold and he can’t breathe, panic squeezing at the edges of his vision. He grips the steering wheel, forces himself to keep holding on while he gets his breath under control.
Come on, Sugden, he tells himself, and counts to ten. Driving’s always been an escape; when he left Emmerdale, he had his car and entire life spread out before him. Now it feels like being trapped, like everything’s falling down around him.
He throws the car into gear and presses his foot on the accelerator.
At the bottom of the hill, signs guiding the way back to the village, Robert starts to feel hot, his chest tight, hands clammy. They’re shaking against the steering wheel, but he grits his teeth against the feeling, pushes the car a little harder than he might otherwise have done. It doesn’t help; as soon as he swings the car into the village, he almost plows straight into someone coming the other way.
There’s a blast of a horn and Robert swerves, narrowly missing the other car. He can see the driver cursing, her eyes angry, but he doesn’t care. He keeps going, eyes on the wing mirror, but the other driver carries on, probably still cursing Robert. His heart thumping wildly, he turns sharply into the car park of the Woolpack, slamming on the breaks as he skids to a stop. It’s not the best parking, nowhere near the space Chas offered up, but he doesn’t care. He sits in the front seat, tips his head back against the head rest.
You’re fine.
“Robert!” Chas is standing on the doorstep out the back. “The hospital’s called.”
Robert frowns, sees the expression on her face, an equal mix of confusion and a frown, but he ignores it. He tugs the keys from the ignition and pushes open the door, mind already rolling over Aaron, what could be wrong, why the hospital’s calling.
“You couldn’t do me a favour could you?” Chas asks.
Robert’s more concerned with getting a bag together for Aaron, but he nods, distracted.
“Liv needs picking up from school. Could you grab her and take her to the hospital with you?” Chas leans in the doorway of their bedroom, arms folded, eyes running over the shirts Robert’s currently stuffing into a bag.
Robert wants to refuse. He hasn’t been alone with Liv since the hospital waiting room, and he knows she’s gonna comment on his going missing, and he doesn’t want to explain. Instead, he looks at Chas, at the black smudges under her eyes, the tenseness of her posture. He’s not the only one dealing with this badly, he thinks. “Yeah. Course.”
“Thanks,” Chas says, heartfelt. “I’ll pop up when you’re done and I can get away from this place.”
She disappears not long after, and Robert shoulders the bag, casting one last look around their room. It’s virtually unchanged from that morning, he only comes back to sleep before rolling out of bed in the morning, desperate for time to slide by so he can see Aaron. He shuts the door quietly behind him and jogs down the stairs.
His keys are on the table by the door, but he hesitates before picking them up. Part of him just wants to call the Bartons for a taxi, feels a rush of anger at himself for being so weak. He growls under his breath, picks up the keys and slams out of the door.
His car’s still parked badly, not touched since he got home from the hospital, but he lets his anger fuel his actions, tossing the bag on the passenger seat as he climbs in. As soon as he sits down, the heat is back, curling under his collar and he drops his head onto the steering wheel.
This is ridiculous, he thinks viciously, and tries to get his breathing under control. “Start the car.” When he doesn’t do anything, “Start the fucking car.”
He shoves the key into the ignition and turns it, keyrings rattling against the steering column. He’s so angry, wants to wrap his hands around the steering column and tear it from the car. The car starts up, but it takes a while to curb his anger, to actually pull away from the pub. So much so that when he checks his watch, he doesn’t have much time to get to Liv’s school. He knows Chas will have told her they’re going to the hospital, so she’ll wait, but it doesn’t help his mood any.
Still, he keeps under the speed limit the entire way to the school, and when Liv offers up a glare a snide comment when she gets into the front, Robert bites down on the urge to yell.
“I got here, didn’t I?” He still sounds a little testier than he’d like.
Thankfully Liv takes it in her stride, and throws Aaron’s bag into the back with her own. “Whatever. Let’s just go see Aaron.”
