Chapter Text
There’s a pink happy face.
A grinning, overly joyful, happy pink face staring back at him. It’s smile is the shade of bubblegum, sickly sweet and artificial. Happy, that’s what he’s supposed to be; ridiculously, euphorically, ecstatic at the prospect of a new life.
But instead of those expected feelings, all he feels is terror. Pure stomach wrenching, sweaty palms, racing, heart stopping, terror. It’s a feeling which he can sum up perfectly in just one single word.
“Fuck.”
*****
It’d been Chrissie’s idea.
Robert had been sat at the kitchen island, bowl of cereal in front of him on the counter top when Chrissie had mentioned it, leaning against the cupboards opposite with a cup of coffee clutched in her hands.
“I mean it’s only logical, isn’t it?” She’d said, the diamond on her finger catching the bright of the overhead lights as she’d adjusted her grip on her mug. “The next step? Proof of how much we love each other?”
Robert had nodded and had swallowed down his mouthful of cereal, brief thoughts flickering through the back of his head about how this would be it, the perfect way to finally assert himself fully in Chrissie’s life once and for all.
“It’s not a bad idea,” he’d said after a moment, reaching for the decanter of orange juice and pouring a glass. Chrissie had grinned and pushed away from the cupboards, turning to place her mug in the sink. She’d kissed his cheek, the soft brush of her hair catching his shoulder, as she walked from the room, promises that they’d talk later on her lips as she'd headed off for a meeting.
In the end, they hadn’t talked about it – at least not properly – until 5 days later, when Chrissie had found Robert in the bathroom with pack of suppressants in hand as he’d got ready for bed.
“I thought you were going to stop taking those?” She’d queried, brow furrowed and lips ever so slightly pouted. Robert had turned, half empty foil packet in hand, and shrugged.
“Well, you never mentioned it again. Wasn’t sure if you’d changed your mind.”
“I haven’t. There’s nothing I’d want more with you.” She’d smiled, before sobering a little when she'd studied Robert’s face more, her blue eyes flickering back and forth. “Unless it’s something you’re not sure of?”
Robert had quickly shaken his head, forcing down the niggle of doubt that had attempted to make itself known at Chrissie’s words, and had thought about the security it would give him; a biological tie to Chrissie, something that would keep her happy and willing to stay with him, a way to fully assert himself into her family and make Lawrence finally take him seriously. If by extension, the metaphorical devil on his shoulder had whispered, it also tied him to the White’s money and business too, it could only be seen really as an additional bonus.
“No, course not.” He’d smiled back at her reassuringly, relaxing his grip on the packet in his hand. “It’s something I want too.”
“Good.” Chrissie had replied softly, before stepping closer and plucking the packet from Robert's fingers. She'd studied them carefully and glanced up at Robert coyly from under her lashes.
“I guess that means you don’t need these anymore,” she’d said and Robert had watched as she'd pressed out the remaining suppressants and flushed them away. She’d turned then, once they were gone, reaching for him, and he had kissed her back when she’d pressed in close, whispers of this being the start of their future on her lips.
He’d let her then steer them both back into the bedroom, his hands working on the silk folds of her dressing gown, and had hummed agreeably when she pushed him down hard onto the bed.
*****
Aaron is ignoring him. Again.
He’d fucked up and he knows it. The mess with Donny, and then the break up and subsequent make up with Chrissie, had made him a shit – whatever they are, but Aaron knows him. Knows his flaws and his faults, and he’d apologised, something they both know he never does without real incentive.
Which makes the fact that Aaron is ignoring him feel 10 times worse.
“Can we talk?” He says closing the portacabin door behind him, palm still clasped tight around the door handle. Aaron is silent, sat leaning over the desk as he thumbs through an invoice.
“Aaron?”
Aaron sighs and turns a page, muttering under his breath. “What d’you want Robert?”
“I said can we talk?” He replies, finally letting go of the door and shifting awkwardly on the spot. Aaron still won’t look at him, his eyes still fixed on the pieces of yellow counterfoil in front of him.
“What about?”
Pink happy faces flash behind Robert’s eyes and he inhales sharply, immediately shoving the anxiety he can feel burning at his throat away. “Dunno, just, how are you?”
Aaron sits back and pushes away from the table, the swivel chair turning to face him; Aaron’s blue eyes meet his finally as he looks up with irritation steeling his jaw.
“Is this some kinda joke? What are you really here for Robert? What do you want?”
Robert swallows, his brow raising as he looks at Aaron earnestly, for once having no agenda except only wanting Aaron to look at him with anything but disgust on his face.
“Nothin’. I swear. I’m not after anything.”
Aaron’s frown deepens and he shakes his head, annoyance flashing in his eyes. He shifts in the chair and turns back to look over the invoices.
“Well in that case do one, I’m not interested.”
Robert hesitates, mouth pursed as he holds back all the things he wants to say. The desperate want to just be able to just make things right between them, to spill all the confused and scared thoughts churning away inside his head about pink happy faces on white plastic and what it means; but instead he sighs resignedly and turns back to the door, his fingers wrapping around the handle once again as he closes it gently on his way out.
*****
They’d gone to a fertility clinic.
“It would be just to check everything out,” Chrissie had said one afternoon, placing her magazine down on the coffee table as she’d looked up at him from the sofa. “I mean not that 28 is very old, but it’s not exactly ideal. And I know you’re not on the suppressants anymore, but 13 years is a long time to be taking them without a break.”
Robert had steeled his jaw but agreed, and so Chrissie had booked them an appointment at a fancy clinic in Harrogate for the following day.
There’d been blood tests and urine tests, doctors and nurses prodding at his insides and outsides; ultrasound scans with black and grey blobs that'd meant absolutely nothing to him, but which the doctor stared at with rapt attention.
He’d sat at the end of it all in a plush, wooden furniture filled office and twiddled his thumbs, counting all of the certificates and awards decorating the walls and shelves as he waited for the consultant to tell him his fate.
“Well, everything looks like it’s in working order,” the consultant had said, flicking through the file of paperwork. “There’s no real sign of any issues, but with such prolonged suppressant usage it could take a little while for the drug to leave your system fully.”
“But is that a given?” He’d asked wanting to be clear, and the consultant had shaken her head.
“No not necessarily. There are plenty of people who come off long-term suppression use and have no issues conceiving from the first heat.”
She’d moved on after that, and Robert had nodded along accordingly as she had drawled on and on through the in depth findings of his results, the whole time planning how to tell Chrissie that she’d been wrong, that he was perfectly fine, without coming across like the arrogant prick he was.
He’d shaken the consultant’s hand as he stepped through the door and turned to meet Chrissie’s eyes – smug smile fighting to break out across his mouth – when he’d seen it. The upset in Chrissie’s face, and he’d paused.
Low count, she’d said. Her tests had come back with a low count. There were options: hormone injections, pills… there were things that could be done but it would take time. A lot of time.
He’d held Chrissie that night, her face pressed against his throat as she clung to him. Her tears had stained the collar of his t-shirt and he’d run his fingers through her hair, trying to find the words to comfort her but failing spectacularly.
*****
4 days after the happy pink face had grinned up at him from the bathroom counter top, Robert spends half the morning curled around the toilet bowl of his and Chrissie’s en-suite.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?” Chrissie asks soothingly, her fingers stroking through the hair at his nape as he lays his forehead on the edge of the seat. His blood runs cold at her words, and he shakes his head furiously.
“No! No, I’ll be fine. S’probably one of those 24 hour bugs.” He croaks out, throat raw and scraped like sandpaper. Chrissie hums disapprovingly but continues stroking the back of his neck, even as he lurches forward over the bowl once more.
It lasts for 2 more days, the sickness, before he drives to the chemist first thing and buys up almost the entire section of anti-nausea tablets.
After that he feels almost back to normal. Well as normal as he can feel given the circumstances.
