Archive of Our Own ^beta

If it was up to Robert, he would have never come back to Emmerdale. He’d have stayed in the city, buried in spreadsheets and expensive scotch, far away from the judgmental stares. 

But it's Victoria’s wedding, and even he isn't cold enough to skip that. She might just be the one person in the family he actually loves and cares about.

The village hasn't changed much since Robert's last been here.

He eyes it all through the car window like he’s watching some old, depressing rerun.

He slows outside Victoria’s place, a cottage he barely even recognizes. Victoria had sent some pictures when she first moved in with Adam, but he had never visited. 

Robert hauls his overnight bag onto the pavement. The bag’s too light. He’d packed for one night, nothing more.

The front door swings open before he can knock. Victoria’s there, flour dusting her sleeves, hair piled in a messy bun. “You’re late,” she says, but she’s grinning. Behind her, the kitchen’s a wreck- half-iced cupcakes, a sink full of bowls. Vic had decided to take the making of the pastries on herself, and it really shows.

"You look like you've been wrestling a bag of flour.” Robert remarks as he steps inside, flicking a bit of icing off her shoulder. Victoria swats his hand away, but her laugh fills the room. 

The kitchen smells like burnt sugar and desperation. A lanky bloke with a scowl deeper than the Yorkshire dales is elbow-deep in the sink, scrubbing at a mixing bowl with the fervor of a man who’d rather be anywhere else.

Robert raises an eyebrow. "Who’s the help?" 

The bloke turns, water dripping off his wrists. "Aaron." He says flatly, not sparing Robert more than a glance.

Victoria elbows Robert in the ribs. "Be nice. Aaron’s one of my best mates, and he's Adam's best man. He’s been saving my arse all day while you were off… what, sipping lattes in first class?" 

Robert smirks. "Something like that."

What Robert was actually too busy doing is getting fucked into next week by a rather handsome bloke he met at a gay bar, but he's not about to discuss the details of his queer sex London life with his little sister.

He doesn’t miss the way Aaron’s eyes narrow- like he’s already clocked Robert as trouble.

Robert can only imagine what Aaron must have heard about him. He knows exactly how this goes. Small towns like Emmerdale don’t forget, and they certainly don’t forgive. The Sugden name carries weight, and Robert's name carries way more than that. He can almost hear the whispered stories Aaron’s been fed: Robert Sugden, ran off first chance he got and never looked back. Bit of a bastard, really. He wonders if anyone's ever been told the truth about the day he left and why. He wonders if anyone would even care to know. Probably not.

Aaron’s silence is worse than any accusation. The bloke just keeps scrubbing the bowl, knuckles white, like he’s trying to erase Robert’s reflection from the stainless steel. Robert feels his jaw tighten. He’s used to being judged, but not by someone who smells like dish soap and has flour in his hair.

"So," Robert drawls, leaning against the counter and deliberately invading Aaron’s space. "Best man duties include dish duty, do they?"

Aaron doesn’t dignify Robert’s comment with a response. Instead, he slams the bowl onto the drying rack hard enough to make Victoria wince. 

“Robert.” She fixes him with a stern look, and it is her wedding after all and she asked him to be nice, so he might as well listen to her.

"So this is the famous wedding prep I’ve heard so much about? Looks more like a crime scene." Is what he ends up saying because that's as nice as he's capable of being.

Victoria rolls her eyes. "Shut up and make yourself useful."

So Robert finds himself elbow-deep in cake batter, sleeves rolled up past his forearms, while Victoria barks orders.

The cake batter sticks to Robert’s fingers and he scrapes it off with a spatula, flicking it back into the bowl with more force than necessary. Across the counter, Aaron is still scowling. It’s almost impressive, the way he manages to radiate disdain while wiping down a whisk.

The batter isn’t mixing right. Robert stabs at the lumpy mess with a wooden spoon.

"This is bollocks!" He exclaims, tossing the utensil onto the counter. "Who the hell makes their own wedding cake anyway?"

Victoria jabs a finger at Robert’s chest. “Shop-bought tastes like cardboard. And what's the point of being a chef if I can't bake my own wedding food myself?” She swipes a glob of batter off the edge of the bowl and flicks it at him. It lands on his shirt with a wet splat. “Stop moaning and stir properly, you’re not whisking eggs for a bloody soufflé.”

Robert flicks the batter off his shirt with a scoff. “You might be a chef, but I'm not.” He points at Aaron, who’s now wrestling with a pot of boiling sugar like it owes him money. “And I bet he isn’t either.”

Victoria sighs, rubbing flour from her forehead with the back of her wrist. "Aaron owns the garage, actually. And he's damn more useful than you right now.”

Of course Aaron owns the garage. Robert should have seen that coming, with Aaron's broodiness and scuffed clothes. He's the walking definition of a mechanic, and he’s built for hauling engines, not piping roses onto cupcakes.

“And what do a businessman and a mechanic have to do with baking, exactly?”

He hears Aaron snorts, mumbling something about ‘should've known’, probably making fun of Robert's work. Like Robert's about to get offended by a guy who willingly spends all his time elbow-deep in engine grease.

“You don't need to be a chef to support your sister, Rob! What you need is to stop being such a snob for five minutes and help me salvage this bloody cake. Come on, I thought you loved me.”

So she's pulling this card. Robert sees how it is. And unfortunately, has no resistance to it.

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes, and Victoria squeals. From the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees something resembling a smile on Aaron's face, but it's gone faster than it appeared.

The evening dissolves into a blur of frosting mishaps and muttered curses. By the time they collapse at the kitchen table- Victoria with her feet propped on a chair, Aaron rubbing flour out of his eyebrows, Robert nursing a stolen beer- the cake and the cupcakes look vaguely presentable.

“So, tomorrow's the big day." Robert takes a long sip from his beer, watching Victoria stretch her arms above her head. "You're sure about this, yeah? Adam Barton, really?”

“Careful,” Aaron mutters. “That's my best mate you're talking about.”

“And my future husband.” Victoria adds, and kicks Robert's shin.

“Oy!” He rubs his shin, glaring at his sister. “Wedding nerves making you violent, are they?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she shoots back.

Aaron leans forward. “Least Adam’s not some city prick who’d rather be anywhere else.”

Robert squints. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Just that Adam's someone she can trust to be there for her whenever she needs it, he's good like that. Besides, he's mad about her. Always has been.”

“Hold on," even Robert can hear the edge in his own voice. "What exactly are you implying here?"

Aaron doesn't back down. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and shrugs. "Not implying anything. Anything that wasn't true, at least.”

"Right. Because you know me so well after- what, a couple hours?" Robert snarls. "Tell me, what’s the verdict? Am I the villain in this thrilling village drama you’ve all written? Vic can trust me. I'm her brother.”

“Some brother you are. Haven't come to see her in ages.”

“I'm here now, when it matters! What's it to you, anyway? You in love with her or something?”

Aaron's laugh is more of a humorless snort. “You're even thicker than you look, aren't you? You couldn't be farther away from the truth, mate. I'm just worried about my friend.”

“Alright!” Vic cuts in. Robert almost forgot she was there. “As much as I appreciate this macho fight for my honor, can we not?” She stands up, hands on her hips, and Robert remembers just how stubborn she can be, and just how much he loves her for it. “Aaron, I appreciate the concern, really, but I don’t need protecting. And Robert- stop being a prat.”

Robert huffs, and holds his hands up. “I'll do my best.”

Vic's intense gaze moves to Aaron.

Aaron is still looking at Robert like he's something scraped off the bottom of a boot, but he shrugs and mutters, "Fine.” Which seems to be the nicest word in his very limited vocabulary from what Robert had seen tonight.

Victoria seems satisfied with this temporary truce, and starts gathering the discarded spatulas. "Right. I’m going to go have a shower and try to scrub the flour out of my pores. You two… do your best to not kill each other."

She disappears upstairs, leaving behind a trail of floury footprints and a grumpy mechanic.

The silence between them is thick enough to choke on, and Robert hates it. He spent years perfecting a persona that makes people like Aaron feel small, yet here he is, feeling like the intruder in his own sister's house.

"You're remarkably protective for a mechanic who just met me," he says, “and claims to not have the hots for my sister.”

Aaron doesn't even spare a look at him. "Like I said, you couldn't be farther away from the truth with this one, mate. I don't need to be in love with her to care about her. I don't know if you've ever heard of the term friends, but Vic's one of my best ones. I’ve known her for years. She’s had a rough go of it, and she doesn't need her big city brother swarming in to make her feel like her life is some quaint little hobby."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Isn't it?" Aaron finally looks at him. His eyes are a shade of blue Robert could drown in. "You look at this place like you’re afraid you’ll catch poverty if you stay too long. You've got 'one foot out the door' written all over those expensive shoes."

Aaron truly has no idea what he's talking about. Robert has been ‘one foot out the door’ of Emmerdale since he's been fifteen years old, and it has nothing to do with poverty, and it certainly hasn't been by his own choice.

Robert lets out a short bark of laughter. "Maybe I do. But believe it or not, not everything they tell you here is the full truth. You don't know shit about why I left.”

Aaron tilts his head, and he looks at Robert like he's not sure what to make of him. "Yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"

Robert feels the familiar itch to lie, to deflect with a witty remark about the lack of decent dry cleaners in the dales. But the beer is hitting his empty stomach, and there’s something about Aaron’s bluntness that makes the usual corporate armor feel heavy.

"It means," Robert says, leaning in, his voice a low murmur, "that the 'truth' you think you know about why I left probably isn't the whole story. But then, why let facts get in the way of a good village gossip, right?"

Aaron’s expression doesn’t change, still looking like he's studying Robert and it makes Robert's skin itch. “You’re right, I don’t know shit. But neither does Vic, and she knows even less than I thought if the story going around isn't the truth. That’s the part that pisses me off. She’s spent years wondering why her brother couldn’t be arsed to visit, and all you’ve got is cryptic bullshit.”

Robert swallows bile. Aaron's probably right, Vic deserves to know why she barely ever gets to see her brother, especially when she's the only person in his family who wants to see him. But he's not so sure she'll like the answer she gets.

"Whatever." Aaron shakes his head. "Just don't fuck up her wedding, yeah?”

“Wasn't going to,” Robert murmurs. As much as he doesn't particularly care for Adam Barton and think Vic can do much better than him, and as much as he would love a chance to cause some mayhem with his dad and Andy, he cares more about Vic having the perfect wedding day she deserves.

Robert drains the last of his beer. "So, the garage, huh?” Because that's what Robert does when things gets too personal. Changes the subject, makes a joke, acts like his worst self. “I assume you’re the one I call when my car inevitably breaks down on these godforsaken backroads?"

Luckily, Aaron doesn't point out the sudden change in the conversation. "If you're lucky. Usually, I just tell the city blokes to keep walking.”

“You do know I lived here, right? For eighteen years? Wasn't always a city boy.”

Aaron leans back. “And it's been a decade since. You’ve been gone so long, you probably couldn’t find your way to the Woolpack without GPS." His eyes flick over Robert’s crisp shirt, the tailored trousers, his expensive watch and polished shoes. "You don’t exactly blend in, do you? Looks like you shed Emmerdale the second you got the chance. You might've grown up here, but you're about as 'village' as a ten floors building.”

Aaron's right, of course. Robert had gotten rid of anything Emmerdale the second he drove past the village boundary.

London didn't care who his father was, didn't whisper about how he betrayed his poor brother. London let him reinvent himself inch by inch until the old Robert Sugden was nothing but a ghost.

The Sugden name still clung to his paperwork, but in London, at work, no one cared about his surname. He'd traded wellies for Italian loafers, swapped sheep fields for skyscrapers, and learned to order wine by the vineyard instead of the alcohol percentage.

Robert had spent years carefully crafting his London life. His colleagues knew him as the sharp-dressed strategist who could charm clients into signing anything, the one who always had a dry quip and a sharper mind. They didn’t know, and didn’t need to know, about the boy whose mere existence was a disappointment to his father. The boy who was sent away with nothing but a car, a few pounds and the clothes on his back.

Robert left that boy behind and never looked back.

