Hi i'm at work and melting and I have the worst headache and tbh I feel like I'm dying and I'm pretty sure it's overheating but can I pls get cute sexcapade fluff ficlet from you to make my life suck less. Ty ily. If not its ok don't worry but also hi ily again
Aaron isn’t really sure how it happened, in the end. One minute they were putting their ensuite shower to use, Robert sneaking in behind him as Aaron soaped up his hair, and the next thing he knew, Robert had gone flying, cracking his head against the thick glass of their shower door.
“Jesus - fuck, Robert, are you okay?” Aaron shut off the shower, sliding a bit on the tiled floor himself as he crouched down to check if his husband was okay, Robert sitting on the shower floor, looking a little more than dazed.
“‘M… not sure,” Robert’s words slurred a little as he spoke, pressing a hand to the back of his head.
Aaron hooked his arms around Robert, his husband like dead weight as he hoisted him out of the shower, depositing him unceremoniously on their bed, knowing Robert would give him nothing but grief later for letting their fresh bedsheets get soaked through.
“Let me see,” he murmured, tilting Robert’s head slightly so he could assess the damage. Robert’s head wasn’t bleeding, or anything, so he took that as a good sign, but that shower door was seriously thick glass, and Aaron couldn’t help but be concerned.
Especially when Robert was still so dazed.
“Come on, get dressed,” Aaron said, pulling on his own boxers, wincing at the way his clothes stuck to his damp skin.
“Because I’m taking you to the hospital Robert,” Aaron said, as if it were obvious. “You just nearly cracked your skull open on the shower door, you could have a concussion.”
“I’ll be fine, just a bit woozy,” Robert shrugged, fumbling for the trousers Aaron was handing him.
“Robert, don’t argue with me,” Aaron shook his head, fully dressed now. He would have run down to grab something to eat, but he didn’t quite trust Robert to get down the stairs (god, why had they gone for a spiral staircase again) without tumbling head first down it, the state he was in.
Robert seemed too disorientated to argue, squinting at the button of his trousers as he tried to do it up.
“I can’t believe I’m dressing ya,” Aaron teased, covering his worry with a joke as he buttoned Robert’s trousers. “I didn’t think we’d be doing this until you were at least forty.”
“Ha-ha,” Robert attempted to roll his eyes, tugging on a discarded t-shirt of Aaron’s. “You try getting your pants on after you nearly brained yourself in the shower.”
Aaron gave him a sympathetic look, squeezing his hip. “It’s probably just a concussion, if anything,” he said, guiding a still disorientated Robert toward the stairs, practically sighing with relief as his husband held tightly to the bannister, taking the steps one at a time (usually Robert was worse than Liv, thundering down the stairs like a small herd of elephants.)
“I’m going to have a banging headache either way,” Robert sighed, picking up a hoodie of Aaron’s, Aaron having had left it thrown over the back of the couch the previous evening. “And I didn’t even get an orgasm out of it.”
Aaron snorted, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Robert’s lips. “I’ll make it up to ya, old man.”
It had been a concussion. A fairly mild one at that, the nurse barely holding in laughter as Robert explained how he’d slipped in the shower, his cheeks turning a bright pink as he did so.
They’d spend the day on the couch, Robert nursing a banging headache and Aaron more than making up for the orgasm that wasn’t by the end of the day.
Robert had all but gotten over it when he’d gotten to work the next morning, a shower mat on his desk, right red bow attached and Adam doubled over in the corner, laughing his head off. “You told him?” he asked, incredulous.
Aaron couldn’t do much to hold back his laughter now either. “I had to tell him why we weren’t coming in to work!” he defended himself, remembering how Adam had just broken down on the phone when Aaron had told him they were in A&E because Robert had fell in the shower, Adam quickly putting two and two together.
Robert glared at the two of them. “Don’t either of you dare tell Vic.”
A week later, a brochure for shower chairs arrived in their front door, Victoria’s neat hand writing stating she’d picked out a few nice ones for him, and that was the moment Robert decided he hated his entire family.