#they finally cleared the hold on my profile yayy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robron1609 · 3 years

Text

Robron Week 2021 - Day 1

Meet-Ugly + "That's not an explanation."

New Beginnings

(ao3 link)

Aaron’s eyelids fluttered like a candle in the wind, the hustle and bustle of the city pecking away at his head with a sledgehammer. The bitter taste of ale, the fruity taste of wine and all the combined spices of every spirit known to man were stagnant on his tongue as he peeled his damp limbs off the leather sofa beneath him.

He let out a dry cough and it felt like someone had shot him in the brain during his sleep. But other than that, he was as right as rain.

It took him longer than he would care to admit to remember that he did, in fact, not own a single item of furniture that had even an inch of leather on it, and he lived in the in the middle of bloody nowhere where the only thing (apart from his mother) that made him shake a leg in the morning was the bellows of Moira’s cows when their troughs were being topped up.

So, there’s that.

His brain caught up and he bolted upright, his whole face moulding into a sculpture of what, where, when, how and why. He took in his brand-spanking-new surroundings; a lavish penthouse overlooking London’s skyline, decked out from head to toe in a fusion of ultra modern and industrial pieces. Not really his style, to put it nicely. It looked like something straight off the front page of one of those overpriced interior design magazines on the top shelf of David’s shop that no one ever bought.

Aaron could only hope that whoever lived here was some bloke he’d pulled in the haze of last night, if it wasn’t then… what the actual fuck was he doing here?

When the room had stopped spinning on all its axis and Aaron was eighty-nine percent sure that he would be able to hold his vomit in if necessary, he braved the hallways in search of other life. He detoured to stand in front of a back-lit mirror that had beckoned him over, and he was introduced to his reflection. It gawked right back at him, dressed in nothing but a pair of neon yellow boxers and a Scottish flag that he was wearing as a cape. The flag was fastened loosely around his neck with a frayed shoelace and there was a big tear down the centre of it.

Jesus fucking shit. Absurd didn’t even begin to cover it.

Sweat dripped down his top lip when he heard a deep voice through the wall. He teetered around the corner until he was close enough to pick up most of the words.

“I won’t be in today.” There was a pause. “Does it fucking matter?” Nice manners, then. “Look, unless you want me hurling all over the new contact, I suggest you grow a pair and attend the meeting without me.”

Aaron gripped the glossed door frame, his clammy hands squeaking on the wood as he snuck a look at who the voice was coming from. The man was stunning. He was all sun-kissed skin, choppy blond hair, and a gorgeous mouth that dipped dramatically in the corner.

“Shit!” With a jolt, the blond dropped his phone and it landed on his face with a mocking smack.

“Sorry-”

“Why are you in my house?!”

“I’m Aaron.” No shit, Aaron.

“That’s not an explanation!”

“Sorry.”

Aaron cringed. All of a sudden he was big on apologies, apparently. Blondie was now sitting up, scratching the fluff on the nape of his neck as he shuffled out of bed and adjusted his duvet accordingly whenever it slipped below his waistline. He just glared at Aaron, waiting to hear something that made sense.

“I was kinda hoping you could tell me,” Aaron said, using all of his self-control to stop his eyes from drifting downwards. “My head’s mashed. I remember being on the train with Adam and Vic, and then-”

“Vic as in my sister Vic?”

Aaron just stood there, catching flies. “I- I dunno, I think so. Sugden?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ohhhh, Robert Sugden. Aaron finally put a name to the face and felt like giving himself a pat on the back.

…..

“Here you go. Extra strong.”

"Ta."

Aaron warmly accepted the cup of coffee, the steam flying off it and dissolving in his pores. He used the piping hot liquid to swamp down some paracetamol before tightening the strap on the dressing gown that Robert had lent him a little earlier with a side-eye and a grumbled, “Make sure you give it back.”

With the current cycle rumbling the machine into the ground, Aaron glanced at the digital timer displayed on the appliance. Just forty-eight minutes until he could grab his screwed up clothes, slap them on, and leg it to the underground with his tail between his legs. The longest forty-eight minutes of his life, no doubt.

Hoping to make a crack in the ice, Robert led Aaron to the scene of last night’s crime. Through the sliding doors, across the patio and up the spiral stairs, secluded in the corner and illuminated by the steady flicker of the firepit. Robert was surprised that it hadn’t burnt out in the early morning under the April showers.

The rooftop terrace was what sold this place for Robert. It was his haven, complete with everything that made his superficial heart weep. This morning, however, it looked how he felt.

He absorbed the aftershocks of his party (shards of glass littering the outdoor table, remains of finger foods welded to the deck, and a pair of nude stilettos abandoned on the bar) and sagged. Turning thirty was dismal enough without having to clean up after his colleagues. Or, as he liked to call them, a bunch of wound up, hoity-toity pen pushers who didn’t even know his middle name—just a sniff of free booze and they were squeezing into a Ralph Laurent polo that still had the label on, and patting him on back with a bout of boisterous laughter as if they were best mates.

Wow, he was in dire need of some proper friends.

Aaron propped himself up on the bar. “Bet you don’t get tired of this,” he said, looking out at the sparkling city.

“It’s a great hangover cure,” Robert said, nursing his Americano and watching the ripples dance over the surface as he lightly blew it. “It can be lonely, though,” he admitted, unsure as to why. This handsome and hungover stranger was just waiting for his ticket out of here, he didn’t want or need to become Robert’s agony uncle to fill the time, that was for sure.