He's not about to let some guy he only met a few hours ago see that version of him. "Funny, coming from someone who looks like he shops exclusively at 'Grease Monkey Weekly.' Bet your wardrobe's got more oil stains than fabric.”

“Least my clothes have character. Yours look like they've never seen daylight." He gestures at Robert's shirt. "That stain's the most interesting thing about you."

Robert glances down at the stain on his shirt caused by Victoria flicking batter at him earlier. "This stain? Nah, mate. The most interesting thing about me is currently sitting in my overnight bag. A little souvenir from last night's escapades. But I doubt you'd appreciate the details.”

Last night's escapades was a threesome with a married couple, a man and a woman. Robert won't share details even if Aaron is interested in them.

Aaron's jaw tightens. “I better go. Adam's stag do. Tell Vic I said goodnight.”

Robert raises his eyebrows. “Bit late for a stag do, isn't it? Shouldn't you have been off getting Adam pissed hours ago?”

Aaron pauses halfway to the door. “Decided to start it late so I could help Vic out. Adam gets that. Like I said, friends. You should really borrow a dictionary and get acquainted with the term, since I doubt you have a real life example of it.”

And then he's out the door before Robert can reply.

When Vic returns, she immediately notes Aaron's absence with a frown. “He left?”

"Apparently stag dos are more appealing than my company," Robert muses.

“Can't imagine why that would be the case.” Victoria mutters and crosses her arms. “What'd you say to him?”

“Nothing! He said he had to go to Adam's stag do. Honest.”

“And did he leave in a rush? Did you make him go earlier than he should have?”

"I didn't make him do anything! He said he had to go! Seriously, though, Vic, that guy’s got a stick up his arse the size of the Eiffel Tower." 

Victoria shakes her head. "Aaron’s… had a rough time. And he doesn’t suffer idiots." She pauses. "Or posh twats who think they’re clever. He’s been a better friend to me than you’ve been a brother lately. If you’ve chased him off, I swear-"

"I didn't chase him off, Vic. He had a stag do to attend. Apparently, Adam Barton’s honor requires a night of cheap lager and questionable decisions." Robert rolls his eyes. "Besides, your friend has a remarkably thin skin for someone who handles heavy machinery."

"He doesn't have thin skin," Victoria snaps, stepping toward him. "He just has a very low tolerance for people who look down their noses at this village. He’s seen me cry over your busy schedule more times than I’d like to admit, so excuse him if he isn't rolling out the red carpet for the prodigal son.”

Robert feels like he's been punched in the gut. Has Victoria really been crying over him?

“He’s loyal,” Victoria keeps talking, doesn't let her words linger too long, doesn't allow Robert space to fully process them and have some serious talk about emotions. She's a Sugden just like him, after all. “Something you might want to try practicing tomorrow."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Robert says, his voice hollow to his own ears. "I haven't bolted yet. Is that not loyalty? I came here for you."

"Only because I threatened to hunt you down," she counters, but her expression softens. She walks over and gives his arm a quick squeeze. "I'm glad you're here, Rob, really. I'm sorry I'm being hard on you, it's just… Aaron's a really good friend, okay? I don't want you giving him a hard time. Who knows, if you try, maybe by the end of the wedding tomorrow, you two would be best mates.”

“Maybe.” Robert can't imagine a world where he and Aaron could tolerate each other, let alone become best mates. "I'll try not to rile him up too much tomorrow.”

Vic gives his arm another squeeze. “Go to bed, Rob. The spare room is made up. And please... try to look less like you’re attending a funeral tomorrow? It’s a wedding. My wedding. There will be dancing. Maybe even a smile, if you can budget for one.”

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream. He's out the bed immediately, rushing to see what happened.

Robert rounds the corner of the hallway so fast his shoulder catches the doorframe, sending a sharp jolt through his ribs, but the pain barely registers when he's too busy thinking about what might have caused Victoria to scream. He skids into the kitchen just in time to collide chest-first with Aaron. Aaron’s forearm braces against Robert’s sternum.

Robert blinks, momentarily distracted by the way Aaron’s dark suit clings to his shoulders.

Last night’s grease-stained mechanic with flour in his hair is gone, replaced by a man in a charcoal suit that fits like it was tailored especially for him. The sleeves hug his biceps just right, the collar crisp against his throat. Even his hair is tamed, swept back and gelled, unlike the mess of unruly waves from last night, though a few strands already rebel against whatever product he’s used.

How is this the same bloke who looked ready to throttle Robert over cake batter twelve hours ago?

Now, Robert isn't blind. This Aaron lad is fit, the kind of bloke Robert would definitely enjoy fucking- or getting fucked by, he's not fussy- but last night, that fitness was was buried under layers of sarcasm, scowls and a series case of a bad attitude. Today, though, Aaron's jaw is freshly shaved, his blue eyes sharp under thick brows, his shoulders broad enough to make Robert briefly consider climbing him like a tree. Fuck. Even Robert's morning breath and sleep-mussed hair can't compete with Aaron's transformation. And that's saying something, because Robert knows he looks good with bedhead.

Maybe last night's version of Aaron wasn't the real Aaron. Maybe that was just the Aaron of after a long day of work right before a stag do, while baking against his will- because let's be honest, he probably didn't want to be helping with the wedding food any more than Robert wanted to.

Maybe the real version of Aaron is the one standing in front of Robert right now, all stylish and handsome.

Except Aaron has to open his big mouth and ruin Robert's fantasy. “Get off me, you prat.”

Robert stumbles back a step, rubbing his chest where Aaron had shoved him, and looks over at Victoria to try and figure out what happened.

Nothing actually horrendous seems to have happened. Vic is stood frozen, hands hovering near her mouth, on the floor next to her the remnants of a mug.

“Jesus, Vic.” He lets out a breath. “I thought you were getting murdered, or summat.”

"It was an accident," she squeaks, her eyes darting between the two men currently occupying her tiny kitchen. "I just... my hands are shaking. I can't even hold a mug, how am I going to hold a bouquet?"

Ah. So this is about wedding nerves.

Robert casts a sideways glance at Aaron. The suit really is a revelation; it’s a shame about the personality attached to it.

"The bouquet is lighter than a ceramic mug, Vic," Robert says, his voice sliding into that smooth, patronizingly calm tone he uses for difficult board meetings. "Unless you’ve decided to carry a bunch of iron lilies."

Aaron ignores Robert's quip and steps toward Victoria, carefully navigating the minefield of porcelain shards.

"Sit down, Vic," Aaron says. "I'll clear this up. Go get your hair done or whatever it is you're meant to be doing. Adam’s already at the church. He's more nervous than you, if that helps. I think he might actually faint."

Victoria lets out a shaky laugh, wipes a stray tear, and points a finger at Robert. "You. Help him. And don't start."

Robert leans against the wall once Victoria disappears, crossing his arms and watching Aaron crouch down to pick up the larger pieces of the mug. From this angle, the tailoring of Aaron’s trousers is… impressively sturdy.

"You look remarkably sober and not at all hungover for someone who was supposedly at a stag do until the early hours," Robert observes. "Did you spend the night drinking sparkling water and judging people's life choices?"

Aaron doesn't look up. He picks up a sharp shard with his bare fingers, his knuckles still scarred from garage work despite the fancy suit. "Some of us can handle our drink without turning into a mess. And some of us actually care about being functional for our friends."

"I'm functional," Robert retorts, stepping closer, his bare feet stopping just inches from Aaron’s polished shoes. "I'm a morning person. Productivity, spreadsheets, and all that."

Aaron finally looks up. Being on his knees puts him at a distinct disadvantage, but he still manages to look like he’s the one in charge. Plus, being on his knees suits him even better than the suit and Robert wishes he got to see that marvelous sight under different circumstances.

Robert crouches beside Aaron. "So, is this how you charm all the brides? Cleaning up their shattered mugs in designer suits?"

Aaron scowls. "Not after charming her. Flirting your way into a bird's pants the day of her wedding is more your thing than mine."

So Aaron has heard of him. Wonderful.

Robert has a lot of regrets in life, but Katie Addyman has to be the biggest one.

Seducing his brother's fiancee might have seemed to other people like a deliberate act of cruelty, but Robert truly had loved her once. He remembers how it felt when Katie pressed against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she whispered how much better he was than Andy. How she laughed when Robert told her Andy would never find out. How she moaned his name into his neck when he fucked her. He had a lot of great moments with her. Pissing off Andy was just a bonus.

Back then, Katie had been desperate for an escape, and Robert had been desperate to prove he was capable of being wanted by someone. He was young, stupid, and in love with the idea of ruining his brother's happiness.

Of course, it all came tumbling down when Robert revealed the affair on the day of their supposed wedding and ruined it all, only for it to turn into Katie blaming it all on him, claiming he went after her and wouldn't stop until she went along with it, and she went on about how horrible she felt about the whole thing and how Robert was nothing compared to Andy.

Funny, that. Robert does remember going after her, except he doesn't remember much of a fight. He does remember her kissing him within the first five minutes of his very first attempt to seduce her. But hey, whatever gets her off the hook and keeps her in the good books of the Sugdens, a place Robert's never been in.

If you ask him, he actually did them a favor all them years ago. Katie and Andy were definitely too young to be getting married then.

All seem to have worked out at the end though, what with Katie and Andy now being married for three years- a wedding Robert hadn't attended, thank you very much- and happier than ever, as far as Vic tells him. He supposes he'll see the truth himself today.

Robert's hand accidentally brushes Aaron's when he picks up a shred. Neither of them say anything about it.

Aaron tosses the last shard into the bin. “Right. Done.” He stands, brushing dust from his trousers that Robert would bet good money had cost more than Aaron’s usual week’s wages.

“You clean up well, I’ll give you that,” Robert says, nodding toward Aaron’s suit. “Though I’m guessing this isn't your preferred look.”

Aaron tugs at his collar with a grimace. “You'll be right to guess that.”

Robert grins. “Did you just say I'm right?”

Aaron rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head.”

Robert watches Aaron adjust his cufflinks- those thick, mechanic’s fingers fumbling with the delicate silver- and feels an unexpected pang of something that isn’t annoyance. It’s almost endearing, watching someone so visibly uncomfortable in finery. “Need help with those?” He asks, just to see Aaron’s jaw tighten further.

“I'm good, cheers.”

Robert steps closer without thinking. "You sure? Because watching you struggle is painful, and I'm all about efficiency." He reaches for Aaron's wrist before he can stop himself, fingers brushing against warm skin.

Aaron steps away. “I'm good, Robert.”

Robert can't explain why he feels a twist in his gut at Aaron's retreat. Maybe it's the way Aaron says his name- like it's a chore, like he's already exhausted by the mere fact of Robert's existence. Or maybe it's the way Aaron's eyes flicker with something unreadable before he schools his expression back into indifference. Whatever it is, Robert hates it. He's spent years perfecting the art of being untouchable, and Aaron seems determined to poke holes in that armor without even trying.

He doesn't know why he's acting like this with him, doesn't know why it's like there's some sort of pull between them, something that makes Robert want to push Aaron's buttons harder than he's pushed anyone's in years. He's not normally like this, not unless he's got something to gain, unless he's got someone to manipulate or some advantage to seize, but Aaron's got nothing Robert wants. Nothing except maybe that sharp mouth and those rough hands, but that's just idle curiosity, nothing more.

But it's like something in the air is making Robert act like more of an arrogant idiot than usual.

Aaron’s fingers finally manage the cufflink, but not without a frustrated exhale.

Once Victoria is back down, having calmed herself down, Robert and Aaron take her to get her hair and makeup done professionally. Robert can't believe people are paid to do that.

By the time the three of them are on their way to the church, Vic looks stunning, Aaron looks mildly presentable, and Robert is his usual handsome self.

He walks Victoria to the back before the actual ceremony starts. It'll be their dad who walks her down the aisle, not him, but Robert wishes it was. At least it'll mean he wouldn't have to sit with his father at the table, though.

He kisses Victoria's cheek, his own private version of giving her away. “You're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen, Vic. It's going to be great.”

She really is, and that means something because the last wedding he attended to two months ago included two brides, and neither of them come close to Victoria.