“You read my mind,” Robert mutters, and peels out of the car park.
“-was a bit weird driving here. Robert wouldn’t let me have the music on,” Liv’s telling Aaron, when Robert gets back from the cafeteria.
“Just don’t wanna listen to your music, do I?” Robert snaps back immediately, giving her a grin when she glares. His heart’s pounding, belying the amusement he’s showing on his face.
Aaron’s watching him, eyebrows raised. “Doesn’t usually stop ya.”
Robert shrugs easily, shoves his hands in his pockets so they won’t see his hands shaking. “You might cotton on to how much I love One Direction.”
“It was one song!” Liv protests over Aaron’s laughter.
Robert leans against the wall, satisfied with their happiness. Aaron’s listening to Liv outline the many things Robert’s done wrong since the crash, and Robert rolls his eyes in all the right places, objects in others. He tries not to look as adrift as he feels; like he’s coasting, not really aiming for anything in particular. He’s trying to focus on Aaron, when Aaron’s gonna get out, what Aaron’s gonna need when he gets out, Aaron, Aaron, Aaron.
It stops him having to focus on himself.
Robert’s fresh off his spat with Chrissie when he climbs into the car to get Aaron. He knows he shouldn’t feel so good that he’s happy about it, his promise to Aaron rings in his ears all the time, but he can’t help it. It’s something else to focus on, to catch his attention other than the thoughts currently rattling around in his head, ones he can’t get rid of.
Aaron in the car, feeling the breath punched out of his chest, a flatline, the dark.
When he gets to the hospital, Aaron’s already waiting, apparently desperate to be free. Robert fights the urge to mother him, knows Aaron’s only going to lose his temper, already has with Chas’ fussing.
“Ready to come home?” Robert asks, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s temple.
Aaron screws up his face, pulls him down for a proper kiss. “Anywhere’s better than here.”
Robert agrees.
It takes Aaron a while to get comfortable once he’s in the car, giving Robert ample time to talk himself into stop being an idiot and driving. It’s something he’s been doing for years, he needs to get over it, Aaron needs him.
Aaron buckles in, and gives Robert an expectant look. “We going, or what?”
“I’m going,” Robert says. He starts the car, his grip on the steering wheel just a little too tight.
They pull out of the car park and Robert immediately turns in the opposite direction of the motorway. It’s habit by now, effortless.
“Why we going this way?” Aaron asks, rubbing at his stomach.
“Stop doing that,” Robert tells him, warnings ringing in his head. As they turn, the steering wheel slides roughly through his hands, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.
Aaron drops his hands into his lap and mutters something Robert can’t catch under his breath. Robert refrains from commenting, keep driving, taking the back roads.
“I hate it when you take the long way,” Aaron says, louder, but he tips his head back against the head rest and closes his eyes.
Robert wants to ask alright, wants to tell Aaron he’s glad he’s coming home, that he’s missed him, that he’s just so happy, but he can’t make himself say anything. The scenery rushes by in a blur, barely any cars passing them by, and Robert feels calmer than he has in ages.
He thinks Aaron’s fallen asleep until Aaron reaches over, places a hand on Robert’s thigh. Robert jumps, catches himself before he can say anything.
“Sorry,” Aaron mutters, pulling his hand back.
“It’s okay,” Robert says, throat thick. “Just startled me.”
He can feel Aaron’s eyes on his face, searching, and Robert’s half afraid he’ll see things Robert’s trying desperately to keep in check. Thankfully, Aaron just reaches over again, resting his fingers against the inseam of Robert’s jeans. Robert tries not to tense, forces a breath out, clutches tighter at the wheel.
It’s fine. You’re fine.
It’s stupid; he wasn’t driving the car, so it makes no sense that he feels like this. They both got out of the car, they’re both alive, but no matter how hard Robert tries to focus on that, it doesn’t seem to help.
The funeral is hard, the aftermath even harder, but Robert slides effortlessly back into a rapport with Rebecca, focuses on Aaron and how much stronger he is, the colour and vibrancy working its way back into his face. He’s happy, settled.
