#robert sugd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goodlord-willbond · 7 years ago

Text

Double Dates

Ok so this based off the gym scene tonight. @andyoumattertome thought it would make a good double date idea and I just had to write this because Robert and Adam being total gym failures is the best. Enjoy!

---------------- ---------------- ---------------- ---------------- ---------------- -------------

Aaron and Robert were going to the gym today, and Adam and Vic had heard all about it and thought it would be a good idea to tag along for fun, as they had nothing better to do that day. They all had a bag each full of gym wear, Robert and Adam wanting to take it seriously and impress their beloved partners. Aaron and Vic just wanting to have some fun.

Robert lay down on the weight lifting bench at the back of the gym, Aaron tried his hardest not to stare at the bit of his husband’s tummy that had peeked out of vest top. Robert looked over at Aaron and immediately realised, a smirk tugging on Robert’s lips. “Later Dingle, now pass us some weights will ya lover boy.” A blush crept across Aaron’s cheeks as he turned around and placed two weights in his husband’s hands.

Robert started lifting the weights until one slipped out of his hand. He looked over at Aaron with a sheepish smile on his face, Aaron looked back at him and laughed. “My turn Sugden, watch this.” Aaron lay on the weight lifting bench, Robert trying not to focus on the scars visible on his husband’s tummy as his shirt rode up. Aaron nodded to say he was ready and the weights were placed in his hands. Aaron began lifting them up and down effortlessly, while Robert looked at his husband mind blown.

Across from the boys, Vic had just finished up on the treadmill and wandered over to wear Adam was heading to the bikes. “Adam I’m bored can we do something fun now?” She whined playfully. Adam rolled his eyes and looked at his wife. “Like what babe?” He questioned, regretting it as soon as he saw Vic’s eyes light up in glee at the sight of two skipping ropes.

“Vic, you know I can’t…” Adam was stopped in his tracks by Robert and Aaron walking over. Vic flung a skipping rope to her husband as Aaron and Robert found their hands slipping into each other’s.

Adam grabbed the rope and started to throw it around his body and tried to jump over it but, he jumped too soon. Adam sighed and tried again, refusing to give in to defeat. This time he managed to jump and get one foot through but his other foot hit the rope and he fell over the rope. Aaron was trying to stifle his laughter at his best mate’s failure. Aaron turned to Robert and whispered “you’re not the only who can’t gym.” Robert rolled his eyes at his husband and laughed.

“Right, what’ve you got then Vic?” Adam said, knowing that nobody could do any worse than him. Vic looked at him and smirked picking up the skipping rope and jumping over it every time. Adam groaned and spoke, “well skipping is a girl’s game.” Vic shot Adam a look to tell him to shut up. Adam sighed and continued to watch his wife, suddenly, she crossed her arms and continued skipping, before handing Aaron and Robert one end of the rope each and jumped in as they began turning it. Adam stood there with his mouth wide open. Once Vic was done Aaron spoke.

“So Robert who’s the best at weights?” Robert rolled his eyes at his husband and spoke quietly. “Aaron. He didn’t drop any weights.” Adam burst out into laughter. “You dropped the weight Rob?” Robert grinned.

“Least I can at least jump over a rope Barton.” Adam laughed quietly, Vic nudged Adam with her arm. “Who can’t skip?” Adam sighed and pointed to himself, as Vic nodded excitedly. “That makes me and Aaron over here new gym buddies.” Vic ran over to her brother in law who was laughing at her. “C’mon guys, let’s go for a coffee, I think Rob and Adam have proved their fitness abilities for today..”

#itsdinglesugdenlove #double dates #robert sugden #aaron dingle #robron #adam barton #victoria sugde #vadam #ryan hawley #danny miller #adam thomas #isabel hodgins #mini fic

13 notes · View notes

aelric · 8 years ago

Text

not (fine)

prompt: could you write something about Robert getting hurt/sick but tries to hide it as he doesn’t want to look weak but it ends up getting worst cause he didn’t tell anyone.

read on ao3

(It’s nothing. Food poisoning. That’s all it is. A few minutes every few hours spent dry-heaving over a toilet bowl doesn’t mean anything. Everyone loses their appetite sometimes and he’s put on weight recently so maybe it’s for the best. It’s nothing.)