He also barely knew them. He met one of them in bisexual night in his usual pub a few months prior and hooked up with her. Next thing he knew, he was invited to her wedding which was made of seventy five percent of Robert's- and probably the bride that invited him- past hook ups from that very same pub.

He's sure Victoria's wedding is going to be a much better wedding, simply by being Victoria's, even if the crowd isn't nearly as fun.

Robert sits himself down at a table with some distant relatives, preferring to stay as far away from Katie and Andy as possible. He'll be quite happy if he doesn't see them for the rest of the night.

The place looks lovely, really. Robert didn't think he'd find anything about Emmerdale lovely ever again, but it's Vic's wedding, and the church is decked out in wildflowers and twinkling lights, and even he can admit it's charming. The place is filled with people Robert hadn't seen in years, and they all turn to watch as Victoria glides down the aisle on Jack's arm. 

Victoria reaches the altar, her fingers trembling slightly against Adam’s waiting hand.

Robert watches his sister marry a guy half her league, and he definitely doesn't cry watching the two exchange vows, looking more in love than anyone Robert had ever seen in his life- he does tear up, though, which is a secret he'll take to his grave.

The ceremony dissolves into applause as the two kiss. Victoria's smile is radiant and Adam looks like he's won the lottery. Good. As long as he treats her right and knows her worth.

Everyone looks so bloody happy, like they’ve all collectively decided to forget how miserable village life usually is. Even Jack Sugden is grinning, which is unsettling enough that Robert considers switching to something stronger than champagne.

Robert nurses his drink, people around him dancing and chatting, watching Aaron from across the room as the man claps Adam on the back with a grin that transforms his entire face. He's only known Aaron for less than a day, and still, it’s strange, seeing him look genuinely happy. 

Robert’s halfway through his third glass when Katie corners him near the dessert table. She’s wearing a pale pink dress that clings to her hips, her blonde hair swept up in an elaborate updo. He doesn't know why he thought the world would ever be as kind to let him go through this entire event without seeing her. At least Andy's not with her. Robert can only handle one devil at a time.

“So,” Katie says, voice dripping with faux sweetness, “you actually showed up. Must be a first.” 

“Couldn’t miss my little sister’s big day, could I?” Doesn't mention all the moments of her life he did miss.

“No,” Katie says, tilting her head. “But you missed mine.” 

There it is. “And I do wonder why that is.” 

Before Katie can retort, devil number two arrives, and Andy's hand settles possessively on Katie’s waist, like staking a claim, like announcing he's the one who won her. As if Robert's stupid or desperate enough to go there again. He’s broader than Robert remembers, his farmer’s tan evident under his stiff suit. The perfect farmer boy Jack always wanted for a son. “Everything alright here?” 

Robert forces a smile. “Couldn’t be better.” 

Andy's grip tightens on Katie's waist. Robert watches the movement with amusement. "Relax, Andy," he drawls. "I'm not here to steal your wife. Again." 

Katie's cheeks flush, but it's Andy who reacts first, his free hand clenches into a fist at his side. "You always have to be a prick, don't you?" 

"Not always. Just when it's fun." His gaze flicks between them. "And you two make it so very easy."

Andy steps forward, but Katie tugs him back by the wrist. "Don't," she murmurs, glaring at Robert. "He's not worth it."

"Right," Robert agrees cheerfully. "Not worth it at all. Though I'm touched you still think about me enough to bring up ancient history, Katie. Flattering, really.”

Andy huffs. “Enjoy the party.” He says, not sounding like he means it even a bit, and steers Katie away. Robert watches them disappear into the crowd.

A shadow falls over him. “You look like you’re plotting murder.” 

Robert drains his glass. “Just reminiscing.” 

Aaron leans against the table beside him, close enough that their sleeves brush. “About what?” 

Robert nods toward where Katie and Andy are now slow-dancing, her head tucked under his chin. “Love’s a funny thing, isn’t it?” 

Aaron follows his gaze. “You’re not still hung up on her, are you?”

Robert barks a laugh. “God, no. That ship sailed, sank, and fucking disintegrated.” 

“Good.” Aaron picks up a miniature quiche. “Because if you ruin today for Vic, I will personally-” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Robert waves a hand. “You’ll throttle me with your bare hands. Got it.” 

Aaron pops the quiche into his mouth. “You’re insufferable.” 

“And yet you keep talking to me.” 

Aaron’s eyes narrow. “Only because Vic would kill me if I left you unsupervised.” 

The band launches into an off-key rendition of a Bruno Mars song, and Victoria drags Adam onto the dance floor, her laughter ringing above the music. Robert watches them spin, her dress flaring around her legs. 

Aaron nudges him with an elbow. “Dance with her.” 

Robert blinks. “What?”

“Go dance with your sister,” Aaron says, like it’s obvious. “She’s been glancing over here every thirty seconds.” 

Sure enough, Victoria catches Robert’s eye mid-twirl and mouths something that looks suspiciously like get over here.

Robert sighs. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Prick.” 

Victoria beams when Robert reaches her, looping her arms around his neck. “Took you long enough.” 

“Had to finish my drink,” Robert says, letting his sister steer him into something resembling a waltz. 

Robert lets Victoria guide their steps, her hands warm against his shoulders. Her smile so wide it must hurt. "You're not stepping on my dress," she says. "Progress.”

Robert spins Victoria lightly. "Wouldn't dream of it.”

It's nice, dancing with Victoria, hearing her laugh and seeing her look genuinely happy. By the time they finish dancing together, Robert's smile is just as big as hers and he lets himself believe this wedding is going to go over smoothly.

The band segues into a slower song, and Victoria squeezes Robert’s forearm before slipping away to reclaim Adam. Robert steps back, watching them sway together- Adam’s hands clumsy but earnest on Victoria’s waist, her forehead pressed to his collarbone. The sight makes something ache behind Robert’s ribs. He turns away, scanning the room for another drink.

Which is when he finds himself in front of his worst nightmare.

"Robert," his father says, and he doesn't sound happy, because when is he ever when Robert's around? "Diane says you weren't sitting with them during the ceremony."

"Didn't realize there were assigned seats."

"It's a wedding, Robert."

Robert shrugs. "I don't go to many."

His father's mouth twists into that familiar disapproving line. "You could make an effort," Jack says, nodding toward the table where Diane, Andy and Katie are sitting. "For Victoria.”

“I am making an effort. I'm here, aren't I?”

Jack huffs, and Robert knows they're both thinking of a decade ago. The reason Robert really left. The secret only the two of them know. Father and son, forever bonded by their shared hatred of one's sexuality. "You could at least pretend to be part of this family.”

“Fine.” Robert grits. “For Vic.”

Robert finds himself being led to the Sugden family table by his father who seems just as enthusiastic about Robert sitting with them as Robert feels.

Diane beams at him. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

They hug awkwardly, and Robert sits next to her, looking at the cuddled up Andy and Katie.

“So,” Diane says, leaning in just enough to make his shoulders tense, “London treating you well then?”

Robert picks at the edge of his napkin. “Suppose so.”

“Suppose?” Andy snorts from across the table, his arm slung possessively around Katie’s chair. “Sounds thrilling.”

“It pays the bills.” Robert’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Unlike some people, I don’t rely on dad’s land to keep me afloat.”

"Least I didn't bail on my family the second things got hard."

Robert closes his eyes, counting backwards from five. He is not attacking Andy in the middle of Victoria's wedding. He'll only dream of it.

Diane lays a hand on his wrist. "Boys, not tonight." But it feels more targeted at Robert.

Katie clears her throat, gesturing toward the dance floor where Victoria’s spinning in Adam’s arms. "She looks beautiful, doesn't she?"

Robert watches his sister throw her head back laughing as Adam nearly trips over his own feet. "Yeah," he says. "She does." It's almost worth it, suffering the rest of his family, just to see her this happy.

Jack shifts in his seat. "You staying long after the wedding?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Figures." But he doesn't seem to complain about it. Probably wants Robert there even less than Robert wants to be there. His disappointment of a son, a reminder of his failures.

Diane pats Robert’s knee. "You should visit more, pet. Victoria misses you. We all do, I mean."

Across the table, Andy mutters something under his breath that makes Katie smother a laugh into her wine. Robert’s fingers twitch.

"So, any special someone in London we should know about?" Diane asks, tone clearly hopeful.

“Not really, no.”

Andy snorts. “Translation: he's still sleeping around.”

"Not all of us are cut out for monogamy," Robert says, deliberately catching Katie’s eye. Her fingers tighten around her fork.

“Robert,” Jack chides. “Don't you think it's time to grow up?”

It's hard to tell whether his father is talking about growing up past sleeping around, or growing up past sleeping around with men.

Either way, Robert definitely doesn't think it's time to stop doing either of those.

"I'm plenty grown, thanks.”

Even though he doesn't feel very grown under his father's gaze. He feels fifteen and stupid, hooking up with a boy in a place his father could see. He feels eighteen and banished, for the crime of daring to love a person and believing he could deserve it.

Andy whispers something that makes Katie laugh again. Robert sees red.

“Got something to say, brother?” The word is dripping venom, probably because Robert doesn't mean it in the slightest.

Andy leans back. “I was just saying how it doesn't seem very grown up, not settling down and coming here only to act like you're above us.”

“I don't need to act like I'm above you, when I know it's true.”

“You always did think you were too good for this place. Too good for us.” Andy's smirking as he says it, and Robert can basically hear him say and look how well that turned out for you.

Robert doesn't remember standing up, but suddenly he's looming over Andy's chair. “What's it to you? You're not even a real part of this family.”

Andy's chair scrapes back as he surges up. “I'm more a part of this family than you are.”

"Yeah, right. You're just the poor kid dad took pity on and took in. You're nothing.”

“That's enough!” Jack's voice is raised when he intervenes, like Robert and Andy are still the teenage boys who fought at every chance they got. People around are looking at them, but Jack is too focused being angry at Robert to notice. “Why'd you even come here, Robert? To antagonize everyone?”

"I came for Victoria," Robert says, can't believe Jack even dares asking. As if Robert would have ever come back for anything else.

"You came to cause trouble," Jack counters, stepping into the space between his sons. "You always did. You bring a poison with you, Robert. You always have. You’re selfish, you’re arrogant, and you’ve got a sickness in your head that won't let you be decent.”

Robert's breath catches in his throat. He watches as his father moves closer to Andy and puts an arm around him, asking if everything's alright. They look like a unit.

Jack and Andy. Andy and Jack. The golden boy and the man who never quite forgave Robert for existing. Father and son.

Robert's hands curl into fists. “Right,” he grits. “Nothing for me here if that's all I am, is there? Should just go if all I do is bring poison with me. Don't worry, I'll tell Victoria goodbye and leave you be.”

When he turns, he sees Victoria, alongside with everyone present, already looking at him. He hates himself and he hates his father and brother for putting this broken look on her face on the day of her wedding.

“Hey,” he comes closer to her with his best attempt at a smile. “It was a really nice wedding, Vic. It's been good to see you.”

Victoria sobs. “Rob-”

He presses a kiss to her cheek. “I'll keep in touch.”

“Don't leave, Rob. Not like this.” She pleads. It breaks Robert's heart to not fulfill her wishes, but he's always been a selfish man after all, and leaving right now is the best course of action for himself, even if not for her.

Robert doesn't realize he backed into the cake table until the sickening crunch of fondant gives way beneath his elbow. The towering three-tiered monstrosity- Victoria's pride and joy, the one she'd spent weeks designing with some posh baker in Hotten- tilts precariously before collapsing in a spectacular avalanche of buttercream and sponge. The sound it makes is obscene.

There's a horrifying silence as all the guests commit to memory the moment Robert Sugden murdered his sister's wedding cake.

Victoria's face cycles through about six different emotions. It's nothing compared to the look on his father's face.

He looks like he could murder him.

He looks like he could leather him.

Robert remembers exactly the last time he saw that look on his father's face.

