you're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

by wafflesofdoom

Summary:

max king is getting married - and there is no way robert sugden is going to his best friend slash ex-boyfriend’s wedding stag. there’s just no way.

maybe fake-dating his little sisters best friend is a slightly demented thing to do in response to your best friend getting married, but robert’s had worse ideas.

(maybe)

Notes:

written for robrondale/aaronlivesy & jackiemerrick's forgot my invite event.

i did spin a combination of prompts that inspired this fic - but i stupidly didn't save them (or write them down) so you're just going to have to trust me on this one.

this fic got wildly out of hand, but robert deserved the queer experience of being far too close with one of your exes. thus, this was born. enjoy! title from vertigo by griff.

The problem, Robert decided, with staying friends with your ex-boyfriend, is that you end up in ridiculous situations like this.

He and Max King had been in a fairly committed, very chaotic, deeply loving relationship for three years, starting when they were nineteen and ending quietly, amicably when they were twenty one.

It’s still, Robert would argue, the best breakup of his life - they agreed it wasn’t working, had a spectacular shag about it, and then went their separate ways.

Spiritually went their separate ways at least, because they stayed best friends - and flatmates, for a while, because London was fucking expensive - and stayed friends to the point of Robert deciding to move back north to Manchester when Max did, because what was he going to do in London alone?

The fact they stayed so close is exactly how Robert has ended up in this situation, three months out from his best friend’s slash ex-boyfriend’s wedding, where he would be the best man, painfully fucking single.

There were a lot of reasons why Robert could not go to Max’s wedding single.

He’d made a list in his notes app about it, it was that serious.

He was the best man, for one, and while Robert wasn’t opposed to sleeping with the bridesmaids - or groomsmen, for that matter - at a wedding normally, but every single member of the wedding party was disgustingly, happily in love - except him.

The wedding was also happening in Emmerdale, at Home Farm, of all places, and so Robert was definitely not making his grand return to the village he had left behind in a (literal) blaze of glory to start life anew with Max down in London, as a painfully single man.

He had something to prove, to half that village, and turning up single was not going to help his, my life is so much better than yours, story.

Robert could already see the pitying looks he’d get from Katie, her minuscule diamond engagement ring not big enough to flash in the light as she judged him for still being single as if she had a leg to stand on, given her and Andy had already been married, and divorced, and were married again.

Hence, Aaron.

Aaron Dingle was an interesting man. He’d moved to the village as a teenager, the angriest person Robert had ever met, and their paths had only crossed for a few months before Robert and Max had hightailed it out of their tiny village, sights set on a bright life in the big city.

He’d mostly only known Aaron through second-hand information since then. Vic loved him, that much was clear, and when Robert had tried to pry and see if his little sister had a crush on the chavvy new kid, she brushed him off with a snort.

Robert hadn’t understood why, until Vic had called him crying, months later, talking about how Aaron had tried to kill himself because he was gay. He’d felt an odd sort of affinity toward Aaron since, even if he barely knew him, because Robert knew firsthand how hard it was to come to terms with your sexuality.

He wouldn’t have, if not for Max.

The memory was a fond one, even now, years on.

Robert Sugden and Max King had always been the best of friends, played football together, the works, and when Robert had been eighteen years old, Max kissed him for the first time, and unlocked a whole well of tears that Robert had been holding in since he was fifteen years old and his dad had leathered him for kissing a boy.

It had been Max, who had held Robert close, as he’d admitted what had happened with the farmhand, all those years ago, and it had been Max who’d kissed Robert around the back of the cricket pavilion and told him he’d be happy to wait, and it had been Max, who’d been patient, and kind as Robert had untangled all sorts of complicated feelings - and shagged his way through half of Hotten Academy - until he settled on a much more simple, I want to be with Max King.

His dad had been, predictably, furious - and so had Max’s brothers, Carl kicking off and making a spectacular scene of it up at Home Farm - but it had felt easier to want what you weren’t allowed to have when Robert had Max pressed to his side.

They’d made the plan to leave together, Robert’s banged up old Corolla packed up with all their worldly possessions in the quiet of the night, the two of them leaving before dawn.

Somehow, Andy had gotten wind of their plan and had tried to stop them, had chased the two of them down the old road between Emmerdale, and Hotten, had nearly run them off the road, in the chaos of it - would have, if not for Max’s quick thinking and him grabbing the steering wheel from Robert’s unsteady hands as he panicked that Jack Sugden wouldn’t be too long behind Andy’s Jeep.

Robert remembered the conversation well. Max had pulled the car into the side of the road, and they hadn’t even opened the doors when Andy had started shouting. He’d been furious, demanding that Robert not go, that he couldn’t leave the family in the lurch.

With Max’s hand held tightly in his own, Robert had felt quietly confident, enough to ask his brother to at least try and understand why Robert couldn’t stay in Emmerdale.

Robert wasn’t sure Andy actually understood, but he’d let them go, and Max had slid behind the wheel this time, and he hadn’t stopped until they’d almost hit Sheffield, and Max pulled into a McDonald’s car pack and waited patiently while Robert cried, and cried, and cried - from relief, or heartbreak, or both, Robert hadn’t been entirely sure.

He was glad to have left, but a part of him had wanted his dad to spot the car driving away from the farm and beg Robert to stay not because he needed an extra pair of hands on the farm, but because Robert was his son, and he loved him.

No such luck, in the end - all Robert had gotten was Andy, and the usual guilt trip about stepping up for the family.

(“We’re each other’s family,” Max had declared, fierce in his words. He looked at Robert from across the car, giving him a serious look. “It’s you and me, now, alright? We’re going to take care of each other. Always.”)

And that they did.

Robert was sure, that for as long as he lived, those first three years in London with Max would be some of his fondest memories.

They’d managed to find themselves a bedsit to live in, a cheap thing in a fairly grim part of London, but it was theirs. The bed was miserably small, and they had no choice but to sleep practically on top of each other every night, and Max worked long hours at a shitty bar, and Robert worked the morning shift at a garage, and it was perfect.

It had been Max, who’d encouraged Robert to go to university, like he’d always wanted to, sitting down and helping Robert with his application.

It had been Max, who’d popped a bottle of cheap champagne when Robert got the acceptance letter, as though Robert had been accepted to Kings College, and not a foundational one-year business course at Queen Mary, and it had been Max, who’d shrugged, and promised they’d make it work if Robert wanted to go and finish a whole degree.

They’d had to work so unbelievably hard for their life, and Robert had loved it. He’d loved the tiny one-bed they finally upgraded to in the East End, that always smelled of damp but had enough room for the two of them to swing around the kitchen, snogging as they waited for the water to boil for their pasta.

The shower always ran cold, but Robert never seemed to mind when it became a good excuse for Max to warm him up again, the feeling of Max’s hands on his body the best familiarity he’d ever known.

It had needed to end, in the end. Robert knew that. They’d become roommates, by year three, Robert focused on finishing university, working two jobs to survive, Max throwing his heart and soul into his career, clever about it as he made sure he was the right-hand man of the real estate agent who’d offered him an apprenticeship all those years ago when they’d first moved to London.

It hadn’t been a fight.

Max would say it was a conscious uncoupling, because he was a fucking nightmare, but it wasn’t entirely wrong. It had been a quiet end to the best relationship of his life, and when Robert’s graduate job salary started coming in, they moved to a two-bed in Clapham and a new phase of their lives began - Robert and Max, platonic best friends.

He knew his memories of how good it had been were tinged with nostalgia. Robert wasn’t stupid, he knew it hadn’t been perfect - knew there was a laundry list of reasons why their relationship hadn’t worked out, why they were better suited to being friends.

They fought, a lot, because it was hard not to when you were all each other had in the world. Robert knew, sometimes, Max resented all he’d given up to be with Robert - the safety of the King family fortune, for one - and Robert resented Max just as much for missing Emmerdale when Robert never, ever wanted to go back.

Still - Robert had never wanted to lose Max as a friend, even if their relationship hadn’t worked out, and so he’d set about learning to enjoy this new version of his life, young and single, earning more money than he’d ever had in his life, living in the big city.

It had been good - it really had been. Robert had thrown himself into his career, into shagging his way around East London (Max’s words, not his) and he’d liked every part of his life there. He’d loved all the wanky coffee shops, and he’d loved spending his Sunday afternoons in the National Gallery, dragging a grumpy, hungover Max with him.

It had been good.

Hadn’t been forever, though.

Max had met Natasha when they were twenty-six, on a night out in Islington with some of Robert’s co-workers.

She'd caught Max’s eye immediately - and Robert knew, because he’d recognised that look from how many times he’d seen it directly at himself - and (he’d put this in his best man’s speech) the rest was quite literally history.

Somewhere along the way, Max and Robert became Max, Tasha and Robert, Tash genuinely accepting of their odd friendship, and the fact they were exes, and Robert watched as his best friend fell completely, madly, forever after kind of in love.

Tasha moved in with them, after a year, and after the second, Max had sat Robert down and explained that he and Tasha wanted to move back up north, to be closer to family. Robert had weakly smiled and lasted a month in London alone before he suggested to Max over the phone one night that maybe he could move to Manchester too, to be closer to Max, to his family.

Max and Tasha had let him live on their couch for a month before Robert found the first flat he’d ever lived in alone at the grand old age of twenty-eight, back up north when he’d been so sure for so long that he would never, ever leave London - let alone live anywhere north of bloody Cambridge.

Robert didn’t regret moving back. Not really, which sort of surprised him, because he hadn’t banked on actually liking Manchester. There was a part of him that had hoped that Max and Tasha might see sense, after a few months, and suggest they head back down to London, but no such luck, and after a year or so, Robert did - honestly, sincerely - find his feet in Manchester.

Victoria had moved to Manchester by time Robert had moved there, sharing a flat with Aaron Dingle, and Adam Barton, and between her, and Max, that was all the family he needed. It was just hard, to watch as Max got his life together in a way that Robert never seemed to manage.

Robert had the job, sure - but Max had the girl, the house, and the successful business to boot. Successful enough that he was always asking Robert to quit, and come work for him, as if Robert wasn’t eyeball deep in his accountancy exams, something he had only foolishly done because Max had suggested it might be a good move for his career.

Robert had the job, and an embarrassing string of exes and one-night-stands, and his parents were dead, and Andy sort of hated him still, and his best friend in the whole world was getting married in three months and then he’d probably have a kid or three, and Robert was going to get left behind all over again.

He was fine, he was coping well with it.

“You look like your brain is about to explode,” Aaron hummed, crumbs stuck in his beard as he tucked into the sandwich Robert had bought him.

Aaron was always busy, and so catching him over a lunch-break was usually the best way to actually get him to talk to you - Robert had learned that much in the two years since his life had gained an Aaron Dingle shaped presence. Food, or a pint, were your best bets to get a conversation out of Aaron.

“Max is getting married, in June,” Robert offered.

Aaron gave him a funny look, as though he was concerned Robert had entirely lost his mind.

“I know,” he said slowly, as though Robert was being particularly thick. Which, you know, he might have been. “It’s all anyone can talk about. My mum is going on, and on about it every time I call her.”

Robert knew that.

It was a King family wedding, after all - the whole village had an opinion on it, made all the worse by the fact that Carl King couldn’t stop going on about how happy he was that his little brother was finally settling down.

Robert was doing his best not to be offended by that, given all the settling he and Max had done together once upon a time.

“I’m the best man,” Robert sighed, pushing his salad around his plate. He’d made a poor ordering choice in the name of what Vic liked to inform him was called ‘hot boy summer’ and he really, really wished he’d chosen the bacon sarnie Aaron was currently chewing down with all the grace of a feral animal. “And I absolutely can’t turn up single, Aaron.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because! Max is my ex-boyfriend, and it’s bad enough trying to explain why we’re still friends, without me turning up solo to his wedding. Everyone is going to think I’m still in love with him!”

Aaron swallowed, raising an eyebrow. Before he even opened his mouth, Robert knew what question was coming - it wasn’t the first time he’d been asked it, was the thing. “Are you still in love with him?”

Robert sighed. A part of him, he knew, would always be a little bit in love with Max - he wasn’t sure if there was any way of changing that.

Max had been one of the few times in his life when Robert had felt he was really loved, for who he was, and not for who someone wanted him to be, and it was hard to shake that off.

“No, I’m not,” Robert settled on, because he was sure Aaron didn’t want to hear the whole sorry story. He wasn’t sure anyone actually did. “I’m really not.”

“Okay,” Aaron hummed, shoving a wad of crisps into his mouth. He didn’t sound as though he didn’t believe Robert, which felt like a win in itself.

Aaron was chewing like, aggressively loudly. He was genuinely disgusting sometimes. It was impressive how he managed to still pull his fair share of ridiculously hot men. “Why did you have to make me have lunch with you to tell me this, though?”

Robert rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome for buying you lunch, by the way,” he huffed out, because he had actually forked out for the lunch Aaron was savaging his way through. “I’m telling you, because I thought you might be able to help me.”

Aaron looked utterly confused. “What could I possibly help with here?”

“I need you to go out with me,” Robert blurted, Aaron’s eyes widening in shock. “Or, well - pretend to. I need a date for the wedding.”

Aaron swallowed his mouthful of crisps. “Why - why me, though? Couldn’t you get some random date to go with you?”

Robert winced. “My recent dating history has been - well, spotty.”

Which was putting it lightly.

Aaron snorted. “Are you talking about the weirdo who was super into anime and tried to get you to wear a sailor’s outfit so he could shag you in it? And then it turned out there was a warrant out for his arrest because he’d stolen loads of them weird toys?”