He goes about his day, schmoozing clients, bickering with Lawrence and comforting Chrissie when she argues with Lachlan, all without even thinking about ‘it’. But at night when he lies in bed, Chrissie breathing steadily against his shoulder, the thoughts creep in. Fears. They creep inside and slowly consume him. If’s, buts, and what the fuck am I going to do’s?
By the morning’s he’s exhausted; emotionally drained and sleep deprived.
Chrissie suggests breakfast at the café as she dresses, and Robert drives them down to the village, eyes bleary and sunken. She orders them both coffee and croissants, and Robert almost gags at the smell of frying sausages as Bob flips them about in the pan over the other side of the counter. He grabs a seat at a table as far away from the smell as possible, and buries his head in his hands until Chrissie sits down opposite him, passing him over a steaming mug.
“Maybe we should try to cut down on the pastries for breakfast,” she says casually, leaning back in her seat; however Robert sees her eyes drift down to his stomach, slightly more rounded than it used to be.
He swallows a large gulp of his almost too hot coffee and smiles back at her weakly with a small nod. The bell above the door tinkles softly and he glances down self-consciously at his midsection, playing anxiously with the handle of his mug as he notes the way his shirt buttons strain a little harder than before.
“Latte please Brenda,” Aaron’s grumpy voice says to his left, and Robert’s head jolts up instinctively. He watches Aaron from the corner of his eye as Chrissie begins to chatter away about her newest salon opening, willing Aaron to turn and look at him, to give him just the slightest hint of acknowledgment, but it never comes.
He perseveres though and watches Aaron’s back the whole way as he walks back to the door, his stomach sinking when Aaron grasps for the handle. He mentally sends one last plea, one last wish for Aaron to just look at him, when Aaron pauses, adjusting his grip on his takeaway cup and looks up, eyes meeting Robert’s intuitively.
He quirks a corner of his lips in a secret smile – something just for Aaron, just for them – which he drops almost immediately when Aaron scowls and yanks at the handle with his free hand.
The door closes behind him in not quite a slam.
*****
He makes a doctor’s appointment the day his jeans won’t button at the top.
He knows he can’t hide it much longer, can’t pretend that it isn’t happening like he has been for the past 17 days. Soon it will be obvious, to Chrissie, to Aaron, to everyone, and he needs time to prepare.
The surgery waiting room is thankfully quiet and Dr Bailey calls him in only 5 minutes after his scheduled appointment time. He takes a seat in the padded chair opposite the desk and Dr Bailey asks him what he can do for him.
“Erm,” Robert coughs, shifting anxiously and flexing his fingers. “Well I think – I think I might be, y’know…” he says, nodding down towards where his belly protrudes slightly above his belt.
Dr Bailey frowns confused for a second before his eyes widen in recognition and he nods.
“Right, okay. And have you taken a test?”
He nods. “Yeah. It was – it was positive.”
Dr Bailey nods and writes down a couple of notes. He pushes himself to stand and gestures to the examination table.
“So if you just want to pop up on here I’ll give you a quick examination and then we’ll do a couple of blood and urine tests, just to be certain.”
He loosens his belt and lowers his zip as he slides up onto the table. Dr Bailey prods and pokes, his face not giving away anything. Afterwards he calls for a nurse and Robert sits up as Emma Barton comes in to take his blood.
“This won’t take a minute,” she says, overly cheerful medical professional smile on her face, as she lays out the needles and adjusts the tourniquet on his arm. He winces a little as she carries out the test, and rubs at the spot when she pulls away after taping a cotton pad over the crook of his elbow.
Dr Bailey then points him in the direction of the men’s toilet and hands him a sample cup; he feels a faint blush creeping across his cheeks when he returns to hand Dr Bailey the cup, before heading back out into the waiting room as instructed and taking a seat in one of the few well worn chairs.
He twiddles his thumbs while he waits, foot bouncing rhythmically against the floor as the clock on the wall ticks loudly. An elderly couple to his right talk aimlessly among themselves, and Robert finds himself clenching his teeth as their voices grate on what remains of his shredded nerves.
Eventually though Dr Bailey calls him back in as the hands tick over quarter past, and Robert exhales shakily as he stands to follow the doctor back into his room.
“Well as I thought, the urine test has come back as positive,” Dr Bailey says, taking his seat and clasping his hands in front of him as he leans on the desk. “It’ll take a couple of days for the blood result to come back, but I think it’s safe to say that you are pregnant.”
Robert slumps back in his chair and zones out as Dr Bailey continues to talk: ultrasound scans, further blood tests, and follow up appointments, all important points that he fails to truly register through the fog of dismay he can feel slowly consuming him. He blinks slowly when Dr Bailey hands him several leaflets, and he stuffs them in his pocket without so much as a glance at their thick pages.
Afterwards he sits in the car on the outskirts of the village, head pressed against the steering wheel, and a sickness deep in the pit of his stomach that for once, has nothing to do with the hormones surging under his skin.
*****
Robert didn’t like being an omega.
Omega’s were supposed to be soft, warm. Submissive and subservient. All things that he was most definitely not.
Sure there were advantages to being an omega – especially when it came to playing with the heartstrings of lonely old alphas like Lawrence, who would practically salivate over Robert’s charming smile and plush arse – but for the most part there were twice as many disadvantages when it came to his secondary gender.
He’d spent many years trying to prove himself in his late teens and early twenties after, well – after; and it’d been hard for a time, having to work twice as hard for half the recognition in what everyone said was an ‘alpha’s role’, but he’d done it eventually, risen to the top the way he’d always knew he would.
And if the sneering alphas in the rest of the department had passed comment on Lawrence’s wondering eye and his budding ‘closeness’ with Chrissie after the Christmas party, well he'd had to make the most of every asset available to him. Biology had dealt him a seemingly dud hand when it came to business – but his charm and pretty smile, had left him with an ace up his sleeve to put them on an even playing field.
Except after playing his ace, he'd then found himself back at square one in a whole new card game. Lawrence’s willingness to praise him, and obvious enjoyment of his company, had quickly soured at the discovery of his and Chrissie’s relationship. In a matter of days he'd gone from celebrated omega protégé, to gold-digging omega chancer, and Robert had found himself having to prove himself all over again just to meet the expectations both Lawrence – and Chrissie – held when it came to an omega’s ‘behaviour’ in a serious relationship. The ruthlessness and dubious morals that had awarded him so many brownie points when it came to sealing deals, had not afforded him the same response when it came to dating Chrissie.
So he’d learnt to curb himself, tame the reckless side of himself that had always landed him in more trouble than not. He’d played the doting omega boyfriend, the dutiful omega fiancé, and eventually Lawrence’s scorn had withered down to begrudging acceptance, all because of the smile he worked hard to keep on Chrissie’s face.
But he should have known that he could only ‘play good’ for so long, and well Aaron had made slipping up so worth the risk. A working class, scruffy mechanic with calluses on his hands, a wicked mouth, and no expectations whatsoever. It’d been inevitable.
The fact that Aaron could see through his bravado and bluster, could see him in a way nobody else did and still accepted him for who he was – the flawed, black sheep, omega son of a farmer – had pulled at a feeling deep inside of him that he didn’t care to examine in too much detail.
Sure Aaron called him on his bullshit, his scheming and manipulating ways, but not because it was ‘un-omega like’ and threatening to his alpha masculinity, but purely because he thought Robert could be better, that he could be good rather than just fake it.
And so he’d allowed himself Aaron despite all his self-held promises that he wouldn’t cheat once he was engaged; because as long as he could be himself with Aaron, he could be the omega Chrissie needed, and keeping Chrissie happy was, in the grand scheme of things, all that really mattered.
*****
He gets a letter 3 days later with an appointment for a dating scan.
He stuffs the letter as far into his trouser pocket as possible before Chrissie can turn from her place by the toaster, and forces a smile for her when she eventually does so, placing a plate down in front of him.
On the Thursday morning he drives to the clinic in Hotten, and contemplates turning straight back around as he stares through the windscreen at the double doors; but after 10 minutes of deliberation he sighs, defeated, and opens the car door resignedly.
