capseycartwright

[capseycartwright]

7 for the prompts xx

hello this got wildly long and out of control and is also on ao3 here. thank u pal and hope you enjoy

7: i can’t go on like this

Aaron didn’t mean for it to happen, him and Robert. He knows how it sounds, how it would look to the rest of the village if they found out – how they’d tut, and sigh, and wonder why Aaron didn’t just leave John at the altar if he was going to end up back in Robert Sugden’s arms again – but the truth was, Aaron didn’t mean for it to happen again. He’d tried, he’d really tried, he’d kept Robert at arm’s length, he’d been cruel, and unkind, and he’d told Robert to go, over and over, and over, but Robert hadn’t listened.

Or maybe, the truth was, Aaron hadn’t wanted Robert to listen – when Robert had started to stay away, shoulders slumped as he tried his best to keep his distance, to let Aaron move on with his life, with John, Aaron had felt this strange sense of panic take over: if Robert listened, and he left Aaron alone, maybe he’d move on too. He knew Robert had been going on dates again – the first one had sounded like a bit of a disaster, frankly – but weeks after, Victoria had let it slip that Robert was in Hotten on a first date again. Aaron wasn’t supposed to know, and Victoria had begged him to keep it to himself, so Aaron had gone home to his husband and sat and spiralled about who the date might be with, if Robert was having fun, if Robert might go home with them, if he might fall in love, and move on and forget all about Aaron.

He should have wanted that to be the case. Aaron should have wanted the story to go that way – for Robert to meet someone new, and for him to leave Aaron, and John, by association, alone – but he hated the idea so much it had him up until all hours of the night, his sleeping husband completely unaware as he snored next to Aaron.

(John snored so fucking much – it made Aaron long for Robert’s tendency to kick in his sleep, remember those nights when Robert would toss, and turn, and the only way to stop it was to wrap his own legs around Robert’s restless ones, Robert more delighted by being wrestled into being the little spoon than he’d ever admit).

Aaron hadn’t meant for it to happen the way it did – but a week after he saw Robert on a third date in the Woolpack, he let himself into Victoria’s house, and he kissed him, and just like the last time, the rest was, well, history.

“Robert?” Aaron squinted, groggy as he roused himself from sleep. The right side of the bed was empty (the right side, not the left, John insistent from the beginning of their relationship that he had to sleep on the left, leaving Aaron disjointed as he slept on the side he’d come to know as Robert’s, regardless of what bed he was in), Robert sitting by the window, jumper pulled down over his wrists, his pale legs bare and glowing in the moonlight sneaking in the gap in the hotel curtains.

“Robert?” Aaron repeated, swinging his legs out of the bed, padding across the carpet to where Robert was sitting. The hotel was a far cry from the plush hotels they’d met in the first time around, Robert still married to Chrissie, but Aaron couldn’t spend that much money without John noticing, and Robert had only managed to get himself parttime hours with Caleb, so it wasn’t as if he was flush with cash. Life was different, now. “Are you alright?”

Robert turned his head, and Aaron’s heart sank as he realised that those perfect blue-green eyes he’d come to love so much – the ones that looked like the sparkling waves of the Welsh coast where they’d gone for a week every summer, when they were together – were filled with tears.

“You know,” Robert heaved out a breath, a different man to the one who’d gone to prison all those years ago – tired, and frightened, a lot of the time, but more open, in a strange way, honest in a way that still unnerved Aaron sometimes. “I never appreciated how hard it was for you to be on the other side of the affair, all those years ago.”

“Robert…” Aaron trailed off, chewing the side of his lip. It was sort of uncharted territory, this, neither of them willing to address the John-shaped elephant in the room as weeks turned into months and this rendition of their affair ran as long as it had the first time around.

“I never understood how much it must have hurt you, to watch me leave, and go back to Chrissie, over, and over, and over,” Robert wiped roughly at his eyes, looking younger than his near-forty years old, his hair free of product and flat against his forehead. Aaron was trying to forget all the times he saw that same hairstyle on Robert from across a prison visiting table. “But it hurts – it’s like this ache, deep in my chest, and I can’t do anything about it. I feel – I feel powerless. Is that how I made you feel?”