“Labubu’s yeah,” Robert sighed, stomach twisting at the memory.

He wasn’t the kind to kink shame, but the sailor costume had been a bridge too far for him - and then the police arriving at the door in the midst of Robert trying to make his escape to discuss a trailer of stolen fucking Labubu’s was the final nail in the coffin. “We really don’t need to talk about Kev, Aaron.”

Aaron grinned. “Have you found out if they’re going to call you as a witness in his Labubu trial yet?”

Yes.

Yes they were.

“No,” Robert lied, huffing out an annoyed breath. “That was traumatic for me, you know - you can’t just joke about it.”

Aaron smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. “You do have the legs to pull off a sailor costume, to be fair to him.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “No one needs to be fair to Kev Townsend. He’s going to go down in history as the worst date I ever had. I answered the door to the police and almost begged them to arrest me just to get out of there faster.”

Aaron genuinely cackled, because every single one of Robert’s friends had taken great delight in the insanity of the story of his failed one night stand with Kev. In fairness, if it hadn’t actually happened to him, Robert would probably have found it just as funny. However, it had happened to him, and had inspired no less than three months - and counting - of celibacy, because good God, he was not risking that again.

“Do you think there would have been loads of weird toys in his bed if he got you in there?”

Fucking definitely.

“Okay, enough about my spotty dating history, or I’ll start reminiscing about you shagging Finn Barton,” Robert warned, because he wasn’t the only one who’d had their share of horrendous dates. Finn Barton telling Aaron he loved him after they’d shagged twice was definitely up there as one of the worst he’d heard of.

Aaron held his hands up in surrender. “I just - why me?” he asked, returning to their earlier conversation.

Robert had sort of hoped he’d forgotten.

Robert sighed, letting his fork fall to his plate with a clatter. It was a really bad salad.

“I need it to be believable. You know? I don’t want to turn up with a random date, I want to turn up with an actual partner, and I’m not going to meet anyone in time, because I’m apparently deeply unlovable - so faking it is the best option.”

Aaron’s face twisted into something unreadable. “Robert, you’re not unlovable,” and he sounded so sincere that Robert wished he could believe the platitude.

He didn’t, though, because if Robert knew anything about himself, it was that he was fundamentally unlovable. His dad hadn’t loved him, not really, and Max had fallen out of love with him in the end. No one had ever loved him enough to stay, was the problem.

Robert faked a smile. “I need someone I trust, to do this with - someone who knows me enough that we can make this believable. I know it’s a lot to ask, Aaron, but…” he trailed off, unsure of how best to sell his request. There really wasn’t anything in it for Aaron, except an invite to a wedding he probably didn’t want to attend anyway.

Aaron wiped his hands on his work trousers, because he was a cretin, and offered one to Robert. “Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll do it.”

“Seriously?” Robert really had not expected him to agree.

Aaron nodded. “Seriously,” he confirmed, shaking Robert’s hand firmly. “Only because it really would be sad if you turned up alone.”

It would be. It really would be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Terms and conditions, Robert had scratched out on a bright pink post-it note, because he was a fucking professional, thank you very much.

“I think you’re being over the top,” Aaron hummed, the foam of his pint clinging to his top lip. Robert had an irrational desire to wipe it away. “It doesn’t need to be complicated.”

Robert glared at him. “It needs to be believable,” he reminded, as if Aaron didn’t know, as if they hadn’t had this conversation a half dozen times already. “We need to sell this, make people believe we’re together.”

Aaron huffed out an annoyed breath. “It’s what - one pre-wedding party, the actual wedding, the day after? We can manage three goes of pretending to be together, Robert.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “No, if we’re going to make it believable, we need to actually be seen together before the wedding - no one is going to believe we’re together if we’re not seen together. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Aaron mocked, because he was an arsehole. Sometimes, Robert wondered why he was friends with him. “What are the terms and conditions, then?”

“You need to be my date to twice-monthly dinners with Max and Tasha.”

“Twice a month?” Aaron raised an eyebrow at the frequency.

“Yes, twice a month,” Robert confirmed. “It’s not that much!”

Aaron made a face. “It is, a bit - do you have any other friends other than your ex-boyfriend and his soon-to-be wife?”

No.

“Yes,” Robert huffed out.

“Name five.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Robert retorted sweetly. “Okay, twice-monthly dinners - and it’d be good if you came to work drinks with me sometime, so people see you around. Max knows one of the senior directors at my firm, she’ll be at the wedding, so it’d make it more believable.”

“Right,” Aaron didn’t sound the slightest bit interested.

“You don’t need to come to the stag, that’s already happened.”

“Thank god.”

Robert ignored him. “But Max is doing a home stag, because Nicola threatened to divorce Jimmy if he came to Malaga for a lads weekend - so it’d be good if you came to that, I think. It’s in Emmerdale, it’d be weird if you didn’t.”

“Weirder if I go, but sure,” Aaron slouched in his chair. “Anything else?”

“Vic can’t know we’re pretending.”

“She’s a blabbermouth,” Aaron agreed easily. “Probably best if no one knows, otherwise someone will spill the beans.”

Robert couldn’t help his surprised look. “Yeah - yeah, that’s a good shout,” he agreed. “How do you feel about holding hands?”

Aaron grinned. “Do you have sweaty hands?”

Robert glanced down at his hands. “No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s fine, then.”

Robert took a deep breath. “And kissing?”

Aaron was quiet, for a minute. “Well - we need to sell it, don’t we?”

Yeah -

They really did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Terms and conditions of R & A’s relationship (fake)

• A needs to attend twice monthly dinners with R, M & T (as long as he doesn’t have to cook)

• Show face at R’s poncy work drinks (twice)

• Both attend the home stag do

• A agrees to be in a few Instagram stories (to sell it)

• Hand-holding is fine (if hands aren’t sweaty)

• Kissing is necessary - no tongue (unless the situation calls for it. what situation calls for tongue?)

• A gets to drive (fine)

• R gets to pick A’s outfit for the wedding (fine)

• Breakup needs to happen at least a month after the wedding - any sooner and it’s obvious that it was fake (you’re overthinking this, r.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What’s Tasha like?”

Robert looked up from the pasta he was painstakingly rolling out, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve met her,” he reminded, because their little group of Emmerdale expats (plus partners) in Manchester did actually hang out fairly regularly. It was an odd little group, but a reliable bunch, all the same.

Aaron had been Vic’s plus one, to begin with, but he was there in his own right now. They even had a group chat, it was all very cute.

Aaron shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was wearing his usual uniform of a black t-shirt and jeans, but somehow, he managed to make it look good.

“In the pub, sure,” he conceded. “But never like this. This is a proper sit down dinner. Grown up stuff.”

Robert grinned. “Does that sound scary to you?” he teased, because maybe he wasn’t that much older than Aaron, but it was fun to rip the piss out of him.

Aaron rolled his eyes, huffing out an annoyed breath. “I just don’t know what to expect, do I? What do you guys even talk about?”

“Work - life. I dunno, the normal stuff,” Robert shrugged, focus back on his pasta.

He wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

He’d told Max a few days ago, that he was seeing someone, and that it was serious, now, serious enough that Robert wanted to bring him to the wedding, and Max had insisted on Robert’s mystery date coming to their next dinner.

Robert just hadn’t told Max that his new, apparently serious, boyfriend was Aaron Dingle - who Max very much knew.

Aaron was quiet, for a minute. “And how does she feel about you and Max still being so close?”

Robert paused his pasta rolling. “She doesn’t mind,” he replied, and it was the truth.

Tasha had taken their somewhat codependent relationship in her stride at the beginning, and now, years on, Robert counted her as one of his closest friends.

“Just trying to decide if I need to act like a jealous arsehole over dinner, or if I can be normal,” Aaron grinned, but there was something genuine about what he said - he was doing his best to figure out how to play his part, and Robert appreciated it.

“No, you don’t need to be jealous,” Robert shook his head, nudging Aaron out of the way so he could wash his hands. “Max and I - I know it seems weird to be so close with your ex, but we’re family. Even if our relationship didn’t work out, he’s still one of the most important people in my life. For a long time, we only had each other - you know?”

Aaron nodded. Even if he didn’t know every detail of the story, Aaron had already lived in the village when Robert and Max had left - and Robert had no doubt that the gossip had been rife, in the days and weeks after their unexpected exit.

“I get that,” Aaron hummed, taking a swig of his beer. “I know it’s different - Vic and I weren’t together that long - but she’s still my family.”

Robert didn’t exactly want to think about Aaron and his little sister shagging, but yeah, that was the jist of it.

“So I’m not a jealous boyfriend, and I like Max and Tasha,” Aaron recounted, as though he was an actor learning his lines. “Easy.”

The doorbell went, perfectly timed to make Robert feel as though he was going to throw up.

“I hope so,” he grimaced, wiping his wet hands on a tea-towel before he headed for the buzzer, giving Max and Tasha his usual bright hello over the intercom, knowing they only had a few minutes before they had company.

“It’ll be fine, Robert,” Aaron shrugged, and he sounded so chilled out about it, it was hard not to believe him.

It’ll be fine.

Reaching for the door handle, Robert plastered his best fake smile on.

“Hiya,” he greeted, and for a second, it was like their normal twice-monthly dinners, Max greeting him with a tight squeeze of a hug, Tasha pressing a kiss to his cheek and a bottle of expensive wine into Robert’s hands just like she always did; red, tonight, because Robert cooking beef tonight.

“Hi, darling,” Tasha smiled at him. “It’s from the Rhône Valley - you’ll enjoy that one.”

Tasha was more of a wine expert than Robert could pretend to be. It had been a way for them to bond, in the beginning, when Robert felt like an awkward spare part in his own flat, not wanting to be in the way of Max and his burgeoning relationship.

Tasha had been the one to cross that metaphorical divide, arriving at the door with a bottle of crisp white wine and a demand that they be friends one night when Max was out at a work event.

Max had come home to find the two of them drunk on the couch, giggling about something ridiculous, and that had been the moment Robert realised he could handle the new reality of his life with Max and Tasha, the two of them a package deal he was happy to be a part of.

“Enough of the wine - I want to meet your new mystery partner,” Max winked, looking around the apartment.

“Well - that would be me,” Aaron introduced, standing a bit awkwardly in the kitchen, giving Max and Tasha a tiny wave.

Robert watched as Max smoothly schooled his surprise into a bright smile, ever the professional.

“You know Aaron - Aaron Dingle,” Robert introduced. “We are - well, we’re together.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, in that typical Aaron Dingle fashion. “He’s always weird, isn’t he?” he teased, giving Max and Tasha a grin. “He was proper worked up over introducing me to you both. As if we don’t know each other already.”

“That’s Robert for you,” Max nudged, his smile affectionate. “Well - you’re going to have to tell us all about how this happened.”

“Over dinner,” Robert managed to gather his thoughts together, ushering everyone toward the table. It was a conversation that would surely only be aided by a glass of red. “I haven’t slaved over this ragu for hours for you to ruin it by being a pair of gossipy bitches.”

Tasha winked at Aaron. “We are gossipy bitches,” she pointed out, settling herself in a kitchen chair. “But I like your ragu too much to ruin it, so I’ll hold my questions.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay, we have been extraordinarily patient,” Tasha beamed, stealing the last bite of Max’s dessert. A tiramisu because Robert was a fucking excellent host. If they weren’t his best friends, and arguably perfect for each other, than Robert would probably find the two of them sickening.

“We have,” Max agreed, gesturing between the two of them. “How did this come about, then?”

Robert shot Aaron what he hoped was an affectionate glance. They’d gone through a story together - close to the truth, Aaron had suggested - but this was the first time they’d be telling it, and to two of the people who know Robert the best in the world. No pressure, or anything.

“Well, it was a night out,” Robert began, Aaron raising an eyebrow at him. “We’d been out for cocktails - the 2-for-1 deal in Costigans. Vic left early, with Adam, and it was just the two of us, and we ended up going home together.”

“Very romantic,” Aaron teased, nudging Robert’s foot with his own. “You know him. Get a couple of two for one margarita’s in him, and he’d go home with anyone.”

“Not untrue,” Robert snorted, because yeah, okay, tequila did have a tendency to make him a bit slutty, but he refused to be shamed for it. “But I did wake up in your bed, so lucky you, eh?”

“And you decided to give things a go then?” Tasha asked, her enthusiasm sincere.

“Not right away,” Robert shook his head. “Aaron said no,” he lied, because their friends sort of mostly knew Aaron to be the kind of person who was very against the notion of relationships, never seeing the same man more than twice.

“But he kept asking,” Aaron finished for him. “And I figured I’d better give him a chance.”

Tasha’s expression was unbearably fond. “That’s sweet,” she gushed, reaching for her wine. “I’m happy for you, Robert - and you too, Aaron.”

“We both are,” Max corrected, flashing Robert a familiar smile. “You deserve to be happy, Robert.”

Happy.

As though loneliness hadn’t taken hold in his chest the day Max told him that he and Tasha had made it official, and Robert knew he was being left behind by the only person he’d ever been able to rely on. Happy, as though Robert had any idea what that felt like, anymore, the crushing loneliness of life the only thing he could feel, most days.

Robert swallowed the honesty that threatened to spill out of his mouth if he had so much as one more sip of wine. “Yeah,” he agreed, the lie coming easily. “I’m happy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Max was drunk, as he and Tasha gathered their things to leave, overly affectionate as he struggled to button his coat.

