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The first time it happens, they've been drinking. They're not drunk; Aaron can handle his beer, ta very much, and Robert doesn't really do that any more. Too many old wounds caused, barely scabbed over.
They've had a good night, the sort that's becoming more frequent now they're hovering in this weird, not quite friends, not quite more sort of place. Adam had beaten Robert at darts, as per, then kicked up a fuss when Aaron had thrashed them both. They'd shared a couple of packets of crisps, ripped inside out on the table; greasy fingerprints on their pint glasses.
It had been easy, fun even.
It's left Aaron feeling lighter than he has in months.
Which is probably why, when they stumble out of the pub, laughing and shoving at each other, Adam back slapping them both goodbye, he doesn't say anything when Robert falls into step beside him.
It's cold out, breath fogging and Aaron fists his hands in his coat pockets for warmth.
Robert's in the middle of some story about Bernice and some sort of waxing mishap, elbow knocking into Aaron's. Aaron's laughing along, because it's funny and he has no idea how they've ended up here.
The atmosphere changes when they reach the door of the Mill, something prickling between them. It's always there, humming under the surface and it flares to life while Robert finishes his story.
Aaron's got his key in his hand; can't help but think about the one in the drawer in the kitchen, the one Robert gave him back.
Robert's grinning at him now, teeth glinting in the light from the driveway.
Aaron wants him.
“Do you, ah, fancy another beer or something?” he asks, can't help himself.
That grin gets wider. “Or something?”
It's been a long time since Robert has done anything even approaching flirting with Aaron, it makes his stomach swoop.
He doesn't mean to, exactly, but he lets their eyes catch, hold.
There's nothing special about tonight, but it suddenly seems like they're standing on the edge of something, wavering.
Robert cracks first, a soft little laugh and a shake of his head. “I should probably get back,” he says. “Bernice has started hoovering at 6am if I wake her up coming in.”
It should feel like a rejection, maybe, but it just makes Aaron smile. He doesn't quite know what he'd been hoping for anyway.
“Yeah, course,” he fits his key to the lock. “I'll see you at work, yeah?”
Robert nods, feet crunching on gravel.
Aaron's barely through the door before he finds himself swung around, shoved up against the wall. He takes Robert's weight across his chest because he doesn't know how not to.
It's like time freezes, like going back in time, held tight by Robert's fists in his coat, lost in those eyes even here in the dark.
Aaron doesn't have a clue what his face is doing, but it must be doing something because Robert blows out a pained breath, hands sliding up to Aaron's jaw, actually huffs out, “Fuck it,” before he angles in, mouth crashing down on Aaron's.
They shouldn't be doing this.
It happens too fast; his tongue in Robert's mouth, numb fingers curling in the shoulders of a new leather jacket.
Robert tastes the same, kisses the same; like the world could end and he wouldn't notice, wouldn't stop. Aaron's right back in that garage; breathless, aching, mind trying and failing to keep up with the demands of his body. They've always known how to get this right.
Robert's mumbling into his mouth and it takes a while for Aaron to piece it together, too intent on tugging Robert's shirt free from his jeans, getting his hands on hot skin.
“Let me,” Robert's saying, gasping between kisses, fingers catching at Aaron's belt buckle. “Let me?”
Aaron gives himself time for one more sucking kiss, the deep kind that curls his toes, makes his chest expand, and then he's nodding, head dropping back against the wall. “Yeah.”
They make eye contact, quick and sharp, Robert checking and Aaron saying yes. And then Robert drops to his knees. Right there in the hallway between the two flats, not even in the fucking door. This is insane.
He slides his hands into Robert's hair when his mouth opens over Aaron's dick and holds on. He can't look down, his heart's already beating triple time against his ribs, breath catching in his throat. He'll lose it if he looks, he'll lose it.
Robert takes him deep right away, like his throat's been waiting for Aaron all these months, and Aaron just gives it up. He slumps further against the wall, hips pushed out, gathers Robert's thick hair in his fists. It's too good and it's been far too long since someone got their mouth on him, since the last time Robert did this in fact.
It doesn't take long. Robert sucks him down, tongue dragging just right and he takes it all when Aaron comes out of nowhere. It leaves him punch-drunk, wrung out. He has no idea how that just happened.
Robert gets to his feet slowly, wiping at his mouth and Aaron has to cup a hand over his spent dick, pained, because that's always done it done it for him.
They don't say anything while Robert put him back together, tucks his dick away gently and buttons him back into his jeans. Even fastens his belt back into place.
Aaron can feel his jaw working to speak but he doesn't know what to say, just watches on helplessly, doesn't try to move away.
