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It had objectively been kind of a terrible year. An absolutely terrible year, in fact.
After everything with John had kicked off - ‘a series of unfortunate events’ Mack had quipped, because he’d somehow coped the best out of all of them, despite the fact he’d had his leg amputated from below the knee after his stint in John’s underground bunker of horrors - and Robert had ended up back inside, falsely accused of chucking Aaron off a cliff (which Aaron had a right word with his family about afterwards - Robert, of all people to throw him off a cliff? They needed to get real) things had gone steadily downhill for Robert.
Aaron hadn’t noticed at first - he’d been preoccupied with being held hostage by his psycho ex-husband, in his defence, John a leech that kept popping back up until he’d finally had cuffs slapped on his wrists by Hotten’s finest - but Robert hadn’t coped, after his stint in HMP Hotten. It had been Vic, who’d called Aaron, begging for help, because she’d come home to find Robert crying, sitting on the floor of the shower in Keepers, unable to move, or speak. Aaron had gone running - because of course he had, it was Robert - and he’d managed to drag Robert up and into bed.
In-patient care had been a no. It had been Liam, surprisingly, who’d agreed with Aaron on that - putting someone in hospital against their will when they’d been locked up for years and had PTSD from the experience was hardly helpful, were Liam’s words, and Aaron could have kissed his future stepdad if he hadn’t been so worried by Robert’s catatonic state.
Robert hadn’t wanted the help, at first, hadn’t wanted Aaron around - he’d pushed Aaron away with a determination that made Aaron look like someone who’d never been stubborn a day in his life - but luckily for Robert, Aaron didn’t give up easily, not when it came to Robert, at least. He’d done what Robert had done for him, ten years ago, standing by him, being a friend when Robert didn’t want him to be, and eventually, he’d broken through the twelve-foot deep wall Robert had built around himself in the months following John.
It’s not as if it had been easy, but - messed up forever. It had become a mantra, in the months since they’d found their way back to each other, Aaron sick of wasting time living a life where he didn’t have Robert by his side. He’d had years of that - and none of them had been happy, not really. They deserved to be happy - the both of them did.
Things were getting better now, slowly but surely.
Robert had a PTSD diagnosis, a weekly slot at therapy in Hotten, and he was making something out of the newly-named Sugden-Barton farm. Aaron had always had the scrapyard, but he cared about it again, in a way he hadn’t for a long time. He’d moved out of The Mill, and back in with his mum, and he’d sort of become a weird, pseudo big-brother to Dylan, and he had to admit he had a soft spot for the kid: wanted to see him have a better hand than the one he’d been dealt, so he spent plenty of time around Paddy’s, trying to do his best.
His divorce was in the works, and John was serving a whole life order, and things were looking up.
And it was Robert’s birthday soon.
40.
Aaron couldn’t believe it, sometimes, how much time had passed, how many years had rushed by, how many birthdays of Robert’s he’d missed - but he was going to make this one memorable.
Robert had gone through a lot, in the seven years since Aaron had last spent a birthday with him - even if Aaron still vividly remembered the way Robert’s mouth had felt against his own when Robert had kissed him in thanks for his birthday card in 2019 - and he wanted to make this birthday a good one. It didn’t help that Aaron often thought about what a letdown Robert’s last big birthday, his thirtieth had been - the first proper birthday they’d spent together as a couple, overshadowed by Liv, and the aftermath of the court case - and so Aaron felt he had some making up to do.
There was a party planned, for the Woolpack - not a surprise one, because that would trigger a PTSD episode so bad that Robert would most certainly break up with Aaron, but rather a quiet, pre-planned evening in, with their friends, and family, Diane and Doug back for the occasion.
Before that, though, Aaron had a plan.
Robert was the biggest sweet tooth Aaron had ever known. He loved sweeties, and chocolate, even those horrible boiled sweets that only grandparents tended to have, a bag of pear drops or apple sours always to be found in the deep pockets of Robert’s winter coat. He loved sugar, and he loved chocolate cake more than anything.
His mum’s chocolate cake.
The first - and only - time Aaron had attempted to make Robert’s mum’s chocolate cake was an incident best not relived. The Great Chocolate Cake Incident of 2018, Robert had quipped, all those months ago now, the two of them crammed onto the tiny sofa in Vic’s cottage, Aaron’s wedding band a lingering reminder of why exactly they couldn’t fall into each other's arms and live happily ever after all over again.
Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d refer to the mess in such grandiose terms, personally, but it had definitely qualified as an incident, given he destroyed their very fancy oven - and Robert’s precious salad bowl - in the process, and caused nothing short of a chemical incident.
Still - it wasn’t a bad memory, given they’d ended up in a posh hotel outside of Leeds that night, and Aaron had thoroughly enjoyed Robert’s stunned reaction to the new three-piece-suit Aaron had bought for the occasion, which Robert had taken a painstakingly long time to unwrap - his words, not Aaron’s - reverent as he’d peeled Aaron out of the fabric, only to find what Aaron would describe as a very sexy, very un-Aaron pair of underwear underneath the tailored trousers. Aaron had outdone himself that year - and he’d gotten shagged into the plush hotel mattress as a reward.
Smiling to himself as he shook off the fond memory, Aaron pushed at the door of the Hide’s kitchen. “Vic?” he called out. “I got everything you asked me to - down to that overpriced posh dark chocolate.”
Victoria’s beaming face appeared from around the corner. “It’s not overpriced - it’s necessary,” she chastised, her words goodnatured. “Honestly - I should never have given you the recipe and left you to your own devices last time around. It’s no wonder you nearly burned the house down - and desecrated our mother’s memory in the process.”
“That feels harsh,” Aaron pulled a face. He hadn’t intended to desecrate their mother’s memory - it’s just that he wasn’t much of a baker, was all.
Vic pointed a spatula at him. “Sarah Sugden took her cake-making very seriously,” she proclaimed, her tone haughty. “It’s an insult to my dear mother’s memory for you to not do the same, Aaron Dingle.”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “Aye-aye, captain,” he drawled back. “But - seriously, Vic, thanks for helping me with this. I - Robert’s had a rough go of it, and I want to make sure he has a good birthday,” he paused. It would never feel natural to talk about his feelings this way, but he was trying to - his own counsellor said it was important, and so did Robert’s therapist. Robert needed to hear how Aaron felt - and Aaron needed to articulate his own feelings better. It was an emotional closed loop, really.
Vic’s face softened, all pretense of teasing gone. “I know, and he’ll love it, Aaron, because he loves you.”
“And he loves chocolate cake,” Aaron added, flashing Vic a bright grin.
Vic laughed, the sound practically sparkling in the quiet of the kitchen. It had been hard for Vic, after everything with John - to face how easily she’d trusted their brother, how often she’d believed him over Robert. Robert had never held it against her, but Vic had held it against herself - and it had taken a while for her to believe Robert when he told her there was nothing to forgive. “True,” she agreed. “He does love chocolate cake.”
Aaron left Vic a few hours later, careful as he strapped the cake box into his car, heading for Vic’s own house. They’d agreed to do their secret baking session at The Hide, because Robert would smell it, the second he got in - he was like a sniffer dog, when it came to anything sweet - and Aaron was determined to actually surprise his boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
It had felt silly, to get back to such a basic term with Robert - his husband, the great love of his life, Robert Sugden - but when Aaron had kissed Robert on that cold February evening, they’d agreed they needed to do things properly, this time, build a good foundation so their relationship would go the distance they both needed it to, and so Aaron found himself calling his soulmate, his boyfriend again.
It had taken some getting used to.
Robert was out, at his weekly therapy session, Harry with Diane and Doug, Vic intending to join them all later, giving Robert and Aaron the house to themselves to celebrate.
They were working up to hotels again. Robert’s PTSD had made sleeping anywhere unfamiliar hard, and so as much as Aaron’s instinct still was to book them somewhere overpriced, and plush, somewhere with a spa and champagne on tap, he knew this, a quiet evening at home, was what Robert needed, before his big celebration the following day.
“You know - it’s cruel, to have me have to have therapy the day before my fortieth birthday,” Robert grumbled as he let himself in, shrugging off his jacket. Over the months, some of the parts of Robert that Aaron had so deeply missed had begun to return - ugly patterned shirts, for one - but they were combined so perfectly with all the things he had grown to love about this new version of Robert; the way he didn’t gel his hair up at the front, anymore, the blonde fringe making him look more boyish than the nearly-40 he was; the facial hair that Robert liked to scratch against Aaron’s neck, just to make him squirm; the soft jumpers he wore as often as he did a button-down, now, the cotton a comfort under Aaron’s fingertips as he drew Robert into a hug.