There's murmurs all around, but Robert doesn't register the words. Doesn't need to to know what is being said: Typical Robert. Always ruining things

Jack Sugden’s face is purple with fury. He strides forward, fists clenched, and Robert braces himself. He’s twenty eight years old, but right now, he feels like that terrified teenager again, waiting for the blow to land. “You selfish little-” Jack’s voice cracks. “Look what you’ve done!”

Robert’s elbow stings where icing smears his sleeve. “It was an accident,” not that anyone would care. Everything with Robert is always deliberate to them, even when it isn’t.

“No,” Jack growls. “No. This is it.” He jabs a finger at Robert’s chest. “You don’t belong here. You never did. Get out,” he snarls. “Get out, and don’t you dare come back.”

Robert's a decade older than he was the last time his father said those exact same words to him. He'd kissed many more men since then, and made a name of himself, having the successful career his father never thought him capable of. Still, in this moment, he swears he can feel a belt on his back and the purple and blue it leaves behind.

Robert looks around, as if someone would come to his defense and tell him he's welcome to stay. No one does.

"Glady," Robert mutters.

He doesn’t look back- not at Victoria’s crumpling face, not at Andy’s smug satisfaction, not at Jack’s thunderous glare. He just leaves, like he did all those years ago.

Victoria calls a thousand times when he's on his way back to London. He lets her go back to voicemail every single time.

The second he arrives at his place, he drowns as much whiskey as he possibly can.

He knew going back to Emmerdale was a mistake, knew nothing good could possibly come out of it.

The whiskey burns going down, but Robert barely registers it. He pours himself another glass- his fourth, maybe fifth, he’s lost count- and knocks it back in one go, before he decides to drink straight from the bottle. Jack’s words still echo in his skull like a damn mantra. You don’t belong here. You never did.

The only comfort he has now, is that he never has to step a foot in Emmerdale ever again.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

Victoria? What the hell is she doing here? Came to track him down after the horrible wedding accident?

Robert gets out the bed, leaves the room to check on Victoria, on what made her scream and what's she even doing there.

And he bumps into Aaron.

Aaron’s shoulder collides with Robert’s chest hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Robert blinks against the sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains. What the hell? His flat in London didn’t have curtains like that. Didn’t have sunlight. Didn’t have Aaron.

“Get off me, you prat.”

Robert stumbles back. He heard those words before, heard them from Aaron who's dressed in the exact same suit he was wearing yesterday. What-

"It was an accident," Vic squeaks, on the floor next to her the remnants of a mug. "I just... my hands are shaking. I can't even hold a mug, how am I going to hold a bouquet?”

She said those words before. She said them yesterday. She was standing there yesterday, dressed exactly like that, hands shaking exactly like that, next to that same broken mug. 

"Sit down, Vic," Aaron says. "I'll clear this up. Go get your hair done or whatever it is you're meant to be doing. Adam’s already at the church. He's more nervous than you, if that helps. I think he might actually faint."

Victoria lets out a shaky laugh, wipes a stray tear, and points a finger at Robert. "You. Help him. And don't start.”

And she leaves Robert alone with Aaron, standing in her kitchen, in her cottage, in Emmerdale.

The place he left last night. The place he swore to never return to.

He hadn't returned. He went to sleep in his flat in London, he's sure of it. So what is he doing back here? Is this some kind of prank? Did someone come all the way to his place just to bring him here? But who would do that and why? And why are Vic and Aaron acting exactly like they did yesterday?

Robert quietly watches as Aaron crouches down to pick up the larger pieces of the mug.

“What…” Robert's voice comes out rough and he clears his throat. “What's happening?”

Aaron throws him a look. “Vic dropped a glass from stress about the wedding.”

“No," Robert shakes his head. "This isn't-"

Aaron straightens up. "Isn't what?"

Robert's breath comes too fast. "This isn't real."

Aaron snorts. "You hungover or something?”

Robert opens and closes his mouth. Is he?

He did drink a lot at the wedding, and even more once he arrived at his flat, but he doesn't feel hungover. And this, whatever this is, isn't a symptom of a hungover last he checked.

“Tell me today’s date,” he demands.

Aaron squints at him. "The twentieth. Vic's wedding day, in case you've forgotten."

That can't be. Yesterday was the twentieth. Yesterday was Vic's wedding.

He digs his phone out and surly, the date staring back at him is the exact same date as yesterday.

“No,” he rasps, his phone dropping to the floor with a loud clunk. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Aaron just studies him, a strange expression on his face.

Robert presses his palms against his temples, trying to steady the dizzying rush of déjà vu.

Aaron reaches down to pick up Robert’s phone, handing it back slowly. His fingers linger against Robert’s palm a beat too long.

Robert’s fingers close around his phone automatically, but his grip is slack. The screen still displays the date- same as yesterday, same as the wedding that already happened, already imploded.

“What happened last night?”

“We helped Vic bake, then I went to Adam's stag do.It was a bit dull, but overall enjoyable if that's what you're asking.”

It's most certainly not what Robert is asking, but he kind of feels like he's losing his mind and he doesn't need Aaron to think he's even more insane than he already seems.

He tries asking Vic when she gets back down, having calmed down.

"Vic," he says carefully. "What happened at the wedding last night?”

Vic looks at him funny. "What are you talking about? The wedding’s today."

Robert feels sick.

He’s back in the nightmare. But it’s the nightmare before the nightmare.

He remembers the feeling of the buttercream on his sleeve. He remembers the sound of the cake collapsing. He remembers the look in Jack’s eyes, the utter, cold rejection that had finally severed the last thread of Robert's connection to this place. He can still feel the phantom burn of the whiskey he drank in London.

But he isn't in London. He's standing in a kitchen in Emmerdale the day of his sister's wedding.

The ceremony is a carbon copy. The same music, the same smell. Robert sits in the same seat, watching Victoria walk down the aisle. He waits for the moments he remembers, for the way she trips slightly on a loose floorboard (she does), the way Adam wipes a tear before she reaches him (he does).

He digs his nails into his palm just to feel something that wasn't part of yesterday's script.

When Katie approaches him this time, Robert doesn't even bother entertaining her.

He tells her he better go dancing with Vic without waiting for Aaron to tell him that's what he should do this time.

Victoria beams when Robert reaches her, looping her arms around his neck.

Robert lets Victoria guide their steps the same way she had yesterday. "You're not stepping on my dress. Progress.”

"Wouldn't dream of it.”

When the band segues into a slower song, Victoria squeezes Robert’s forearm and slips away to reclaim Adam.

His father is in front of him.

"Robert," he says, the same unhappy tone in his voice. "Diane says you weren't sitting with them during the ceremony."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll come sit with you guys now.”

Diane beams at him when they reach the table. “Well, look what the cat dragged in."

He hugs her awkwardly, because that's the only way he knows to act with her, apparently.

Robert sits next to her, forcing himself to take slow sips of champagne instead of gulping it down like he wants to. He watches Andy's fingers trace circles on Katie's thigh, the same possessive gesture from yesterday. The same smirk. The same smug satisfaction radiating off him.

"So," Diane says. “London treating you well then?"

Robert considers his answer carefully this time. Last round, he'd fed them sarcasm and watched it explode in his face. He toys with the edge of his napkin. "Better than expected."

Andy snorts, and Robert thinks he could point out that Andy's never really left Emmerdale, that he's never had to navigate the Tube at rush hour or close a deal with investors who'd skin him alive for fun. Instead, he says, "It's got its perks."

Jack shifts in his seat. "You staying long after the wedding?" 

Robert's fingers tighten around his glass. “Haven't decided." He watches Jack's eyebrows twitch. It's not the answer he'd prepared for.

“Oh, it'd be lovely if you stayed, pet!" Diane says. "Victoria misses you. We all do, I mean."

Across the table, Andy mutters something under his breath that makes Katie smother a laugh into her wine.

Robert knows what's coming next.

"So, any special someone in London we should know about?" Diane asks, tone clearly hopeful.

Instead of answering this time, Robert just looks around, scanning the crowd, looking for any other topic of conversion.

He spots Aaron, standing with Chas Dingle of all people, as she fixes his tie.

He nods towards them. “He's a bit young for her, isn't he?”

Katie follows his gaze and snorts. “Don't be daft. Aaron's her son.”

Of course Aaron’s a Dingle. Just like he should've foreseen him being a mechanic, he should've that one as well.

The stubbornness, the sharp tongue, the way he holds himself like he’s got something to prove- all classic Dingle traits.

He does remember Chas having a kid, now that he thinks about it. Though, he's pretty sure Chas has given up on him and he went to live with his dad or summat like that. Seems to be here now, no dad in sight.

Aaron Dingle. The name sits oddly in Robert’s head, fits more than he could ever imagine.

“Besides,” Katie adds as if in an afterthought. “Wouldn't matter if he wasn't. He's gay."

And oh. That somehow unsettles him more than the Dingle revelation.

Gay. Explains why he insisted there's nothing between him and Victoria.

Robert catches his father's eye, sees the way Jack's jaw tightens at Katie's words, feels something cold slither down his spine. Gay. The word hangs between them like an accusation, like a reminder. No one else seems to notice.

Robert turns to look at Katie. “And should you be sharing this information for him?”

Katie shrugs. "It's not a secret. Everyone knows. He used to have a boyfriend and everything.”

Gay. Boyfriend. Words that are said about Aaron that he supposedly wouldn't care are being shared.

Because he's openly gay, apparently. No shame, no hiding, no hushed conversations behind closed doors.

It shouldn’t matter. Except it does, because the last time Robert was in Emmerdale and someone knew that about him, his father had-

Well. That's not worth thinking about right now.

Robert doesn’t realize he’s staring until Aaron’s head snaps up, gaze locking onto his from across the reception hall. The world seems to stop for a few moments, before Aaron looks away.

How does Aaron do that? How does he stand there, letting Katie say it so casually, like it's nothing? Like it doesn't change everything?

He remembers the weight of his father's belt, the way the buckle left marks on his skin. Remembers Jack's voice, low and disgusted, telling him to go. And here's Aaron Dingle, letting the word gay hang in the air like it's just another fact- like the color of his eyes or the brand of his shoes. 

Diane’s still talking, something about how nice it is to have him home, but the words blur into static. Gay.

Aaron's standing with Charity Dingle now, laughing at something she says. Charity also had something with a woman once, Robert thinks he remembers hearing, it was a whole scandal. Two Dingles, two people, wearing their sexualities like an afterthought, like it doesn’t define them.

Robert doesn't actually know the full story. He could be wrong. Maybe Aaron was the type to bury it, to pretend it doesn't matter, the same way Robert had for years.

But right now he's open about it, right now everyone knows and no one seems to be giving him a hard time about it. And Robert hates him.

Why does he get that when all Robert got was becoming the village pariah?

“So,” Diane tries again. “Someone special?”

Gay. Aaron is gay and open about it and is allowed to be. And he was just standing with his mom who was helping him with his tie, so clearly, he has a parent that knows about his sexuality and is okay with it and-

“No one special,” he says, his voice clipped, his eyes still trained on Aaron. “Unless you count the guy I hooked up with last night. He was specially good in bed.”

The silence at the table is immediate. Diane’s smile freezes, Jack’s knuckles whiten around his beer, Andy’s smirk vanishes.

“Robert,” Jack growls. “Don't you think you're a little too old to make up immature lies like that?”

“I'm not lying,” Robert leans back. “He was fit, had an arm full of tattoos. Very sexy. Knew exactly how to use his hands. Did that thing with his mouth that drove me-”

Jack's slap cracks across Robert's face before he can finish the sentence. The sting blooms hot across his cheekbone, familiar in a way that makes his stomach churn.

He hears Diane gasps, and even Andy and Katie seem to hold their breath. People around are staring. Robert doesn't care. No one heard what he said that caused that reaction, and even if they did, would it matter? Or will this day just repeat itself again?

“I'm leaving.” Robert announces.

He hears his father calling after him, hears Victoria's cries, but he ignores it all.

Robert doesn't realize he backed into the cake table until the sickening crunch of fondant gives way beneath his elbow.

Because of fucking course it happens again.

As does Jack yelling at him that he ruined the wedding and to never come back.

As does him driving away.

As does him arriving at London, and drinking everything in his flat.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

Again.