Aaron didn’t think about their affair – their first – all that often, anymore. His memories of stolen kisses in barns and clandestine meetings in hotel rooms had long since been replaced with sweet kisses in the Woolpack and a shared nightly routine in the Mill. The affair wasn’t what Aaron missed, about Robert, when he was inside – Aaron missed the version of Robert had had married (twice), the one who loved him so openly, unashamedly.

But if he thought about the affair, about the younger version of himself who had been so desperately in love with Robert that he had been willing to accept scraps, then –

“Yeah,” Aaron admitted, his voice hoarse. “That’s how it felt for me then.”

Robert offered him a sad smile. “I guess I finally know how you felt. Maybe it’s the universe finally getting me back for all the ways I hurt you, back then,” he said, and Aaron hated that there was so much truth in that – as much as he and Robert had loved each other, and Aaron loved the bones of Robert Sugden, even when he pretended he didn’t, they had always been just as good at hurting each other as they were at loving each other, knowing what words would hurt the most, how to dig the metaphorical knife in and make each other bleed.

They deserved each other, for better, and for worse.

“Every time I have to watch you go back to him, it feels like a part of me dies,” Robert admitted, glancing out the hotel room window. “And yet, I still keep coming back for more, Aaron.”

Aaron knew how that felt, too.

Crouching in front of Robert, Aaron placed his hands on Robert’s knees, the touch slow, and gentle. Slow was the most important thing, about this new version of Robert, Aaron had discovered – he needed to know there was time to get away.

Robert didn’t move.

There was a scar on Robert’s knee that hadn’t been there before prison – long, and jagged, the scar went as far as his calf, the skin silvery, and white, as though the wound was long healed. Maybe it was, physically, but Aaron knew the emotional scars ran deep, that Robert went through more inside than he’d even admitted to Aaron – and Aaron was the one person he had been unfailingly honest with.

Taking one of Robert’s hands in his own, Aaron pressed a kiss to the cold skin of the back of Robert’s hand. He was always cold, was Robert, hands and feet icy. It had annoyed him, once upon a time, but he missed it now, craving the way Robert used to shove his hands up Aaron’s pyjama top at night as he lay next to John, his current husband an unbearable furnace to sleep next to. “I’m sorry,” he said, and maybe that wasn’t entirely honest either – Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel sorry about wanting Robert, about taking what he wanted, what he needed, from the man he’d once promised to spend his life with.

“You’re not sorry, Aaron,” Robert returned, and the tone wasn’t accusatory – it was sad, more than anything, accepting of the reality of the situation they were in, a situation that wasn’t at all unfamiliar: it was just that this time, Aaron was married, and Robert was the one begging for more.

Maybe that was just what they were destined to be – mirror images of each other, good and bad, destined to repeat their mistakes over, and over, and over, until finally, someone caught in the crossfire of the great Aaron and Robert love story has enough, and burns it all down on their behalf.

(Sometimes – sometimes Aaron worries that John might be that person. That their luck has run out and the man who’d put the gold wedding band on Aaron’s finger might be the one responsible for his downfall.)

Robert gave his hand a squeeze. “I can’t go on like this, Aaron,” and Aaron knew it was the truth – that Robert was tired, was exhausted of the sneaky kisses and secret hotel stays, of their love being hidden all over again. Aaron knew, because he’d felt it all before, when he was in Robert’s place – and that’s how he knew, that as truthful as it was, as much as Robert meant it, Robert would still come, when Aaron called. He knew, because he’d always come when Robert had called him, once upon a time.

In a strange way, doing this, sleeping with Robert behind his husbands back – it made Aaron feel oddly sympathetic to a version of Robert he’d once hated, the one who’d kept going back to Chrissie, who had worn the weight of a wedding ring on his finger even as he’d used those clever hands to take every inch of Aaron apart. It hadn’t been easy to be the dirty little secret, but it wasn’t easy to be on this side of it, either.

Leaning in, Aaron pressed a soft kiss to Robert’s already kiss-bitten lips, the other man relaxing into his embrace. “Come back to bed,” he pleaded, because talking about this was never going to get them anywhere – Aaron had lived through it all before, and he knew how this ended: with him, and Robert, standing amongst the wreckage of their lives, of all the lives they’d managed to ruin because they’d never learned to love each other the easy way.

Aaron didn’t know how to fix it, how to end it with John, how to want to end it with John and chose Robert, knowing Robert had never been the safe choice – but had always been the best choice he’d ever made.