If he finds excuses not to drive, that’s his business.
“Come on,” Aaron says, one morning, both of them ready for work. He grabs the keys from the hall. “I can actually drive again.”
He sounds so relieved that Robert almost lets him, but can’t stop himself saying, “No, I’ll do it.”
“Rob,” Aaron says, voice barely above a whine, frustrated “I’m fine.”
“I don’t care,” Robert tells him with a soft smile, snatching the keys out of his hand. He latches onto the only thing he can. “You’re not driving my car, so looks like you’ll have to wait till you have one of your own.”
Aaron rolls his eyes, looking good-natured about the exchange, but Robert still catches the look of suspicion on his face, the glint in his eye. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?” Robert asks, blood pounding.
“It’s not against medical advice, Robert, I’m fine.” His voice sounds softer, smile reaching his eyes.
Robert’s heart skips, grateful. He leans against the car, gives Aaron a bright smile that he doesn’t feel. “Let me have this one, eh?”
Aaron snorts, opens the passenger door. “Don’t think I have much of a choice, do I?”
“No,” Robert says, mostly to himself, and tugs open the driver side door.
“So,” Rebecca says, as she pulls out of the driveway. “That went well.”
Robert keeps his mouth shut, rests a hand on his leg and runs the meeting through his head. He’s confident in his own abilities, and Rebecca’s just as good when she stops worrying about the ways in which it can all go wrong. Robert’s eyes track the road, his fingers curling into a fist around his trouser leg as they pull onto the motorway.
“Sure,” he says, keeping a tight control on his voice. “You’re not as terrible as I thought you were.”
“Hey!” Rebecca laughs, flicking the indicator. They slide into the second lane and Robert lets out a slow breath. “So really, what did you think?”
Robert grits his teeth against replying, but can’t stand the stretching silence, knows Rebecca will break it, so settles on a, “It went fine.”
“You think so?” Rebecca asks, turning to look at him.
“Look at the road!” Robert’s breath catches in his throat on the last word.
Giving him a funny look, Rebecca’s eyes flick to the road and then back again. “What’s up with you? Nothing’s gonna happen.”
Robert’s heart is thumping double time, blood pounding in his ears. The hand gripping his trousers is locked up, the other clutching at the door handle like it’s the only thing keeping him in the car. “Keep your eyes on the road!”
Thankfully Rebecca does just that. She’s frowning, switching gears slowly, though Robert can still see her throwing quick glances at him. “So is this backseat driving a new thing?”
It’s not that, Robert wants to say, but the words stick in his throat. His whole body thrums with energy, the urge to run paramount in his mind, but he can’t go anywhere, he’s stuck.
He refuses to let go of the door until Rebecca’s car pulls up outside the Woolpack.
“Did that pass your standards?” Rebecca asks, a smirk on her face.
Robert wants to wipe it off. He swears his fingers almost creak when he unfurls them from his trousers, reaching to unbuckle the seatbelt. “Could use some work.”
“Does Aaron put up with your backseat driving?”
“No,” Robert says immediately, and turns to her. “You can’t tell him either.”
There’s an odd expression on Rebecca’s face that Robert can’t interpret, but the thought of Aaron finding out about this, him wanting to talk about it, is too much.
“I mean it,” he says, when Rebecca doesn’t answer.
Holding up her hands, Rebecca nods. “Fine, I won’t.”
“Good.” Robert throws open the door, letting out a shaky breath as he rests his feet on the floor. “Let me know how it goes.”
When he shuts the front door of the pub behind him, he can see Aaron in the kitchen, typing furiously on his phone, a furrow in his brow. He’s in low-riding sweats and a hoodie, hair free from gel. He looks good, perfect, and Robert’s fingers itch to touch, to pull him in and never let go.
Aaron looks up, a quick smile on his face that shifts quickly back into a frown. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Robert says, feeling anything but. “You?”