“Why’s that?”

Oh. Perhaps Aaron, for one reason or another, cared. Or he’s got nowhere else he needs to be and Robert’s left him with no choice but to sit and listen because it's the polite thing to do. Aaron looked at Robert all doe-eyed and Robert wanted to stay here until he’d told Aaron every single intricate detail of his life up until this point. But that seemed a little crass.

“Don’t know, really. I just… don’t like to be alone with my thoughts, I suppose. And being up here, well, it’s a whole lot of that.”

“I know what you mean,” Aaron said. “How long have you lived here?”

"Nearly two years on the whole." Robert calculated, Aaron giving him an amicable nod in response. Robert licked the coffee froth off his lips, clearing his throat. "I've lived in London a while, though. Since I left the village, pretty much."

"And you never thought about going back?"

"I couldn't." That would mean looking back. And after the trail of destruction he'd left in his wake, that was never going to happen. They were better off without him. Or at least his Dad and Andy were. Vic and Dianne never stopped reaching out, however, offering their support through texts and unanswered voicemails.

Aaron changed the topic, sensing that Robert's internal trip down memory lane wasn't a smooth ride. "You heard anything from Vic and Adam?"

"They were both flat out in the spare room last time I checked," Robert answered. He'd been less than pleased to find them entwined together on top of the duvet, dead to the world as Adam slobbered away on the satin pillowcase like an excited dog, and Vic let out a mishmash of unconscious sounds from sniffles to whistles, her makeup crusty and her outfit dishevelled by a night's sleep in it.

"Vic had a whole itinerary planned. Some museum, Leicester Square, and then this ridiculous hipster coffee shop near the station," Aaron said with a dreary eye roll. "Even though our train leaves just after two."

"She's just excited. She doesn't come here often."

"'Suppose not."

"Anyway, I recommended that coffee shop so you better not miss it," Robert said. Aaron snorted because of course he did. "Come on."

Robert rose, perking up a bit as he stretched his arms until they clicked with satisfaction. Aaron followed in his footsteps, literally, but they stopped in their tracks, coming face to face with a rumbled Victoria.

She looked dead and alive all at the same time as she swung her phone about. "There they are, the newly engaged couple."

Robert choked on air and Aaron gave him a splash of side-eye before snatching Vic’s phone. "What are you on about?" And Aaron had to check that the digital date displayed in the top left corner of the screen wasn't April the 1st. Nope, it was indeed the 23rd. And under that was a Facebook post on his profile; a blurry, backlit photo of him and Robert flashing the camera with two rings that didn’t even match, accompanied by a slurred caption.

yayy ENGAAAAAGED! whoop whoop!! hears to many many many many many year <3

Aaron groaned, throwing his head back in sheer embarrassment when Vic grabbed a hold of his and Robert’s left hands. Sure enough, the rings were still there. “Oh my God,” she cackled, her voice like a siren in the middle of the night. “This is brilliant. A few more of those cocktails and you’d be halfway to vegas, ey?”

Robert massaged his temples, kneading roughly at his dry skin. “Whatever’s in them is lethal,” he grumbled, peering over Aaron’s shoulder as he watched him scroll through the comments and squeeze his eyes shut in disbelief at each one.

“It’s your bar, mate. You should know what it’s serving,” Aaron said. He had a point. “Let’s just pray we left it at cheap rings.”

(Aaron couldn’t even begin to fathom at what point during the party he and Robert had fled the penthouse and ended up at a jewellers of all places. Who’d thought a proposal was the perfect end to a not-so-perfect night? Who’d taken that photo? And who in their right mind was selling giant fabric flags in the early hours of the morning? It would be a miracle if he becomes sober enough to answer at least one of those questions.)

Robert pouted. “That’s a shame. I’ll cancel the tickets to Vegas, then,” he teased.

“I dunno, I could do with a holiday just to get over the shame.” Robert grinned at the younger man’s flirty tone.

“Cheers,” Robert scoffed. Aaron handed the phone back to Vic who watched the pair with a knowing glint in her eye, her head bouncing back and forth between them.

“Only joking,” Aaron said. “Could be worse.”

Vic pocketed her mobile with a yawn and tightened her ponytail. “Right, I’m gonna drag my lump of a boyfriend out of bed and start gathering our stuff. I’ll leave you two to plan the wedding of the century, shall I?”

Vic left the rooftop, her flats scuffing all the way down the metal staircase. Robert gulped down the remains of his coffee and turned to Aaron with a smirk.

“So, fiancé,”–Aaron shot Robert a fiery glare which, if Robert didn’t know any better, would leave a bruise on his ego–“I know a great place where we can get some brunch. Why don’t we ditch Vic and Adam and I’ll drop you off at King’s Cross after.”

Aaron pulled a face. “ Brunch? I’m not paying £8.99 for a plain scone.”

“My treat.” Robert offered, hoping that would seal the deal.

“Like a date?”

“If you want it to be.” Aaron paused for a beat, not that there was ever much to contemplate.

“Fine.” Robert didn’t miss the bashful smile taking over Aaron’s face. Robert bit the inside of his cheek when Aaron began to descend the stairs. He crammed his hands in his pockets, his heart going into overdrive as he kicked his feet into gear.

#robron week #rw2021 #robron fic

14 notes · View notes