“You’re a mess,” Robert chided, undoing Max’s lopsided buttons, fixing his friends coat, because he was a nice fucking guy, and that was just the sort of thing he did for Max without needing to be asked.

Max’s cheeks were flushed, the same way they always were when he drank too much wine, and he snickered.

“You’re a mess,” he retorted, because he was a child like that. “Robert - Robert. I want you to be happy, you know? I do. I’m happy you’ve got Aaron.”

Robert’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. Most of his relationships had never gotten to the stage where he’d wanted to introduce them to Max, and Tasha - an endless string of one-night-stands and bleak situationships that usually resulted in him getting drunk and sleeping on Max’s couch when they ended up blowing up in his face.

He’d not been entirely prepared for how enthusiastic Max would be to see Robert in a real relationship. “Yeah, okay, time for you to go home.”

“I’m serious! I want you to be happy, Rob - you deserve it, more than anyone else I know,” Max tried to school his expression into something serious. He was too drunk for it to work, so he frankly looked a bit constipated, and it wasn’t his best look. “You are the best guy I know. You deserve to be happy.”

It was the kind of drunk chatter that Robert didn’t usually mind, but he found he couldn’t find the words to reply today.

“Okay darling, let’s get you home,” Tasha appeared at Max’s side, flashing Robert a bright smile. “Thanks for dinner, Robert, it was delicious. And it was lovely to meet you, Aaron!” she called, all but shoving her fiance out the door, Robert at least waiting until they were in the lift before he closed the door.

Letting out a shaky breath, he looked at Aaron. “I think that went okay,” Robert managed, waiting for Aaron to reply, the other man’s face carefully, deliberately neutral. “Didn’t it?”

“It did,” Aaron confirmed, offering Robert a smile. “We were very convincing. Is there any more garlic bread left, by the way? That was so good.”

The anvil that had been settled in Robert’s chest since the moment Max and Tasha arrived lifted, and he laughed. “Yeah, there’s more,” he confirmed, turning on the oven. “Ten minutes, and you can have some extra cheesy garlic bread.”

Aaron grinned, finishing the dregs of his glass of wine, reaching for another bottle. “You’re the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had, Sugden.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was weirdly easy, to settle into a fake relationship with Aaron.

Robert supposed that was the benefit of having been friends with someone before you decided to create an elaborate fake relationship to save your image at your best friend slash ex boyfriend’s wedding. Or something.

“You know, for a thirty year old man, you’re kind of embarrassingly obsessed with Instagram,” Aaron commented, looking oddly thoughtful as he polished off the last of Robert’s chips.

“And for a twenty six year old man, your weird allergy to social media is kind of concerning,” Robert snarked back, hitting post on his Instagram story.

He’d posted a few, in the weeks he and Aaron had been doing this whole fake dating thing, and it was oddly thrilling - to post slightly cryptic pictures of drinks and dinners that were clearly dates, Aaron’s hands, the back of his head when they were walking along a busy street.

If this were real, Robert decided, he would have fucking mastered the soft launch.

Too bad that no one actually wanted to date him, otherwise he’d be unstoppable.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Not everyone needs to know about my life,” he retorted. His Instagram account looked like a spam account, frankly, aarond2205 not an inspiring username, and that was before you addressed the fact that Aaron didn’t actually have a profile picture.

It seemed as though the whole purpose of Aaron’s Instagram account was to share reels of car detailing with Adam Barton, and send Robert videos of grumpy looking animals with the accompanying, very eloquent message of ‘u’.

“It just - it helps sell it,” Robert huffed, locking his phone, and turning his attention to Aaron. “People are already going to think it’s weird that Max has made his ex boyfriend the best man - I’m not making it worse by turning up single, and having everyone think I’m still pining after him.”

“You’ve said,” Aaron leaned back in his seat. “You worry a lot about what people think of you,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a judgement, no - just a statement. An observation.

A true one, but Robert didn’t feel inclined to admit that.

“I care what people in Emmerdale think of me,” Robert corrected, because that felt like the easier answer. Better than going, oh, yeah, I am cripplingly insecure and desperate for someone to love me. Thanks for noticing.

“You and Andy don’t get on,” and it wasn’t a question - a statement, again, Aaron confirming what he already knew; from Vic, probably. She’d likely filled him in on all of the sordid details of the long-standing Sugden brothers feud.

“Not really,” Robert sighed, twisting his napkin between his fingers, the thin material ripping easily under his anxious touch. “We didn’t get on for a lot of reasons - and then there was the Katie of it all. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for that one.”

“You did shag his girlfriend,” Aaron said, and yeah, okay, when you put it that way, it sounded bad, but it was a much more nuanced situation than anyone ever gave him credit for.

“She was my girlfriend first,” Robert mumbled pathetically.

“Sure.”

Robert stuck his tongue out at his friend. “Look - it worked out for Andy and Katie. They’re married, and happy now - and I didn’t get an invite to the second wedding, so they’ve made it very clear where they stand with me.”

Aaron didn’t look convinced. “Vic said that Diane wants to do a family dinner, when we’re in Emmerdale for Max’s stag do.”

Ah, yes, the famed Sugden family reunion dinner.

Honestly, as if having to go back to Emmerdale for the wedding wasn’t bad enough - Max dragging him back for a home stag-do in the fucking Woolpack of all places, because Jimmy had always been the favourite of his brothers and he couldn’t come on their weekend away, was practically criminal behaviour.

Vic had caught onto the notion like a bloodhound, and she was singlehandedly trying to turn their dysfunctional family back into a functional one by forcing them to sit down and have a nice family meal together before Robert had to spend an evening in the pub where he’d spent a not-insignificant chunk of his teenage years dreaming of escape.

“I know,” Robert sighed. “I know it’s not in the contract, or whatever, but…” he trailed off, unsure of how to ask.

“I’ll come,” Aaron agreed easily. Too easily. “My mum co-owns the pub, Robert - I’ll be there anyway. It’d be weird if I didn’t join family dinner, I am your boyfriend after all. Remember?”

“No, funnily I’d forgotten that.”

“You’re a terrible fake boyfriend,” Aaron grinned, waving over their waiter. “Hi - yes, sorry, could we have the dessert menu? My boyfriend is paying, so I might as well,” he joked in a ridiculously, uncharacteristically, jovial way, the waiter responding with a smile and a promise to return with the menus.

“You’re an asshole,” Robert grinned, but there was no malice to his words - mirth, maybe. He liked spending time with Aaron, always had since he’d moved back to Manchester and found himself spending Friday nights with his little sister’s best friend.

They hadn’t gotten on well at the start, Aaron mardy as anything, and Robert struggling to find his feet in Manchester, but they’d found a groove - cars, and bitching about growing up queer in a rural village, mostly - and now he counted Aaron as one of his closest friends.

That was why it had made sense to ask Aaron to do this for him, he supposed.

“Yes, darling,” Aaron grinned, accepting the dessert menu. “But don’t forget - you love me, so you’ll put up with it.”

Robert would, was the thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t that Robert dreaded Aaron meeting his work colleagues - out of everyone they needed to convince of the sincerity of their fake relationship, the villagers of Emmerdale would be the worst - but it did feel oddly weird to be waiting outside the usual bar they got drinks in on a Thursday night (because Friday was a work from home day), waiting for Aaron to join them.

Robert had never brought anyone to Thursday work drinks - and most people brought their partners, the longer they worked there.

There was always quite the collection of people taking up the corner booth at Costigans (best priced cocktail in Manchester - Robert would die on that hill) and Robert had never had anyone he wanted to bring before.

Now, he had a whole - fake - boyfriend.

Aaron had been running late - a last minute call out, and then he’d needed time to shower and get ready - which was Robert’s excuse for feeling as antsy as he did about the whole situation.

“If I didn’t know you’d quit years ago, I’d be asking you for a cig,” Aaron commented, strolling up to Robert as though he didn’t have a care in the world. He was wearing a jumper Robert didn’t recognise, a dark forest green that looked incredible with Aaron’s dark hair.

“I could start again,” Robert offered, because he knew Aaron still smoked - sometimes, at least, a battered packet of cigarettes usually to be found in the pocket of his jacket, though Aaron went whole nights out without so much as touching one.

“You wouldn’t,” Aaron grinned. “You care too much about how you look.”

Robert swallowed an argument about how skinny he’d been when he still smoked - mostly because it would be untrue. He’d been skinny then because he was poor and half malnourished, and even if there were parts of Robert’s life back then he missed, the constant stress about whether or not they could afford to do a food shop was not one of those things.

“I look hot when I smoke,” Robert settled on, enjoying the eye-roll he got in response.

“Sure you do,” Aaron countered. “Are you going to introduce me to your colleagues or what, then?”

Robert elected to ignore the nerves swimming in his belly, and nodded. “Let’s go inside.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron was, as ever, the perfect fake boyfriend.

Once he had a pint in hand, he was an affable, funny version of himself, never leaving Robert’s side as an hour turned to two, and then three, Thursday work drinks always liable to get a bit out of control.

“You can tell me when you want to go home,” Robert offered, the two of them standing at the bar, waiting to be served.

Aaron had shed his jumper, leaving him in a thin black long-sleeve, and Robert wasn’t sure that a plain cotton t-shirt from Primark was meant to look so good, but Aaron was making it look positively designer.

He was, objectively, gorgeous.

This was the thing. Aaron had the broody, dark and handsome thing going on that Robert was always a sucker for. He was gorgeous, and a little mean, and sarcastic, and if this wasn’t fake, Aaron was definitely the kind of guy he could go for, Robert’s type to a T - if they didn’t know each other, and they’d just met in a bar. Obviously.

Aaron hummed. “I’m having fun,” he said, and it didn’t even look as though it pained him to admit it.

Success!

“Thank you,” Robert said warmly, and he meant it - he really did. “Not just for tonight - for doing this at all. I know it’s all a bit insane.”

“That’s because you are insane,” Aaron countered, and before Robert could reply, Aaron was - well, Aaron was kissing him.

Aaron’s lips a little rough and chapped against his own, the taste of the lager that Aaron had been drinking lingering a little as they embraced.

“Your colleague James was looking,” Aaron said softly, pulling back, but not going too far. “I figured it might be a good moment to sell it.”

To sell it - yeah.

That was what they agreed on. Kissing, no tongue - unless the occasion called for it. Robert still wasn’t sure what sort of occasion could call for tongue, but it was good to be prepared - that was why he had suggested it.

“Thanks,” Robert settled on, his brain whirling a mile a minute.

He’d sort of given up on dating, after the whole Kev incident (really - getting called as a witness in a trial for a man you’d only gotten about fifteen percent into the process of shagging was unbearably embarrassing) and so it had been a while since he’d actually kissed anyone.

A long while.

Aaron smiled, the expression genuine. “What are boyfriend’s for?” he leaned heavily against the bar. “Hey - how do you feel about tequila? I’m off tomorrow, and I’m kind of in the mood to get drunk.”

Robert grinned, and tried to ignore the part of his brain that was making the observation that this was the happiest he had been in a long, long time. He didn’t have the time - or the mental head-space - to deal with that right now.

“I fucking love tequila,” he huffed, nudging Aaron in a way he hoped seemed a bit boyfriend-like to anyone who was looking over. “You know this.”

Aaron beamed. “Let’s get drunk, then.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not until Robert is trying to peel himself out of bed to log onto his work laptop and pretend to work that he notices it - an Instagram story, posted by none other than Aaron Dingle, tagging him.

It was a pretty blurry picture, the lighting in the bar abysmal and Aaron’s ability to take a selfie even worse - but it was still recognisably them, Robert plastered to Aaron’s side, Aaron pressing a sloppy, tequila flavoured kiss to Robert’s cheek.

They looked happy - they looked like a real couple.

The plan was going swimmingly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert was going to be sick.

He was acutely aware that some people might consider that to be a dramatic response to going back to the village he’d grown up in, but the problem was, Robert hadn’t actually been back to Emmerdale since his dad’s funeral - and he’s not entirely sure that watching the rest of the Sugden clan bury Jack from his distant vantage point necessarily counted as a grand return to the village he’d ran from.

Max had driven them back to Emmerdale, that day - had even offered to come to the funeral, but Robert had waved off his concern, claiming it was something he had to do alone.

They’d passed Nottingham, before Robert admitted to Max that he hadn’t managed to go to the funeral at all - had watched it from the bridge, Andy the only one to realise he was there.

It had been one of their worst fights, actually - Max furious that Robert hadn’t allowed him to be there for him, to support him. There had never been a definite beginning of the end, for their relationship, but Robert would definitely count that as one of the lowest moments.

When he’d moved back to Manchester, Max had started going back to the village. He’d always kept in touch with Jimmy, and Nicola, but he’d felt then it had been time to reconnect - despite the fact Carl was still a fucking nightmare of a person, which Max freely admitted.

Robert had watched, as Max left for Sunday lunches, and long weekends in their home village, and had never quite found the confidence - or desire - to go back himself.

He wasn’t sure how he’d feel, going back, and Robert had known it was imminent, given the wedding of it all, but he’d sort of compartmentalised it to the point of not acknowledging how he felt about it until Aaron was taking the turn off for Emmerdale, the road between Hotten and their home village feeling endless, and much too short, at the same time.

“Can you pull over?” Robert asked, stomach churning. He really didn’t want to throw up in Aaron’s car - that would be far too embarrassing.

Aaron looked confused, but nodded, flicking on his indicator, pulling into the closest lay-by. He cut the engine, the car turning quiet as he waited for Robert to say - or do - something.