“Depends,” Aaron says, brow still furrowed.
Robert steps into the kitchen, does as his body wants and tugs Aaron in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “On what?”
Aaron pulls back, eyes darting over Robert’s face. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Am now,” Robert says, leaning down for a proper, lingering kiss. Aaron obliges, sliding a hand to the back of Robert’s neck, fingers in his hair.
When they pull apart, something seems to break in Aaron’s face. “Rebecca sent a text.”
Robert growls in frustration, pulls away. “It’s nothing.”
“You know it’s not normal,” Aaron presses, hands hanging by his sides. His fingers twitch, like he wants to be touching Robert.
Robert takes another step back. “I’m fine, just getting used to it again, alright? Give it a week and I’ll be fine.”
Aaron looks sceptical, but he nods. “If you tell me you’re fine, I believe you.”
It’s a lot, this trust, especially when Robert’s never felt so untethered. He’s just going to have to get better, to stop whatever’s going on in his head.
It’s not that it gets better. Robert just gets better at hiding it.
Driving to the Scrapyard, picking Liv up from school, sitting in the passenger seat while Aaron takes them both into Leeds; Robert does fine, keeps his breathing in check. If he refuses to talk until they’re safely in the village, or clutches the door handle a little too tightly on the motorway, nobody brings it up. Even Aaron’s stopped looking at him like he’s going crazy.
Until the day Aaron drives them past the Quarry.
Robert knows where they are immediately. The stretch of road, the bridge in the distance, every fibre of his body is screaming at him to run. “Aaron, stop the car.”
Aaron looks determined, eyes hard, but Robert can see the twitch in his jaw, the one that gives away how much he doesn’t want to be doing this. The betrayal that rocks through Robert is broken only by the panic and fear currently rolling through him in waves.
“Aaron, Aaron stop the car!” Robert clutches at the door handle, vision blurring at the corners, and he wants to unbuckle his seatbelt, to run.
“Robert-”
“I mean it,” Robert says, his voice high and strained. “Stop the car!”
The bridge is coming into sight and Aaron’s eyes dart from Robert to the road and then back. He jerks the steering wheel, the car sliding onto the hard shoulder, and before it’s even come to a complete stop, Robert unbuckles his seatbelt with one hand, throwing open the door with the other. He stumbles over to the verge, dry heaving, stomach rolling in fear. His heart feels like it’s trying to beat out of his chest, body hot and cold in equal measure. His mind is racing, thoughts tumbling over themselves, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.
“-okay, Rob, talk to me.”
There’s a hand on his back, stroking up to his hair. The shape of Aaron next to him, his voice a soothing presence.
Whatever betrayal Robert felt in the car disappears, crashing down under the weight of concern and fear in Aaron’s voice, on his face. “M’sorry.”
Aaron’s expression shatters. “You back with me?”
Robert doesn’t answer, doesn’t know what he’d even say. He turns away from Aaron, hands and legs shaking as he takes a seat on the verge, head pressed to his knees. He feels Aaron sit next to him, a weighty presence against the left side of his body, and he leans against Aaron, taking a slow, deep breath. Aaron pulls him in, wraps around him until Robert’s surrounded, everything Aaron.
“I thought it was okay,” Robert says softly, slowly. His throat hurts, his body aches, he just feels tired. “I hate it. I love driving and now it’s like I can’t.”
Aaron says nothing, but Robert feels a kiss press to his temple, a soothing hand in his hair.
“I’m afraid if I talk we’ll crash, if I distract whoever’s driving, if someone distracts me, it’ll happen again.”
It’s a lot to confess, and Robert knows the exact moment Aaron puts it together; he sucks in a breath, grip loosening around Robert before it tightens, and Aaron says, “It wasn’t your fault, Rob,” voice shaky.
“I love driving,” Robert says, ignoring the comment. “I’m used to just doing it, you know? When dad told me to go-” his voice catches “- I did and I could just escape my problems. Now my problems go with me and I hate it, I can barely sit behind the wheel without having a panic attack.”