He registers with the receptionist at the counter and not 2 minutes later a midwife calls him down to a small room half way down the hallway. She gestures for him to get on the bed and he obliges, shuffling back awkwardly and trying not to crease the paper too much underneath him.
“So your last heat was 12 weeks ago?” she says, glancing down at his notes on the clipboard in her lap. Robert nods and watches her tap away at the machine as he lies back on the bed.
“Yeah, roughly that anyway.”
The midwife nods and instructs him to lift his shirt. She tucks a strip of tissue across his hips into the waistband of his jeans and grabs the gel covered wand from its place beside the machine; his stomach jumps reflexively when she touches the wand against his skin.
“Sorry, it’s cold, I should have warned you,” she says with an apologetic smile, adjusting something on the monitor. Robert bites his lip and flashes a brief, half-hearted one in reply.
“So is your alpha not with you today?”
Robert inhales deeply and shifts his legs anxiously on the bed. “No, she’s busy today. Got a work meeting she can’t miss.”
“Aw,” the midwife coos. “That’s a shame, I bet she’s excited though, probably won’t be able to get any work done!”
Robert plasters on a false smile and huffs a weak laugh as he tries his best to be polite. Silence then descends over the room for the next few minutes as the midwife passes the wand repeatedly over his lower abdomen, black and grey blobs swirling over the monitor that he can see just to his right. Eventually she pauses and hums pleased, holding the wand still just under his belly button.
“There you are, you were a tricky little one.” She murmurs to herself as she taps something on the screen to take a photo. She adjusts the monitor again next and turns back towards him, pointing her finger at a large, black blob with a smaller grey, bean shaped blob in the middle.
“That here,” she says, indicating to the small bean blob in a slow circle. “Is your baby.”
Robert blinks, holding himself still as he stares at the screen. He can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest, his pulse fluttering away at his jaw. He feels a little numb, a little shell shocked and unexpectedly stunned; despite knowing in his head that there was a tiny human growing inside him, actually seeing it is a whole different ball game entirely.
“I don’t think you conceived during your heat though.” The midwife continues, oblivious to his ongoing existential crisis as she begins to move the wand again. “The baby looks a little too small.”
He jerks his eyes away from the screen and back towards her, his palms sweating now profusely where they lay against his chest. “Wh – what does that mean?”
“Well.” She drawls, taking another screenshot and glancing over at him briefly. “Instead of being 12 weeks like we first thought, I’d say you were more 10 weeks. The foetus isn’t developed enough to be 12 weeks so you conceived after your heat.”
“Is that possible? I mean I didn’t think that could happen.” He asks sharply, panic welling in the back of his throat. The midwife hums thoughtfully but nods her head to his despair.
“It’s unlikely, especially given your prolonged suppressant usage, but it is possible. Conception outside of heat mainly happens in younger male omegas as fertility begins to drop after your mid 20’s, but there’s always exceptions to the rule.” She smiles, turning to look at Robert briefly. “Looks like you’ve got your own little miracle here.”
*****
He has to stop half way back to the village to throw up, his stomach churning with an anxiety that even the anti-nausea pills can’t stop.
He leans his head back against the headrest when he climbs back into the car, breathing heavily as he shuts his eyes tight.
There’s a photo burning a hole in his pocket. He wants to reach in and screw it up, tear it into a million pieces, but he can’t. He hadn’t wanted a scan picture, had wanted to say no when the midwife had asked, but he knew it would have looked strange and so he took the glossy picture with a forced smile.
He should get rid of it, both the photo and – and it, should book another appointment and tell Dr Bailey that he wants it gone before Chrissie suspects.
But Chrissie would know, would ask him all sorts of questions about the blood and the mess and – and…
He could say it was a miscarriage. That he hadn’t known until it was too late. But he can already see Chrissie’s devastated face behind his eyelids, and he knows that he couldn’t deal with Chrissie’s grief for a child she hadn’t even met.
He feels a headache start to build against his temples and rubs a hand across his eyes, trying to push the pain away by force. His phone beeps quietly from his jeans pocket and he slides it out, thumbing across the lock screen until it lights up with a message.
From: Aaron --- Received: 13:51
Come by the yard need to talk to you
He exhales shakily and he stares down at the screen, his eyes unblinking.
Because then of course there was Aaron.
What the fuck was he supposed to do about Aaron?
*****
When Aaron had turned to face him in that barn with a sneer on his face, he’d known he’d been in trouble.
He’d had male alphas before. It wasn’t something he’d indulged in often, his father’s disappointed face popping up behind his eyes whenever he’d thought about it too much, but he couldn’t deny that there was an attraction there, an itch that he just had to scratch every now and again.
And Aaron, well Aaron had him feeling like he was coming out in hives.
He hadn't really understood why to begin with, at first glance there really was little difference between Aaron and his dodgy mate Ross – both brunet with stubbled jaws, heavily gelled hair and dark clothes, brooding expressions – but the more time he'd spent around Aaron the more he realised that there was a difference.
Aaron had morals, slightly dented ones, but he had them. He was fascinating in a way, a thief but a reluctant one, a bloke who could deck a man in anger and then spend the rest of the day wracked with guilt for it. The more time Robert had spent around him the more he had found himself wanting, both Aaron’s body and just simply Aaron as a person.
He'd wanted to spend time with him. Even if Aaron never saw him in that way he’d have taken Aaron’s begrudging friendship over nothing, which in itself was a novel thing. He’d never really had friends, at least not since he’d been a kid and that friend had been Andy. He’d had acquaintances, work colleagues who he could share a drink with, and a string of girlfriends and lovers who were all up for a good time, but never really a proper friend.
But in the end though, Aaron hadn't ended up being his friend either.
In all honesty he hadn't known why he’d pried, but after Chrissie’s pleased glow at Aaron fixing her car for free that morning, Robert had felt a squirm of jealousy in his belly all day that just wouldn’t abate.
So when he’d seen Aaron propping up the bar he hadn’t been able to stop himself from niggling, testing and teasing to try and get a reaction. When he’d started questioning Aaron about his crush on Chrissie, he’d been unsure if the green-eyed monster he could feel stirring was because Aaron had been checking out his fiancée, or because Aaron hadn’t been checking him out instead; but then Aaron had snorted at his insinuation and downed the remainder of his pint, and Robert had known.
“I’ll remember that for when I stop being gay,” Aaron had said, before stalking off without so much as a glance back. The fluttering anticipation in Robert’s stomach that he left behind though, had answered the question, and from that moment he’d known he was done for.
*****
“You took your time.” Aaron mutters when Robert walks through the door to the portacabin.
“I got held up,” he says quietly, his hair a dishevelled mess across his forehead as the photo still burns a hole in his pocket. “What did you need?”
Aaron pushes himself up from his seat and walks to the filing cabinet, pulling open the top draw and grabbing a folder.
“Need you to sign this off,” he says, passing the folder over to Robert and crossing his arms. Robert grabs a pen from Adam’s desk with clumsy fingers and quickly scans his eyes over the documents. He signs his name in the 2 marked boxes sloppily and tosses the pen back down.
Aaron steps forward to take the folder when he holds it out, and turns back to file it away in the cabinet. “Right you can go now.”
Robert furrows his brow and shifts his stance aggrieved, hurt and irritation adding to his already wound up mood. “What that’s it? That’s all you’re gonna say?”
Aaron shrugs, pulling a face as he turns back to look at him.
“Well you’ve signed the paperwork, ain’t got nothin’ else to say to ya.”
He shakes his head disbelievingly, scrubbing a hand through his already wrecked hair once more as he runs his eyes over Aaron, taking in his defiant shoulders and sharp jaw.
“Why do you keep being like this? Acting like we don’t have something going on here?”
“‘Cause we don’t,” Aaron says flatly, his tone so blasé that Robert feels his chest tighten unpleasantly. “We’re nothin’. You’re nothin’.”