“Are you - are you alright?” he asked eventually, the silence in the car between them heavy.

No.

Robert was definitely not alright.

“I haven’t been back - not since dad’s funeral, and I didn’t even properly go to that,” Robert admitted, and he figured Aaron knew all this, on some level, Robert never part of the variations of plans their group of friends made to go back to the village for one reason or another.

Aaron nodded. “You not feeling good about it?”

Robert shook his head, panic clawing at his throat. “I need - I need air,” he managed to gasp out, his hands feeling useless as he pawed at the passenger door of Aaron’s car, stumbling out into the late afternoon sunshine.

He’d loved living in London, loved living in Manchester - but there was something deliciously crisp about the fresh, countryside air as Robert sucked in heaving breaths, trying to calm his racing pulse.

“Here,” Aaron’s voice was steady, as he nudged at Robert. He held out a bottle of Lucozade, the orange bright in the plastic bottle. “Drink that, you’ll feel better.”

Robert waved him off. “No, I just need a minute - it’s fine.”

“Drink it,” Aaron repeated, a little more forcefully this time. “I’m fairly surely you just had a panic attack, Robert - trust me, the sugar helps.”

Robert felt a bit too wobbly to argue, leaning against the bonnet of the car as he twisted open the cap.

The drink was a bit too warm to be entirely enjoyable as he chugged it down, but he had to admit Aaron was right - the sugar was making him feel a little better, as though his limbs belonged to him again.

Aaron perched next to him, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, to feel nervous about going back,” he hummed, trainers scuffing at the dirt next to them. “You didn’t leave on the best terms.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Did Vic ever tell you why I left?” Robert asked, genuinely curious now about his sister’s perception of why her older brother had left their home under the cover of an early morning.

Aaron shook his head. “I’m not sure she ever knew why, back then - just came to school all confused as to why your room was half empty, and your dad was raging.”

Robert’s stomach twisted again. He hadn’t thought about it much, back then, how it would have felt for Vic, and Diane, to realise Robert had taken off. He’d gotten on okay with his step-mum, and Vic had idolised him, and he hadn’t left so much as a note.

In his defence, he’d been angry, and nineteen, and desperate to escape the suffocation of his home village.

(It was a poor defence, he knew.)

“I realised I was bisexual before Max,” Robert settled on as his answer. “Well - I didn’t have a word for it, but I knew I liked boys, as well as girls. I also knew how it would go down with my dad, if he found out.”

Aaron’s mouth twisted into something sympathetic. “Vic said she remembered your dad being horrible about it, when you and Max started going out,” he offered, because of course that had been something he and Vic had talked about - Robert couldn’t blame them for it, exactly. He’d fuelled the rumour mill at Hotten Academy for months, that year.

“That’s not how my dad found out - he knew, before Max,” Robert said, and he wasn’t sure why he was telling Aaron this. He’d only ever told Max this, before, and Max had gotten the condensed, hiccuping version though Robert’s hysterical sobs.

Aaron stayed quiet.

“We had this lad, help on the farm.”

“And you liked him?” Aaron questioned, his voice soft.

Robert nodded, the movement barely perceptible.

“Did something happen?”

“It would have, but he caught us, in my room - he sacked him, and leathered me, and I swore I would never talk about it again - that I’d just avoid coming out,” Robert said, lost in the memory of it.

He had sworn, in the aftermath of his dad finding him, and Tom in his bedroom, that he would never, ever tell anyone about what happened - that he would take it to his grave, and he would never tell anybody about that part of him that liked boys.

“What changed your mind?” Aaron asked, clearly very aware that Robert was out - and if not proud, still out, despite it all.

“Max told me he fancied me,” Robert grinned at the memory, twisting the half empty bottle of Lucozade in his hands. “I whacked him.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s a bit of a me move,” he joked, and it was enough to make Robert laugh, which Robert sort of assumed was the point. Aaron was good like that.

“It is,” Robert agreed, because it wasn’t entirely untrue. Teenage Aaron had developed quite the reputation for talking with his fists, according to Vic. “He stuck it out with me, though - waited around for me to sort my head out, and we ended up going out with each other, and then suddenly I had to tell dad, and I had to be out, and it was kind of terrifying. I knew he wouldn’t be happy about it, but I thought he might accept it, eventually.”

“He didn’t?” Aaron looked, to his credit, heartbroken; even more so, when Robert confirmed that Jack had most certainly not come around to the idea of one of his son’s being queer. “I didn’t think he was that kind of bloke.”

“He wasn’t,” Robert shook his head. “It’s not like he had a problem with all queer people - he just didn’t want a son like me,” he said, the words catching in his mouth, tears clawing at his throat.

Jack hadn’t been a bible thumping homophobe or anything - hadn’t had much of an issue with any other queer people - but he definitely didn’t want any child of his to be a queer, and he hadn’t said as much, but Robert had gotten particularly good at reading between Jack’s lines.

Robert felt his chin wobble, as he spoke. “I was always the disappointment with my dad - and Max, and being bisexual, it only made it worse. I didn’t feel like I had any choice except to run away, try and start a life away from here where I wasn’t constantly trying to live up to what my dad wanted me to be, because I was always going to fail at it, wasn’t I? It was - it would have been impossible to take back coming out once I’d done it, and once I wrapped my head around it all…”

Aaron smiled, as he filled in the end of Robert’s sentence. “It’s not so bad, when you’re out, in the end,” he said, and Robert knew the weight those words carried when they came from Aaron - someone who had hated that part of himself so much that he’d tried to kill himself. “I know.”

Robert wiped roughly at his eyes. “God, sorry - here I am, making it all about me, as if I’m the only one who’s ever struggled with their sexuality.”

“We don’t have to one up each other, or anything,” Aaron nudged. “This sort of thing isn’t easy. I get it. You’re allowed to be nervous about going back.”

Robert nodded, looking down at the drinks label he’d been picking at. “Can I admit something a bit embarrassing?”

“Always,” Aaron’s tone was gorgeously reassuring, as always.

“After we left, I figured when we did come back, it would be because Max and I had like - gotten married, or something. It’s not like I wish we were, or anything - he means a lot to me, but I’m not in love with him anymore. I just always had this idea in my head that when we came back, we’d come back to prove to everyone who’d said our crazy plan to leave would never work, wrong.”

That was the truth of it.

Robert had been nineteen, and disgustingly, impossibly in love when they’d driven out of Emmerdale village, all those years ago, and he’d convinced himself that one day, they’d drive back - in some sort of posh car - having built a successful life together, with enough money to swipe Home Farm out from under Carl King.

He’d loved the idea of it, coming back and proving everyone who’d doubted them, doubted him, wrong.

Robert huffed out a self-deprecating breath. “It’s stupid, I know,” he sighed.

“You have proved them wrong, though,” Aaron pointed out, because he was good like that. “You went and got a degree, you’re studying to be an accountant - even if that sounds fucking boring, to me. You have done something with your life, Robert.”

Robert offered his friend a grateful smile. “It just doesn’t feel like enough,” he admitted, and he’d never said that to anyone before. Aaron seemed to just have this uncanny ability to get him to open up about things he was rarely honest about even to himself. “Do you know what really terrifies me?”

Aaron gave him an expectant look.

“Being left behind,” Robert sighed. That was the crux of it - the thing that has scared him right from the moment that Max met Tasha, and had fallen head over heels in love. Robert didn’t want to be left behind. “Max is - he’s sort of all I have, you know? And it makes me sound like I’m still in love with him, and I’m really not - but he’s moving on, and building a proper life for himself, and I’m not.”

Aaron looked as though he wanted to say something, and so Robert barrelled on, desperate to explain himself.

Robert had never been sure of how to explain it, was the problem - not without sounding like a weird, jealous ex who hadn’t moved on, and that was definitely, definitely not what he was.

“There is no me, without Max - not this version of me, at least,” he began, Aaron listening intently. It was endearing, really, how much Aaron seemed to genuinely care, even if their whole relationship was fake.

“Without Max, without falling in love with him - I’d have stayed in the closet, and probably blown up my life because of it. Leaving with Max, it changed everything for me. I don’t exist without him. I’m not sure I know how to,” Robert looked down at his hands, shrugging slightly. “Does that make sense? I’m not in love with him - not anymore. But I am who I am because of him, and I don’t know how to be any version of myself that isn’t Max King’s best friend.”

Aaron’s smile was soft, his understanding genuine. “You’re always going to be his best friend - him getting married doesn’t change that,” he nudged. “But maybe you need to figure out who you are, now. Who you want to be - and be with. What your life looks like when you don’t make Max the centre of it.”

Robert sighed. “Yeah,” and he knew Aaron was right, was the thing - but the prospect of the change was the terrifying part.

“And you can start by reconnecting with your family,” Aaron suggested, and it sounded as though he’d been well briefed by Vic. “It’s not Vic putting words in your mouth, before you assume that’s the motivation.”

Oops.

“I just - the way Diane talks about you, Robert - she misses you. I can tell. Maybe this is just a good chance to test the waters and see how it all feels now. It’s been a long time.”

Too long, and not long enough at the same time.

Robert nodded, taking one, two, three deep breaths. “Yeah,” he managed to squeak out, and he did feel better now, if he was being honest - the healing powers of Lucozade and a deep and meaningful chat with Aaron Dingle at the side of the road, it seems. “Let’s do this, then.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Woolpack - terrifyingly - hadn’t actually changed all that much in the eleven or so years that Robert had been gone. The decor was a little bit more modern, but the energy was the same, weirdly - and it was a bit odd to see Diane behind the bar as he and Aaron pushed inside, his step-mum greeting him with an excited hello.

“Hi, Diane,” he returned, breathing in the familiar flowery scent of her perfume. “Miss me?”

Diane fixed him with a look, tutting under her breath. “Miss you? Robert Jacob Sugden, I haven’t seen you in over a decade! Of course I missed you, you silly boy,” she rolled her eyes. Robert did call, sometimes, did dutifully send Christmas and birthday cards, but he was also acutely aware that he made sure he was not in the vicinity of Manchester when Diane came to visit.

He’d gone to Marbella, the last weekend she’d come to visit Vic - had been a pretty excellent long weekend in the sun, if not for the aching loneliness he had felt all weekend knowing that Vic and Diane were having their big weekend in the city and he had a glass of sangria and his Kindle for company.

It was fine - it was his choice.

“Aaron,” Diane greeted warmly, and for a second, Robert forgot that Aaron knew Diane - this Diane, the pub landlady - better than he did, his fake boyfriend giving Diane a quick hug. “It’s lovely to see you - and lovely to see you together. Come on, come through to the back.”

As much as Robert had spent a fair amount of time in the Woolie as a teenage, he’d never really spent all that much time in the backroom, and he felt a little awkward, as they followed Diane.

He really had no idea how this dinner was going to go.

“Robert’s here,” Diane announced happily, as though Andy and Katie had forgotten what he looked like in the years he’d been gone.

Robert didn’t think he’d changed all that much. He’d had a few questionable haircuts in his early twenties, but he’d found a good barber, and a sense of style, so he looked good. He was sure of it.

Andy looked as though he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, and Vic saved them both the trouble of trying to figure it out, announcing loudly that the Shepard pie was done, and everyone should sit down.

It was a squeeze, to get them all around the kitchen table, and so Aaron’s leg was pressed against Robert’s, nowhere else for it to go, Diane on Aaron’s left, Victoria on Robert’s left.

Aaron gave his knee a gentle squeeze, adding to the symphony of admiration for Vic’s pie, Robert’s little sister beaming as she soaked in the praise.

“It looks great, Vic,” Robert added weakly.

“So,” Diane began, and Robert really hoped this wasn’t about to be a question that caused war to break out over Vic’s lovingly crafted mash. “I hear you’re almost finished your accountancy exams, Robert.”

Robert nodded. “Yeah, almost - I’ve got one last set to do in the autumn, but then I’m fully qualified.”

Which frankly felt like a wild thing to say. He’d started it because he’d felt stunted, in his career, as though he was never going to climb that metaphorical ladder to be more senior, more successful, and it had been Max who’d suggested that Robert used his head for numbers for the greater good, and tried accountancy.

It had been a bit of a slog, at times, but he was nearly done - and there was a promotion waiting for him, the moment he could prove to his boss that he was a fully qualified accountant.

Diane, to her credit, looked genuinely proud. “That’s excellent, Robert - you’ve done really well for yourself.”

“We’ll have to get your help with the books for the farm, then,” Andy joked, and while the joke was awkward, it was definitely still a joke, and Robert wasn’t quite sure how to react; He hadn’t expected civil, normal conversation - and if he was being honest, he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Robert looked down at his plate, awkwardness clawing at his chest. “I’m sure you don’t need my help,” he settled on, because he was sure Andy and Katie had kept the same accountant their dad had used, all those years ago, because Andy was nothing if not a creature of habit, and the habits he wanted to emulate were that of one Jack Sugden.

“It’s nice to have you back, Robert,” and now Robert was sure he was living in some sort of parallel universe, because why was Katie of all people being nice to him?

“Sure,” Robert snorted, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “My invite to your wedding just got lost in the post, eh?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I didn’t invite you because I didn’t want to force you to come back to a place where you’d been so unhappy,” Andy said quietly, uncertainly. “It seems like I made the wrong call there. I sort of tend to, when it comes to you - I’m sorry, Robert.”

Robert’s brain was definitely about to explode. “That’s - that’s alright,” he managed, hand finding Aaron’s under the table, giving it a brief squeeze. He really fucking needed to ground himself, there and then, and Aaron seemed happy to be that grounding force.