He helps Aaron clean the remnants of the mug, then he gets to the wedding, tries to stay as far away from his family as possible, ends up talking to them and losing it anyway, and backs into the giant cake.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

This time, he doesn't bolt upright. He stares at the ceiling that he already recognises and exhales through his nose.

By the time he emerges out of the room, Aaron has already finished cleaning the broken mug.

“Sleep well?” Aaron asks. “Vic dropped her mug, earlier. She's really stressed about the wedding, I think.”

Robert rubs his temple. There's nothing for her to worry about. The wedding will happen again tomorrow anyway. Not that she'll remember that.

The ceremony is, of course, beautiful.

Victoria trips slightly on a loose floorboard and Adam wipes a tear before she reaches him.

Everyone applauds. Robert drinks.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.  

“Get off me, you prat.” Aaron says when Robert collides into him.

He helps him clean the floor. He stares.

“So,” Robert tries to sound casual and miserabley fails based on the look Aaron is giving him. “You gay?”

Robert cringes, because that sounded way too abrupt, and now Aaron's staring at him like he's grown another head.

Aaron straightens up. "Yeah," he says, simple as that. "Got a problem with it?"

“No.” Because the only problem is Robert himself. Robert, who with all his bravado and all the queer pubs he spends his free time going to, had never properly came out. “Just asking.”

Aaron’s quiet for a beat too long. “Right.” He wipes his hands. “Well. Now you know.” There’s something careful in his tone, like he’s waiting for Robert to flinch.

Robert doesn't.

They don't talk to each other at the wedding this time. Aaron probably thinks Robert lost his mind. He probably has.

He stares at Aaron all night.

Katie smirks when she notices. “One would think you've got a thing for him.” And she laughs, like the idea of Robert having a thing for a man is the funniest in the world.

Robert shrugs. “Maybe I do.”

Katie stops laughing.

Andy stops chewing his food.

Jack looks like he's about to have a stroke.

Robert doesn't, really. Aaron is still just as annoying as he was that very first night. It's just that now he's also handsome and gay. That's kind of Robert's type.

Robert leans back in his chair, enjoying the way Katie's face has gone slack with shock. "Problem?"

Katie recovers first. "God, you'll say anything to piss everyone off."

Robert raises his eyebrows. “Why would that piss people off?”

Jack's nostrils flair. “Because you're not-” he wants to say it, wants to carve the word queer into Robert’s skin like he did when Robert was fifteen and eighteen. And Robert wants him to too. But Jack’s smart enough not to say it here. “Because you're just saying things.”

Diane’s fingers land on Robert’s arm. "Pet, let’s- let’s step outside, yeah?"

Robert shrugs her hand off him. “If he's got something to say, I want to hear it.”

“Of course no one cares if you are gay, pet. It's just, well, it's a shock!”

“I'm not gay.” It's taken Robert years to claim the word bisexual as his own. He's not letting it go, even if this day is bound to repeat and no one will remember it.

“Of course you're not.” Katie shakes her head. “You'll just say anything. This really isn't something to joke about, Robert.”

Robert snorts. “Like you care.”

“I do care. Because I'm a decent human being, and I don't think people's sexualities are a joke.”

Except Robert's sexuality is a joke. Because he's out in London going to queer pubs, picking up men, going to lesbian weddings and he's here now being getting upset at another man for daring to come out when in reality, Robert never actually came out himself.

He got confident enough in his sexuality to enter the queer scene in London, but he never uttered the words out loud, never had a proper relationship with a man, never even hinted to anyone in his life that aren't the people he hooks up with what his sexuality is.

“Yeah,” he says. “It's not.”

This time, he ruins the cake on purpose and pretends Victoria's gasp doesn't hurt him.

Maybe Robert is meant to be fixing the wedding. Maybe the reason he keeps repeating it is because he messed the wedding up the first time and keeps messing up, keeps ruining the cake, keeps letting his father get to him, keeps letting Aaron distract him with his stupid smirk and his stupid suit and his stupid ability to be so unapologetically himself.

So Robert tries to be good. He smiles until his face aches. He complements Katie’s dress. He shakes Andy’s hand.

Robert grits his teeth and forces another smile as Andy claps him on the shoulder, like they're mates rather than two men who'd happily drown each other in the sheep dip given half a chance.

Katie preens when he tells her that her dress brings out her eyes, though her smile falters when he doesn't rise to her bait about London being "full of weirdos." He lets it slide, lets them all think he's softened.

He watches Aaron from across the room as his mum adjusts his tie with a tenderness that makes Robert's chest ache. Aaron catches him staring, raises an eyebrow. Robert looks away.

The ceremony passes without incident. Robert counts the floorboards Victoria trips over (three), the times Adam sniffles (seven), the exact moment Jack's jaw tightens when Diane whispers something about Robert sitting with them (the second hymn). He doesn't react. He doesn't drink. He doesn't ruin the cake.  

It doesn't matter.

Robert watches from the sidelines as Victoria walks down the aisle, watches Adam cry, watches Katie smirk at Andy's possessive hand on her thigh- all the same moments, all the same beats, but this time he doesn't engage. He keeps his mouth shut during dinner. He declines when Diane asks him to sit with the family. He doesn't drink.

The cake still collapses.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.  

He rolls onto his side and presses a pillow over his head. He counts the seconds until the inevitable happens- until Aaron's footsteps pad down the hall, until Vic's muffled worry about holding her bouquet.

Routine. Predictable. Hitting replay on a tape.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.  

Maybe there's nothing he can do. Maybe that's just his life now.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.  

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.  

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by-

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass-

Robert wakes up to the sound-

Robert wakes up-

Robert-

Robert doesn't go to the wedding.

The pillow muffles Aaron's and Victoria's conversation. He knows it by heart.

When Victoria comes to the room later to ask if he's ready because they want to leave soon, he only almost feels bad at the look on her face when he informs her he won't attend.

Aaron arrives a few moments later, watching Robert burrow deeper into the duvet like it’s armor. "You look like shit," he says. “Vic's proper upset, you know. You're not coming to the wedding?”

Robert shrugs. “It doesn't matter.”

Because it doesn't. He'll go tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that.

Right now, he deserves a rest. He just wants to let the bed swallow him whole.

The wedding happens without him. He knows the script by heart: Vic’s stumble on the third floorboard, Adam’s seventh sniffle, Jack’s clenched jaw when Diane whispers about empty chairs. Robert imagines the cake collapsing on its own this time, a victim of gravity rather than his elbow.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

He doesn't go to the wedding again. This time he lets himself be selfish.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs to Aaron when he comes to check on him.

He just doesn't feel like being alone, and he's not going to make Vic miss her wedding, even if she'll get the chance to experience it again tomorrow.

A million different expressions cross Aaron's face. Robert thinks Aaron might yell at him or deck him, but instead he just says, “alright.”

Aaron makes a call, explaining to Adam why he won't arrive and Robert is only half listening. None of it will matter in a few hours. Everything will be forgotten.

Aaron sits on the bed next to Robert. They don't talk at all.

It's the most comfortable Robert has felt since this whole nightmare started.

Robert drags Aaron behind the church by his tie before the ceremony. He doesn't know what he's doing or why he's doing it. He doesn’t have a plan, just the need to disrupt something, anything.

Aaron’s back hits the wall with a grunt, but his expression doesn’t change. “You gonna hit me?” He asks, sounding bored.

Robert fists his hands in Aaron’s shirt instead, leans in close enough to smell his aftershave. Aaron’s pulse jumps under his thumb. Neither of them moves.

Robert isn't sure what he wants to do, but hitting Aaron isn't it.

There's a yell from the outside that the wedding is about to start soon.

Aaron shoves him off with a muttered "twat," but his fingers linger a second too long on Robert’s wrist.

Maybe if he causes a scandal so massive the Sugden name can never be rehabilitated, the universe will have to reboot him back to London. It's worth a shot

Halfway through the first dance, Robert climbs onto his family table. He kicks over a bottle of champagne and begins a very clumsy, very public striptease.

He makes it down to his silk boxers before his father wakes from his shock and reaches him.

"Robert! Get down from there!" Jack is purple-faced, his voice shaking.

"Watch this, Dad! This is the 'sickness' you were talking about!" Robert shouts, attempting a pelvic thrust toward the dessert table.

He feels a pair of strong hands grab his ankles and yank him down. He hits the floor with a groan, looking up to see Aaron looming over him, holding Robert’s discarded trousers like a shield.

"Put your clothes on, you absolute prat," Aaron hisses, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated second-hand embarrassment. "Vic is hiding in the toilets because of you. Have you no shame at all?"

Robert laughs. "Shame is for people who have a tomorrow, Aaron!”

Robert drives to Hotten and gets so drunk he forgets his own name.

He goes back to Emmerdale because who cares, he'll wake up there no matter what.

"Vic's losing her mind," Aaron says when he sees him.

"Why do you keep finding me?" Robert slurs.

Aaron's expression is blank. "Bad luck, probably."

Robert arrives early, leaving the moment he wakes up without paying the broken mug any mind.

He helps arrange chairs, even compliments Andy's suit with a smile so sharp it could draw blood. When Aaron passes him a stack of programs, their fingers brush. Robert doesn't pull away.

"Careful," Aaron murmurs. "People might think you're nice."

Robert leans in. "Wouldn't want that."

Robert kisses Katie. It's not like he has any feelings left for her, not positive ones at least, and it's not like he particularly wants to, but he knows he'll do something to mess this day up at some point anyway and he kind of wants to see Andy's face.

Katie slaps him. Andy tackles him. Jack watches, expression carved from stone.

Robert surfaces sputtering, and locks eyes with Aaron. His face is unreadable like always.

Robert ruins the cake by "accidentally" dropping Katie's purse into it.

Robert steals the wedding rings. He palms them during the toast, smirking when Adam panics.

Aaron corners him by the bar. "Give them back." 

Robert rolls one between his fingers. "Make me."

Aaron's hand closes over his wrist. The ring presses into both their palms.

Robert sets off fireworks during the vows.

The vicar drops his bible. Andy trips over.

Through the smoke, Aaron grabs Robert's wrist. "You're unbelievable.”

Robert grins. "In a good way?"

Aaron doesn't let go.

He attends the wedding. He doesn't speak to his father. He doesn't look at Aaron. He doesn't touch the cake.  

He wakes up.  

Again.  

Again. 

Robert lets the arguments happen. Lets Jack sneer. Lets Andy gloat. Lets Aaron's gaze linger on him a second too long before glancing away. He ruins the cake on purpose, shoves it off the table with both hands, watches buttercream splatter across Diane's shoes.  

Victoria screams. Jack disowns him. Aaron's eyes follow him as he leaves.  

Robert wakes up. 

Robert sits and nods politely throughout Diane's asking him about a special someone. He promises to bring someone next time, and ignores Andy's whisper and Katie's laugh.

He tries talking with people around, tries to distract himself from his family, tries to fill his brain with meaningless gossip that people won't remember telling him tomorrow.

Someone’s cousin’s new baby, whatever new affair is going on because there always seems to be some affair in Emmerdale village, a debate about the best brand of clothing, the inevitable complaints about the weather. He nods along, feigning interest.

Aaron leans against the bar, nursing a pint like he’s waiting for something. Or someone.

He doesn’t look surprised when Robert slides into the space beside him.

"Rough night at the kids' table?"

"The kids' table would have been an upgrade," Robert replies. "At least toddlers have the decency to throw food when they hate you. My family prefers passive-aggressive sighs and historical revisions."

Aaron takes a slow sip of his pint. "Sounds like you had front-row seats to the Sugden family circus."

"You’d think after twenty-odd years, I’d know better than to expect anything else." He doesn’t mention the amount of times he also repeated this specific day.

Aaron hums, noncommittal. "Families can be like that.”

Robert glances at him sideways. "Yours?"

Aaron’s grip tightens around his glass. "Had my share."

"You seemed pretty close with your mum, from what I saw."

He wonders what it’s like to have a parent who doesn’t flinch at the mention of your sexuality. Who adjusts your tie in public without hesitation.

Aaron’s expression shutters. He takes a long pull from his pint before answering. "Yeah, well. We weren't always close."