It starts the day after Aaron leaves for a job in Belgium. He asks if Robert is going to be okay, because they haven’t been apart since they got back together and they haven’t been apart since Robert was sectioned and they haven’t been apart since Robert came home. Robert tells him that they can’t put their lives on hold forever, because the whole point of the treatment he went through was to help him live again and this, a life spent cowering in their living room surrounded by microwave meals, wasn’t living. Aaron gives in, leaving early in the morning but waking Robert up to kiss him goodbye

He phones the next day, and Robert picks up while sitting with his cheek against the side of the bath, the feel of the cool porcelain against his cheek calming his churning stomach. When Aaron finds out he’s ill he offers to come home, but Robert shuts him down right away. I’m fine, Aaron. It’s just food poisoning Aaron. I think the milk was off, Aaron.

(He’s fine. His mind might be fucked but his body is okay. He’s fine.)

Two days later, Vic comes round with a book she borrowed from him. She finds him curled up on the sofa, watching Homes Under The Hammer with a mixing bowl on the floor in front of him and a hot water bottle clamped to his stomach. Before she can say anything, he swears that he’s okay. Food poisoning. Or a bug or something. She gives him a quizzical look but says nothing more, perching on the arm of the chair. He asks her if she liked the book. She looks down at the battered copy of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go. She says yes, but why did the ending have to be so sad? Weren’t there enough sad endings in real life?

(He’s dreaming. Dreaming of fire a fire in his stomach that creeps up into his throat. The smoke that pours from his mouth makes his eyes sting. But it’s okay. It’s just a dream)

Liv finds asleep on the bathroom floor at five o’clock in the morning. She yells at him to wake up, her voice high and panicked. He wakes just before she calls an ambulance. He has to pry the home phone from her hands, swearing that he’s fine, and that he kept feeling sick and didn’t want to keep trekking from the bedroom to the bathroom every time his stomach felt uneasy. No he hasn’t been sick. He just felt sick and he feels fine now and he’s going back to bed so Liv should go back to bed too. He’s fine and no, he can’t explain why he was sleeping with the light on.

(Dry toast tastes like sandpaper. Water tastes like his own morning breath. He’ll eat a proper meal tomorrow. It’s a waste to force something down only for it to come back up. His body wouldn’t be rejecting food if it were that hungry. Tomorrow is only thirteen hours away. He’ll eat then. He’s sure of it.)

Diane comes to visit one morning, carrying a covered dish and a bag of groceries. She’s here because he’s stopped picking up Vic’s calls and Vic’s worried and Vic said that he didn’t have any food in. He’s sat at the table, his laptop open in front of him. He says he’s fine. He says he’s better. His stomach doesn’t hurt anymore. He’s okay. Diane’s eyes scan his face, her lips pressed into a line and her brow furrowed. She’s ready to go into no nonsense step-mum mode. Robert straightens his shoulders and smiles, giving her no excuse to start fussing around him. He says he’s working. She should go. It’s a bank holiday weekend and the B&B is busy and she shouldn’t be worrying about him when she’s got paying customers to worry about. She tells him that he always comes first but agrees to go. Before she leaves, she comes over to his side of the table and rests the back of her hand against his forehead and suddenly he’s ten years old in bed with tonsillitis and his mum has stayed home to take care of him. Back in the present, Diane says that he should get some rest, because he’s feeling a bit warm.

(He had his tonsils out when he was eleven. When he came home from hospital his mum wrapped him in a blanket and let him eat as much ice cream as he wanted while they sat on the sofa together watching 1960’s Batman. They laughed at the pot-bellied tights-wearing superhero for hours, and Robert forgot about his clawed-up throat. After his mum died, he’d dread ever feeling a twinge in his throat, because it’s the happy memories that hurt the most.)

He’s making tea for Liv when the pain hits. It feels like a knife has been rammed into his stomach and twisted until his intestines are curled around it like spaghetti. He almost keels over. Almost cries out in pain. Almost doesn’t make it to the sink in time. Heaving up his empty stomach makes the pain worse. There are tears in his eyes. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps.

Then the pain subsides, and he’s fine again. He stands up straight, his shaking hands finding his stomach. It’s still tender but it’s fine. He’s fine. It’s nothing.

(When his dad died of a heart attack, he could hear his own pulse in his ears for weeks. It reminded him that he wasn’t the one in charge here. His heart could give out at any given moment. His throat could close up. A blood clot could find its way to his brain. Bodies are stupidly fragile, and he’d be a fool to forget that.)

