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Robert is certain he’s walking into the midst of some kind of plot, as he puts his key in the front door of the cottage, a delighted giggle from the other side, and a stage-whispered ‘ssh’ from Aaron making him pause. It had been his day off, but Robert had needed to rush up to the farm to deal with an emergency, leaving Aaron, and Seb, to enjoy their planned day of hot chocolate and Christmas movies without him.
Robert had minded, a little bit, but he minded less now that he was greeted with familiar laughter as he let himself inside of the house. They’d only moved in a few short months earlier, to a house of their own built on Annie’s Field. Everything felt new, and shiny, the timber of the hallway pristine under Robert’s socked feet, his work boots kicked off by the door.
It was the kind of house Robert had dreamed of, when he was in prison - all warm woods, and bright colours, a perfect mix of him, and Aaron, a place built for them, for the new life they had together. It had been good for them to move on from the Mill, from the lingering memories of the life they’d lost, to somewhere new, somewhere - quite literally - built for them.
Seb had been utterly delighted at the prospect of getting to choose the colours of his own room, Robert and Aaron happy to indulge Seb and allow him to pick out clashing bright greens, and yellows, their son’s room absolutely migraine inducing.
“Dad - wait!”
Robert paused in the kitchen doorway, adhering to the panicked demand of his son. Seb was ten, now, and growing like a weed, nearly up to Robert’s shoulder already. He was going to be exceptionally tall, Robert knew, all uncontrollable arms and legs that he did his best to put to use on the football field at school.
Seb grinned at him, all wild blond hair and freckles. It had been strange, when they’d first started seeing Seb again, to see so much of himself reflected in the child.
Seb was Robert’s mirror image, down to the same smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and it had made Robert constantly wonder how his own father could have been so disinterested in Robert, when he was that age - how he could have treated Robert the way he did at all. Robert was desperate to make sure Seb was the happiest, most loved child he could be, Robert doing his best to nurture all the things in Seb that his own dad had seen as flaws - his unpredictable emotions, the way Seb was soft around the edges, the way he cared so much he could explode with it sometimes.
Robert just wanted Seb to feel he could be himself - whoever that ended up being.
“Hi, kid,” Robert greeted, raising an eyebrow as Seb very pointedly stood a few feet away, a pair of Robert’s own socks on Seb’s feet, long enough that they were pulled up to the middle of his shins. He had icing on his nose, a dead giveaway as to what he and Aaron had been doing - if the lingering smell of sugar and gingerbread didn’t give it away first. “You’re up to something,” he said, and it wasn’t accusatory - just, curious.
Seb inclined his head, slightly, and he was all Aaron when he did that. “Maybe,” he grinned. “Is everything okay at the farm?”
Robert nodded. Seb was getting more and more interested in the farm, but Robert never wanted to push him into the work - not the way his dad had done with him. “It’s all good,” he confirmed. “Paddy came up and checked out a few sickly cows - and they’ve all gone to bed.”
Seb rolled his eyes - all Aaron, again. “Dad, cows don’t have beds! You’re being silly.”
Robert grinned. “You tell that to those fussy cows,” he hummed. “Can I come into the kitchen, yet?”
Seb shook his head. “Nope,” he beamed, rocking on his heels. “You’ve got to wait. Patience, dad!”
Robert leaned against the doorframe. “Who’s teaching you to be that cheeky?” he teased good-naturedly, happy that his son had the confidence to be a bit cheeky, and silly with him. It had been hard, at the start, Seb closed off, and standoffish, not interested in getting to know Robert, or Aaron. It had taken time, and lots of long drives to and from Bristol, before they started to have a real relationship again - and it had taken the best part of a year before Seb had wanted to come and live with Robert, and Aaron full time.
It had all been worth it, though, for the way Seb had so happily settled into Emmerdale. He’d been over the moon, when Robert and Aaron had let him in on their sneaky plan of eloping, and getting married in secret, during the summer, and so in August, the three of them had driven to Gretna Green - for a laugh, mostly - and gotten married with two strangers as witnesses, and Seb front row, wearing a Charlatans t-shirt he refused to take off, and a deliriously happy grin on his face.
(“My friend's parents are all married,” Seb had shrugged, when they first brought the idea up to him. “Why wouldn’t I want my dads to get married again?”)
“Hiya,” Aaron greeted, shuffling into the kitchen. His hair was a mess, a sure sign he’d not bothered to get ready since breakfast, wearing an old jumper of Robert’s. It was the kind of picture-perfect domesticity Robert hadn’t let himself dream of having again, after prison - Aaron wearing a wedding ring on his finger marking him out as Robert’s (they’d melted their old rings down and added in a new gold piece, perfect symbolism of the old and new lives they were trying to bring together as one), an old jumper of Robert’s on as he spent the day with their son.