Nodding, Robert allowed Aaron to pull him up out of the chair, and led back to bed, Aaron sneaking his hands under Robert’s jumper as they burrowed underneath the duvet, palm pressing to the curve of Robert’s belly, the skin there warm.

“I love you,” Aaron said, and he knew Robert wouldn’t say it back – Robert never did, these days, and Aaron didn’t begrudge him that either, not when he’d done the same himself all those years ago. “I love you,” he repeated, burying his face in the space between Robert’s face, and shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of Robert’s cologne, the same one he’d worn before he’d gone to prison.

(Some things never changed).

Love wasn’t enough, Aaron knew – but for now, it was the only answer he had.

[capseycartwright]

sorry to say but i will absolutely be turning off guest comments on my fic because some of u don’t know how to be normal. why are you in the comments of my robron fic telling me that you hate aaron. why would you think i agree

have to say im not entirely sure why anyone would think getting into the comments of a fic about a ship and actively being rude about one of the characters would endear you to an author but i promise you it uh. does not

[capseycartwright]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Emmerdale (TV 1972) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden Summary:

There’s no banging, no shouting, no jolt back to reality.

This morning is quiet, the air is still. Hazy morning sunlight filtering through the cracks in the blinds and steady, grounding breaths stirring the hair at the back of his neck.

OR

Robert’s first morning waking up in a bed that was never his, with the man who always was.

[capseycartwright]

say i'm loveless [emmerdale. robert/aaron, robert/ofc, robert/omc. explicit. ~4.2k]

It would be alright if every time Aaron closed his eyes he didn’t see Robert on his knees, the heat of it turning to bitter jealousy in his lungs. [Or: 5 times Aaron sees Robert with someone else + 1 time he has his full attention.]

@AO3

a/n: yeah idk what this is except my fundemental need for 1. jealous aaron 2. robert with friends & 3. robert getting to have unapologetic sex as a single, hot bisexual xoxo.

[capseycartwright]

aaron making a point to call robert kissing someone else tragic? yeah we know that's what u think luv

[capseycartwright]

7 for the prompts xx

hello this got wildly long and out of control and is also on ao3 here. thank u pal and hope you enjoy

7: i can’t go on like this

Aaron didn’t mean for it to happen, him and Robert. He knows how it sounds, how it would look to the rest of the village if they found out – how they’d tut, and sigh, and wonder why Aaron didn’t just leave John at the altar if he was going to end up back in Robert Sugden’s arms again – but the truth was, Aaron didn’t mean for it to happen again. He’d tried, he’d really tried, he’d kept Robert at arm’s length, he’d been cruel, and unkind, and he’d told Robert to go, over and over, and over, but Robert hadn’t listened.

Or maybe, the truth was, Aaron hadn’t wanted Robert to listen – when Robert had started to stay away, shoulders slumped as he tried his best to keep his distance, to let Aaron move on with his life, with John, Aaron had felt this strange sense of panic take over: if Robert listened, and he left Aaron alone, maybe he’d move on too. He knew Robert had been going on dates again – the first one had sounded like a bit of a disaster, frankly – but weeks after, Victoria had let it slip that Robert was in Hotten on a first date again. Aaron wasn’t supposed to know, and Victoria had begged him to keep it to himself, so Aaron had gone home to his husband and sat and spiralled about who the date might be with, if Robert was having fun, if Robert might go home with them, if he might fall in love, and move on and forget all about Aaron.

He should have wanted that to be the case. Aaron should have wanted the story to go that way – for Robert to meet someone new, and for him to leave Aaron, and John, by association, alone – but he hated the idea so much it had him up until all hours of the night, his sleeping husband completely unaware as he snored next to Aaron.

(John snored so fucking much – it made Aaron long for Robert’s tendency to kick in his sleep, remember those nights when Robert would toss, and turn, and the only way to stop it was to wrap his own legs around Robert’s restless ones, Robert more delighted by being wrestled into being the little spoon than he’d ever admit).

Aaron hadn’t meant for it to happen the way it did – but a week after he saw Robert on a third date in the Woolpack, he let himself into Victoria’s house, and he kissed him, and just like the last time, the rest was, well, history.