“Yeah. You used to live with your dad, right?”

Robert watches the way Aaron’s jaw works, the tension coiled in his shoulders. "Yeah,” he says eventually. “I did.”

He doesn't elaborate, so Robert doesn't ask. He knows what dads are like.

"Yeah," he says roughly. "I get that."

Aaron’s gaze flicks to him. "Do you?”

Robert laughs. “You don't even know.”

Aaron sets his pint down. “Try me.”

Robert exhales through his nose, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the bar. He wants to say it, wants to spill every ugly detail of Jack Sugden’s fists and hissed slurs, the way his own father recoiled when he caught Robert with another boy. But the words clot in his throat.

Aaron watches him, patient in a way that feels unnatural for someone who usually radiates barely-contained irritation.

Aaron nudges his elbow. "You’re thinking too loud."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You’ve got that look.”

“What look? Adorably handsome? Cause that's always my look.”

Aaron shakes his head, but Robert can see the way his lips are tagging upwards. “God, you're such a prick.”

Maybe next time, Robert will tell him.

Robert sticks with Aaron today.

He's not that sure why, except that maybe he's bored of his own company, or maybe he's sick of avoiding the inevitable, or maybe it's because Aaron doesn't look at him with pity or suspicion, just mild annoyance and something else Robert can't name.

Aaron doesn't question it when Robert shadows him from the second the vows are exchanged.

"You're like a stray," he says when Robert lingers too close behind him at the buffet table.

Robert plucks a grape from the fruit platter and pops it into his mouth. "A cute one though, yeah?"

Aaron exhales sharply through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. "More like the kind that keeps digging through bins and won’t piss off."

Robert only leaves him be when Victoria singles for him to come dancing with her. It's the one part of the day he doesn't mind repeating.

By the time Adam swipes Victoria away, Robert can't spot Aaron.

He goes outside to get some fresh air, and finds him leaning against the wall, cigarette dangling from his fingers, the smoke curling up into the dusky light. His hand is battered.

"Didn't peg you as the smoking type," Robert says. 

Aaron exhales slowly, watching the smoke dissipate. "Didn't peg you as the type to care." 

Robert leans beside him, close enough that their elbows brush. "You hit someone?" He nods toward Aaron’s hand. 

Aaron flexes his fingers. "Andy." 

Robert snorts. "What’d the golden boy do?" 

"Asked why I was babysitting you instead of being best man." Aaron flicks ash. "Told him to piss off. He didn’t like that." 

Robert swallows. "You didn’t have to." 

Aaron’s quiet for a beat. "Yeah. I did."

Robert leans closer. “Why are you babysitting me?”

“Maybe I like watching you unravel," Aaron takes a slow drag. "Or maybe I'm just really bored.”

Robert nudges Aaron’s foot with his own. “You always this violent at weddings?" 

"Only when idiots ask stupid questions."

“Not long till I get the same treatment, then.”

Aaron shrugs. “Hey, you said that, not me.”

Robert can't help but smile. "Would’ve paid to see Andy’s face."

"Looked like he’d swallowed a wasp." He stubs out the cigarette against the wall. "You're staring.”

"Am I?" Robert shifts slightly, knows he absolutely is.

Aaron huffs, flexes his hand, and winces at the motion.

Robert reaches out before he thinks, fingers brushing Aaron's bruised knuckles. "You're shit at punching."

"Says the posh twat who'd probably break his wrist throwing a proper hit."

Robert's thumb traces the ridge of Aaron's knuckle, the skin warm beneath his touch. "I know how to throw a punch," he murmurs. 

"You'd need to." Aaron says. “With a personality like yours, you probably get punched daily.”

"Not daily," he says, thumb still tracing idle circles over Aaron’s knuckles. "Weekly, tops.”

Aaron laughs.

The sound comes as a surprise, and it's potentially the most beautiful thing Robert's ever heard.

Robert's fingers tighten around Aaron's wrist without meaning to. He can feel Aaron's pulse rabbit-fast against his fingertips.

Someone steps outside. Robert drops Aaron's hand like it's burned him.

Robert skips the champagne and jumps straight to the whiskey, letting it burn down his throat like punishment. He drinks until Vic’s laughter sounds warped, until Jack’s glare loses its edge, until Aaron’s silhouette blurs at the edges. He’s not sure when Aaron slides beside him, only registers the warmth of his shoulder against his own.  

“You’re gonna make yourself sick,” Aaron says.  

Robert laughs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”  

Aaron’s fingers close around his wrist. “Come on,” he mutters, hauling him up. Robert stumbles, knees buckling, and Aaron’s arm snakes around his waist to keep him upright.

They end up sitting on the hood of Robert's car, the stars spinning above them. Aaron leans against the bumper, arms crossed, watching him with that unreadable expression.  

Robert tips his head back, the whiskey sloshing in his veins. “You ever feel like you’re stuck?”

Aaron’s quiet for a long moment. “Yeah. More than you know.”  

Robert barks a laugh. “Doubt that.” He drags a hand down his face. “You don’t- you don’t get it. I keep living this day over and over, and I can’t-” His voice cracks. He doesn’t know why he’s saying this. Maybe because Aaron won’t remember tomorrow. Maybe because he’s the only one who’s looked at Robert like he’s not something rotten. "You know, everyone thinks I left ‘cause I hated the farm, or ‘cause I was bored. But none of it is true. I left because my dad caught me with another boy in my room, and he was gonna make sure everyone knew what kind of pervert his son was.”

He doesn't mention the three years between this moment and the moment he actually left. He doesn't mention the Max King of it all. He's still sober enough to keep this under wrapped.

Aaron goes very still.

“I didn't really have a choice. But no one else cares. That's not the story they're interested in telling. I'll never be the victim in anyone's story.”

He's not the victim in his own either, he thinks. Only Max is.

Max King- forever eighteen, and alive in Robert's heart.

It's been years since he let himself of him properly. But now, with whiskey burning through his veins and Aaron's silence pressing against his ribs, it claws its way up anyway.

Max had been nice and sweet in a way that made Robert's chest ache. He was far too good for him.

They'd kissed behind closed doors, hands fumbling under too-thin jumpers, and Robert had thought, stupidly, that nothing could touch them. Not there. Not then.

Jack had disagreed.

Aaron shifts beside him, his shoulder bumping against Robert's. The contact is grounding. 

Robert flexes his fingers against the cold metal of the car hood, focusing on the bite of it instead of the phantom press of Max's knee against his under the library table.

"Was he your first?" Aaron asks, voice low enough that Robert could pretend he misheard if he wanted to.

“Yeah.” For a long time, Robert had thought he'd be the last as well. His father's reaction to finding them together made it obvious him being with other boys wasn't allowed. Then next thing he knew, Max moved there two years later when he was seventeen and Robert had fallen stupidly in love and allowed himself to be with a man again.

A year later, Max had died and with him any hope Robert had of living comfortably with his sexuality.

He might have allowed himself to hook up with men since, but he has never been in a relationship with one. Max King forever remains the only man Robert Sugden had loved.

“What happened to him?” 

Robert shrugs. “He was just our farmhand. My dad fired him the second he caught us, and I never heard from him again. Didn't bother looking for him. My dad lathering me was enough of a lesson.” He laughs. “Funny thing is, I don’t even know if he remembers me. Probably married some nice girl, living in some suburban nightmare with a golden retriever and 2.5 kids.” The kind of life Jack always wanted for him, he doesn't say.

Aaron puts his hand on Robert's shoulder and Robert is just too tired to flinch away from the touch. “Robert,” his voice is wet. “I am so, so sorry.”

Robert wants to deflect and laugh it off but instead he starts crying in a way he never allowed himself before.

Aaron pulls him close, and Robert cries into his shoulder, and almost feels safe.

It doesn't matter. Aaron won't remember it tomorrow.

Robert avoids Aaron at the wedding.

Even though Aaron doesn't remember it, it's weird seeing him after last night's confession.

He spends the night alone, feels people watching him, and hopes he's doing a decent job at acting like he doesn't care.

"-absolute trainwreck," Robert hears someone snicker. "Don't know why he came back."

Robert tenses, knows it's about him. He heard some words like that thrown around about him through the times he relived this day. Some saying he shouldn't have come back, some just wondering why he did, some saying they didn't expect him to arrive even though it's his own sister's wedding.

Then Aaron’s voice cuts through, slurred: "he’s not as much of a prick as you all think."  

Robert’s breath stutters. Aaron’s defending him? Voluntarily? Has he been doing this every time and Robert just hadn't heard it? And why is his voice slurred? Robert doesn't remember him being this drunk.

Has Robert avoiding him this time what's causing him to drink? No, that doesn't make sense. This version of Aaron only briefly spoke to him over baking, and that interaction did the opposite of making him want to spend time with Robert.

He edges closer, catching Aaron’s profile, cheeks flushed, tie loosened, gesturing vaguely with a half-empty pint.  

"Come off it," the person he's talking to scoffs. "He’s been nothing but trouble since he got here."  

"Yeah, well. Maybe he’s got reasons."

Robert’s chest aches. He ducks back before Aaron can notice him.

He doesn’t realize Aaron’s followed him until a warm shoulder bumps his. "Eavesdropping’s rude," Aaron mutters, swaying slightly.

"So is lying to strangers about my character."  

Aaron’s grin is lopsided. "Who says I was lying?"  

Robert studies him- the way his lashes dip when he blinks too slow, the whiskey-sweet heat radiating off him. "You’re drunk."  

"Observant." Aaron leans closer, voice dropping. "Doesn’t mean I’m wrong."  

Robert wants to ask why- why defend him, why keep finding him, why the hell Aaron’s looking at him like he’s something worth looking at- but the music swells, and Vic’s dragging Adam onto the dancefloor, and Aaron’s already stepping back.  

“Hey,” Robert calls after him. "Thanks. For earlier."

Aaron doesn’t bother pretending he doesn't understand. "Don’t mention it."  

Robert watches him walk away.

Robert drinks until the edges blur. He stumbles into the reception, sloshing whiskey onto his cufflinks, and collapses into the chair beside Aaron. 

“Tell me something real,” he slurs.

Aaron eyes him, then plucks the glass from his hand. “You’re a mess.”

Robert laughs. “Yeah. Always.”

Aaron’s gaze flicks to Jack glowering across the room, then back. He leans in, breath warm against Robert’s ear: “your dad’s a prick.”

Robert’s chest constricts. He doesn’t pull away.

Robert goes outside and finds Aaron leaning against the wall, cigarette dangling from his fingers, the smoke curling up into the dusky light. His hand isn't battered today. Robert hadn't stuck to him today, so Andy had no reason to tease him.

“Mind if I get a hit of that?” Robert nods toward the cig.

"Didn't peg you as the smoking type,” Aaron is the one who says it this time.

Robert shrugs. He used to smoke- weed, specifically- when he just moved to London. Had to get some courage before he could actually hook up with men.

Aaron passes it, eyes tracking Robert's face.

The filter is damp from his lips. Robert takes it anyway, their fingers brushing. He inhales deep, lets the nicotine burn his lungs, holds it until his vision blurs at the edges. When he exhales, the smoke mingles with the cold night air between them.

Robert hands the cigarette back, watching the way Aaron’s mouth closes around it. "Why do you stay here?" He asks. "In this village. You could be anywhere."

Aaron doesn't look at him when he hands him back the cigarette. “It's home.”

Robert laughs around the cigarette in his mouth. “Come on. Don't give me this bullshit answer. Tell the truth.”

Aaron takes the cigarette back when Robert offers it. “No truth to tell.”

Robert snorts. "Please. It hasn't always been home. You didn't live here when I did, you used to live somewhere else with your dad. Why's that place not home?”

Aaron's fingers tighten around the cigarette, his eyes fixed on some point beyond Robert’s shoulder. "Some places aren’t worth going back to," he says finally, voice flat. "Simple as that."

Robert watches the way Aaron's thumb rubs absently over the ridge of his own knuckles, probably soothing himself. "Must’ve been bad.”

Aaron exhales smoke through his nose. "You could say that." He taps ash off the cigarette. "My dad wasn’t exactly father of the year."