Robert's hand flattens against his chest for a moment before he steps away.
They don't make eye contact again.
:::
Liv eyes him suspiciously over the breakfast table the next day.
Aaron ignores her for as long as he can.
“What?” he says, exasperated, after she smirks at him for the hundredth time.
She rolls her shoulders, one arm crossed over her belly, the other holding half a slice of toast. “Did I say anything?”
“You keep looking at me.”
Now she's smirking openly. “Who else do you want me to look at?
He glares at her. “Haven't you got school to go to or something?”
She clamps the toast between her teeth, holds her hands up. “Alright, alright, sorry for breathing.”
It's not until she's half way out the door, Aaron about to start the washing up that she takes her parting shot. “Think you've got something on your neck by the way.”
He gives her the finger without looking up, waits until the door closes on her delighted laughter to check himself out in the oven door.
There's definitely some sort of mark low on his throat. A bruise.
So he didn't dream that then.
:::
They don't talk about it.
Aaron had sort of thought Robert might bring it up, wasn't sure if he was hoping he would or not. Half worried he might have given Robert the wrong idea and half worried he'd given him exactly the right one.
Aaron has no clue what he wants. Which is why he shouldn't have let it happen.
But then, Robert just doesn't mention it.
They breeze through days in the cabin, Robert tapping away at his laptop and throwing things at Jimmy, making Aaron a brew whenever he gets himself one, partly just because it winds Adam up and partly because it's just what he's always done.
They bump into each other in the pub, share a pint and a bowl of chips while Aaron pretends his mum isn't watching them like a hawk.
Robert doesn't bring it up so Aaron doesn't either.
It's like it never happened.
:::
It happens again on a Friday night, in the pub toilets of all places.
One minute Aaron's washing his hands, thinking about whether or not he wants another drink and the next he's bumping into Robert in the doorway.
“Shit, sorry,” Robert steadies him with a hand on his elbow, brow wrinkled.
That's all it takes to snap it to life between them again, eyes meeting. There's an awareness that's always crackled between them and all of a sudden Aaron is just sick of pretending he doesn't need this.
He doesn't know who moves first, maybe they both do, but then they're kissing, Aaron slamming Robert up against one of the stall partitions hard enough to makes it shake, hands everywhere.
They kiss until Aaron's mouth feels sloppy wet, Robert sliding a thigh between both of Aaron's, something for him to ride against.
This time it's Aaron who tugs his own belt open, guides Robert to his knees with desperate hands on his shoulders, up the back of his head.
He comes with his fist in his mouth, eyes wet at the corners, whimpering.
Robert still doesn't ask for anything back.
And they still don't talk about it.
:::
The third time is definitely Aaron's fault. He'd known exactly what he was doing when he'd packed Liv off to Gabby's and invited Robert round to watch the footy.
Robert looks uncomfortable in the flat, gaze tracking at the things that have changed (Liv claimed that god awful scooter chair for her room, for a start) and all the things that haven't (there's still a photo of the three of them on the shelf behind the TV, Aaron can't bring himself to take it down.)
He watches Robert loiter awkwardly by the sofa, hands tapping at his thighs; takes pity on him.
“This is a bit weird isn't it?” he says.
Robert nods. “Just a bit.”
They share a smile as Aaron hands over a bottle of beer. The TV's already on, pre-match guff Aaron hasn't cared about since he was a teenager.
He tries not to be disappointed when Robert eases himself into the armchair instead of sitting beside him.
“How's Liv?” Robert asks when the silence starts to stretch a bit thin. It's always his go to.
Aaron has to laugh. “You tell me, she spends more time round yours than she does here,” he says, like he always does.
Robert picks at the label on his bottle. “She told me she missed me last week.”
“That's good.”
Robert's eyes flick up. “Is it?”
Aaron nods. “Progress innit? Better than her throwing a drink in your face.”
They can laugh about that now. Liv's rage had known no bounds when she'd first set eyes on Robert again. Watching him win her back round has been fun.
“I didn't know if you wanted that.”
“What?”
Robert rolls his eyes, like he's annoyed at himself. “I didn't want you to think I was trying to use her to...y'know.”
Aaron does know. But it's been a long time since his head was messed up enough to think like that.
“I don't think that.”
A nod. “Okay.”
And that won't do. Aaron puts his bottle on the coffee table, leans forward until Robert has to look at him. “Hey. I don't think that. I know you better than that.”
Robert looks surprised, faintly pleased if the flush in his cheeks is anything to go by.
They let it drop, watch the match, manage to joke around like they always have.