“Aaron – ”
“Just shut up Robert.” Aaron snaps, Robert finally catching the first hint of emotion in his blue eyes; a flash of pain that jolts him down to his toes and makes him swallow hard. “Just shut up and get out of my life!”
*****
After what happened at Wylie’s, he had honestly thought he’d lost Aaron for good.
Not even just at the quarry – and the drop he’d felt in his heart when he’d thought Aaron had jumped was one he never wanted to feel again – but afterwards, when they’d stood in the back of the pub and Aaron had made clear that whatever this was, it was over.
He’d gone back home then, back to Chrissie and kissed her hard like she’d wanted him to for days, and then he’d taken her to bed. Had pushed her down onto the mattress and smirked at her raised eyebrow, climbing on top to straddle her hips with his thighs.
Afterwards he’d rolled on his back and panted, sticky with sweat, come and slick between his legs. Chrissie had all but purred beside him, content and satisfied, and had turned on her side to graze her fingertips lightly against his chest.
“Not that I’m complaining,” she’d said, sated and curious as she’d gazed at him under hooded lids. “But what brought that on?”
He’d exhaled shakily and pushed down the hurt that had threatened to bubble back up inside of him, shoved away the thoughts of Aaron’s determined face and cold eyes as he’d told him they were over, done.
“Just thought you were right.” He’d answered, staring up at the ceiling as Chrissie had continued to stroke over his skin. “We haven’t had time for us with everything that’s happened. And you’ve put up with so much since the wedding, you’ve been amazin’ y’know?”
Chrissie had hummed and leant up on her elbow, and Robert had swallowed hard, forcing the flashes of broken floorboards and flat, empty eyes back into the recesses of his mind where they belonged. He’d turned his head then, when he was sure his face wouldn’t give away the horror he could still feel, to look at his wife. His gorgeous, loving new wife, and forced a smile.
“I love you,” he’d said, sliding his hand through the back of Chrissie’s hair and stroking at her nape. “You know that right?”
“Of course.” She’d grinned and had leant down to kiss him long and slow.
She’d ran her hand down his stomach and between his thighs, and he’d moaned when she’d curled her fingers just right. If when he’d looked up into her soft blue eyes he’d imagined another pair, harder but just as bright, looking back at him as he’d come, well nobody else had to know.
*****
He closes the front door behind him when he gets back from the scrapyard, and Chrissie storms out of the kitchen with purpose.
“I think we need to talk,” she says, voice stern but unreadable and his stomach drops, an endless swirl of his many possible misgivings – the burglary, Katie, Aaron – cycling through his head as he tentatively follows her back through to stand in the doorway.
“Look, it was a mistake alright – ” He starts nervously, settling on the most obvious. He breaks off when Chrissie holds up a hand and cuts him off abruptly.
“What are these?” She asks, dropping a pile of paper onto the counter top. He looks closer at the pile of papers, and feels his mouth dry up at the sight of the familiar pages.
“I can explain.”
“Good.” Chrissie replies, folding her arms across her chest. “Because I think you owe me an explanation.”
He shuffles on the spot, trying his hardest to find the words, to find a way to spin this to keep Chrissie happy; but instead he ends up falling back on old habits and immediately goes on the offensive.
“You went through my things.”
“I moved your jacket and they fell out!” She shouts, finally, gesturing toward the pile with a sweeping arm. “What is going on Robert? Why do you have these?!”
“Why d’you think?!” He snaps, jaw clenched tight as he wills Chrissie not to make him say it – he hopes to God she doesn’t make him say it.
Chrissie blinks then, her eyes immediately widening as the tension drops from her shoulders. He looks away from her softening gaze, unable to bear what will come next.
“Really? You mean you’re…” she trails off; voice little more than a whisper. Robert nods and he hears Chrissie gasp.
“Oh my God, oh my God, Robert! This is amazing!”
He tries to stop from flinching as Chrissie launches herself across the room, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He slowly places his arms around her and rubs at her side softly.
“I can’t believe it!” She says, pulling back to look up at him with amazement in her eyes. “The consultant said it could take months, even years! I just can’t believe it!”
He plasters on a false smile and Chrissie grins up at him, eyes sparkling with joy. She cuddles back into his chest and runs her hands up and down his back; his smile falls when she can’t see him, and he presses his face into her neck breathing in her vanilla scent.
“We’re having a baby.” She whispers; and Robert’s stomach drops.
*****
He had never given much thought to children. Not really.
He’d thought about them of course, in that sort of abstract way of ‘sometime maybe, but not right now’. But never seriously, at least not until Chrissie had suggested it.
Having children was just something Robert assumed would happen eventually, being an omega it was almost a guarantee, something that was biologically ingrained in him from birth. But he’d never planned, never set a time frame; instead he’d concentrated on more important ambitions and fought for them both tooth and nail.
But now those ambitions were fulfilled, for the most part, and he needed something else to do with his time. Why not a child?
As he’d lay in his and Chrissie’s bed the night of their talk over cereal and coffee at breakfast, those thoughts had run through his head as he listened to his wife breathe.
Chrissie had been right, it would ‘complete them’ in a sense, strengthen them as a couple as well as strengthen Robert’s place within the family. Alongside that he couldn’t also help but consider the sentimentality of it all; the baby would be part of him, his own flesh and blood, someone who would love him unconditionally even if, god forbid, their relationship ended up as bitter as his and his own father’s.
Because he had loved Jack, despite the bitterness and anger he still felt towards him years after his death, he had loved him very much.
But on the other hand, having a child would mean that would be it, he’d be settled down; no more games, no more flirtations… no more Aaron. No, definitely no more Aaron – not that Aaron had been talking to him anyway.
He wouldn’t have room for Aaron, and certainly no time for him anyway even if he was speaking to him. Chrissie was demanding of his time on her own, if there was a baby too then they would need to come first, before even Chrissie.
Aaron had supposed to have been just a bit of fun before things got serious, some ‘light relief’ from daily familial obligations and snide remarks from Lawrence. Aaron had supposed to be, for all intents and purposes: dispensable.
At least that’s what he had tried to tell himself, his eyes fixed upwards on the bedroom ceiling and Chrissie’s arm thrown across his waist. His heart however, had thumped a little harder at the thought, in his ever tightening chest.
*****
Chrissie fawns over him the next few days, cooking him breakfast in bed and dropping everything for Robert if he so much as complains of a headache. It’s both caring and suffocating and he spends most of the days struggling to breathe.
5 days after he’d told Chrissie she suggests lunch at the pub over breakfast, a soft smile on her face as she watches him pick at his half eaten slice of toast across the table.
“It’d be nice to get out of the house for a while,” she says, fingers curled around her coffee mug. “You know just the 2 of us… well 3 of us I suppose if you think about it.”
He tries his best not to wince and nods in reply. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea. What time were you thinking?”
“Well I have a meeting at the Leeds salon at 11 so if we say 1 o’clock?” Chrissie smiles, picking up her mug and empty plate. “I’ll drive straight back and meet you there.”
He pushes his plate away and reaches for his own cooling mug. “That’s fine, I’ve got some paperwork I need to finish anyway.”
Chrissie places her mug and plate into the sink and moves around the island, he sits up obligingly as she leans down to kiss his lips, soft and chaste.
“I’ll see you later then.” She whispers, stroking her fingers along the back of his neck as she walks away. Robert keeps up the pretence of happiness until he hears the front door close quietly.
*****
He tries to concentrate on the pile of paperwork in front of him, but the whirling thoughts in his head won’t let him progress past the second paragraph, no matter how many times he gets up and makes coffee, before coming back with what he hopes will be fresh eyes. He can see Nicola starting to become irritated with him from the corner of his eye, her mouth pursing every time he sighs with frustration, and he huffs, leaning back in his chair and checking the time on his laptop.
12:36. Bit early to be leaving for the pub, but at least if he leaves soon he will be able to sneak in a pint before Chrissie gets there.
With thoughts of a nice cold beer to calm his anxious procrastinating, he pushes back from his desk and grabs for his jacket.