“Caroline said routine is important for you, for your PTSD,” Aaron reminded, taking an extra minute or two to inhale the familiar spicy scent of Robert’s cologne, the way it mingled with the peppermint of his shower gel. Even though Aaron had kept the cologne, the shower gel, long after Robert was gone, the combination had never smelt the same on Aaron’s skin. It was something so uniquely Robert, and he’d never forget to savour it ever again.
Robert sighed, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s cheek. “I know,” he hummed. “I just like to complain.”
“I know you do,” Aaron couldn’t keep the affection out of his tone. “Are you ready to celebrate your birthday then, old man?”
Robert’s grin was familiar, just the right balance of smug, and happy, a grin Aaron had longed for so many times over the years. “It’s not my birthday yet,” he countered, folding his arms across his chest. He was wearing a deep purple jumper that Victoria had bought him for Christmas, the soft cotton stretching across his broad chest in a way that would have Aaron drooling if he wasn’t a thirty-four year old grown man, thank you very much. Prison, and farmwork, had meant Robert had put on a lot more muscle than ever before, and Aaron was never going to complain about the broad shoulders and sinewy muscle he got to sink his teeth into on a near daily basis now.
Robert had always been fit - but time had been good to him. He was tall, and lean, stronger than ever, now, at 40, his hair still a golden blonde. Aaron was jealous of that, sometimes - his own grey hairs were an onslaught, now, a newfound insecurity no matter how often Robert reassured him that he found the salt-and-pepper look hot.
Aaron raised an eyebrow. “I guess I’ll eat the takeaway I ordered from your favourite Indian by myself, then.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “They don’t deliver out here!”
Aaron grinned. “They do if you pay them an extra fifty quid. Go on - sit down,” he ushered Robert through to the living room, where he’d carefully set the table, a candle flickering in the centre, casting a soft light around the cottage. “Tracey said this was a nice wine,” he shrugged, offering Robert the cold bottle he’d just pulled from the fridge. “I don’t know.”
Robert looked at him like Aaron had just bought him a solid gold bottle of wine. “You asked Tracey for wine advice?”
“It’s your birthday,” Aaron shrugged. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”
“It is perfect - I’m with you. I don’t need anything else,” Robert shook his head, his words sincere. Aaron didn’t doubt him - but he had a plan, and that plan was to spoil Robert, because he could guess that Robert didn’t feel he deserved it, and Aaron wanted to prove him wrong. It was his new thing.
Aaron tugged on his boyfriend’s chin, pressing a featherlight kiss to expectant lips. “I’m doing all of this because I want to spoil you,” he said firmly. “So sit back - drink your wine, and let me shower you with a genuinely disgusting amount of love. Okay?”
Robert’s laugh was bright - brighter than it had been in months. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll let you spoil me.”
And spoil him Aaron did.
Aaron didn’t feel like romance came all that naturally to him, but he figured he’d done a good job. They’d eaten their tea while some soppy pop music played over the record player that Diane, and Doug had given Robert as an early birthday gift, and Aaron had done the romantic thing of hooking his ankle over Robert’s and gazing lovingly at him while he scoffed a pakora - which, given the way Robert tended to eat pakora like a starving man, was no mean feat.
They’d forgone dessert in favour of - several - vigorously romantic rounds of spectacular sex, because that had always been the easiest part to get right, and now, it was midnight, and Aaron was snogging Robert like they were a pair of teenagers, breathless as he whispered happy birthdays into the seam of Robert’s pliant mouth.
It was perfect.
“I have one more surprise,” Aaron said, trying to untangle himself from Robert’s octopus-like limbs. “Robert - come on, one more surprise. Let me go and get it.”
Robert looked thoroughly fucked out, and it took every remaining ounce of Aaron’s strength to say no to the stupid pout on the other man’s face. “No more surprises,” he huffed. “You’ve done so much already, Aaron.”