“Robert?” Aaron squinted, groggy as he roused himself from sleep. The right side of the bed was empty (the right side, not the left, John insistent from the beginning of their relationship that he had to sleep on the left, leaving Aaron disjointed as he slept on the side he’d come to know as Robert’s, regardless of what bed he was in), Robert sitting by the window, jumper pulled down over his wrists, his pale legs bare and glowing in the moonlight sneaking in the gap in the hotel curtains.

“Robert?” Aaron repeated, swinging his legs out of the bed, padding across the carpet to where Robert was sitting. The hotel was a far cry from the plush hotels they’d met in the first time around, Robert still married to Chrissie, but Aaron couldn’t spend that much money without John noticing, and Robert had only managed to get himself parttime hours with Caleb, so it wasn’t as if he was flush with cash. Life was different, now. “Are you alright?”

Robert turned his head, and Aaron’s heart sank as he realised that those perfect blue-green eyes he’d come to love so much – the ones that looked like the sparkling waves of the Welsh coast where they’d gone for a week every summer, when they were together – were filled with tears.

“You know,” Robert heaved out a breath, a different man to the one who’d gone to prison all those years ago – tired, and frightened, a lot of the time, but more open, in a strange way, honest in a way that still unnerved Aaron sometimes. “I never appreciated how hard it was for you to be on the other side of the affair, all those years ago.”

“Robert…” Aaron trailed off, chewing the side of his lip. It was sort of uncharted territory, this, neither of them willing to address the John-shaped elephant in the room as weeks turned into months and this rendition of their affair ran as long as it had the first time around.

“I never understood how much it must have hurt you, to watch me leave, and go back to Chrissie, over, and over, and over,” Robert wiped roughly at his eyes, looking younger than his near-forty years old, his hair free of product and flat against his forehead. Aaron was trying to forget all the times he saw that same hairstyle on Robert from across a prison visiting table. “But it hurts – it’s like this ache, deep in my chest, and I can’t do anything about it. I feel – I feel powerless. Is that how I made you feel?”

Aaron didn’t think about their affair – their first – all that often, anymore. His memories of stolen kisses in barns and clandestine meetings in hotel rooms had long since been replaced with sweet kisses in the Woolpack and a shared nightly routine in the Mill. The affair wasn’t what Aaron missed, about Robert, when he was inside – Aaron missed the version of Robert had had married (twice), the one who loved him so openly, unashamedly.

But if he thought about the affair, about the younger version of himself who had been so desperately in love with Robert that he had been willing to accept scraps, then –

“Yeah,” Aaron admitted, his voice hoarse. “That’s how it felt for me then.”

Robert offered him a sad smile. “I guess I finally know how you felt. Maybe it’s the universe finally getting me back for all the ways I hurt you, back then,” he said, and Aaron hated that there was so much truth in that – as much as he and Robert had loved each other, and Aaron loved the bones of Robert Sugden, even when he pretended he didn’t, they had always been just as good at hurting each other as they were at loving each other, knowing what words would hurt the most, how to dig the metaphorical knife in and make each other bleed.

They deserved each other, for better, and for worse.

“Every time I have to watch you go back to him, it feels like a part of me dies,” Robert admitted, glancing out the hotel room window. “And yet, I still keep coming back for more, Aaron.”

Aaron knew how that felt, too.

Crouching in front of Robert, Aaron placed his hands on Robert’s knees, the touch slow, and gentle. Slow was the most important thing, about this new version of Robert, Aaron had discovered – he needed to know there was time to get away.

Robert didn’t move.

There was a scar on Robert’s knee that hadn’t been there before prison – long, and jagged, the scar went as far as his calf, the skin silvery, and white, as though the wound was long healed. Maybe it was, physically, but Aaron knew the emotional scars ran deep, that Robert went through more inside than he’d even admitted to Aaron – and Aaron was the one person he had been unfailingly honest with.

Taking one of Robert’s hands in his own, Aaron pressed a kiss to the cold skin of the back of Robert’s hand. He was always cold, was Robert, hands and feet icy. It had annoyed him, once upon a time, but he missed it now, craving the way Robert used to shove his hands up Aaron’s pyjama top at night as he lay next to John, his current husband an unbearable furnace to sleep next to. “I’m sorry,” he said, and maybe that wasn’t entirely honest either – Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel sorry about wanting Robert, about taking what he wanted, what he needed, from the man he’d once promised to spend his life with.