He doesn’t wait up for Aaron on the day he returns. He leaves Liv watching re-runs of Scrubs and heads up to bed at just gone nine, claiming that he has a headache. In reality, he feels as weak as a newborn lamb and his entire body won’t stop shaking. He peels his shirt off his sweat-soaked back before crawling into bed in his boxers. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling which peels back to reveal a sprawling sky full of stars. He smiles and closes his eyes, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

(He always dreams. He can’t remember the last night when he didn’t dream. But tonight he doesn’t, and that’s a good thing, right? Because sickness means disturbed sleep. Sickness means nightmares. There are no nightmares tonight, he’s fine.)

He’s shaken awake by Aaron hours later. As soon as his eyes are open, his husband pulls him into a sitting position, yelling for Liv to call an ambulance. Robert rests his chin on Aaron’s shoulder. He wants to tell him that he’s glad that he’s home, but his tongue is a dead weight in his mouth. His eyes get heavy, and he lets them close, only for Aaron to shout at him to stay awake. For God’s sake just stay awake. Robert opens his eyes. There’s a figure stood by the door, half-lit by the landing light.

Mum?

The figure smiles, her face glowing.

Mum!

He reaches out, his arms clawing the air as he struggles against Aaron to get to his mother. Aaron holds him tighter, telling him that there’s no one there. That he’s sick. He’s really sick and he needs to stay calm until the ambulance gets here. Robert doesn’t listen. He can’t listen because his mum is right there and he needs to get to her. He needs to stop her leaving again.

His mother smiles and waves before turning and walking out of the door. Robert breath comes short and tears spill down his cheeks, hot against his clammy skin.

Mum! Don’t go! Don’t leave!

But she does leave.

The world splits open and swallows Robert whole.

(Maybe he’s not okay after all.)

He wakes up in the middle of the night. Not that he can tell; the hospital keeps its lights on round the clock because time is a human invention and death pays no heed to it. A florescent bulb buzzes overhead while he surveys his surroundings. Closed curtain. Muffled voices. Gentle snores. Familiar snores. To his left.

He finds Aaron asleep in a chair right next to his bed, his hood pulled up and his chin resting on his chest. Robert tries to reach out to touch his face, but stops when he feels the tug of an IV in his arm. He pulls his hand back, examining the tube that protrudes from a bruised spot on his wrist. A heart monitor beeps somewhere close by, but Robert is too concerned with getting to Aaron to search for it. He reaches out again, placing his hand on top of Aaron’s gently clenched fist.

Aaron wakes immediately, his head jerking back like someone had just delivered an upper cut to his chin. He blinks a few times and scrunches up his face, struggling to wake himself up. Then his eyes settle on Robert, and he’s all too awake.

Aaron-

You’re an idiot.

Robert goes to move his hand back, but Aaron is quick to grasp it, holding on so tight that it’s almost painful.

What happened?

Aaron scoffs.

What happened? You’re talking like you missed an episode of Line of Duty or something. What happened? You were ill. You were really ill. Your appendix burst and you didn’t come to hospital. That turned into something called peritonitis and you still didn’t come to hospital. You want to know how you finally ended up in hospital? You got sepsis. You know what that is?

I know wh-

Fucking blood poisoning. That’s what it is. You nearly died.

I’m sorry.

Aaron lets go of Robert’s hand and crosses his arms, sitting back in his chair and staring at the ceiling, blinking back tears. He asks why. Why didn’t Robert get help? Didn’t he know he was sick? How could he not know he was sick?

Robert doesn’t has an answer. Not now. He feels like he’s falling because all the memories are flooding back at once and it’s too much.

I saw my mum.

Aaron looks at him, his face finally softening. He bites his lip and his well up again. He shakes his head at nothing, before leaning forward in his chair and taking Robert’s hand. It’s warm and familiar. For the first time in days, Robert feels safe.

I know you did.

She wasn’t there.

I know she wasn’t.

Robert feels his lip start to tremble. How stupid. How childish. What kind of grown man cries because he wants his mum?

Aaron slips out of his chair and kneels beside Robert’s bed. He rests his chin on the edge of the matress so their noses are millimetres apart. His breath smells like coffee and sleep.

I’m sorry.

Aaron shakes his head, thumbing away a tear from Robert’s cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

#reposted could im an idiot who deleted the ask by mistake #anyway #no fluffy sick fics we die like MEN #emmerdale #robert sugde #aaron dingle #robron #myfic #mine #emetophobia////////////#illness////////

32 notes · View notes