An IOU for a holiday to Cornwall, when Robert felt up for it - two new jumpers Aaron had seen when he was last in Manchester, the cotton soft, and warm, the jumpers green, and navy, Aaron’s favourite colours on him. Several vinyls of Taylor Swift, which Aaron had lied and said were for his sister when he was buying them. Robert’s watch - the one Aaron had kept all these years, their wedding dates engraved in gold, a reminder that he’d never, ever lost Aaron, not even after six years apart. None of it had felt like too much.
None of it had felt like enough .
Snapping the waistband of his boxers - though, they might be Robert’s - over his hips, Aaron fixed Robert with a warning look. “Stay put,” he ordered, and he headed downstairs before Robert could argue. Carefully, Aaron eased the cake box out of the fridge, putting the ‘40’ candles he’d bought the previous day in the smooth chocolate ganache. It looked perfect.
He waited until he was on the upstairs landing to light the candles, holding a hand around the flames as he nudged open Robert’s bedroom door with his hip. “Happy birthday to you,” Aaron sang, delighted at the wide-eyed look Robert gave him in response, Robert sitting up against the headboard, the duvet pooled around his waist. “Happy birthday dear Robert - happy birthday to you.”
He carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, giving Robert an expectant look. “Go on then - make a wish.”
Robert’s eyes were shining with tears as he looked between Aaron, and the cake. “I can’t think of anything else I could ever want.”
“Make a wish anyway,” Aaron nudged, holding out the cake. “Go on, birthday boy.”
Robert wiped roughly at his eyes, taking a second to think before he blew out the candles, Aaron’s whoop louder than it needed to be, given it was only the two of them in the house - but Aaron felt the celebration was overdue, given how many birthdays Robert had spent alone, in prison, without Aaron, without his family.
“It’s your mum’s recipe,” Aaron grinned.
“How - how on earth did you make this? It looks perfect!” there was something akin to childish glee in Robert’s eyes as he realised it was his mother’s chocolate cake recipe, that he was going to taste something he hadn’t in such a long time. Sarah Sugden had been quite the chef, Aaron knew - her hearty stews and sugary biscuits the hallmark of Robert’s childhood. He couldn’t bring her back, couldn’t make it so Robert’s mum was there to spend his birthday with him, but he could do this - learn to make her chocolate cake.
“Vic helped me this time - I had to make up for the great chocolate cake incident,” Aaron grinned, offering Robert a fork. “Go on - taste it. Tell me if it’s any good.”
Robert dug his fork into the cake, Aaron’s heart thundering in his chest as his boyfriend took a bite. Vic had helped him, but she was one of these annoying teachers who had actually wanted Aaron to do the work, instructing him on what to do as she supervised with an iron fist, so there was a chance that it had gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Robert’s eyes stayed tightly closed, for a minute, an expression of pure bliss on his face. “It’s perfect,” he declared. “It tastes just like my mums did.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“I’m not just saying that,” Robert reassured, offering Aaron a forkful of cake. “Go on - try it for yourself.”
Aaron closed his mouth around the fork, unable to help the surprised noise that escaped his mouth as he swallowed the cake. “It’s actually good!” he grinned. “I was worried I’d messed it up again - desecrated your mother’s memory,” he gave Robert a pointed look.
“I never said that to you!” Robert protested. He hadn’t - but Aaron had known Robert well enough then, and now, to know he’d held back his fair share of comments about Aaron’s last attempt at home-baking.
“No, but you said it to Vic, who said it to me,” Aaron grinned, setting the cake down on Robert’s nightstand, leaning in for a kiss. “Happy birthday, Robert. I love you.”
Robert tasted like chocolate, and everything Aaron had ever wanted, a sincere hope for what their future might look like blooming in Aaron’s chest as they swapped cake-flavoured kisses, Robert tugging Aaron into his lap. “I love you,” he breathed. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had. You’ve set the bar high, for next year.”
Aaron laughed into Robert’s mouth, winding his fingers into the soft blonde hair at the back of Robert’s neck. He’d take it. Aaron would happily try and outdo himself every year for the rest of his life if it meant seeing Robert this happy. “I know how to make your mum's chocolate cake now, so I can do it every year.”
Robert’s grin was glittering. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Aaron hoped he would.