“Going for lunch.” He announces as he heads towards the door, ignoring Nicola’s quiet mutter of ‘Thank God’ as he closes the office door behind him.
He drives much too fast for the narrow country lanes as he heads into the village, foot twitchy against the throttle as some indie top 10 band blasts from the car radio. The pub is relatively busy when he arrives, parking around the back and cutting the engine, a group of walkers crowding around the benches on what appears to be their lunch break. He navigates through the tables and enters through the front, heading immediately for the bar and internally sighing when he sees Diane behind it.
“Pint please, Diane,” he says, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a fiver. Diane smiles and grabs for a glass.
“You alright pet? You look a bit stressed.”
He huffs a laugh and shakes his head as Diane hands over his drink. “Fine. Just work y’know?”
Diane hums and nods her head knowingly, turning away as one of the walking party calls her over from the other end of the bar. He gulps at his pint, checking his watch as he does so, and from the corner of his eye he sees his sister walk out from the back, a plate balanced in each hand as she laughs, her head turned to look back over her shoulder. He swallows back the last of his drink and opens his mouth to call her over – when Aaron follows her out with a teasing grin on his face.
“Just you wait until Adam hears about this!” Vic calls back at Aaron as she places the plates down on a nearby table, smiling at the couple before turning her gaze towards Robert. “Oh hi Rob! Finally decided to venture out from the big house did ya?”
He sees Aaron’s head jerk in his direction and he forces himself to keep looking at his sister, plastering on a sarcastic smile as she grins cheekily at him and walks back behind the bar.
He avoids Aaron’s eyes as he watches Victoria head through the door but instinctively finds himself turning towards him after she leaves. His gaze meets Aaron’s almost straight away and he sees a hint of something in Aaron’s expression that doesn’t immediately make his heart sink. He toys with the base of his empty glass and just as he makes up his mind to go over – to finally sort this out with Aaron – he sees Aaron’s face shut down, whatever warmth he’d held in his eyes evaporating in less than a heartbeat.
“You’re already here.” Chrissie’s voice sounds from his left and he jumps, his head turning away from Aaron’s cold eyes to meet the loving ones of his wife.
“Yeah.” He answers, half breathless with surprise as he tries to school his face. “Yeah, Nicola was doing my head in so I thought I’d come down and get us a table.”
“Aww.” Chrissie coos, leaning forward to wrap her arm around his shoulders and kiss his cheek. “You’re so sweet.”
He smiles thinly and slides his palm across Chrissie’s waist as Diane walks back down the bar. Chrissie turns to greet her and leans against the counter top.
“A glass of white for me and an orange juice please Diane. Also could we get a couple of menus?”
Diane raises an eyebrow as she picks up a wine glass with a smile. “Lunch date is it? Any reason in particular?”
Chrissie bites at her lip, trying to hold back her grin, and Robert feels something like terror settle in the back of his throat. He sees Victoria pop back out from the back and immediately his stomach sinks when Chrissie looks at him with uncontainable excitement on her face.
“Well…” Chrissie drawls, turning back to Diane. “Robert and I have had a little bit of news.”
“News? What’s this?” Vic pipes up, making her way over to stand by Diane, a confused frown pulling at her brow. He sees Aaron looking over from his seat at the end of the bar and feels his palms begin to sweat.
“Robert and I.” Chrissie starts, her hand coming to curl possessively around his bicep; Robert forces himself not to pull away. “Robert and I are having a baby!”
Victoria squeals in a high pitched shriek and he winces from the sound and the bone crushing hug he is quickly pulled into.
“Oh my god Robert!” Vic exclaims squeezing her arms tight around his back. He hears Diane’s congratulations and excited chatter with Chrissie as his sister continues to hug the life out of him; eventually he manages to prise her away and he immediately turns, heart hammering, to look for Aaron.
He’s still there, to both his relief and horror, but his expression is blank, completely flat and unreadable. Robert watches him intently as Aaron drains the last of his pint and slams his glass down a little too hard against the bar. Aaron looks up, his gaze meeting Robert’s as he pushes his stool back and stands.
His chest constricts as Aaron walks quickly through the bar, hurt flashing over his face.
*****
The first time he’d kissed Aaron it’d almost been too much.
He had been lusting after Aaron for weeks, fantasising about the feel of his toned arms under his hands, how he’d taste on the tip of his tongue. He’d sit in the office of Home Farm and lose himself in his head just thinking about what it’d be like for Aaron to fuck him, to suck him off slow and bring him to his knees, until Chrissie would snap at him after he failed to answer her one too many times. He’d tell himself that it was just a crush, just a silly infatuation that he’d get over soon enough, but deep down he'd known that Aaron had gotten well and truly under his skin.
Aaron had tasted like lager and faded spearmint and Robert had groaned loudly when Aaron had manhandled him towards the truck with intent.
It’d been Aaron’s fingertips though, brushing lightly against the bare skin of his throat as he stripped Robert’s jacket, that'd done it, brought him back down to Earth with a thump.
It’d been wrong and he’d been stupid, so stupid to risk all that he’d worked for because of a minor spat with Chrissie. Aaron’s arms, and taste weren’t worth it, weren’t worth the loss he’d suffer if Chrissie ever found out.
And so he’d pushed Aaron away and ran, ran away as quickly as he could from Aaron’s reddened mouth and dishevelled clothes. His musky leather scent and disappointed eyes.
But it had been too late. Oh it had been much too late. He’d opened Pandora’s Box and after that there was no going back.
*****
He sits sandwiched between an overly excitable Victoria and a gushing Chrissie, half empty meals left on plates as the pair chatter enthusiastically between themselves, with Diane piping up from behind the bar every once in a while. He’s anxious, foot twitching against his chair leg as he stares at the door behind the bar, fully expecting Aaron to storm out in a fit of scornful rage at any second.
“Robert? Are you even listenin?” Victoria sighs, a smile pulling at her lips though. He blinks and clears his throat at the sound of her voice, shifting in his seat as his sister continues to look at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry, did you er, say something?”
Victoria rolls her eyes fondly and nudges him with her elbow.
“I said do you want a boy or a girl?”
He bites at his lower lip and shrugs, toying with his half empty glass of orange juice. “I’ve er, not really thought about it.”
“We just want the baby to be healthy.” Chrissie pipes up leaning in against his side, her hand curling over his lower thigh and squeezing gently. He smiles weakly, turning to look at Chrissie’s grinning face, when his phone vibrates in his jeans pocket and he looks at her apologetically, sliding his phone out with fumbling fingers.
From: Aaron --- Received: 14:03
We need to talk. Now
“Sorry to break this up ladies but I’ve got a bit of business to deal with,” he says, schooling his face to hide the pounding in his chest. Chrissie pouts but sits back in her seat.
“Can’t it wait? We’re supposed to be celebrating!”
He shakes his head and pushes back his chair with a loud scrape.
“Afraid not, I’ll be back as soon as I can though.”
Chrissie tilts her head back for a kiss and Robert obliges, squeezing her shoulder as he turns and heads out through the main entrance. He looks around briefly before ducking around the side of the pub and knocking rapidly on the door.
The door swings open after just a couple of seconds, Aaron’s stony face appearing from behind. Robert buries his hands in his jeans pockets and shuffles awkwardly on the spot.
“You wanted to talk?” He prompts softly and Aaron’s brow furrows, his jaw clenching as he steps back into the hallway.
“Not here.” Aaron barks, turning away and walking through to the living room; Robert steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“So. Is it mine?” Aaron asks sharply as Robert moves through the doorway, his hands squarely on his hips as he stands in the centre of the room. Robert swallows and schools his face, his sweating palms clenching into fists inside his pockets.
“No, it’s not yours.”
“You sure?” Aaron replies, his eyes hard as he looks him over. He nods and feels a pang of irritation and hurt in his chest as Aaron’s face relaxes in relief, a hand coming up to rub at his eyes.