“None of us want to sweep everything that happened under the rug, Robert,” Diane intervened, her expression serious. “But we’d like to have you around more, if you’d want the same. That’s all.”

Robert glanced over at Aaron, his friend giving him an encouraging smile - an ‘I told you so’ of sorts, but one given with no malice or sarcasm. It was something more sincere than that, Aaron’s happiness at how the dinner was going a genuine sort of happiness.

“Yeah,” Robert finally managed. “I’d be okay with that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The stag do was in full swing by time they left the backroom, dinner going on longer than Robert had expected it to. He’d sort of assumed that he and Andy would have come to blows over the Shepard pie before everyone had a chance to sit down, if he was honest, so the fact they had managed to have a whole meal and a decent conversation felt like a miracle.

Everyone was so different, now, and it was silly to have thought they wouldn’t have been - but Emmerdale had been frozen in time, for Robert, a memory of a place he’d been so deeply unhappy boxed up carefully and hidden away from the rest of his life, lest he ever have to deal with the lingering horror of it all.

“There’s my best friend!” Max practically hollered, clearly already drunk as he stood, throwing his arms around Robert. “I missed you, mate.”

“You saw me yesterday,” Robert rolled his eyes, but accepted the hug all the same. “I was going to ask if you wanted a drink, but I think you’re alright.”

Max pulled a face. “It’s my stag do - I’m supposed to get drunk. Jimmy, tell him, I’m supposed to get drunk.”

Jimmy had the expression of a man who was already too drunk to find his way down Emmerdale main street to his house. “He’s supposed to get drunk,” he confirmed solemnly, the massive hiccup that escaped his throat at the end of the sentence making him quite hard to take seriously.

“You know, I can’t tell you how happy I am that Max is finally settling down,” Carl’s obnoxious voice cut through their conversation, the man in question chatting to Caleb, who looked like he’d rather be just about anywhere else, which was fair. Carl was kind of the worst.

Carl took a swig of his pint, looking directly at Robert as he continued. “Dad was always worried that Max wouldn’t end up getting married - but I promised him that whole, gay thing was a phase, he’d get it out of his system as soon as he found himself a nice girl.”

Robert instantly felt sick, Carl’s pointed comment most definitely for his ears.

It wasn’t exactly anything new - they’d heard it a dozen times over, when they’d come out and told their families they were together, all those years ago - but it still had the same affect, even eleven years on.

What he and Max had - it had been real. It hadn’t been a phase. It couldn’t have been a phase, not when it was the best relationship he’d ever been in. Max couldn’t possibly have faked the way he had loved, and cared about Robert - could he?

That was - that was a new fear, to develop in the middle of the Woolpack, of all places.

Had any of it ever been real?

“I’m bisexual, you narrow minded arsehole,” Max spat, confident in a way Robert had never managed to be - not back then, and not now. “It wasn’t a phase, it’s who I am - and the fact I’m settling down with Tash doesn’t make me any less bisexual.”

Carl raised a hand in surrender, giving his younger brother a placating look. “I’m just saying, dad would be happy, is all.”

“I hope that bastard is rotting in hell,” Max spat, because as much as Max had managed to have a relationship with his brothers, again, Tom King was an exception to Max’s genuinely forgiving heart. “Bring him up again, and you’re not coming to my wedding. I’m serious, Carl - fucking reign it in.”

Carl, for once, decided not to argue, and after a tense few seconds of silence, the party returned to it’s jovial noise.

Not Robert, though.

“You okay?” Aaron asked, because he knew, of course he knew - he always seemed to know when Robert was about to fall apart at the seams.

Robert could fake it, he could - but he already felt emotionally strung out, and he didn’t have the energy to pretend as though Carl’s barb hadn’t pierced the skin. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Let’s get some air,” Aaron suggested, taking Robert’s hand in his own - hand-holding, no sweaty hands - and tugging him out into the beer garden of the Woolpack. “Hey - talk to me,” he encouraged, rubbing his hands up, and down Robert’s arms.

“I, um - I know it’s Carl King, and he’s a fucking asshole, and it shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does,” Aaron finished for him, his expression unbearably tender. “It’s okay if it hurts to hear it, Robert.”

Robert let out a shaky sigh. “It’s stupid.”

“No such thing,” Aaron shook his head. “Come on - you can trust me.”

He could.

Robert knew that, and it was kind of a surprisingly realisation. He didn’t trust very many people; the list was usually limited to Max, Tasha and Victoria, and somewhere along the way, the list had expanded to include Aaron, and Robert hadn’t even realised it was happening.

Aaron was sneaking up on him, in every way possible.

“It’s like - if that’s true, and it was just a phase, then it completely invalidates everything I had with Max. You know? It means I built my whole life around this relationship that was only real for one of us,” Robert said, and he was almost all the way to admitting his biggest fear - that for Max, Robert was just a small chapter, that he’d moved on from their relationship, their friendship, and Robert had made it out to be more than it had ever been.

That he was clinging to something that wasn’t real.

“From everything you’ve told me, there’s no world where that could be true, Robert,” Aaron shook his head. “Max loves you - if Carl wants to pretend he doesn’t, that’s kind of on him.”

But what if it wasn’t?

“It’s true,” Aaron reassured, and apparently Robert had said that out loud. “I know you don’t see it, Robert - but you’re an incredible person, and people do love you. Don’t - don’t let Carl, of all people, make you think otherwise.”

Embarrassingly enough, Robert sort of felt like he was going to cry.

“Come here,” Aaron encouraged, pulling Robert in for a hug. Robert went easily, pressing his face into the crook of Aaron’s neck.

“I hate being back here,” Robert mumbled, and it was the truth - as well as dinner had gone, something about being back in Emmerdale made him feel like the smallest version of himself.

It was like he was nineteen all over again, fighting for someone - anyone - to understand him, to allow him to be the person he was.

He was thirty, now, but being back here, back in the village he’d ran from for so long, it made him feel like a stupid child.

“I know,” Aaron pressed a kiss to his hairline. “It’s only a few more hours, remember? And I’ve only had a glass of wine, so if I stop now, I’ll be okay to drive us back to Manchester later.”

Robert pulled back, wide-eyed. Going back to Manchester had not been part of the plan - they’d brought overnight bags, committed to staying the night in Aaron’s old bedroom in the Woolpack. “Aaron, you can’t drive us back that late.”

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to go home?” Aaron asked, his tone firm. It was clearly a question that Aaron wanted a proper answer to.

Robert wanted to run.

“I want to go home,” he admitted, and Aaron shrugged, as though it were as easy as that. “Are you sure about driving us back?”

“I’m here for you, remember?” Aaron reminded. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do if it means you get through tonight.”

Robert was definitely, definitely going to cry. “In that case - can I have another hug?”

Aaron’s laughter was bright, and sincere. “Yeah, Robert - you can have another hug.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was close to four am, when Aaron pulled into the parking garage of Robert’s apartment building. If Robert felt exhausted, Aaron must be shattered, having done all the actual driving back to Manchester from Emmerdale.

“Come upstairs,” Robert blurted, speaking before he could really think about it. “It’s late - and I have a spare room. Stay, and I can cook us breakfast in the morning, as a thank you.”

Aaron’s smile was soft, and sincere, as he cut the engine, nodding his agreement. “Yeah - alright,” he grinned, that same cheeky expression Robert was getting used to seeing on his face over the last few months appearing. “Only if you make hash browns, though.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m making hash browns, Aaron - do you think I’m some sort of fucking savage? Come on. Be serious.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron was sitting on the kitchen counter, slurping at the coffee Robert had just made him when he asked.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and there was no judgement in his tone, nothing that made Robert feel bad for having freaked out the previous night. Aaron was good at that - making Robert feel as though anything he felt was acceptable, somehow.

Robert flipped the eggs in the pan, giving Aaron a warm smile in return. “Yeah - I’m okay,” he said, and he was surprised by how much he actually meant it.

It was hard not to feel okay, with Aaron around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You know, if you were really my boyfriend, I would have killed you by now,” Aaron said sweetly, the threatening undertone to his words sincere enough to make Robert laugh.

They were in their third suit shop of the day, Robert sitting on the designated boyfriend chair, giving his best critiques as Aaron came out of the dressing room in suit, after suit.

“I’m the best man! I can’t have you turning up like some dirty little grease monkey,” Robert grinned, enjoying the way it made Aaron look positively murderous. Aaron hated clothes shopping on a good day, let alone when it was Robert being fussy about the cut of the suit he was wearing.

“If you don’t like this last one - I’m going in a tracksuit,” Aaron grumbled, yanking the curtain shut behind him. It was funny, really, how domestic it all felt - how oh-so-very boyfriend like their whole afternoon had been.

The staff in every single one of the suit shops they’d gone to had treated them as such; a couple, searching for a suit for a weekend, Robert the one with the more critical fashion eye, Aaron the reluctant trier-on of all the suits that Robert picked.

Sort of the perfect combination, if you thought about it.

Aaron was still muttering something vaguely threatening under his breath as he yanked the curtain back, but Robert was not listening - not when he got a look at what Aaron was wearing.

The suit was a deep navy, the colour the perfect complement to Aaron’s dark features, the red tie that Robert had picked out the perfect contrast to the rich navy. He looked -

“Incredible,” Robert breathed. “You look incredible, Aaron.”

Aaron flushed, squirming under Robert’s sincere praise. “Shut up,” he tried to brush him off. “It’s a bit - well, it’s expensive, Robert.”

Robert waved off his concern. “I’m buying it - it’s the least I can do, given all the help you’ve given me, Aaron,” he argued before Aaron had the chance to.

He’d made his mind up about the suit of it all weeks prior - Max had paid for the rental for the wedding party, and it wasn’t as if Robert was hard up for cash, or anything. He could afford to splurge on a suit for Aaron.

Aaron’s grin was delightfully boyish, and maybe even a little flirty, as he replied. “Well - it wouldn’t do for you to have a poorly dressed boyfriend at this wedding, I suppose.”

Robert returned the grin. “No fear of that now, Dingle.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was officially a week to the wedding, and that had been enough of an excuse to gather everyone they knew in Costigans for a big night out - Max and Tasha’s words, not his - to kick start their big week.

The place had been their bar of choice for long enough that the owner - a grumpy man called Patrick who’d never lost his thick Irish accent and was probably one of the best shags of Robert’s life - had let them book out the whole back of the bar, and Robert had a spicy margarita in hand and he was feeling about every emotion possible to feel at once.

He was happy for Max, and Tasha - of course he was. He wanted his best friend to be happy, he really did - but the closer they got to the wedding, the heavier the anvil in Robert’s stomach got.

It was going to be a new chapter, for Max and Tasha, and they weren’t the kind of people to leave their friends behind for anything, but it was silly to pretend as though their honeymoon phase wasn’t going to take them away from Robert more than usual.

“I was really hoping you’d have a cigarette.”

Robert looked up to see Tasha stumbling out into the pub garden, wearing another white sparkly number - she’d had an impressive bridal wardrobe, frankly, and Robert had given a lot of opinions of various white outfits - her heels terrifyingly high as she made her way across the crumbling concrete.

“Max would kill us both if he found us smoking out here,” Robert reminded. He’d always been more of a social smoker, but he’d decided to quit, not long after Max met Tasha, and Tasha had decided to quit in solidarity. He wasn’t sure how much healthier the decision to quit had made either of them, given they replaced cigarettes with wine, but it had been nice to have company in the misery of nicotine withdrawal.

Tasha hummed, perching herself on the bench next to Robert. “Robert Sugden,” she said, and she was definitely tipsy, her cheeks flushed as she spoke. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Robert grinned, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Is this the part where you tell me that you’ve been in love with me all along, and not Max, and we run away together?”

“Of course, darling,” Tasha beamed, reaching out to squeeze Robert’s hands in her own.

Robert had been there, when Max had picked out the engagement ring - had given his best mate plenty of opinions on what Tasha would, and wouldn’t want, because Max had suggested his gold jewellery wearing girlfriend might like a silver engagement ring, because he was an idiot - and he’d been the one to convince Tasha to get her nails done before the big occasion. It had gotten him a little hooked on pedicures, but that was a secret for Tasha to keep.

“You know - I don’t tell you often enough what a wonderful friend you are,” Tasha said, the glitter she’d painstakingly applied on her eyelids earlier in the evening smudged. “You are one of the very best people I know, Robert.”

“Plenty of people would disagree with you,” Robert tried to joke, because he’d never been great at taking a compliment.

“Well - then they don’t really know you, do they?” Tasha replied, looking very serious. “Robert - you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a good man. You welcomed me into your life with open arms, when you could have been jealous, and horrible.”

“Max wasn’t mine to lose, not even then, Tash,” Robert reminded, because it had long-since been over when Tasha made an appearance in their lives, three years post breakup, Robert having had plenty of time to get used to the new platonic shades of their relationship.

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t entitled to be annoyed at me - but you weren’t. You were a good friend to me, right from the start,” Tasha smiled at him. “I really want you to be happy Robert. You know that? Right? I want you to be happy, however that looks for you.”

Robert swallowed a comment at how strange Tasha was being, and nodded. “I know,” he agreed easily. “I am happy, Tasha.”

Tasha’s smile was sincere. “I think you’re the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time, with Aaron,” she said, pulling Robert in for a tight hug. “Don’t let it get away. Okay? Happiness, I mean - and Aaron, if he’s that for you. You deserve to be really happy, Robert.”