“You’re not sorry, Aaron,” Robert returned, and the tone wasn’t accusatory – it was sad, more than anything, accepting of the reality of the situation they were in, a situation that wasn’t at all unfamiliar: it was just that this time, Aaron was married, and Robert was the one begging for more.

Maybe that was just what they were destined to be – mirror images of each other, good and bad, destined to repeat their mistakes over, and over, and over, until finally, someone caught in the crossfire of the great Aaron and Robert love story has enough, and burns it all down on their behalf.

(Sometimes – sometimes Aaron worries that John might be that person. That their luck has run out and the man who’d put the gold wedding band on Aaron’s finger might be the one responsible for his downfall.)

Robert gave his hand a squeeze. “I can’t go on like this, Aaron,” and Aaron knew it was the truth – that Robert was tired, was exhausted of the sneaky kisses and secret hotel stays, of their love being hidden all over again. Aaron knew, because he’d felt it all before, when he was in Robert’s place – and that’s how he knew, that as truthful as it was, as much as Robert meant it, Robert would still come, when Aaron called. He knew, because he’d always come when Robert had called him, once upon a time.

In a strange way, doing this, sleeping with Robert behind his husbands back – it made Aaron feel oddly sympathetic to a version of Robert he’d once hated, the one who’d kept going back to Chrissie, who had worn the weight of a wedding ring on his finger even as he’d used those clever hands to take every inch of Aaron apart. It hadn’t been easy to be the dirty little secret, but it wasn’t easy to be on this side of it, either.

Leaning in, Aaron pressed a soft kiss to Robert’s already kiss-bitten lips, the other man relaxing into his embrace. “Come back to bed,” he pleaded, because talking about this was never going to get them anywhere – Aaron had lived through it all before, and he knew how this ended: with him, and Robert, standing amongst the wreckage of their lives, of all the lives they’d managed to ruin because they’d never learned to love each other the easy way.

Aaron didn’t know how to fix it, how to end it with John, how to want to end it with John and chose Robert, knowing Robert had never been the safe choice – but had always been the best choice he’d ever made.

Nodding, Robert allowed Aaron to pull him up out of the chair, and led back to bed, Aaron sneaking his hands under Robert’s jumper as they burrowed underneath the duvet, palm pressing to the curve of Robert’s belly, the skin there warm.

“I love you,” Aaron said, and he knew Robert wouldn’t say it back – Robert never did, these days, and Aaron didn’t begrudge him that either, not when he’d done the same himself all those years ago. “I love you,” he repeated, burying his face in the space between Robert’s face, and shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of Robert’s cologne, the same one he’d worn before he’d gone to prison.

(Some things never changed).

Love wasn’t enough, Aaron knew – but for now, it was the only answer he had.

[capseycartwright]

Victoria continuing to be a MVP. Clock him.

[capseycartwright]

wait other post cancelled. mutuals. when r ur birthdays.

[capseycartwright]

welcome back favourite robron shot composition

[capseycartwright]

Aaron may be the first person to look at a stupid man [affectionate], think “I’ll change him”, and actually manage it.

[capseycartwright]

[capseycartwright]

thinking thoughts. chas saying to aaron that being with robert feels like being struck by lightning. that moment in ted lasso where roy tells keeley that she shouldn’t settle for fine that she shouldn’t settle for anything less than someone that makes her feel like she’s been struck by lightning. are u picking up what am i putting down

[capseycartwright]

One day until 24 June, 2025. Wonder if all the promises of Brexit will finally be realised!

This was written by Daniel Hannan in 2016.

[capseycartwright]

7 for the prompts xx

hello this got wildly long and out of control and is also on ao3 here. thank u pal and hope you enjoy

7: i can’t go on like this

Aaron didn’t mean for it to happen, him and Robert. He knows how it sounds, how it would look to the rest of the village if they found out – how they’d tut, and sigh, and wonder why Aaron didn’t just leave John at the altar if he was going to end up back in Robert Sugden’s arms again – but the truth was, Aaron didn’t mean for it to happen again. He’d tried, he’d really tried, he’d kept Robert at arm’s length, he’d been cruel, and unkind, and he’d told Robert to go, over and over, and over, but Robert hadn’t listened.