“You don’t have to look so relieved.” He snaps as Aaron drops down to sit at the dining table, legs splayed out as he leans back in the seat. Aaron huffs, eyebrows raised.
“What you want me to be disappointed that I haven’t knocked you up? I don’t want a kid Robert, especially one with you.”
Robert tries his hardest to stop the pained clenching of his jaw and folds his arms across his body; his throat feeling unnaturally tight as he clears it roughly.
“Well you don’t have to worry,” he says gruffly, his eyes unable to look in Aaron’s direction. “It’s Chrissie’s. 100 percent.”
He hears Aaron sigh and glances over as Aaron stands from the table and gestures to the door behind Robert’s back.
“Right well, you can go.”
He blinks incredulously and stares back at Aaron, his lips parting in protest.
“Seriously? Are you seriously doing this again? You can’t keep doing this Aaron!”
“Doing what?” Aaron shrugs, hands slipping nonchalantly into his jeans pockets. Robert’s cheek twitches with frustration and his fingers curl against his palm.
“You know what!” He snaps, anger simmering up inside him as Aaron huffs an amused laugh. “Having me come running and then chucking me out once you’ve had enough. It’s not fair on me Aaron!”
“Fair?” Aaron laughs broken, his voice twisting in a way that makes Robert’s chest twinge. “You wanna talk to me about what’s fair? Cause I tell ya what isn’t fair Robert is you, you comin’ in here with your pretty missus playin’ happy families and lording it all in my face, that’s what isn’t fair Robert. So just get out.”
Robert swallows, guilt welling up in his throat as he looks back at Aaron. At his tensed muscles and reddening eyes; he longs to step forward, to reach out and just hold him, but knows that that isn’t an option anymore. He’s not even sure that it ever has been.
“Fine,” Aaron says after a moment, his shoulders slumping defeated. “If you won’t go then I will.”
“Aaron – ” He starts, turning on the spot as Aaron moves past him towards the back door. Aaron doesn’t stop though, doesn’t even acknowledge Robert’s voice, and he winces as the slam of the door echoes out from the hallway.
*****
Chrissie insists on telling Lawrence and Lachlan that night.
Lawrence crows loudly and pulls Chrissie in for a hug, before shaking Robert’s hand perfunctorily and business like. He cracks open a bottle of his best single malt and Chrissie protests when he places a glass in Robert’s hand, claiming ‘one won’t hurt’. He forces a grin, but swirls the amber liquid around in the glass, figuring that the pint he’d gulped down in the pub was probably already pushing his luck.
Lachlan’s expression is blank, neither delighted or an angry mess. He remains seated the whole time, arms folded and disinterested on the sofa. When Chrissie prompts him for a response he just shrugs and stands to go to his room. Robert doesn’t miss the way Chrissie’s smile falters.
His sleep is disturbed that night, stuttering and restless. As Chrissie breathes steadily beside him, half drunk on Lawrence’s booze, he can’t help but wish that he’d drank the whisky too.
*****
Aaron had been running. A lot. Way, way too much.
It’d shocked him at first, the state Aaron had worked himself into while he’d been gone. It’d been bad before he’d left, the quarry being the first sign of many, but he hadn’t thought it would escalate so quickly, especially not with both Chas and Paddy circling him like hawks.
But it had and Aaron had seemed to only be getting worse.
He’d followed him in the end, sat outside the pub in one of Home Farm’s pickups in the rain, and waited until Aaron had stumbled back from another of his runs, out of breath and heaving as he’d reached out to brace himself on the bin.
He’d stepped out of the car and tried to get Aaron to talk, tried to break through the walls Aaron had so clearly put up around himself to keep everyone out, but Aaron had shut him down viciously and slammed the door in his face. That night Robert had sat up long into the early hours, emotions flicking between anger at Aaron’s dismissal, and anguish at the obvious pain he was in.
A few days later he’d been sat in the pub with Andy when Aaron had stumbled in, drenched in sweat with a haunted look on his face. The image wouldn’t leave his head and he had wondered aimlessly around the house, feeling sick to his stomach and toying with his phone anxiously for the rest of the day.
“You look like death warmed over,” Lawrence had said, unscrewing the cap on his single malt and pouring himself a measure. He had nodded towards Robert with the bottle and Robert had shook his head.
“I’m a bit worried.” He’d replied, pausing his pacing when Lawrence had raised his eyebrow. “About Andy.”
Lawrence had sipped slowly at his drink and nodded his head.
“Understandably. But he’s doing better now isn’t he? And he has Diane and Victoria around him to keep an eye on him now too; he’ll be fine.” Lawrence had acknowledged, before walking around the kitchen island and gesturing at Robert lazily with his glass in his hand. “You on the other hand have a lot on your plate right now. I know Chrissie is the one having issues, but you stressing out about your brother won’t help things along either.”
Robert had pursed his mouth and nodded, flashing Lawrence a false smile and waving a hand towards the doorway over his shoulder.
“I’m er, not feeling great actually,” he’d said, not really stretching the truth when his pulse had begun to throb in his temple. “I’m gonna have a lie down. Let Chrissie know when she’s back.”
Lawrence had nodded and Robert had headed up the stairs to his and Chrissie’s room, immediately kicking off his shoes and dropping down onto the bed. He’d fallen asleep almost the instant his head had hit the pillow.
When he’d woken it’d been nearly dark and his skin had felt like it was on fire.
Chrissie opening the door had been what had disturbed him, and he’d smelt her before he’d seen her.
“Robert, are you…?” She’d trailed off, her eyes wide and lips parted. Robert had shifted his legs and felt the slick sticking the material of his trousers to the back of his thighs.
“Yeah.” He’d croaked, and Chrissie had smiled, stepping further into the room.
He’d whimpered needily when she had climbed over him and scraped her teeth at his throat, fully succumbing to the rushing hormones of the first heat he’d had in 13 years. The earlier worries he’d had about Aaron all but fading into the recesses of his brain, as he’d lost himself to pulsing need and Chrissie’s dark vanilla scent.
*****
Victoria hovers around him like the natural born Mother Hen she is. She fusses at him every chance she gets, and he rolls his eyes at her cooing when she catches sight of his still tiny belly for the first time.
“Did you know.” She starts one afternoon, leaning against the bar as Robert sups at his orange juice. “That at 13 weeks a baby is the size of a lemon.”
He rolls his eyes and places his glass down with a sigh. “No I didn’t Vic. More to the point why do you know?”
“Google,” she says with a shrug. “Oh come on Robert, can’t you just admit that you’re a teensy weensy bit excited?”
“I’m excited,” he says flatly. Vic rolls her eyes and swats at his arm.
“Robert! Come on! It’s a baby, I mean look I can see it’s eyes and everything!” She smiles, leaning over and poking at his stomach gently. Robert bats her hand away and huffs, despite the grin pulling at his face.
“Alright, alright! Pack it in will ya! I’m excited, I can’t wait to have a red snotty, wailing, lump for a kid. Better?”
“Better.” Vic concedes, her lopsided grin matching his own. She adjusts her chef’s hat on her head and leans down to fold her arms against the bar top. “So d’you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”
“No.” He replies, toying with a stray beer mat. “It’s too early.”
“Are you gonna find out?”
“Probably not.” He shrugs, leaning back on his stool and folding his arms over his chest. He adjusts the way his shirt falls when he sees Vic’s eyes brighten as the material pulls tight.
Vic pouts and tilts her head slightly to the side. “Why not though? Would make it all a lot easier when it comes to buying stuff.”
“Just not thought about it to be honest,” he says, eyes trailing away from his sister as he sees Chas walk in from the back. She scowls when she sees him, and he ducks his gaze away sheepish.
“Er, I didn’t think I was payin’ you to stand around gossiping Victoria?” Chas calls over, hands on her hips. Vic straightens up and looks at Chas over her shoulder.
“I was serving Robert actually.”
“Yeah well now you’re helping Marlon with his cottage pie.” Chas grins sarcastically and Victoria rolls her eyes at him, pushing away from the bar.