There’s a long, uncomfortable silence.
“It was my fault.” Robert thinks it should feel like a Moment, saying it out loud, but he just feels cracked and adrift.
“Hey,” Aaron says, tugging Robert out from his hold, forcing his head up. “This wasn’t your fault.”
Robert’s eyes burn with tears, his throat thick. “It was. I-”
“No,” Aaron snaps, forceful.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Robert says. “Because I feel like I’m always waiting for it to happen again. What if I can’t save you?”
Aaron’s expression falls, tears in his eyes. When he reaches for Robert’s face, brushes a hand over his cheek, Robert can feel it shaking. “Listen to me, Robert. This? This isn’t normal. It’s also not something you have to face alone.”
Robert doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t think he can believe Aaron, not really. It feels like a shadow hanging over him, always waiting. When he says so out loud, Aaron breathes out slow, thumb brushing over Robert’s cheek.
“I have my counsellor in my phone,” Aaron says, slowly, like he’s afraid of what Robert will say. He tugs his phone out of his jacket with his free hand, and Robert knows immediately what he’s going to do. He wants to refuse, wants to say no. This isn’t something he should need, he’s fine.
Except. Except he’s not, and he’s hurting himself, hurting Aaron and that’s not what Robert wants.
When Robert says nothing, Aaron hesitantly thumbs through his contacts, brings up the number. “Alright?”
Robert nods, not trusting himself to speak. He can’t look at Aaron, stares at his shoes, at the dirt on the bottom of his trousers. Aaron’s fingers run over his cheek, through his hair. Eventually he says, “Rob?” and hands the phone over.
“Robert? Aaron tells me you want to talk to me.” The voice is a woman, kind and attentive.
Robert closes his eyes, lets himself sink into the feeling of Aaron’s hand in his hair, the breathing down the phone. “I think I need help.”
Robert hangs up the phone, a session booked with a counselor the following week. Aaron’s looking at him, expression soft, but there’s not a hint of pity in his face.
Robert wants to say thank you, but doesn’t know how. Instead, he brushes a hand over his eyes. “I wanna go home.”
Aaron nods. He tugs Robert in for a kiss, noses brushing. “I’m proud of you.”
Embarrassment flushes Robert’s face, but he nods anyway. It feels like he’s giving in, but he can see the truth on Aaron’s face; the pride and the worry, the fear. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Aaron says, pressing their foreheads together. They stay like that for a while, the sound of cars rushing past. When Aaron pulls away, he gives Robert a careful look. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Eventually,” Robert says, wry but meaning it. Aaron’s counselor had been firm; not an easy road, but one he needs.
“Come on,” Aaron says, patting Robert’s knee. “Let’s get home.”
The car looms large and daunting before them, and Robert hesitates.
“You can drive,” Aaron says, holding out the keys. “You go as slow and careful as you need to, yeah?”
Robert’s heart feels like it’s going to burst, or that he’s going to break apart at any moment. “Aaron-”
“I’m gonna be here, alright?” It should be irritating, to be spoken to like he’s a child, like he’s a step away from losing it. He already has, though, Robert knows, and instead of being annoyed, he just feels loved, cared for. Aaron’s overflowing with it, giving Robert the space he needs.
It doesn’t stop once he’s in the driver seat and they’re back on the road.
They bypass the Quarry, turning around and going the long way back. Aaron’s got a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, reminding Robert that he’s there. Instead, Aaron keeps up a steady stream of talk, talking about Liv, Chas, the Woolpack. Robert lets it wash over him, grits his teeth against the urge to tell Aaron to shut up.
They carry on down the motorway, closer to Emmerdale, and Aaron lifts his hand, brushes it through Robert’s hair. “M’here, Rob.”
Rob nods, Aaron’s fingers moving against his scalp. A car slides across the lane in front of them and Robert panics for a split second.