Or maybe, the truth was, Aaron hadn’t wanted Robert to listen – when Robert had started to stay away, shoulders slumped as he tried his best to keep his distance, to let Aaron move on with his life, with John, Aaron had felt this strange sense of panic take over: if Robert listened, and he left Aaron alone, maybe he’d move on too. He knew Robert had been going on dates again – the first one had sounded like a bit of a disaster, frankly – but weeks after, Victoria had let it slip that Robert was in Hotten on a first date again. Aaron wasn’t supposed to know, and Victoria had begged him to keep it to himself, so Aaron had gone home to his husband and sat and spiralled about who the date might be with, if Robert was having fun, if Robert might go home with them, if he might fall in love, and move on and forget all about Aaron.

He should have wanted that to be the case. Aaron should have wanted the story to go that way – for Robert to meet someone new, and for him to leave Aaron, and John, by association, alone – but he hated the idea so much it had him up until all hours of the night, his sleeping husband completely unaware as he snored next to Aaron.

(John snored so fucking much – it made Aaron long for Robert’s tendency to kick in his sleep, remember those nights when Robert would toss, and turn, and the only way to stop it was to wrap his own legs around Robert’s restless ones, Robert more delighted by being wrestled into being the little spoon than he’d ever admit).

Aaron hadn’t meant for it to happen the way it did – but a week after he saw Robert on a third date in the Woolpack, he let himself into Victoria’s house, and he kissed him, and just like the last time, the rest was, well, history.

“Robert?” Aaron squinted, groggy as he roused himself from sleep. The right side of the bed was empty (the right side, not the left, John insistent from the beginning of their relationship that he had to sleep on the left, leaving Aaron disjointed as he slept on the side he’d come to know as Robert’s, regardless of what bed he was in), Robert sitting by the window, jumper pulled down over his wrists, his pale legs bare and glowing in the moonlight sneaking in the gap in the hotel curtains.

“Robert?” Aaron repeated, swinging his legs out of the bed, padding across the carpet to where Robert was sitting. The hotel was a far cry from the plush hotels they’d met in the first time around, Robert still married to Chrissie, but Aaron couldn’t spend that much money without John noticing, and Robert had only managed to get himself parttime hours with Caleb, so it wasn’t as if he was flush with cash. Life was different, now. “Are you alright?”

Robert turned his head, and Aaron’s heart sank as he realised that those perfect blue-green eyes he’d come to love so much – the ones that looked like the sparkling waves of the Welsh coast where they’d gone for a week every summer, when they were together – were filled with tears.

“You know,” Robert heaved out a breath, a different man to the one who’d gone to prison all those years ago – tired, and frightened, a lot of the time, but more open, in a strange way, honest in a way that still unnerved Aaron sometimes. “I never appreciated how hard it was for you to be on the other side of the affair, all those years ago.”

“Robert…” Aaron trailed off, chewing the side of his lip. It was sort of uncharted territory, this, neither of them willing to address the John-shaped elephant in the room as weeks turned into months and this rendition of their affair ran as long as it had the first time around.

“I never understood how much it must have hurt you, to watch me leave, and go back to Chrissie, over, and over, and over,” Robert wiped roughly at his eyes, looking younger than his near-forty years old, his hair free of product and flat against his forehead. Aaron was trying to forget all the times he saw that same hairstyle on Robert from across a prison visiting table. “But it hurts – it’s like this ache, deep in my chest, and I can’t do anything about it. I feel – I feel powerless. Is that how I made you feel?”

Aaron didn’t think about their affair – their first – all that often, anymore. His memories of stolen kisses in barns and clandestine meetings in hotel rooms had long since been replaced with sweet kisses in the Woolpack and a shared nightly routine in the Mill. The affair wasn’t what Aaron missed, about Robert, when he was inside – Aaron missed the version of Robert had had married (twice), the one who loved him so openly, unashamedly.

But if he thought about the affair, about the younger version of himself who had been so desperately in love with Robert that he had been willing to accept scraps, then –

“Yeah,” Aaron admitted, his voice hoarse. “That’s how it felt for me then.”

Robert offered him a sad smile. “I guess I finally know how you felt. Maybe it’s the universe finally getting me back for all the ways I hurt you, back then,” he said, and Aaron hated that there was so much truth in that – as much as he and Robert had loved each other, and Aaron loved the bones of Robert Sugden, even when he pretended he didn’t, they had always been just as good at hurting each other as they were at loving each other, knowing what words would hurt the most, how to dig the metaphorical knife in and make each other bleed.