“See you later.” She mouths, before turning and hurrying back through to the kitchen. Chas watches her go, and then stalks across the bar towards him to his dismay.
“You’ve got a nerve!” She hisses, eyes hard and so completely unlike her son’s. He reaches for his glass and takes a slow drink, raising an eyebrow at her pointedly.
“My sister works here,” he says with a shrug. “Last time I checked this was a free country.”
“You just stay away from Aaron alright.” Chas snaps, fierce and protective. “He doesn’t want you. Especially not now…” She trails off, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she glances down at his waist.
His spine prickles at that, and he longs to snarl, to jump across the bar and rip into Chas piece by piece; instead he fixes a smug expression on his face and leans close into her personal space.
“Oh really? Is that why you’re out here tellin’ me that instead of him?” He leers; Chas’ jaw flexes unhappily. “Back off Chas, Aaron doesn’t need a guard dog.”
He slams his glass down hard on the bar and climbs down from his seat. He feels Chas’s eyes boring into him the whole way to the door.
*****
Lachlan steals Lawrence’s credit card again and blows £20,000 in under 6 hours.
Chrissie’s shouts can be heard even from behind the locked door to their en-suite, where Robert stands underneath the scolding hot shower. It’d been clear that something like this would happen; Lachlan had been too quiet, too accepting. It was obvious that something wasn’t quite right, obvious that is to everyone but Lawrence and Chrissie.
“I thought you were happy about this!?” Chrissie cries, her voice loaded with hurt and tears filters through the air as he heads back down the stairs, damp hair curling at his nape.
“Happy?” Lachlan snorts nastily. “Why would I be happy about some snotty brat hanging about the place?”
“Lachlan! That’s your brother or sister, how can you say that?!”
He steps through into the doorway of the living room and immediately Lachlan’s eyes snap towards him; he huffs and rolls his eyes, and Robert’s jaw hardens.
“Great, and now he’s here. Whatever, I’m done with this.” Lachlan replies, pushing past Chrissie and over towards the door. Robert steps aside and Lachlan storms towards the staircase.
“I just don’t understand,” Chrissie says wetly, turning to face him and rubbing at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought everything was okay?”
He pulls Chrissie into his arms and allows her to sob against his throat. He strokes her hair soothingly and she wraps her arms around his waist, holding him close.
“Look, why don’t you spend a bit of time with him?” He murmurs after a while, rocking her gently as her cries begin to subside. “Go away somewhere for a few days, spend a bit of quality time together.”
Chrissie pulls her face back to look up at him and wipes clumsily at her eyes. “What about you? Dad’s away on business, will you be alright looking after this place by yourself?”
Robert smiles reassuringly and brushes his hand through the back of her hair.
“I’ll be fine, it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
Chrissie nods and sniffs, her hands pulling back around to his side and rubbing protectively.
“I know, I know, but it’s different now,” she says softly, her left hand then sliding to rest against his stomach pointedly. He stiffens minutely in Chrissie’s embrace and he schools his face against the annoyance he feels at her insinuation.
“I’ll be fine.” He forces out, false smile fixed on his lips as Chrissie looks up at him with undisguised worry. “I mean what’s the worst that could happen?”
*****
He hadn’t meant to kill Katie.
He hadn’t honestly. He’d just wanted to scare her, wanted to stop her from talking, from telling Chrissie he’d been sleeping with another alpha, and a male one at that.
He’d loved Katie once; it hadn’t been enough to stop him from sleeping with Sadie, but he had loved her in a way. Years later, after he’d met Chrissie, he’d accepted that it never would have worked. She would have left him for Andy eventually, would have run back to strong alpha Andy, who would have been able to give her everything that she'd wanted, and was everything that Robert was not. He’d been bitter about that for a while, but he hadn’t been bitter enough to want her dead – and especially not by his own hands.
Andy had been distraught in the days and weeks after, and Robert had been wracked with guilt. After the funeral and the quarry, he’d taken to long walks at night, wondering aimlessly through the fields he’d used to run through as a kid and trying his hardest not to break.
He’d thought about Andy and Katie; had thought about Chrissie and the fact that she thought he didn’t hear her crying when she was by herself, heartbroken and upset at the thought of never having another child.
He’d often wondered if that was karma coming back to bite him, Katie having her revenge and putting a blockade on his future anyway; but he made sure to shake those thoughts, when they crept up on him, from his head before they could truly take hold. Before they could consume him with guilt and leave him a trembling wreck against another dew-covered fence.
If he had also done the same when thoughts of Aaron became relentless in his mind, it was only because Andy and Chrissie had been more important and more needing of his attention; and not because they would leave him feeling sick and empty.
He had always headed home when the birds would begin to sing, their songs too happy for a sky still so dark. Chrissie would curl into him when he’d climb back into the bed, still asleep but aware of his presence, and he’d wrap an arm around her waist seeking out her warmth – try his hardest to erase the cold that had seeped into his bones, and forget about the thoughts of bad karmas and scornful ex-lovers.
*****
3 days after Chrissie leaves with Lachlan, Victoria accosts him to have tea at hers.
“Now I know what you’re like Robert,” she says, bending down to pull a large casserole dish from the oven. “3 days without Chrissie and you’ll have been living off Chinese and takeaway pizza, am I right?”
He mutters under his breath but doesn’t argue, knowing that if Vic so wished to look, she’d find half a Dominos Mighty Meaty taking up the top shelf of the fridge up at Home Farm.
“I can actually cook y’know?” He says instead to Vic’s raised eyebrow as she places the dish down on the table, pulling off her pink oven gloves before she grabs for a large spoon.
“That may well be the case but it’s if you actually do it that’s the point!”
She dishes out the meal and smiles when she passes him a plate. He finds himself tucking in with more gusto than he expected, the casserole full of flavour and tasting as delicious as it smells. Vic smirks at him pleased and he rolls his eyes as he chews at another forkful, nodding his head when she asks if he’s enjoying it.
She starts talking then, chattering away about her day and the complete nightmare Marlon was currently being at work. She gets halfway through her story about Marlon’s disastrous meringues and the ensuing argument they’d had about them, when he first feels it, a twinge of pain clamping around his lower belly. He winces, fork held aloft in his hand, and Victoria cuts herself off mid-sentence.
“Rob? You okay?” She asks concerned, her brow creased as she runs her eyes over him.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He breathes out, placing his fork back down on his plate and nodding his head, despite the worry he can feel beginning to niggle away in the back of his head. “Happens sometimes.”
“If you’re sure? I can call someone if you want?” Vic says carefully, her expression still uncertain. He shakes his head and smiles at her strained.
“Vic I’m fine, honest. Now go on, what was that about Marlon’s meringues?”
It happens a couple of more times during the course of the hour, each one causing the niggle of worry to grow bigger and bigger. He does his best to hide his pain from Victoria, but by the look on her face he’s not quite sure he’s successful.
Vic stands up when they’re done to begin clearing the plates away, and he rubs at his stomach as another pain, stronger than before, cramps at his belly.
“Just gonna use your loo,” he says as lightly as he can, pushing his chair back and standing up as straight as his body will allow him. Vic glances at him over her shoulder with a furrowed brow, and he attempts to smile at her reassuringly as he walks to the door.
He climbs the stairs steadily, pain still clamping his midsection. He pushes at the bathroom door with one hand and leans his back against it to close it to. He breathes deeply for a second, half winded from the pain, before clumsily fumbling at his belt and pushing his jeans down to his knees.
He feels something wet drip down his thigh and he rubs his fingers along the inside of his leg; he pulls his hand back and feels his chest constrict tight.
“Vic,” he says voice weak and stunned as he stares at his fingers. He exhales shakily, hand trembling and turns his head towards the door before shouting for his sister.
“Vic! Victoria!”
He hears feet rush up the stairs and not seconds later the sound of the door handle turning.
“Robert? What’s – ” Victoria cuts herself off and her eyes widen as she stares at his raised hand; Robert breathes shallow and wide eyed as he turns to face her.
