forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons
robert wakes up on his thirty-first birthday, and is totally, utterly spoiled by his husband.
Robert didn’t like birthdays. Really, he didn’t - he’d stopped liking birthdays once he’d turned twenty-five, feeing as though he’s started to go over the hill, not much seeing the point of celebrating.
He hadn’t even celebrated his thirtieth, and that was supposed to be a big one. Robert had wanted to celebrate in his own way, with a holiday to Barcelona, Aaron by his side, but that had fallen through.
Maybe he just wasn’t meant to celebrate his birthdays, Robert pondered, burying his face into his pillow. Maybe he should just leave well enough alone, and be grateful he survived another year.
He could just about go for a quiet dinner in the pub, and Victoria buying him a pint, but he didn’t want the fuss. If the Dingles had caught wind of when his birthday was, they’d have no doubt organised a surprise party in the pub.
He’d get it out of Aaron when he got up, make sure there was no Dingle organised chaos to come his way that day. Shifting in bed, Robert opened his eyes and stretched out, blinking at the bright light of their bedroom.
Aaron must already be up, light streaming in from their open bedroom door, invading their otherwise still dark room. Robert ran a hand through his already messy blonde hair, easing himself into a sitting position, just as Aaron reentered the room, tray in hand.
“You’re supposed to still be asleep!” Aaron grumbled good-naturedly, nudging their bedroom door shut with his hip, blocking out the rest of the already busy pub again.
It was the one thing Robert had never gotten quite used to about the Woolpack, the constant busy atmosphere of the pub. He’d always assumed that living in a pub, the day wouldn’t start until 12pm when the pub actually opened - but deliveries started from seven or eight, depending on the day, and it was always a hub of activity.
He’d almost miss the noise, when the Mill was finally finished and they were living in a place of their own. According to Ronnie, it would only be a few more weeks, a month, tops before the place was actually liveable.
“You shouldn’t have left the door open then, should ya? The noise woke me up.” Robert teased, his heart swelling with love for his husband as he watched him set the tray down on their bed, piping hot tea and a freshly made bacon sarnie awaiting him.
Aaron’s cooking skills weren’t exactly top notch, but he liked breakfast food enough to be able to make decent bacon. “Happy birthday, Robert,” he said softly, leaning across to press a minty flavoured kiss to Robert’s lips.
Robert melted into the embrace, still revelling in the fact he got to kiss his husband whenever he wanted to, even now, two weeks after his release from prison. Two weeks wasn’t enough time to even begin to make up for all the time they lost when Aaron was inside, and there would never be enough soft, sleepy, morning kisses to make up for all the first mornings of their marriage they had missed.