Robert squeezed her back, wondering why on earth Tasha was saying all this now. He’d blame the rainbow variety of cocktails he’d seen in her hand throughout the night so far for her unexpectedly emotional outburst.

“I won’t,” he promised, as though his only skill in life wasn’t pushing away any chance of happiness he had.

“I love you,” Tasha hummed, Robert responding with the same words easily - he did love Tash, he really did. “Right - emotional stuff over. Let’s get drunk.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“For you,” Aaron greeted, pressing a margarita into Robert’s waiting hands. “You looked thirsty,” he winked, and Robert couldn’t help but laugh. Aaron had been in stellar form, that evening, bright and brilliant, and always on hand to pass Robert another drink.

“You’re turning into a fan,” Robert noted, looking at the drink in Aaron’s hand. He was usually a beer fan, was Aaron, but he seemed to be a bit partial to a margarita now, almost three months into their fake relationship.

Before Aaron could reply, Max was banging a fork against his glass. drawing everyone’s attention.

“If you could all get your heads out of your drinks for a minute,” Max began, giving their gathered group a grin. “I wanted to say, on behalf of myself and my future wife - yeah, yeah, make fun of me all you want - that we’re really happy you’re all here. You’re some of our favourite people in the world, and we’re very excited to get to celebrate with you all this week.”

He looked over at Tasha, Max’s expression delighted. “Tasha - I cannot wait to fucking marry you. You are the love of my life, and I am so lucky that I found you. I love you, baby.”

That seemed to be the end of the speech, Max pulling Tasha in for a disgustingly sloppy kiss.

“You okay?” Aaron nudged, his concern sincere.

Robert nodded, surprised at how genuine he was in his answer. He’d worried, a little, that he’d feel terrible when they got to this point - the wedding only a matter of days away - but the anvil that had sat in his stomach for so long was starting to feel a little lighter, now.

Aaron helped.

“I’m okay,” Robert confirmed, glancing over at his friends. “They’re happy. Aren’t they?”

Aaron nodded. “They seem to be.”

“I just - I need to start believing I can be happy too,” Robert admitted, enjoying the way Aaron looked genuinely a bit proud of the admission. “You said it, right? That I need to let myself figure out what my life looks like when Max isn’t the centre of it.”

Aaron’s grin was blinding, then. “And what does it look like, Robert?”

“It looks a lot like kissing my fake boyfriend in this very busy bar, and making him do karaoke with me,” Robert said, feeling a little breathless as he leaned in and kissed Aaron - to sell it, to sell it - Aaron responding easily, as though they’d kissed a thousand times over, and more the mere handful they had in the last few months.

Robert could feel Aaron’s arms snaking around his waist, Aaron’s mouth hot, and open, and willing, as Robert pressed his tongue against the seam of Aaron’s lips. This, Robert decided, felt like a situation where tongue was necessary - and Aaron seemed to agree, if the way he eagerly kissed back was anything to go by.

“I have a better idea of what we can do than karaoke,” Aaron said, and the invitation was implicit, but very, very clear.

Robert should say no, he knew. It was a line they shouldn’t cross - sex hadn’t been part of their fake-dating agreement, and sex only ever had the potential to make things messy - but it was hard to want to say no when Aaron was looking up at him with kiss bitten lips and genuine want in his eyes, and so Robert found himself abandoning his drink and twisting his fingers in Aaron’s - no sweaty hands, thank you very much - and dragging his pretend boyfriend out of the bar without so much as saying goodbye to anyone.

His flat was only walking distance from the bar, but it took them twice as long to actually get there, the two of them stopping to snog against random doorways along the way, Aaron’s hands insistent as they untucked Robert’s shirt from his trousers.

“Jesus, Aaron,” Robert slammed his head against his barely closed front door as Aaron sank to his knees, pawing Robert’s belt opened with a single minded determination. It was a miracle they had made it back to Robert’s at all, some sort of dam broken between them, making them ridiculous and desperate.

Aaron’s mouth was gloriously warm, and wet, around Robert’s cock, and he was so hard he felt like he go blow at any minute. It had been a while, in his defence, and Aaron painted a pretty picture on his knees, his hair coming unstuck from it’s gel, curling over his forehead.

“Wait, wait,” Robert managed to squeak out the protest, Aaron pulling off with a raised eyebrow. “I want to fuck you. Can I fuck you?”

Aaron let out a shuddering breath, scrambling to stand. “Fuck - yes, yes you can,” he nodded eagerly, kissing Robert again. He was obliging, as Robert tugged on his t-shirt, their path to Robert’s bedroom littered with their discarded clothes, Robert left in nothing but his socks as he shoved Aaron down onto his bed.

Taking a second to tug them off, Aaron laughing at Robert tried - and failed - to chuck them directly into his washing basket, Robert took a deep breath. “You’re gorgeous,” he complimented, and Aaron really fucking was.

He was strong, and stocky, broad in a different way to Robert was. All that running he did was easy to see reflected in the strong muscles of Aaron’s thighs, and it was all Robert could do to sink his teeth into the sinewy muscle there, Aaron’s legs parting for him easily.

This was the part of sex Robert had always loved, getting to know someone else’s body, finding out what made them feel good - second only to the disgustingly domestic appeal of having sex with the same person for years, the familiarity a comfort in it’s own right.

But, Aaron was beautifully receptive, twisting and moaning under Robert’s exploratory hands, only gruffly shoving at Robert to get a move on twice, which Robert was going to call a win.

Robert couldn’t help but scrape his teeth against Aaron’s neck as he pressed his cock into Aaron’s body, giving the other man a minute to adjust. He was gorgeous, like this, Aaron’s cheeks red, and his eyes fluttered closed as he gave his body time to get used to the sensation, hips giving an experimental wiggle that made it clear it was time for Robert to move.

“You feel incredible,” Robert pressed a kiss to the underside of Aaron’s jaw, hitching one of Aaron’s legs over his hip.

Aaron luxuriated in the compliment, for a second, before opening his eyes, the heat in his expression making Robert’s body feel fucking molten. “So do you,” he returned, groaning as Robert’s cock brushed incessantly against his prostate. Robert had done this enough times to know how fucking good it felt, a sensation of pleasure there was no getting away from. “Now - are you going to fuck me properly, or keep me waiting?”

Robert smirked. “Just remember - you asked for it,” he teased, speeding up his lazy thrusts a little.

Aaron’s grin was half feral. “I can handle you, Sugden.”

(Robert didn’t doubt that.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert’s body felt deliciously sore, and tired, as he woke, the beginnings of a hangover threatening at the corners of his brain, but not viciously so - nothing a decent cup of coffee and a slice of toast couldn’t solve, at least.

He hadn’t drank that much, truth be told.

Stretching his arms above his head, Robert’s heart thundered to a slow stop in his chest as he realised that Aaron was still in his bed, deliciously naked, snoring softly into the pillow on the left side.

It was silly, really, but Robert had fallen asleep under the assumption that Aaron wouldn’t stick around, that he’d sneak out in the morning and save them the awkward morning after conversation - which would have been ideal, honestly, because Robert wasn’t sure what he would say to Aaron, there and then.

That he had been fucking gorgeous, the previous night, when he’d belted out a terrible karaoke song with Tasha, ruddy cheeked and giggling?

That the sex had been some of the best of Robert’s life, the two of them somehow knowing how to push each other’s buttons, knowing what made the other feel good, despite the fact it had been the first time they had touched each other like that?

That maybe it had meant something, despite it all, and that had Robert feeling as though he was on the verge of a stroke in his own bed?

Carefully, slowly, Robert eased himself out of bed, chucking on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt that had been destined for the washing basket, trying to get his breathing under control as he’d padded to the kitchen.

Had it meant something?

Was it just fun, tipsy sex, a way to sell their fake relationship?

Or -

Had all those long conversations about feelings and trauma and wondering if he was ever going to be good enough turned to something?

Did Robert -

Did he have feelings for Aaron?

No, no, he couldn’t - Aaron was a friend. Robert was not going to fall for another friend of his; it hadn’t worked out with Max, thanks very much, and one weird, codependent friendship with your ex was enough, he couldn’t do it again with Aaron when it inevitably didn’t work out.

Surely you didn’t get to have that twice, anyway?

Which meant that he and Aaron just wouldn’t work out, and he’d lose a friend, a good friend, at all, and -

“I didn’t expect to wake up alone,” Aaron’s voice interrupted his panicking, the man in question dressed in nothing except boxer shorts and a t-shirt of Robert’s, as if this was an entirely normal morning after scenario for the two of them to have ended up in.

Robert was definitely going to have a heart attack. He barked out a nervous laugh, Aaron raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, sorry - I just had some emails I needed to send,” he gestured vaguely, hoping Aaron wasn’t going to comment on Robert’s work laptop being exactly where it was supposed to be, packed away in his work bag.

“On a Saturday?” Aaron questioned, and yeah, alright, it was a fair question.

“I just - I need to get on top of work, before the wedding - you know how it is,” Robert said, and the lie didn’t sound particularly believable even to his own ears. By the look on Aaron’s face, it didn’t sound very believable to him either. “Sorry - I won’t be much fun to be around today, with the work and everything. Don’t feel you need to stay!”

“Are you kicking me out?” Aaron’s tone was a little sharper, now, a little more pissed off.

Robert really did not want this to end in a fight. “No, no - of course not,” he shook his head. “I just really need to do some work,” he finished pitifully, because, really, could he not have come up with a better fucking excuse?

This was embarrassing.

“I think we should talk about last night, before you - catch up on the work you need to do,” Aaron said, and oh god, of course he wanted to talk about last night - of course he wanted to address the fact they had slept together.

It was a perfectly normal thing to want to talk about, the problem was - Robert had left normal behind a good few years ago, and now he felt like a gawping fish, looking at Aaron dumbfounded, unsure of what to actually say in response.

“Robert,” Aaron sighed, looking at him with a disapproving look. “Can you stop panicking for a minute so we can actually talk?”

Robert was not panicking. He was being perfectly rational and normal about the fact he had slept with Aaron, his fake boyfriend, his friend, the night before. He was being entirely reasonable in his reaction to waking up naked in bed with Aaron, a matter of days before the wedding, putting their entire plan in jeopardy.

He swallowed his monologue about being perfectly normal and not panicked, and nodded, sinking into the plush cushions of his couch.

“Tasha told me something, that first night we had dinner at yours,” Aaron said, sitting next to Robert on the couch, worrying the corner of his lip between his teeth. “She said that she never minded, how close you and Max were - but that she worried, sometimes, that Max didn’t realise what he was doing to you.”

Robert gave Aaron a wide-eyed look, heart thundering in his chest. “I don’t - I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” Aaron said softly, as though he didn’t want to spook Robert and send him running from this conversation - which, if Robert was honest, he kind of wanted to.

“She said - she said that you and Max were so close, and that Max maybe wasn’t aware of how hard it was for you, to still play this big important role in his life, while he got to have both you, and Tasha. She said that sometimes, she worried that Max had made it hard for you to move on and find someone you wanted to be with again.”

Robert felt like he was going to scream, or cry. “Why - why would she say all that to you, and not me?”

“The unique bonding of two people who are going out with a pair of exes who are still best friends, I guess,” Aaron stretched his legs out in front of him, socks scuffing against the carpet. “I don’t think she’s wrong, Robert.”

“You don’t understand,” Robert tried to protest.

“I do,” Aaron interrupted. “You love Max. I get it - he’s an important part of your life. You’ve told me why, and I get it, I really do. But I don’t think he can keep being your whole life, Robert.”

“He’s all I’ve got,” Robert mumbled helplessly, the answer well-worn by now. He’d said it so many times - through so many breakups. Connor, Chrissie - everyone who’d ended it because Robert hadn’t been able to make them a priority over Max.

“I don’t think that’s true - not anymore,” Aaron shrugged, glancing over at Robert. “I know things were hard for you, growing up here, but Diane was so excited to see you. Andy even seemed dead excited to see you back, and you’ve already got Vic in your life.”

“They didn’t want me to stay, back then,” Robert shook his head, because it was true - Diane had never tried to intervene, never tried to change the way Jack treated him. Andy certainly hadn’t missed him, when he left - had missed the help on the farm, maybe, but not more than that.

“That doesn’t mean they don’t want you back now,” Aaron said, knocking his knee against Robert’s. “Don’t miss what’s in front of you because you’re stuck in the past, Robert.”

Robert felt like he couldn’t breathe, as he twisted to look at Aaron. “What have I got in front of me?”

Aaron was quiet, for a second. “Me,” he said, and there was a nervous edge to his voice that Robert hadn’t heard before, as though he wasn’t quite sure if he was saying the right thing, then and there. “You’ve got me. If you want me.”

Robert was fairly certain he could hear his heartbeat in his fucking ears. “You - what?”

“You’ve got me,” Aaron repeated, and he sounded a little more confident in his words now. “Look, Robert - I don’t think I’ve exactly been subtle about it, but in case you need to hear me say it, I fancy you. Like, properly fancy you - and I have done for ages. Why do you think I was such a mardy asshole to you when we first met?”

Robert wasn’t sure if he could think at all, there and then, let alone think back to years previous, when he’d just moved to Manchester, and Vic was determined to make sure he was a part of every aspect of her life, introducing twenty-three year old Aaron, who had a buzz cut and a chip on his shoulder, to him as her best friend in the world.

“No, you don’t,” he found himself saying, because surely that was the only appropriate response to Aaron’s insanity?

