Work Text:
A quiet Valentine
It was Saturday morning... probably. Robert didn’t really know because he wasn’t ready to wake up yet. He wanted to stay pinned to the mattress, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar weight of his own life to stop crushing his chest. He wanted to stay in bed and not think about what a mess his life had become.
After Vic left, something inside him broke. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t just stay and fight. Sugdens should stick together, right? He’d always believed Sugdens were built for the long haul; they stayed and fought for the land until there was nothing left but dust. Now he felt empty and alone. Not alone, as in without any backing, because Aaron was by his side, a constant, steady shadow in the corner of his eye, and knowing that he had his support meant a lot to Robert.
When Vic left for Portugal with Harry, Robert felt like an outsider again. In a way, he always felt like one; the only difference now was that there was no one left to call him brother. The village felt hollow. Vic was gone, and he was pretty much the only Sugden left. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a map that didn't belong to him anymore.
He tried to spend the last 24 hours perfecting the art of being invisible, avoiding everyone, not that people really cared about him anymore. The ones that did left, so now it was only Aaron.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the empty bed. Aaron wasn’t there. He quickly checked his phone. It was almost noon. Did he really sleep that much? He remembered setting an alarm. Why didn’t it go off? Before he could think any further, he heard a clashing sound from the kitchen, followed by a muffled curse. He left the bed quicker than his body would’ve liked it, but he had to know what was going on. What if someone was robbing the place? His first thought was John, even though he knew that he was dead, and his ashes were being taken care of, thanks to Tracy. It was only a second, but John still crossed his mind, and he hated it.
The first thing Robert noticed wasn't the smell of food, but the sheer, chaotic evidence of a struggle. The kitchen looked less like a cooking space and more like a crime scene where a flour bomb had been the primary weapon. Eggshells were scattered across the counter, and a tower of bowls threatened to give in to gravity at any second. As his eyes scanned the place, trying to make sense of the disaster, they landed on a pasta machine—was it his pasta machine?—on the edge of the kitchen counter. In the center of the wreckage stood Aaron, looking flushed, flour-streaked, and entirely out of his depth, fighting a losing battle against a clump of dough.
“What’s all this?” he asked, amused by the whole scene.
“What are you doing up? I thought you were still sleeping,” countered Aaron without looking at him. His mind was still occupied by that stubborn dough in front of him. He might have to start this whole thing again. Or can he still save it? He stopped thinking about it when he realized that Robert didn’t answer his question. He looked up and saw him leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I was...” lied Robert smoothly ”...until I heard World War III breaking out in our kitchen,” he laughed. Watching Aaron struggle with a rolling pin was a far better distraction than staring at the ceiling. For the first time in days, he wasn’t thinking about the farm, about Vic, about any of that. Right now, he was focusing on his own heartbeat because even if the kitchen was a war zone, Aaron wanted to make an effort, and it made his heart beat faster.
“Well, that wasn’t the plan,” murmured Aaron, while he tried to clean up the place a bit. He began showing the bowls into the sink with a clatter, but still looked at the dough with a frown. Robert felt a sudden, sharp urge to kiss that frown right off his face.
“So there was a plan,” noted Robert before realization hit him. “Wait... did you disable my alarm?”
“Yeah, I did,” confessed Aaron, biting his lip. “You needed the sleep, Robert. And before you start, I know getting the farm back is important, I understand that, but you can't build a farm if you haven't eaten in two days.”
“So.... you’re what? Trying to make pasta? With my machine?” he asked, still not believing it. “That’s mine, right?” he asked, stepping closer to the counter, squinting at it.
“It’s Valentine’s innit?” asked Aaron, blushing. “I didn’t want a fuss, but I wanted to treat ya, I guess,” he gave a noncommittal shrug, trying to play it cool despite the flour smeared across his forehead.
“You didn’t want a fuss?” laughed Robert softly. “Then what do you call this?”
“Shut up,” smiled Aaron, throwing a tea towel at Robert’s head. “I haven’t even seen that thing in years,” he said, pointing at the machine. “I found it the other day, and I thought a nice meal at home was better than being stared at in the Woolpack. I thought you’d like that.”
“I do,” said Robert immediately, his voice dropping an octave while he closed the distance between them. “I love the idea,” he paused, looking around again. “Are you sure there will be food?” he laughed.
“Oi, it was going fine, until you showed up to stress me out,” said Aaron, giving him a playful shove.
“Me? Stressing you out? I wasn’t even in the kitchen!”
“I know, but I know you. You’re...”
“Careful, Aaron,” warned Robert while he tried not to laugh.
“Well, you have a special taste, innit. Bit posh,” he shrugged.
“Erm, no,” denied Robert.
“Yeah, right, because making homemade pasta is just a casual thing,” said Aaron to lighten the mood, but it landed badly. Robert failed to recognise the joke in his tone.
“Well, I didn’t ask you to make a fuss,” he said, being a bit defensive. The ghost of his recent failures hovered nearby; the last thing Robert wanted was for a Valentine's lunch to turn into another argument about who he used to be. It also made Aaron worry because the last thing he wanted was to fight about a stupid thing like cooking. He wiped his hand across his brow, leaving a fresh streak of white flour.
“This is so not the way I wanted today to go,” he sighed, looking at the mess, then back at Robert. He realized Robert was watching him with an expression that was dangerously close to a laugh. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No,” chuckled Robert, reaching out. “You’ve got flour everywhere. Come here,” he smiled, getting the towel Aaron chucked at him a minute ago. “Thank you,” he said while he gently wiped Aaron’s face. “I mean it, Aaron,” he added, looking into his eyes, his voice sincere now.
Aaron’s gaze softened. “Well, I guess you’re worth it,” he smirked, before he gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Go and have a shower, coffee will be ready by the time you’re back.”
“And what about this crime scene?” Robert gestured to the kitchen.
“I’m not as useless as you think I am. I might not have used your fancy pasta machine for years, but I can manage to cook us something decent.”
Robert didn’t move. “Why pasta?” he asked.
“I like it, you like it, it seemed fitting,” shrugged Aaron.
“Why homemade, though?”
“That was a last-minute decision,” admitted Aaron. “When I found that machine, I thought about that Valentine’s when you helped me make this, you remember?”
“When you cooked for… what’s his name...Alex?” said Robert, struggling to recall the name. It felt like a lifetime ago; a different Robert, a different world. The memory didn’t sting anymore. It was just a landmark on the long road they’d travelled.
“Well.... I think we can use the word "cook" very loosely in that case,” laughed Aaron. “But yeah.”
“Yeah, course I remember,” he nodded.
“I know we used it after that as well, but I don’t know,” he said with a casual shrug that didn’t quite hide his grin. “I have fond memories of that night,” Robert could’ve said something; they could’ve talked about the good old days, but he caught the look in Aaron’s eye. He knew they shouldn’t open that box. Not now anyway.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take over?” he asked again because his mind wouldn’t let him drop the subject that easily.
“No, I can manage. You go and have a shower and let me do something nice for ya,” said Aaron, turning his focus back on the dough. Robert smiled at him, and for the first time since Vic left, the hole in his heart didn't feel quite so deep.