And it's fine, it's all totally normal until Robert stands up to leave and then if just crashes through Aaron. How much he doesn't want him to go, how much he wants to keep him here, where he belongs. Where they both belong.
But he can't ask for that. He doesn't dare. He's not ready to ask for that.
It doesn't stop him grabbing for Robert's hand when he turns to leave though, pulling him back in. “Don't,” he says, picks a spot near Robert's collarbone to stare at in case he's about to get shot down.
“What?” Robert's voice is soft, intimate, the one he's always saved for Aaron when they're alone like this.
It undoes him.
He gets his hands up around Robert face, pulls him down for a kiss. He keeps it messy, tries to stay one step ahead of that tender feeling welling up in his chest.
“Stay,” he says into Robert's mouth, foreheads pressed together now. It's not a question.
They end up on the sofa; Aaron's thighs spread wide across Robert's lap, fingers biting into Robert's shoulders as he rides him.
It's sweaty, too much, Robert's gaze burning into his.
Aaron wraps his arms around Robert's neck, tucks Robert's face against his own, hiding.
It feels too good to let go.
:::
After that it just sort of turns into another thing they do.
They make small talk at work, they rile up Adam, they hang around together more than is strictly necessary for two people who aren't together any more, and they fuck.
A lot.
All the time, actually. Pretty much any time the alternative is having a real conversation.
Aaron spends long Saturday afternoon's spreading Robert out across his bedsheets, shushing each other as though Liv doesn't know what's going on. He spends Sunday mornings being kissed awake. He spends his every waking hour thinking about Robert's hands on him and wishing he wasn't so afraid.
:::
It's a Friday night when something finally gives.
Aaron's legs are still shaking, arms splayed across the bed while his heart rate settles. Robert's groaning, trying to stretch out his knees after being up on them for too long.
It's nice, Aaron thinks, to just lie here with Robert, nothing between them but air.
“We can't keep doing this,” Robert says, quite out of the blue.
Aaron had stopped bracing himself for that weeks ago and it hits him like a tonne of bricks.
Of course they're going to keep doing this. They are doing this.
It takes every bit of newly earned control he has to keep still, to keep his breathing steady. “What?”
Robert rolls his head on the pillow, looks across at him. “Whatever this is,” he says. “It's a bad idea, we can't keep doing this.”
Aaron does sit up then. “Hold on, you started this.”
“I know. I always do, don't I? I can never leave well enough alone.”
He's trying to laugh it off but Aaron can see right through him.
“I don't want you to leave me alone.”
“Well you should,” Robert says, and now he's moving, fishing his underwear up off the floor. “Look at you, you've been doing great. You're perfect. You don't need to me ruining all that again.”
Aaron doesn't even know where to start with that. “You're not ruining me. You've never ruined me.”
Robert looks like he thinks that's a lie.
“Robert, come on.”
They're facing off over the bed now and Aaron realises he's standing there naked and he doesn't even care.
“I'm supposed to be letting you get better,” Robert says, helpless.
“You are.”
“But we're still making all the same mistakes. Just because we're having sex instead of ignoring each other doesn't mean anything. We're still a mess.”
He's right. And Aaron's been putting this off for weeks. Months, maybe.
He thinks now, that he was waiting for Robert to come to him. He's only just starting to realise that that's exactly what he has been doing.
Maybe it's his turn to jump this time.
“I love you,” he says, and his voice doesn't shake, he doesn't let it. “You have been helping me. You always do.”
Robert looks stunned, his mouth drops open and then just sort of stays that way.
“I love you,” Aaron says again. Because Robert has to know that hasn't changed. There's a comfort Aaron has taken for months in the sight of Robert's wedding ring still sitting on his finger. He hates that he's taken that away from Robert, even if he's nowhere near ready to ask for his own back yet.
Robert starts to laugh.
“What?” Aaron asks, insulted.
Robert shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. I love you too, you know I do it's just,” he waves a hand at them. “You're naked.”
Aaron looks down at himself. There's come drying under his belly button and a bruise in the shape of Robert's mouth over his ribs.
They're ridiculous.
Aaron rubs his hands over him face, tries to be a grown up. “Do you think maybe we could, I don't know, put some pants on and actually talk about this?”
Robert's eyes have gone liquid, wet from laughter and everything they haven't been saying. Aaron wants to touch him, wishes he wasn't so far away.
“You're sure?” Robert asks. Like he'd given up hoping.
Aaron shrugs. “I'm sure about you. I'm sure it's worth trying. I don't want to keep letting you go.”
It makes something in his chest spasm when Robert's chin wobbles, always has.
“We'd better talk then, hadn't we?” Robert says.
It's about time.