Robert nods. "Yeah. Mine neither."

There's something oddly intimate about the way their fingers brush each other as they pass around the cig, taking turns inhaling smoke and exhaling truths they'd never normally say. Robert watches the way Aaron's lips press against the filter before he hands it back. The paper's damp with spit, warm from their shared breaths, and Robert wonders if this is the closest they'll ever get to kissing.

The day repeats five more times before he hears more about Aaron's father.

Him and Aaron are laying next to each other in the barn, off their faces, after Robert had made Aaron leave the wedding early with him and steal the more expensive bottles they had.

“You ever think about killing him?” Aaron asks.

Robert squints at him. He wonders if he missed some part of the conversation, his head pleasantly fuzzy from the alcohol. “Who?”

“Your dad.” Aaron says quietly and Robert suddenly feels incredibly sober. “You two seem to hate each other. And I know there's history there. You ever think about killing him?”

Robert's throat never felt drier. "I don't..." He clears his throat. “He's my dad. I wished he was gone, sometimes, but no, I never thought about killing him.”

Aaron hums. “I think about killing mine sometimes.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. “Why?”

"Because he deserves it." Aaron rolls a bottle between his palms. "Doesn't matter. He's in jail. Never getting out.”

Robert sits up, the hay scratching his palms. Maybe they shouldn't be having this conversation, not with Aaron this drunk. "Aaron-"

"He started when I was eight." Aaron's voice is flat. "Stopped when I was sixteen. Ran away, came here, and all was out." 

“Started what?” He can't even recognize his own voice. “Hitting you?”

Aaron's laugh is ugly and broken and it's a sound Robert never wants to hear again. “You don't want to know.”

Robert is getting the feeling that he really doesn't.

Aaron closes his eyes. “My dad raped me.”

Robert's world tilts sideways. The barn's wooden beams blur above him, the hay prickling through his shirt suddenly unbearable. "Jesus Christ," he rasps.

Aaron's lips twist. "Yeah."

Robert's hands shake. He wants to reach out, wants to hug Aaron and pulls him close like the younger man did when Robert told him about his father.

But his body is frozen.

“Aaron,” is all he can say. “Aaron.”

“Yeah."

Robert doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He digs his fingers into the hay, the dry stalks snapping under his grip.

“Aaron,” he repeats. “I'm sorry.”

“Everyone always is.”

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

He rounds the corner and collides chest-first with Aaron.

“Get off me, you prat.” Aaron's voice is shaking when he says it this time in a way it hasn't before. Or maybe Robert is just noticing things about Aaron that he hasn't before, now that he knows.

Robert stumbles back, catching himself against the wall before he can trip over his own feet. The sound of Victoria’s voice fades into the background as he stares at Aaron, noticing the tightness around his eyes, the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he’s stopping himself from curling them into fists. Aaron doesn’t know. This version of him has no idea Robert’s spent the same day over and over unraveling him, prying open the worst parts of his life like a wound that won’t scab over. He doesn't know that last night, Robert had heard his deepest darkest secret.

This version of Aaron wouldn't want him to know. But he does, and nothing can change that.

"Sorry," Robert mutters, glancing away first. What do you say to someone when you know their nightmares by heart, and they don’t even remember showing them to you?

Aaron studies him. "You alright?"

Robert forces a laugh. "Peachy." He steps around Aaron, careful not to touch him this time.

He shouldn't know this about him. He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have let Aaron get close enough to tell him in the first place.

He doesn't talk to Aaron at the wedding, can't look at him.

It's hard to look at Aaron when all he wants to do is hug him, and know that he can't.

He knows things about Aaron that he shouldn't, things Aaron would never normally tell him, and the guilt is eating him alive.

So Robert does what he does best- he avoids.

He spends the entire wedding avoiding Aaron, but somehow, Aaron keeps finding him anyway.

Robert's in the middle of sipping his whiskey when Aaron slides into the seat beside him, nudging Robert's knee with his own. "You avoiding me?"

Robert chokes on his drink. "What? No."

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "You've been acting weird all day."

Robert forces a laugh. "Weird? Me? Never."

"Funny. I have a feeling weird is exactly you."

"You don't know me," Robert says, and wishes so desperately he was wrong. That Aaron would know him, that Aaron would remember.

"Could say the same to you."

But Robert does. Robert knows Aaron in ways he never expected to know another human being.

And Aaron will never know that.

“You know,” Aaron starts. “I've had people acting weirdly around me my whole life. Treating me like I'm fragile, like I'm some pathetic victim.”

Robert stares. “I don't think that's what you are.”

He thinks Aaron is the bravest person he ever met, for going through what he did and still being so openly himself. He thinks Aaron is the most beautiful person he has ever met.

Aaron looks at him like he's trying to spot a lie, a crack in his facade.

“Aaron,” he breathes. “You're the strongest person I know.”

It probably sounds stupid to Aaron, who as far as he's concerned, has only talked to Robert a couple times and neither of those times has gone remarkably well.

Robert has had a thousand different conversations with Aaron, and even the ones that didn't go well, he cherishes.

But Aaron doesn't mention how weird what Robert just said is. He just looks at him with awe.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

He rounds the corner and collides chest-first with Aaron.

“Get off me, you prat.” Aaron's voice doesn't shake today.

Robert doesn't avoid him during the wedding.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

He rounds the corner and collides chest-first with Aaron.

“Get off me, you prat.”

It's starting to sound a lot like Robert's new favorite sentence.

Robert and Aaron are sitting on the hood of Robert's car, just like they did the time Robert told him about his father.

Not that Aaron remembers that.

This moment is new for him. He doesn't know about Robert's sexuality, about the way it had disgusted his dad.

He doesn't know how open Robert feels with him.

"You’re staring," Aaron says without looking at him. 

Robert doesn’t deny it. "Just wondering what you’re thinking." 

“Well, keep wondering.”

Robert watches the way the moonlight catches Aaron’s face, how beautiful he looks, how his throat moves when he swallows. He wants to press his thumb there, feel the pulse beneath the skin. 

"Tell me.” Robert asks.

Aaron turns his head, their faces closer than Robert expected. "I was thinking," Aaron says slowly, "that you’re not as much of a prick as I thought." 

Robert’s breath stutters. "High praise." 

Aaron’s mouth twitches. "Don’t let it go to your head." 

Robert doesn’t mean to lean in. It’s just- Aaron’s looking at him like he’s something worth looking at, and Robert’s so tired of pretending he doesn’t want this. 

Robert has lived this day more times than he can count, and no matter what he does, he always finds himself spending parts of it with Aaron one way or another.

Maybe that means something.

Robert closes the gap.

Aaron tastes like beer and like everything good in the world that Robert could never possibly deserve. He tastes like the grumpy mechanic Robert had bumped into for the first time a hundred times over, and like the man Robert has been slowly getting to know and falling in love with over the course of one cursed wedding.

He tastes like someone who doesn't really know Robert, and who won't even remember this kiss in the tomorrow that will never come.

Aaron pulls away. “Robert-”

“It's okay,” Robert murmurs. “It's okay. You won't remember it anyway.”

Something strange crosses Aaron's face, and Robert thinks he might be about to say something about how he's not that drunk, but instead he leans in and kisses him again.

Robert is more than content to keep living this day over and over again if it means he'll get to keep kissing Aaron.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

He rounds the corner and collides chest-first with Aaron.

“Get off me, you pillock.”

Robert helps him clean the remnants of the mug.

He feels inexplicably happy, can still feel his lips tingling from the kiss.

It doesn't even matter that Aaron doesn't remember it, because Robert got to kiss him. Nothing can ruin that for him.

Today, Robert doesn't cause any troubles.

He's not sulking in the corner, not picking fights with Andy, not sabotaging himself. He's not even drinking much, just nursing one whiskey all evening while watching Aaron from across the room.

There's a lightness in his chest that wasn't there before. If he's stuck reliving this godforsaken day, he might as well savor the parts that don't make him want to claw his own skin off.

Aaron catches him staring during the first dance. Raises an eyebrow. Robert doesn't look away.

Before he goes to sleep, Robert thinks of that first morning and how he had no idea how many times he'll have to live through it.

He thinks about waking up to Vic's yell, about running into Aaron and opening his day with a grumpy get off me, you prat and about cleaning with him.

Who thought this will all turn into a routine.

Except-

Except Aaron hadn't said those words this morning.

Get off me, you pillock.

You pillock.

Aaron had called him a pillock instead of a prat this time.

What the fuck.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

He rounds the corner and collides chest-first with Aaron.

“You know,” he accuses before Aaron has the chance to say his signature line.

Aaron's face are unreadable in the way that Robert had learned to adore, but now he hates it, he hates it, he hates it-

“You figured it out.” He says.

Robert wants to throw up.

A part of him had hoped he was wrong, that it was just exhaustion twisting his memory, that he’d misheard Aaron’s words in the chaos of the morning.

"You've been here the whole time," Robert says, voice hollow.

Aaron doesn't deny it.

“Right.” Robert mutters. “Don't talk to me.”

Robert storms back to the guest room. Can hear Vic's confused voice, can hear Aaron desperately calling out his name, but he feels so empty it doesn't even matter.

Aaron’s known. This whole time, while Robert clawed through each repeated day, Aaron knew. Worse, he played along. Let Robert unravel himself, let him spill every ugly truth, let Robert kiss him.

Was it all a joke to him? Was he laughing at Robert afterwards?

It was immediately after the kiss that Aaron said the sentence differently. Was he so disgusted by Robert kissing him he had to stop his lies?

God, he should’ve realized sooner. The signs were there: Aaron’s too-perfect timing, the way he’d always find Robert no matter where he hid, the things he said that didn’t quite fit. You’re not as much of a prick as I thought. At the time, it felt like a gift. Now it curdles in his stomach, another line rehearsed, another move in whatever game Aaron’s playing.

Robert paces the room, fingers digging into his palms. Why wouldn’t Aaron tell him? Maybe it was pity. Maybe Aaron enjoyed watching him flail.

Robert remains quiet as Aaron keeps hitting the door.

The sound of it and of Victoria's confused voice fades, and Robert lets himself drifts, knows nothing will change.

Knows now that Aaron knows it too.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

He doesn't get up.

Aaron opens the door to the guest room. “We need to talk.”

“There's nothing to talk about. You lied to me.”

“Well, technically, I didn't lie. I never said I wasn't in the loop. I just didn't correct your assumption that you were experiencing it alone.”

“Aaron.” Robert sits up slowly “You knew. You knew and you didn’t-" 

"What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, fancy being stuck in purgatory with me?’" 

Robert laughs, wild and unhinged. "Yeah! Maybe!" 

Robert throws the covers off, his bare feet hitting the cold floorboards too hard. "You could've told me." His voice cracks. "At any point. After the twentieth fucking reset, maybe. Or maybe after I bloody kissed you!”

He hears Victoria's gasp before he sees her walking into the room. “What? You two-”

“We two are nothing.” Robber stops her.

Aaron's head snaps to him, eyes wide. “Robert, don't say that-”

Victoria’s fingers clutch at the doorframe. "You kissed?" Her voice pitches higher, glancing between them. “Robert, I didn't know you were-”

“I'm not.” Robert flops into the bed, hiding himself under the covers. “Leave me alone.”

Aaron turns to Victoria. "Give us five minutes." 

Victoria hesitates, glancing at the lump under the blankets that is Robert, then nods and closes the door behind her.

Aaron stands motionless for a full minute after Victoria leaves, staring at the wrinkle of blankets where Robert has burrowed.

"You think I was playing you?" Aaron's voice is rough, nothing like the dry teasing Robert’s grown used to. "That I was just sitting back enjoying the show?"

The blankets shift slightly. Robert’s hand emerges, gripping the edge of the duvet like he might rip it apart. "You could've stopped me." His words are muffled. "All those times. I embarrassed the shit out of myself some of those times. I- christ, Aaron, you listened to me fall apart."

Aaron crouches beside the bed, close enough Robert can feel his breath through the fabric. "Yeah. And you think that was easy? You kissed me and then woke up thinking I wouldn’t remember. How d’you think that felt?"