They deserved each other, for better, and for worse.

“Every time I have to watch you go back to him, it feels like a part of me dies,” Robert admitted, glancing out the hotel room window. “And yet, I still keep coming back for more, Aaron.”

Aaron knew how that felt, too.

Crouching in front of Robert, Aaron placed his hands on Robert’s knees, the touch slow, and gentle. Slow was the most important thing, about this new version of Robert, Aaron had discovered – he needed to know there was time to get away.

Robert didn’t move.

There was a scar on Robert’s knee that hadn’t been there before prison – long, and jagged, the scar went as far as his calf, the skin silvery, and white, as though the wound was long healed. Maybe it was, physically, but Aaron knew the emotional scars ran deep, that Robert went through more inside than he’d even admitted to Aaron – and Aaron was the one person he had been unfailingly honest with.

Taking one of Robert’s hands in his own, Aaron pressed a kiss to the cold skin of the back of Robert’s hand. He was always cold, was Robert, hands and feet icy. It had annoyed him, once upon a time, but he missed it now, craving the way Robert used to shove his hands up Aaron’s pyjama top at night as he lay next to John, his current husband an unbearable furnace to sleep next to. “I’m sorry,” he said, and maybe that wasn’t entirely honest either – Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel sorry about wanting Robert, about taking what he wanted, what he needed, from the man he’d once promised to spend his life with.

“You’re not sorry, Aaron,” Robert returned, and the tone wasn’t accusatory – it was sad, more than anything, accepting of the reality of the situation they were in, a situation that wasn’t at all unfamiliar: it was just that this time, Aaron was married, and Robert was the one begging for more.

Maybe that was just what they were destined to be – mirror images of each other, good and bad, destined to repeat their mistakes over, and over, and over, until finally, someone caught in the crossfire of the great Aaron and Robert love story has enough, and burns it all down on their behalf.

(Sometimes – sometimes Aaron worries that John might be that person. That their luck has run out and the man who’d put the gold wedding band on Aaron’s finger might be the one responsible for his downfall.)

Robert gave his hand a squeeze. “I can’t go on like this, Aaron,” and Aaron knew it was the truth – that Robert was tired, was exhausted of the sneaky kisses and secret hotel stays, of their love being hidden all over again. Aaron knew, because he’d felt it all before, when he was in Robert’s place – and that’s how he knew, that as truthful as it was, as much as Robert meant it, Robert would still come, when Aaron called. He knew, because he’d always come when Robert had called him, once upon a time.

In a strange way, doing this, sleeping with Robert behind his husbands back – it made Aaron feel oddly sympathetic to a version of Robert he’d once hated, the one who’d kept going back to Chrissie, who had worn the weight of a wedding ring on his finger even as he’d used those clever hands to take every inch of Aaron apart. It hadn’t been easy to be the dirty little secret, but it wasn’t easy to be on this side of it, either.

Leaning in, Aaron pressed a soft kiss to Robert’s already kiss-bitten lips, the other man relaxing into his embrace. “Come back to bed,” he pleaded, because talking about this was never going to get them anywhere – Aaron had lived through it all before, and he knew how this ended: with him, and Robert, standing amongst the wreckage of their lives, of all the lives they’d managed to ruin because they’d never learned to love each other the easy way.

Aaron didn’t know how to fix it, how to end it with John, how to want to end it with John and chose Robert, knowing Robert had never been the safe choice – but had always been the best choice he’d ever made.

Nodding, Robert allowed Aaron to pull him up out of the chair, and led back to bed, Aaron sneaking his hands under Robert’s jumper as they burrowed underneath the duvet, palm pressing to the curve of Robert’s belly, the skin there warm.

“I love you,” Aaron said, and he knew Robert wouldn’t say it back – Robert never did, these days, and Aaron didn’t begrudge him that either, not when he’d done the same himself all those years ago. “I love you,” he repeated, burying his face in the space between Robert’s face, and shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of Robert’s cologne, the same one he’d worn before he’d gone to prison.

(Some things never changed).

Love wasn’t enough, Aaron knew – but for now, it was the only answer he had.

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Emmerdale | 24th June 2025

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"Everything's changed. You, me."

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