Aaron’s mouth twisted uncomfortably. “Cheers, Robert,” he said, and the confidence was gone from his voice. “It’s just - has this all really felt fake, to you? Because I feel like we’ve been getting close, properly close, for a while now, and it feels like there’s something there between us. Something real.”

Robert wasn’t sure what to say.

It’s not -

He’d never considered Aaron an option, before. He’d packed Aaron neatly into the box where he belonged, Victoria’s best friend, and Robert’s friend by extension - safe, and reliable, nothing more than a platonic relationship that Robert didn’t have to worry about losing.

He didn’t want to lose Aaron - and in his experience, falling in love only went one way.

“I don’t - I don’t know what to say,” Robert settled on, because he was a fucking idiot. He always had been.

Aaron softened, slightly. “You could tell me how you feel,” he suggested, as though it was that easy.

It wasn’t.

It wasn’t easy at all.

“I don’t - I’m sorry, Aaron, I don’t feel the same,” the words tasted bitter, and acrid, as they passed his lips, the sentence hardly believable even to his own ears.

Aaron’s expression hardened. “Now I know you’re lying to me,” he said, because somewhere in the last few months, Aaron had gotten to know him well enough to know that Robert was lying, the words acidic and insincere as he forced them past his lips.

“I don’t…” Robert trailed off, because he was a fucking idiot, and he didn’t know what to say - or how to handle any of this.

It hadn’t exactly been in the plan.

Aaron steeled himself, his expression more closed off than it had been in years, now. “Tell me, Robert,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Are you ever going to let yourself be happy, or are you just going to follow your ex-boyfriend around for the rest of your life?”

The words hit Robert like a knife, and he couldn’t help the way tears burned at the corners of his eyes, Aaron’s accusation the thing he’d always been afraid of - that everyone saw what he was so desperate to hide, the fact that the only person in the world he trusted was an ex from years ago who’d long since moved on.

“You deserve to be happy, you know,” Aaron shook his head. “And it baffles me, how you can’t see it - can’t see how many people care about you, how many people want to have you around. How you can’t see how good you and I could be, if you just let yourself see beyond Max.”

Aaron stood up, sighing, a little. “I think I should go,” he said, arms folded across his chest, a physical barrier there now, Aaron closing himself off more than ever. Panic must have been obvious on Robert’s face, because Aaron rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry - I’ll play my part. I’m not going to stand you up for the wedding.”

Robert hated how he couldn’t force himself to move from the couch, even as Aaron gathered his things, getting ready to leave. The silence in his apartment felt heavy, as though the weight of it was keeping Robert trapped on the couch.

“Aaron?” he croaked out, the man in question turning around, hand on the door. “I’m sorry,” he managed, and it wasn’t enough, it was never going to be enough, but -

“No, I’m sorry,” Aaron shook his head. “You’re going to end up really fucking lonely, if you don’t sort your head out Robert - and I’m sorry I couldn’t make you see that.”

And with that -

He was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The drive to Emmerdale without Aaron had been long, and lonely, and Robert found himself back in the village a half an hour before he needed to be up at Home Farm. He’d be welcome there, he knew - Max waiting with a coffee and a bright grin - but there was a part of Robert that wasn’t quite ready to fake his happiness.

Aaron had texted that morning, brief, and curt, a reassurance he’d be there in time for the wedding, but he was going to drive there alone.

Fair, Robert supposed - it was hard to imagine Aaron would want to sit in a car with him for an hour and a half after the disaster Robert had made of the morning after the night before.

Robert’s feet carried him to the graveyard before he even realised where he was going, standing between his mother, and father’s graves - buried side-by-side, a mark of the life they had shared, but not buried together. Robert was glad of that, really - that Sarah didn’t have to deal with sharing a grave with her arsehole of an ex-husband for the rest of eternity.

She deserved better.

“I always find myself here on big days.”

Robert looked up from the graves, Andy walking toward him. “Hiya,” he greeted, clearing his throat. “I was just…” he trailed off, unsure of what his excuse was.

He was hoping for a sign from his mum, maybe - that there was a chance, and he hadn’t entirely fucked it up with Aaron. Or maybe he was waiting for his dad to come and strike him down for daring to come back to the village and be so out and proud, best man at his ex-boyfriend’s wedding with a new boyfriend on his arm.

Andy shrugged, offering him a tentative smile. “You don’t have to explain why you wanted to see our parents,” he said, and his words felt like ice, as Robert let the meaning of them sink in.

It had been years now, since his dad had died, and even longer since their mum had died, but there was a part of him that forgot that this was it - this tiny graveyard in Emmerdale village was the only place they could come and see their parents.

Andy looked as though he wanted to say something, and so Robert stayed quiet, unsure of where this was going. “It wasn’t right, how dad treated you back then - for being with Max. I should have stood up for you, back then, and I’m sorry I didn’t, Robert. I don’t think I realised until recently how alone you must have felt.”

There was a part of Robert that wanted to laugh it off, and pretend as though it was fine - but he found himself nodding, agreeing. “Yeah,” he breathed, looking at his dad’s headstone. A good man, at rest in the good earth. A good man, maybe - but a pretty poor father, a lot of the time. “It was awful.”

“I can’t change what happened, then - as much I want to,” Andy shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “But I’d like if I could be part of your life again, Robert - and I’d like you to be part of mine.”

Robert had, admittedly, dreamed of a moment like this his fair share - more often than not, it had been a dream version of his dad who had apologised, had grovelled and begged for forgiveness for the way he had treated Robert growing up, and after he’d come out, but that was never going to happen, was it?

Jack Sugden was dead, at peace and never held responsible for the ways he had fucked Robert up - but Andy was here, and Andy wanted to make up for how things had been. Robert was no fool, he knew he had his fair share to apologise for too, but there and then, he couldn’t do much except accept the hand Andy offered him with a soft smile.

“I’d like that,” Robert smiled, and it was surprising, really, how much he meant that.

“Good,” Andy nodded, and their newfound truce didn’t lessen the slightly awkward tension that lingered between them. “Uh - do you want me to drive you up to Home Farm? To get ready for the wedding?”

The fucking wedding.

It was the last place on earth Robert wanted to be, but he didn’t have a choice, did he?

Robert nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great - thanks.”

As Robert slid into the passenger seat of Andy’s Land Rover, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he was headed for the gallows, and not his best friend’s wedding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert was dutifully standing by the entrance of the church, directing guests to their seats, when Aaron arrived.

It was cliche, and dramatic, but he sort of took Robert’s breath away. He was gorgeous, wearing the suit Robert had bought him, his expression carefully neutral as he stepped into the church.

“You look good,” Robert said quietly, looking at Aaron. Despite the promise the other man had made, Robert had been a bit unsure as to whether or not Aaron was going to turn up - but he had, wearing the suit Robert had bought him, dark navy material clinging to every inch of Aaron’s - frankly perfect - body.

That was the trouble, now - he knew what Aaron’s body looked like underneath the lux material of suit; knew how it felt to have Aaron shudder apart in Robert’s arms, and kiss him, long and slow, in the glorious aftermath of some frankly epic sex.

Aaron’s smile was so obviously fake, as he replied. “You’ve got best man duties to attend to,” he said, pressing a kiss to Robert’s cheek, not waiting for a reply as he went and found his seat in the church, settling into a pew next to Vic.

Before Robert had a chance to spiral about it, Diane appeared at his elbow, wearing a garish purple fascinator and a bright smile.

“Hi, Diane,” he forced out, doing his best to keep up appearances. Having Aaron as his fake boyfriend was supposed to make this whole day easier, but Robert had ruined it, of course, because he always did, and now he was trying his best not to fall apart at the seams.

“Hi dear,” Diane looked delighted to be at a wedding. “Love - I have to say it. You and Aaron, you’re a good match for each other, you really are.”

Robert was going to throw up. “Thanks Diane,” he managed to squeeze the words out.

Diane winked. “You never know - maybe we’ll hear wedding bells for you two, next!”

Glancing over at where Aaron was pretending to be deep in conversation with Vic, Robert forced a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

Fucking never, more likely.

Aaron was never going to want to be with him now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert was meant to be focusing on holding Tasha’s bouquet, ready to jump to action when the photographer was done fussing with her veil, but he was distracted. He could see Aaron in the distance, his not quite boyfriend holding a glass of champagne, caught up in conversation with Jimmy.

“Robert - Robert, are you alright?”

Robert looked up to find both Max, and Tasha staring at him, the two of them exchanging a worried look. “Yeah, sorry - here’s your flowers, Tash,” he tried to sound bright, and happy, but it just sounded cringe, even to his own ears - and definitely to Max and Tasha’s, given the way Tasha quietly asks the photographer for a five minute break.

“Did you and Aaron have a fight?” Max questioned, and if Robert didn’t already feel like the worst person alive, he definitely did now, having Max think about Robert’s own miserable relationship problems on his wedding day.

“No, it’s fine,” Robert shook his head, looking between Max, and Tasha. It wasn’t fine, was the thing, and the list of people Robert actually trusted was fairly limited - Max, Tasha, and Aaron, and Aaron definitely didn’t want to talk to him, there and then, so he was down to the two people in front of him.

“I fucked up,” Robert admitted, at Tasha’s encouraging look. “This is going to sound insane, and I’ll tell you the full story when it isn’t your wedding day - but it was fake, me and Aaron. I asked him to be my fake boyfriend so that I wouldn’t be coming stag to your wedding, and it was working, and then I slept with him, and I freaked out, like I always do, and now he hates me.”

Max looked genuinely gobsmacked. “Jesus Christ, Robert,” he sounded a little faint, as he spoke, as though he had no idea what to say.

“Sorry - I’m making your wedding day all about me, ignore me,” Robert shook his head, hoping against all rationality that the ground would - quite literally - open up and swallow him and put him out of his misery.

“We need to get to the family portraits!” the photographer called, making it clear that Robert’s emotional breakdown needed to get wrapped up, and sharpish.

“I don’t really know where to begin,” Tasha admitted, glancing at Max. “But Robert - even if you thought it was fake, you and Aaron, that wasn’t pretend. You can’t fake the way the two of you looked at each other - so I don’t think it’s a lost cause. Okay? Don’t - don’t lose hope. Okay?”

Robert was definitely going to cry before the day was out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spotting Aaron standing by the open bar, Robert’s feet were moving before he’d even really made the decision.

Aaron spotted him before Robert could get there, making a move to try and leave, clearly not in the mood to keep up appearances, just then.

“Aaron, please - can we just talk?” Robert pleaded, knowing he sounded desperate - but oddly enough, he found he didn’t actually care all that much. He was more than willing to make a fool of himself if it meant that Aaron was willing to hear him out.

“I know how much Max means to you, Robert - I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it,” Aaron shrugged, glancing over Robert’s shoulder, clearly conscious of where they were, not wanting to start a fight at a wedding. “But he’s moved on. He’s married someone else, for fuckssake, Robert - and you’re still here, refusing to let yourself be happy.”

“I want to be happy,” Robert tried, and he did, he really wanted to be happy - he wanted someone to look at him the way Tasha looked at Max, like he hung the fucking moon and stars. He wanted that.

“Then why won’t you let yourself be?” Aaron hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m not thick, Robert - I know you feel something for me too. I didn’t imagine all of it.”

“Yeah, but…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“You have built your whole life around someone who is never going to make your their first priority, Robert. I don’t doubt that Max loves you - but he’s moved on, and you’ve never let yourself do the same. And if you don’t manage to be a little bit fucking selfish about it, you’re never going to have a life that you actually want,” Aaron shook his head, a tiny laugh escaping his throat. “Have you chosen anything for yourself, these last few years? Or are you happy to just keep doing what Max tells you to? Letting him chose your job - the city you fucking live in?”

Robert was not going to be the cliche who cried at a wedding - his ex-boyfriend’s wedding, of all places.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, and it was the only true thing he could offer, in the moment - he was fucking terrified.

He’d been terrified from the moment that Max had put the car into gear and driven them out of Emmerdale, all those years ago, and he wasn’t sure if he remembered how not to be afraid anymore.

Everything in Robert’s life felt as though it was constructed out of glass, precious and precarious, easily broken at the hand of someone who’d only ever been good for ruining everything he touched - his dad had said it, all those years ago, and he hadn’t been wrong.

Robert had only ever been good for bringing things to rack, and ruin.

Aaron set his empty pint glass down on the table, huffing out a breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. “So is everyone, Robert. That’s why you’re supposed to figure out how to be brave about it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home Farm felt bigger, and busier than usual, as Robert stood, glancing around the marquee, microphone in hand.

He chose not to acknowledge the way Carl King rolled his eyes as Robert stood to speak.

Carl had always been a fucking arsehole, anyway - he was probably just raging he wasn’t the best man, so he could pretend to be big brother of the year, as though he hadn’t been the one to cut Max off financially all those years ago for the grievous crime of being nineteen, bisexual and in love with another boy.

“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Robert Sugden. I’m the best man, and Max’s long-suffering best friend,” Robert began, the words easy, well rehearsed.

He’d said that opening line a thousand times by now, practised in front of the mirror, a line approved by every article he’d read online about how to write a good best man speech - though the advice for someone writing a best man speech for their ex-boyfriend was woefully under-represented. That could be an interesting business move.

The rest of the speech was perfectly crafted.

It was funny, and kind, and loving, Robert thinks - but it felt wrong.

Putting his neat stack of note cards down on the table, Robert looked around. Aaron was sitting next to Tasha’s sister, Megan, gaze fixed on the half drunk glass of champagne in front of him, and it was oh-so obvious to Robert that Aaron wanted to be absolutely anywhere except there, in that moment.