Robert throws the covers off so fast Aaron rocks back. His eyes are red-rimmed, furious. "You don’t get to be the victim here. You let me-" He chokes off, hands twisting in the sheets. "Was it funny? Me thinking I was alone?"

Aaron's jaw tightens. "No. Of course not."

“Aaron. I'm begging you. Just go.”

There must be something on his face, because Aaron nods and turns to leave.

“I'll be back tomorrow,” he promises.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream.

True to his word, Aaron shows up in the guest bedroom and slams the door shut behind him.

“Let me explain, please?”

Robert wants to say yes. Wants to give him everything. It's all he wanted those past few repeats.

He doesn't know if he can.

“I poured my soul out to you,” Robert's voice is raw. “I told you about my dad, and about the farmhand- I never told anyone that stuff. And I told you that because I thought you wouldn't remember. I thought it was finally my chance to let it all out, and it won't have any real consequences.”

“I know.” Aaron sounds close to tears. “I know, Robert. And I felt so bad that I let you tell me all that stuff, that I just got drunk the next loop. I couldn't do it.”

Robert remembers hearing Aaron drunkenly defending him to strangers and wondering whether he's been doing that every repeat. That makes much more sense.

“Right,” Robert rasps. “Defended my honour just to cover your guilt, is that it?”

“No, Robert, that's not it all. I wanted to defend your honor. I believed what I said. I still do.”

Robert wants to believe him. Doesn't know if he can.

“I felt so guilty,” he whispers. “That I knew about your dad. Every time I looked at you after that night, I kept thinking- here’s this thing you don't usually share with people, this fucking nightmare you lived through, and I got to know it because of some cosmic joke. Because you slipped up once when you were drunk and I happened to be there. And every version of you in the days after was a version that didn't consent to me knowing. It felt like I stole it from you.”

“Robert,” Aaron rushes to his side, suddenly holding his hand in his. “I told you about my dad that night because I wanted to. I wanted you to know, and I trusted you to know.”

Robert feels like he could cry. “And the kiss?”

“God, I wanted it so badly.” Aaron laughs. “You don't even know how much I wanted it, wanted you. I want you so much. I changed what I said the morning after because I wanted you to know I'm in this as well. I thought, if you won't figure it out after that, maybe some part of you just doesn't want to know.”

Robert is so close to Aaron he could kiss him. He wants to kiss him. “Why not tell me from the beginning?”

“I didn't fully realise what was going on at first. Tried just playing along. Then-” he bites his lip. “Then we kept spending time together, and-”

Robert stares at him. “And?”

“And I liked it.” Aaron admits. “All of it. The arguing, the drinking, the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Every damn time.”

Robert’s pulse stutters. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice drops, barely audible. “I thought if the loop ended, you’d leave. You’ve spent years running from this place. You’d run again. That you’d never look back. And if I just- if I didn’t say anything, maybe we’d stay like this forever.” His laugh is raw. “Pathetic, right?”

Robert leans even closer. His chest aches. “You wanted me to stay.”

Aaron doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah. I still do.”

“Even after all the times I acted like a bastard?”

Aaron shrugs. “Especially then.”

Robert stares at their now joined hands. The warmth of Aaron’s skin bleeds into his own. He thinks of all the mornings waking to Vic’s scream, all the times Aaron found him, the way they kept circling each other no matter how Robert tried to avoid him. He thinks of Aaron’s lips on his, the soft press of his mouth, the way he kissed Robert back like he’d been waiting for it just as long. Apparently he had.

“You were going to let this go on forever?” Robert’s voice is rough.

Aaron shrugs. “Would’ve been worth it.” His gaze flickers up, hesitant. “Wouldn’t it?”

He thinks of Aaron's smirk across the bar, the dry commentary about the Sugdens, the way he always knew exactly when Robert needed someone to sit with him in silence. He thinks of Aaron’s fingers brushing his when passing a cigarette, the way he listened when Robert talked about the farmhand. He remembers the kiss, the way Aaron leaned into it like he’d been waiting for it.

“You idiot,” he pulls Aaron closer by their joined hands until their foreheads touch. “You absolute fucking idiot.”

Aaron huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well. Not like you’re much smarter.”

“Aaron,” Robert breathes. “Aaron, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Robert kisses him. Properly this time, slow and deep, with Aaron’s fingers tangling in his hair and his breath hitching against Robert’s mouth.

It's nothing like the kiss they shared on the hood of Robert's car.

This one is long and desperate and full of every emotion they've both been pushing down.

Aaron’s hands slide under Robert’s shirt, the drag of his fingertips against bare skin sends a shiver down Robert’s spine.

The bed creaks under their combined weight as Aaron pushes him back, knees bracketing Robert’s hips. Robert arches up, craving contact, and Aaron meets him halfway.

Robert’s hands fist in Aaron’s shirt- same one as yesterday, and the day before that, and every damned day trapped in this purgatory- but it’s different now because Aaron remembers. Because Aaron wants.

“Off,” Robert growls, tugging at fabric, and Aaron obeys with a huff of laughter, yanking the shirt over his head. Robert traces the scars along Aaron’s ribs and Aaron stills above him, breath catching. Robert hesitates, fingers hovering. “Okay?”

Aaron nods, swallowing. “Yeah. Just... forgot you didn’t know.” His voice is rough. “Until now.”

Robert exhales, pressing his palm flat against Aaron’s chest, feeling the frantic thud of his heart. “Tell me,” he murmurs.

“Later?” Aaron asks, and Robert will give him everything he wants.

“Later,” he agrees.

It's incredible, and Robert doesn't know how they've gone through this day so many times without doing this before. He could spend forever with Aaron under him, above him, hands and mouths everywhere.

When they're done, Robert lies with his face buried in Aaron's neck, breathing him in.

"I wish I could wake up next to you tomorrow." He confesses.

"Once we're out of this loop, you can wake up next to me for the rest of tomorrows." Aaron promises.

Robert believes him.

Robert wakes up to the sound of shattering glass followed by Victoria's scream. This is the fastest he's ever gotten out of bed.

He skids into the kitchen just in time to collide chest-first with Aaron. Aaron’s forearm braces against Robert’s sternum.

“Get off me, you prat.” They both say at the same time, and they grin at each other.

“You know,” Robert murmurs. “We've got to stop meeting like this.”

Aaron shakes his head, grinning still. Robert is so in love.

They clean the remnants of the mug together, shoulders brushing the entire time.

This time when Diane asks him at the wedding about a special someone, he has a different answer for her.

“I do, actually.”

Her face lights up. "Really? Oh, that's lovely! Who's the lucky lady? And why isn't she here with you tonight?”

Robert watches Aaron across the crowded reception hall. Aaron catches him staring and rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat in it, just the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. Robert grins back.

Katie furrows her brows. "Who are you smiling at like that?" 

Robert doesn't answer. Just takes a sip of his drink and watches as Aaron moves through the crowd toward them.

Aaron reaches Robert’s side just as Katie repeats her question. The warmth of Aaron’s arm pressing against his own sends a thrill through Robert’s chest.

Diane’s gaze flicks between them, eyebrows lifting slowly. "Oh," she says, the syllable dripping with sudden understanding.

“I think you guys know Aaron. My boyfriend.”

It's a rush like no other, calling Aaron his boyfriend and getting a bashful smile in return.

"Good to see you, guys." Aaron says, and sounds like it's not good to see Robert's family at all. Robert loves him even more for it.

“Your boyfriend?” Diane finally manages, glancing between them like she’s waiting for the punchline. “Since when?”

Aaron shifts, his shoulder pressing more firmly against Robert’s. “Since today,” he says bluntly.

“Since today,” Diane echoes faintly.

Robert can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Took us a while to get here.”

Katie clears her throat. “Robert. I didn't know you were.. ”

“Bisexual.” Robert supplies. It's the first time he said the word out loud. Aaron squeezes his hand.

Katie nods, jaw tight. "Right.”

Aaron leans in, lips brushing Robert’s ear. “Told you they’d take it well,” he murmurs, dripping sarcasm. Robert pinches his thigh in retaliation, grinning when Aaron yelps.

Victoria chooses that moment to barrel into them. “What’s going on here?"

Robert drapes an arm around Aaron’s shoulders, casual and easy as breathing. “Just introducing my boyfriend to the family.”

Victoria’s eyes drop wide open. “You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.” Aaron says.

Victoria’s hands clap together. “Oh my god!” Her voice pitches high enough to startle nearby guests. “Oh my god, you two- actually?” She grips Robert’s forearm with one hand and Aaron’s bicep with the other, shaking them both. “This is the best news!”

Jack doesn't seem to think so at all based on the expression on his face, but he isn't going to do anything in front of everyone, especially not with Victoria being this excited about their new relationship. Robert will cross the rest when he gets there.

Now, he kisses his boyfriend where everyone can see.

"Guess I'm really coming out of this loop, huh?" Robert murmurs when they part.

Aaron snorts. "That was horrible. Remind me why I love you, again?"

"Because I'm not as much of a prick as you originally thought."

When the wedding ends, Robert and Aaron are still pressed against each other, fingers tangled together.

“How would you feel about staying in Emmerdale another night?” Aaron murmurs.

"Well, considering it's Vic's wedding night, I think she'll rather have the house to herself."

"I meant stay with me, you idiot."

“Aaron Dingle,” Robert can't control the absolute delight in his voice. “Are you asking me to stay the night?”

“Are you saying yes?”

Robert shoots a look behind Aaron, where Chas is standing. “Not sure your mum would approve.”

Chas had not been very happy to see Robert and Aaron kissing earlier, not that Aaron seemed to really care when he told her to shove it.

“Well, she's going to have to get used to it, isn't she? Seeing as you're my boyfriend now.”

Robert's heart swells.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I think I'll stay another night.”

Aaron takes him to the Woolpack backroom, where they kiss and touch and take advantage of every space that isn't occupied by other people.

Aaron’s breath is warm against Robert’s collarbone, his fingers tracing lazy circles on Robert’s bare stomach.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Robert’s shoulder. His stubble rasps against skin still sensitive from earlier. 

Robert hums, tangling their legs together. “Can’t help it.” He drags his thumb along Aaron’s bottom lip, remembering how it felt between his teeth an hour ago.

“You were right, you know.” Aaron says. “About how I could leave Emmerdale if I wanted to.”

“And do you want to?”

“Yeah,” Aaron seems suddenly shy. “I think… I think maybe I want to go to London.”

Robert can't stop the huge smile spreading across his face. “You do?”

“If you'll have me?”

“Aaron.” He laughs and tackles him. Like he even needs to ask. But because he's a prick, Robert pretends to think about it. “This is going a bit fast for me, actually. We only met each other yesterday."

Aaron slaps his chest playfully. "We met each other a hundred yesterdays ago.”

Robert kisses him again, because that's something he can do now.

“I'd love for you to come to London with me.” He whispers, and means it like he never meant anything before.

“Hey,” he asks suddenly. “Why do you think it was us? In the loop? Repeating the day? And why do you think it's over?”

They don't have any real proof the loop is over yet, but they've both been treating it like this since the day started, and Robert feels it in his bones that it's true.

Aaron shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe the universe thought we needed the push.”

Robert raises an eyebrow. “That’s your theory? The universe decided to trap us in a wedding hellscape just to play matchmaker?”

Aaron huffs, turning his head to glare half-heartedly. “Not like you came up with a better one.”

The whole thing defies logic, defies physics, defies everything Robert’s ever believed in. But here they are: Aaron’s skin warm under his fingertips, the Woolpack’s familiar hum just beyond the door, and the lingering taste of Aaron’s mouth still on his lips. Real. Solid. Undeniable.

“Fine,” Robert concedes, nudging Aaron’s shoulder with his nose. “Suppose I can’t argue with cosmic intervention when it’s working in my favor.”

And he really can't deny that maybe it all really has been just about the universe getting them together, when for once he wakes up exactly where he went to sleep.

A year later, Robert is back in Emmerdale for another wedding, this time his own. He only experiences that wedding once, but he'd have no issue having this day repeat.