“You’re not distracted,” Aaron says, voice low. Robert breathes out slowly, slows the car, finds his footing. Aaron keeps talking, right up until their exit. “You’re fine.”
It’s not until they’re pulling up outside the Woolpack, lights on in the back room, that Aaron stops talking. Robert pulls the key from the ignition, resting back against the chair.
“Alright?” Aaron asks, his hand on Robert’s neck.
Robert turns his head, stares at Aaron. I don’t deserve you, he thinks, feeling unworthy of anything, everything, that Aaron gives him. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Aaron replies, effortless and easy. He smiles, soft and slow. I’m proud of you.
Robert can read it all over his face, even if he doesn’t say it out loud. Robert leans over the centre console, tugs Aaron in for a quick, bruising kiss. He feels weightless, feels shattered and broken, but Aaron slowly pieces him back together, holds him in place with a hand on his neck, one on his thigh.
“I love you,” Aaron says again, mouth below Robert’s ear. “I love you.”
Robert believes him, trusts him.
Robert’s had three sessions with a counselor when she suggests driving past the Quarry with Aaron in the driver’s seat.
Robert refuses immediately, can’t stomach the idea.
“You can do this,” Aaron says, and Robert believes him.
It’s a slow process;
Robert’s been talking a lot more, joining in on the conversations, and when Aaron starts talking as they pull out of the village, he answers. The closer they get to the Quarry, the more tense Robert becomes.
“We’re gonna do this, yeah?” Aaron asks.
Robert stares at him, licks his lips and nods. He wants to do this for Aaron, to make him proud.
As if he knows what Robert’s thinking, Aaron pulls over onto the hard shoulder. “We’re only doing this if it’s what you want.”
“I want to be able to drive without freaking out, Aaron.” Frustration bleeds into his voice. “I want to do this.”
Aaron waits a beat, searches Robert’s face.
Robert’s got a grip on the passenger door handle and he forces himself to let go. “I’m fine, let’s just do this.”
Aaron starts talking then, nonsensical stuff about Liv in school. He makes no move to start the car and Robert wants to yell at him, to tell him to get a move on, but he lets Aaron’s words roll over him.
“Liv wants to get a dog,” Aaron tells him, hands on the steering wheel.
Robert’s eyes widen. No. When he says it out loud, he sees Aaron’s grin, the way he tips his head. “Tell me you haven’t said yes.”
“We can always get our own place,” Aaron says, eyes wide.
Robert doesn’t feel the car come to life, doesn’t see Aaron pull out into traffic; when he’s stopped listing the many reasons Aaron’s Wrong and that they can’t get a dog, they’re driving past the Quarry. His breath catches, waiting for the crash, the tip, the scream of metal, Aaron’s pain.
“Didn’t that Anya Stark chick have a dog?”
“Aaron,” Robert says, pained, thoughts homing in on how Wrong Aaron is. “Her name is Arya and it was a wolf.”
Aaron’s smirking, Robert ploughing on, explaining why no dog they ever get could match Nymeria in standard, and then he’s looking out the window, watching the exit for Hotten looming before them. When he looks back, Aaron’s eyes are soft, knowing.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” Aaron’s smug, but he looks soft and proud, always so proud.
“I love you,” Robert says, because he doesn’t want to say anything else.
“I know,” Aaron replies, smirking again because he knows, he knows what that does to Robert.
Robert snorts, leans against the head rest. He reaches over, grips Aaron’s thigh and breathes out. “When we get back, I’m gonna thank you for this properly.”
Aaron’s eyes darken, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the road.
That just makes Robert want him more. “Whatever you want.”
“Holding you to that,” Aaron growls out, his thigh twitching beneath Robert’s hand.
Robert’ll give him whatever he wants; he wouldn’t have got this far, wouldn’t be here without Aaron.
“Thank you,” he says, heartfelt and strong.
Aaron’s answering smile is blinding, all-consuming and Robert lets himself feel it, feels settled in the seat of a car for the first time since the crash.