“Vic, Vic I’m bleeding.”
*****
He gets taken through to a private room pretty swiftly despite A&E being jam packed to the rafters. Vic sticks close beside him the whole time, her expression trying to be one of reassurance despite the tears building in the corners of her eyes.
A nurse – or midwife he presumes – brings him a gown and softly instructs him to change, her eyes thankfully not falling to his now ruined clothes, and settle himself on the bed. He does so slowly, hands shaking, and Victoria talks to him gently from behind the pale green curtain drawn across the room.
The midwife prods and pokes at him, her hands firm but gentle; but he still hisses with pain as she presses against his stomach, tears uncontrollably filling his eyes that he tries to blink back rapidly.
“Am I losing it?” He asks falteringly, the midwife gives him a sad smile and straightens up, removing her gloves and dropping them into the bin at the side of the bed.
“I’m afraid I can’t say love,” she says sympathetically. “Sometimes these things just stop by themselves, sometimes they don’t. We should know more when we get your test results back, I’ll send someone in to do an ultrasound and that should give us a better idea of what is going on.”
She steps around the bed and pushes back the curtain; Vic moves to stand by her side, teeth worrying at her bottom lip.
“Is there anyone you’d like us to call?” The midwife asks. “Your alpha maybe?”
“She’s in Portsmouth.” Victoria replies, her voice choked. “But I’m sure she’d come up here as soon as she knew.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. He sees Victoria frown from the corner of his eye but can’t bring himself to look at her. There’s only one person he wants with him, just one person he trusts to see him like this, weak and vulnerable and hurting so badly.
“Aaron. Can you call Aaron?”
“Aaron?” Vic parrots, her brow now furrowed in confusion rather than concern. “Why Aa – ”
“Please Vic. Just – just call him.” He answers tiredly, another wave of pain rushing over him as his eyes slip closed.
He hears Vic agree softly and the door to the room open and shut as both the midwife and his sister leave. He breathes steadily, in and out as he tries to ride the crest of the pain, doing his best not to let those thoughts of bad karma creep up on him once more.
*****
He’d had a nightmare one night when Aaron had stayed at Home Farm.
It’d been a long time coming. He hadn’t been able to go on one of his walks for over a week and he’d felt it, like the tension before a thunderstorm, just waiting for the right moment to break.
He’d left Aaron in bed and stumbled downstairs, breathless and shaking, to grab for Lawrence’s decanter and pour himself a shot. He’d swallowed it down in one and readied himself to pour another, when he heard footsteps in the hallway followed by Aaron’s half naked body appearing in the door.
“Y’alright?” Aaron had asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes and blinking blearily. Robert had nodded, swallowing back his second shot before lowering his glass.
“Will be.” He’d tried to smile, gesturing with the empty glass. “When I’ve had enough of this.”
Aaron hadn’t said anything but moved further into the room, dropping down to sit on one of the sofas. Robert had hesitated by the drinks table, tempted to pour yet another drink, but eventually had placed the glass down and moved to join Aaron, sinking back into the cushions with a tired sigh.
“I had a nightmare,” he’d said after a while, both of them sat in silence with only the single lamp Robert had switched on to light the room. Aaron had hummed encouragingly and shifted to fold his arms over his chest.
“About Katie?”
“No.” He’d replied, shaking his head. It hadn’t been strictly true, she’d been there, lurking at the edge of it all, dead eyes and pale skin, but it’d been the same nightmare as always. The one he’d had since he was a kid.
“There’s a fire.” He’d said eventually, Aaron waiting patiently for him to continue. “In the barn, the one back on the farm at my dad’s.”
Aaron had nodded and bit his lip.
“Your mum.”
“Yeah.” He’d whispered, a thick lump catching in his throat as flashes of the dream had lit up behind his eyes. “She’s screaming. Always just screamin’ and I can’t – I can’t get to her. I can’t get her out.”
He’d breathed heavily then, half gasping as he’d felt tears begin to burn at his eyes. He’d leant forward and braced his forearms on the tops of his thighs, and rubbed his palms into his eyes.
“It’s stupid.” He’d muttered, trying to wipe away the wetness from his cheeks before Aaron could see. “It was years ago, I should be over it.”
The sofa had moved underneath him and he’d felt Aaron draw closer, the side of his bare thigh brushing against his own.
“Just ‘cause it was years ago don’t mean you’ve gotta be over it,” Aaron had said softly, and Robert had sniffed and raised his head. “It was summat bad that happened to ya, you’re gonna think about it now and again.”
“You mean like Jackson?” He’d asked, wiping again at his eyes. Aaron had blinked for a second, before he’d glanced away and shifted his legs, twisting his fingers together.
“Yeah. Yeah, like Jackson.”
They’d sat in silence for a while, legs pressed against one another and only the sound of their soft breathing to break the quiet. He’d seen Aaron’s eyes begin to drop, his head pressed back into the sofa cushions, and he’d nudged Aaron softly, gesturing upwards in the direction of the bedroom.
When he’d finally fallen back to sleep, he’d had the best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks. Aaron had lay curled up against his chest and Robert had held him close, unwilling to let him go for even a second.
*****
Barely half an hour passes after Victoria comes back into the room, before the sound of footsteps stops outside the door. Vic pauses half way through her sentence – another light-hearted story designed to distract him from the darkness and cramps – and turns to look towards the doorway as the handle pulls down.
Aaron’s frowning face appears in the gap, and Robert’s heart lurches in his chest at the sight of him.
“Alright?” Aaron says slowly, eyes flitting around the room as he steps inside. Vic’s smile is fragile as she looks up at him, and Robert swallows roughly as Aaron’s gaze finally lands on him.
“Would you give us a bit Vic,” he says slowly, eyes unable to move from Aaron’s. There is silence for a moment, nothing but the slow beep of the heart monitor, and he thinks he’ll have to talk Vic into leaving them alone; but then there is the soft scrape of a chair and suddenly Vic is by his side, leaning down to place a kiss to his forehead.
“We’re gonna talk about this,” she says meaningfully, her fingers curled in his messy hair. “I’ll go to the canteen and get a coffee, but we are gonna talk about this Rob.”
He nods, and pulls his gaze from Aaron’s awkward form to look at his sister. “Thank you. I don’t know what – ”
“Shhh,” she says softly, pressing another kiss to his hair and stepping back. “It’s okay, love you.”
“Love you too.” He murmurs, smiling at her sadly as she turns to go. She squeezes Aaron’s arm on her way past and gives him the same meaningful look, but then she’s gone, and it’s just him and Aaron and a room full of loaded questions.
“What am I doing here?” Aaron says tiredly, the latch on the door clicking closed. Robert looks up at Aaron’s face once more and his fingers curl into the sheets by his hips.
“I’m – I’m losing it,” he says, his voice sounding broken to his own ears. “The baby. I’m losing it.”
Aaron’s expression falls a little, though Robert can tell he tries his best not to let it show. He feels unwanted tears begin to well up in his eyes again and drops his gaze away from Aaron to the sheets covering his legs.
“I’m – m’sorry.” Aaron answers quietly. “I am Robert, honest. But why did ya call me and where’s Chrissie?”
“I don’t need Chrissie!” He bursts out, breath short and gasping. Fear finally beginning to get the best of him as the whole situation starts to sink in. “I need you.”
Aaron’s brow furrows once more and he shuffles anxiously on the spot.
“But someone needs to tell her Robert. She needs to know, it’s her baby too!”
He shakes his head in disagreement, lower lip trembling as he folds his arms across his chest. “No.”
“You need to tell her Robert! She needs – ”
“No!” He shouts, turning his head to face Aaron fully. Aaron’s eyes are wide and confused, his lips still half parted on a word. “Don’t you get it Aaron?! Don’t you understand?!”
Aaron blinks slowly and shakes his head; Robert laughs a half sob.
“The baby isn’t Chrissie’s,” he says, words heavy and weighted. “It’s yours Aaron. The baby’s yours.”