“How come I’m not allowed in?” Robert questioned.
Aaron’s eyes were practically sparkling, as he explained. “Liam’s grown mistletoe, at the allotment this year,” he explained, gesturing above their heads, where there was a sprig of mistletoe taped at the top of the doorway. “You’re not allowed in until you kiss me - traditions, and all.”
Robert couldn’t help but laugh, Seb and Aaron wearing matching cheeky grins. “Well - who am I to go against tradition, eh?” he winked at Seb, and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s lips. He tasted sweet, like chocolate and icing, and Robert had no doubt that he, and Seb, had spent a large part of the afternoon sampling their own handiwork.
Seb wasn’t quite at the age where he’d decided his parents kissing was embarrassing, and so Robert allowed himself to enjoy the delighted cheer they got from their ten-year-old audience. He’d be a teenager, before they knew it, and everything they did would be embarrassing – they might as well enjoy it while they could.
Flashing Aaron a grin, his husband nodded, Robert reaching out and easily scooping a wriggling Seb into his arms. The perks of farmwork, Robert had long since discovered, was being much, much stronger, no match for the wriggles and giggles of his ten year old. Pressing ridiculous, smacking kisses to Seb’s head, his face, Robert’s heart aching from how full it felt.
Aaron’s face was flushed with delight as he watched on, happiness etched into every line of his face. It hadn’t been easy, to get to where they were now - but it was worth it, for the way Seb’s laughter sank into every wall of the house, making the little cottage that had just been a dream to keep Robert alive in prison, a home, a real one.
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” Aaron offered, folding his arms across his chest. “You must be hungry.”
Robert nodded. “Smells like you’ve got dessert sorted too,” he teased, holding Seb close, pressing another kiss to the top of his son’s head, breathing in the familiar scent of the fruity, coconut shampoo his son used.
“We made gingerbread! Auntie Vic said it was your mummy’s recipe,” Seb explained eagerly. “We’ve not watched any Christmas movies yet, dad - we wanted to wait for you.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Robert mouthed a thank you to Aaron. It was one of the things they’d been trying to do with Seb, this time of year - keep old family traditions alive. They didn’t know too much about how things had been with Rebecca, but Ross had done his best to fill in the gaps that Angela couldn’t, and they were doing their best. Christmas was a hard time of year to miss the people you loved, and Seb had been so young, when he’d lost his mum - maybe he and Aaron tended to go overboard, trying to compensate for her absence, but Robert didn’t regret it.
“I’ll check on the potatoes,” Aaron offered, reaching out and ruffling Seb’s hair.
“Dad,” Seb twisted in his arms, giving Robert a questioning look. “Do you still miss your mummy?”
Robert wrapped Seb up in a hug, giving his son a nod. “I do - especially this time of year,” he explained. “My mum loved Christmas, so I miss her a lot. It’s okay to miss your mum too, you know.”
Seb made a face. “I do - miss her,” he nodded. “But I’m not sad, not all the time anyway. I have you, and Aaron - and Auntie Vic, and Harry. I’m happy here,” he gave Robert a conspiratorial look. “But I need your help with my present for Aaron,” he whispered, arms tight around Robert’s middle.
“Anything,” Robert returned the whisper, a string of swear words, followed by a quick apology from Aaron catching his attention. “Reckon we should help him, before he makes a mess of dinner?”
“I heard that! You can go - fuck, oh my god, Robert, come and help me please.”
Seb snorted, nodding at Robert. “I think he needs the help, dad.”
Pressing another kiss to the top of Seb’s head, Robert headed into the kitchen, Aaron battling with an oven tray of roast potatoes. “Let me do it,” he murmured, giving Aaron a grateful look. “You set the table.”
Aaron let out a genuine sigh of relief, nodding. “Seb - wash up for dinner, please!” he called, rooting in the cupboards for plates, and glasses. It was all so perfectly domestic, and homely, that Robert nearly pinched himself - but even if this was all a dream, it wasn’t one he wanted to wake up from.
“You alright?” Aaron asked softly, taking advantage of a quiet minute to themselves.
Robert nodded, setting the bowl of roast potatoes on the table. “Just happy, is all,” he hummed, leaning in to kiss Aaron again - it’s not as if he needed the mistletoe to have the excuse to. “Merry Christmas, Mister Sugden.”
Aaron grinned, plates in hand as he returned the embrace. “Merry Christmas, Mister Dingle.”