“I could stand here, and give you quite a lengthy speech about all the mad, embarrassing things Max has done over the years - and trust me, there’s a lot,” Robert paused, the tittering of laughter around the room giving him courage to continue. “But, I’d rather take the rare opportunity to be sincere.”

Swallowing his nerves, Robert glanced at Max, and Tasha. “I’ve known Max King basically my whole life, but we were teenagers, when we really became proper friends. I know that lots of you here know the story, but if you don’t - Max and I used to go out with each other. And some people might find it strange, to have your ex stand here, and be your best man, and give a speech at your wedding - but I promise you, it’s not as strange as you might think it is.”

Robert paused for a breath, trying to get through his off the cuff speech without bursting into the hysterical tears he’d been holding back all day long.

He was not going to cry at a wedding, he wasn’t.

“I never felt like I belonged here - not with my family, not in Emmerdale. Max was the first person who made me feel like I was worthy of the kind of life I wanted - he saw me, flaws and all, and still wanted to keep me in his life. We had the most amicable breakup of all time, and became the best flatmates of all time after we ended things,” he explained, and his words were met with a few confused, but endeared looks, all the same.

Robert knew there was something oddly sweet - and definitely odd in the classic sense of the word - about two exes being such close friends. If it were a romantic comedy, this would be the moment he and Max ran off into the sunset together, exes reminded of their still burning love on one of their wedding days - but that was not, Robert knew, how this story ended.

The story of Max-and-Robert went an entirely different way. They had been in love, once upon a time, and that love had fizzled out and turned to friendship, and they were family, now, close in a way that was hard to explain - two lonely kids who’d never felt like they had belonged, two teenagers who hadn’t managed to live up to the expectations of their families and had run away to start a life they had really wanted together.

Friends. That was how the story went, and Robert knew, now, that was how the story went in every version, every ending the same - the two of them in love with different people, Tasha the love of Max’s life, Aaron the -

Aaron the love of his life.

It was a terrifying thing to think, but Robert was starting to realise it was a terrifying truth.

He was completely, madly, absolutely in love with Aaron Dingle.

“I owe you a lot, Max - your kindness, your encouragement, your friendship, they’ve been why I have done so many things in my life. Why I went to university, why I had the courage to build a life I am genuinely proud of.”

“Tasha,” he directed, giving the woman in question a smile. “When I first met you, I had to question your sanity a little bit, given you were willing to take on Max, and me alongside him as a sidekick. It’s something that would have made some people run a mile. But you embraced our funny little family of two, and we became a family of three. And, um - that’s the story here, really. Max and I didn’t work out because he was always destined to find you, and I am lucky enough to have been brought along for the ride. Those times I feel entirely alone in the world, I know one thing for sure - that I always have Max, and Tasha to rely on.”

“You two are a dream,” Robert continued. “The way you love each other so earnestly, so truly - it’s been a beautiful thing to have a front row seat to witness.”

He paused, for a second, giving Max a watery smile. “And as this new chapter of your life begins,” and it wasn’t a goodbye, it wasn’t, but it felt like one in some ways - a goodbye to a version of their lives that would never exist again after today, and probably for the best that it didn’t. “I’m very happy to give up that front row seat so there’s plenty of room for all the future adventures I know you two will have together. You’re two of my very favourite people in the world, and I have no doubt you’ll be very, very happy together.”

Clearing his throat, Robert raised his glass. “To Max and Tasha.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a little while, before Max found him, and Robert didn’t need to turn around to know that it was his best friend’s hands on his waist.

“Max, I…” Robert began. Had he fucked up, with his speech?

“I never wanted you to end up in the backseat of your own life because I kept demanding you to be in the front seat of mine,” Max interrupted fiercely. “It was selfish of me, Robert - and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Robert replied feebly, unsure of what to say - or how to react. He hadn’t said all that because he’d wanted an apology from Max on his own wedding day.

“I do,” Max shook his head. “I do, Robert. Tasha - she tried to tell me so many times, that I was making it hard for you to move on, but I convinced myself that if I was asking too much of you, you’d just say.”

“You weren’t asking too much of me,” Robert shook his head.

He hadn’t been, he hadn’t -

“I was,” Max offered him a sad smile. “I didn’t give you the space you needed to move on - when you’d given me that space, all those years ago when I met Tasha. I’m sorry, Robert. I really am.”

Robert was tempted to brush off Max’s apology again - pretend as though it was all entirely fine - but he found himself speaking before he could even finish the thought.

“It’s okay,” he offered, and Max melted at the forgiveness. Robert was always going to forgive him, even if he’d only just realised there was something to forgive. “Maybe - maybe I need to learn how to depend on other people sometimes, too. Not just you.”

Max nodded, something in his expression making it clear that he didn’t disagree. “I will always, always be here, Robert - but you deserve more than just me, on your side,” he paused, for a second. “What did I tell you, all those years ago? When we first left Emmerdale?”

Robert couldn’t help but grin, the memory hazy, but fond. “That we’re each others family,” he repeated. “That we’re going to take care of each other.”

“Exactly,” Max said, his tone a little fiercer. “So here’s me taking care of you, Robert. You and Aaron? It’s a good fucking thing. I know it started out as fake, or whatever, but it wouldn’t have worked as well as it did if there wasn’t something real between you. You two, you work together. You said that Tasha and I were a dream - but you and Aaron could be too, if you just gave it a chance.”

Robert felt his bottom lip - embarrassingly - wobble. “I think I love him, Max.”

“Good,” Max grinned, looking utterly delighted. “You deserve to be in love with someone who loves you like Aaron clearly does.”

Robert couldn’t ignore the knot of anxiety in his chest. “I fucked it up,” he admitted, because he wasn’t sure Aaron would want to speak to him now, even if he did feel the same. Some things were just irreparably broken.

“Maybe you did - but you need to actually talk to him, before you draw a line in the sand and decide it’s over.”

“And if he says it’s over?”

Max’s smile was soft, reassuring. “Then you come and stay with me and Tasha for a while, and we figure it out,” he glanced over to where Aaron was chatting to Jimmy, inclining his head slightly. “I don’t reckon he’ll say no, though.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because, Robert Sugden - I know what it looks like to be in love with you. I saw that look on my own face enough times over the years,” Max grinned, holding out a pinky finger for Robert to hook his own around, a childish promise that reminded Robert of their long-gone teenage years. “I’ll love you forever, Rob. But you deserve a happy ever after - so go and fucking take it. I raised you better than that.”

Robert rolled his eyes, but accepted the hug his best friend offered him. “You didn’t raise me at all, asshole.”

Max smirked. “I definitely did. I’m taking the credit,” he gave Robert’s sides a squeeze, grounding, reassuring, the same way he had always been, the only constant in Robert’s life - until now, at least. “Go get him, tiger.”

Robert pulled a face, but he knew affection was dripping from his every pore - it tended to, with Max. “Never say that again, weirdo.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m not very good at being brave,” Robert admitted, voice soft as he joined Aaron on the terrace.

Aaron had lost his tie, somewhere along the way, the top two buttons of his dress shirt open. He looked incredible - mouthwatering, really.

Aaron paused, beer held halfway to his mouth. “You don’t have to be brave with me,” he said, and the words were so sincere, it kind of knocked him for six. The thought that he could be sincerely vulnerable, and afraid with Aaron was a beautiful one - Aaron didn’t need, nor want, the polished version of Robert he showed the rest of the world.

“I do,” Robert disagreed. “Right now, I do.”

Aaron gave him an expectant look, clearly realising that Robert had something to say - and if he didn’t say it now, he was going to chicken out.

That was the downside of Aaron knowing him so well, Robert supposed. He’d missed that happening, but somewhere along the way, Aaron had become the person who knew him the best.

“I love you,” Robert said, and it felt crazy to say it out loud.

It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to believe he was worthy of loving someone else.

“For a long time - I though Max was the only chance I was ever going to get at proper, grown up love. I thought that he was it, and I’d fucked it up, somehow, by not being good enough. I’m not sure I ever thought I was good enough, actually - and for a long time, it’s made me blind to what’s been in front of me.”

Aaron set his beer down on one of the tables, giving Robert a soft, encouraging smile, his tough exterior melting away at Robert’s words.

“I don’t want to live half of a life, anymore, Aaron,” Robert admitted, and it was the truth. He hadn’t let himself believe he was worthy of a happily ever after of his own, for a long time. “I want to live a life with you. I want - I want to try, Aaron. I want to be happy. I want something of my own. So - I’m in love with you. And I hope I’m not too late.”

Aaron’s expression was sugar sweet, as he closed the final bit of distance between them, hands coming to rest on Robert’s waist.

“I love you too,” he replied, and Robert’s not sure the words had ever sounded quite so good. “You’re not too late,” he promised, and before Robert could kiss him in thanks, Aaron spoke again. “You’re enough, Robert. You’re everything to me - okay?”

“Okay,” Robert sort of wanted to giggle. It was all a bit mad, really - it was his best friends wedding, and he was standing out on the back terrace of Home Farm, and Aaron Dingle was in love with him.

“Okay,” Aaron echoed, and he kissed Robert, then, and it wasn’t even their first kiss - they’d done plenty more than that already - but it felt like the beginning of something fucking incredible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for this.”

Robert rolled his eyes, looking at Max’s exaggerated pout. “You’ll get over it,” he countered, glancing across the room to where Aaron and Tasha were, heads down as they discussed something they obviously wanted to keep secret, Tasha’s giggles occasionally making their way over.

Max feigned a dramatic sigh. “You were my best man,” he huffed. “I was so excited to do the same for you! But no, you and Aaron had to be so madly in love that you went and eloped, just the two of you.”

Robert glanced down at his wedding ring, the shiny silver still unfamiliar, glinting in the light of the kitchen of their house. Their house - his and Aaron’s. They’d bought a dream terraced house in Manchester, almost a year back, and it had been - in Aaron’s words - an absolute shitheap that they had spent the better part of a year renovating after work. and over the weekends, blasting cheesy pop music and building a home, a real home, for the two of them.

Robert had gotten down on one knee in the midst of the wreckage of their downstairs bathroom renovation, and he’d asked Aaron to marry him, and they’d kept sinking money into making their dream home, and decided they couldn’t wait any longer to get married and decided to run off to Gretna Green - for the fun of it - and elope instead of saving for a big wedding.

Chas had, predictably, freaked, and so the party was equal parts housewarming and wedding celebration.

Aaron was even wearing a shirt, a crisp navy button down he’d been kind enough to let Robert buy him - and iron.

“We didn’t want a big Home Farm wedding,” Robert reminded, nudging Max with his hip so that he could pick up the next crate of beer. Their house was overflowing with alcohol at this point - Robert had to remind himself it would me imminently full of Dingle’s, where having a hollow leg specifically reserved for pints seemed to be a familial trait.

“You could have done a smaller wedding!” Max whined, following Robert over to the kitchen island.

‘Help’, Robert mouthed at his grinning husband, who took the crate from Robert, moving to stack the bottles in what little space was left in the fridge.

“Max, darling,” Tasha rolled her eyes. “It’s been weeks, now - I think Robert gets it, you were dying to be his best man.”

“I had a speech,” Max slumped into one of the bar stools by the kitchen island. “It was a good one, too.”

“Give it today,” Aaron shrugged, closing the fridge door, the sound of glass clinking concerning. Robert really did not want to deal with a deluge of broken glass today - he made a mental note to double check Aaron’s stacking when his husband wasn’t looking.

Aaron wrapped an arm around Robert’s waist, the press of Aaron against his side the best kind of familiarity.

Max raised an eyebrow, looking between them. “Can I really?”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Sure, Max - but you’re not allowed to take credit for the fact that Aaron and I are married.”

Max grinned. “Oh, but it is because of me - if I hadn’t given you that amazing advice on my wedding day - kind of me, by the way, to think about you on my wedding day, Sugden - you two might not have ever worked out.”

Robert snorted, glancing over at Tasha. “And you’re choosing to have children with this man, Tash?”

Tasha gave a long-suffering sigh, hand coming to rest protectively on her ever-growing baby bump. “Robert is a lovely name for a boy, you know,” she teased. “I think it might be jumping to the top of my list.”

Robert couldn’t ignore the fond warmth that bloomed in his chest as he watched Max and Tasha bicker, their banter a familiar background noise to his life now.

Aaron was gentle, as he pinched Robert’s side, drawing his attention. “You okay?” he asked softly, because that was just who Aaron was - kind, and empathetic to his core, always looking out for Robert. Right from the beginning, even when their relationship had been fake, Aaron had seen what Robert had been so desperate to hide - he’d seen past all the walls Robert had painstakingly constructed, had seen every emotion that Robert had done his best to keep to himself.

Robert glanced around the kitchen, Vic and Matty already outside at the barbecue, arguing over the best time to put the chicken on, Max and Tasha pecking each other’s heads over baby names.

Diane, and Andy and Katie were on their way from Emmerdale - Chas and Paddy in tow, he was sure - and in a few short hours, their home would be bursting with people who loved the two of them.

He was married. Robert was married, to the kindest, most brilliant, gorgeous fucking man he had ever known, and he and Aaron were building a life - a real life - together.

It was more than Robert had ever let himself dream of.

Robert leaned in, and pressed a brief kiss to Aaron’s waiting lips. “I’m just happy,” he hummed, and the smile he got from Aaron in response was enough to make his heart burst out of his chest.

Yeah.

He was happy.

 

 

 

fin.