Chapter Text
February 2015
Robert shoves the car door shut, the white Audi R8 one of the few things he still owns after being unceremoniously fired from White International.
He only has himself to blame really; cheating on your fiancée, who just so happens to be the daughter of your boss... really not the best plan.
Still. He got a decent severance package. Silver linings and all that.
He tosses his car keys up in the air before catching them in the same hand. Hitting the button to lock the car up, he walks down the street, turning left, onto the forecourt of the Woolpack. There's a sign beside the door. 'Closed for Private Function' it says.
He shrugs, goes to open the door anyway. He's been away for years, surely whatever this private function is can't be more important, he thinks.
He pushes the door open, walks inside.
*
A funeral.
Ah. Maybe he should come back later, he wonders.
Curious as to whose wake it is though, he steps further into the room, craning his neck to see the photos on the bar.
Katie.
He feels a brief flash of sadness. She was so young... he wonders how she died. No-one's noticed him yet, and he takes the opportunity to glance around, see who he recognises.
Chas, behind the bar, serving. Diane, over by the buffet table. Victoria, next to Diane with her back to him. He scans the room, clocking a fit bloke at the bar nursing a pint. He gives the bloke another look, a quick once over. Nice...
No sign of Andy though. Robert frowns, turning to leave. He'll come back later, he decides.
He almost, almost makes it to the door before a hand grabs his arm, spinning him around.
“Robert!” Victoria cries, pulling him into a hug. He wraps his arms around her automatically, holding her tightly.
“Hi,” he says, grinning at her as she takes a step back to look at him properly. “Miss me?”
She swats at him. “You pick your moments, don't you?” She says. “You ring up out of nowhere, tell me you've lost your job, I tell you to come home, then nothing?”
“Sorry,” he says, genuinely.
“It's been weeks Robert!” She scolds him, before sobering. “If you'd have rung, then I would have told you about...” she waves at the room behind her. “This.”
Robert nods. “I erm...” he pauses, unsure what to say. “When did she die?” He goes for.
“Just over a week ago,” Vic tells him. “Andy's not dealing with it very well.”
“Understandable,” Robert replies. “Where is he, anyway?” He asks.
“He's outside,” she says. “Got a phone call.”
Robert nods, opens his mouth to speak, but gets interrupted by Diane. His step-mum's attention has finally been torn from the buffet table, and she walks briskly across the room, stopping in front of him with a fond smile. “Hello pet,” she says, giving him a quick hug. “Victoria told me you'd phoned, didn't expect to see you though.”
He shrugs, non-committal. “Just a spur of the moment thing,” he says. “Was in Leeds, thought I'd drop in.”
Diane raises an eyebrow. “Well, your timing could be better,” she points out, always critical.
“Yeah...” he agrees. He can't really argue with her, can he? “I should have phoned.”
“Well, you're here now,” Diane says brightly. “Do you want a drink?” She asks.
He shakes his head no. “How did she er... how did she die?” He says instead, curious. The answer, if either his sister or his step-mum was planning on giving him one, is lost when Andy comes back through the door. Diane and Victoria rush over to him, and Robert sighs. Always second best. He briefly wonders why he bothered coming at all. He's never going to be the golden boy, he knows that.
He shakes his head minutely. It's Katie's funeral, he tells himself. Andy deserves their full attention today, of all days.
He'll see what happens tomorrow, he decides instead.
Walking over to the bar, he leans against it casually, close enough to hear what Andy's saying, even though his adoptive brother hasn't yet noticed him.
“The bloke says he can come pick them up tomorrow,” Andy's saying. Robert frowns, wondering what he's on about. “Take the whole lot of them in one go.”
“Well, is it a good price?” Diane's asking.
Andy shrugs. “I don't care,” he replies. “I just want them gone, I don't care where, I don't care how.” He sniffs. “I just want those horses off the farm, Diane.”
Robert doesn't know what makes him say it. He really is his own worst enemy sometimes. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Getting rid of the horses pretty quick, aren't you?” He quips. “You jealous?” He asks. “She always did like them more than you.” He says with a grin.
Of all the reactions he could have expected, sheer unbridled fury is not one of them. Andy's eyes widen as he realises who is standing in front of him, and his brother lunges for him, shrugging off Diane and Victoria's meagre attempts to stop him in his tracks. Robert ducks away, sending Andy crashing into the bar instead. Glasses go everywhere, shattering on the floor, a mixture of beer, wine and spirits soaking into the bar, running down to the floor.
“She had a riding accident, you idiot!” He hears someone shout. He doesn't know who it is, he's too busy avoiding the muscle-bound lunatic his brother has transformed into. He's half expecting him to turn green, if he's honest.
Definitely not the best choice of opening lines then, he thinks as he ducks another punch. “I didn't know!” He shouts, fruitlessly. Andy's too enraged, too upset and caught up in his grief to be listening.
“Get him out of here!” He hears someone screech, high pitched. Female. Probably Chas, it came from the direction of the trashed bar.
He ducks another punch, finding himself cornered this time. Breathing in quickly, he prepares to charge.
Hopefully Andy won't flatten him, he thinks.
He doesn't fancy his chances, but he doesn't really have much choice.
Suddenly, Andy is grabbed around the middle by two sets of arms and dragged away. Robert breathes a quick sigh of relief before he too is grabbed, by one person this time, and unceremoniously shoved out of the pub, through the double doors and outside.
He and his captor stumble down the steps and to the left. He's pushed around the side of the pub, spun around and slammed up against the side wall of Pear Tree, unfamiliar hands fisted in his blazer, pinning him to the wall.
Breath knocked out of him, he wheezes, before opening the eyes he'd squeezed shut, looking down slightly.
His gaze meets that of bright, bright blue eyes and he blinks slowly, mesmerised.
It's the bloke from the bar. The fit one.
He's even fitter in natural light, Robert thinks. Brown hair, slightly curly. Black jeans, black top, black hoodie over it.
Got a favourite colour then, Robert notes.
Their faces are so close their breath is intermingling. They stare at each other in silence for long moments before the other man lets out a strangled growl and lets him go. He turns and walks away, leaving Robert to slump slightly.
Robert watches him go, watches him disappear back inside the pub.
A grin forms on his face.