i promise this was meant to be short. also on ao3 here

Robert hiccuped out a sob as Aaron managed to get him sat in the bath, the sound making Aaron’s heart ache in his chest. He’d seen Robert in nearly every state, in the decade or so that he’d known the other man, but this genuine terror and sorrow was new. Robert was shaking, and all Aaron could think to do was get him into a hot bath. 

“You’re okay,” Aaron reassured, kneeling at the side of the bath, his own hoodie tossed aside, leaving him in a thin t-shirt. It was cold, the heating of his flat having not quite kicked in yet, but Aaron didn’t care. 

Robert’s body was battered, and bruised, mottled purple and black marks in the shape of a boot stamped into his ribs. His face was worse, though, a split lip and a blooming black eye the marks of just how badly everything had gone that day. He looked so genuinely devastated, eyes swollen and red from the way he’d been hysterically crying. 

“You’re okay,” Aaron promised, hands gentle as he brushed Robert’s hair back off his forehead, blond matted with blood. “Can I take care of you?” 

Robert looked like he wanted to say no.

“Let me take care of you,” Aaron pleaded, because it was the only thing he knew how to do right - use his hands that had seen so much violence to take care of Robert, put his broken pieces back together. He sometimes thought it was maybe the only thing he’d done right in his entire life, the way he could soothe Robert Sugden’s broken heart, the thing he’d been put on earth to do.

“Okay,” Robert relented, speaking tugging at his split lip, Robert wincing. 

Aaron nodded, reaching for his shower gel, and the loofah he kept in the shower - habits he’d picked up the first time they’d been together, the shower gel the very same one he’d stolen from Robert and taken to prison. He hoped Robert would notice - would see that even after six years, Robert’s presence had lingered heavily in Aaron’s life, Aaron never willing to let go of the scant few connections he had to the love of his life.

Robert’s body tensed, under Aaron’s touch, a reminder of just how much the man in question had been through in the six years he’d been in prison, things Aaron would have to grit his teeth and calmly learn about in the weeks and months to come, all while quietly plotting vengeance on the people who’d taught Robert’s body violence, and pain. 

“You’re okay,” Aaron soothed, gentle as he dragged the loofah across Robert’s skin. “It’s me, Robert - it’s Aaron. I’ll take care of you,” he reassured. He did his best to be thorough, but quick, knowing that everything felt overwhelming for Robert, there and then. 

Robert slowly relaxed, and whether it was the hot water, or some magical healing power Aaron didn’t know his hands had, he wasn’t sure, but it was a relief to see the tension bleed from Robert’s body, the water of the bath turning soapy. 

“Can I wash your hair?” Aaron asked, knowing to ask, now. It was never a question before, Robert preening under Aaron’s touch when he’d offer to wash Robert’s hair in the shower, but things were different now. 

Robert looked at him with wide, sad eyes, and nodded. “Just - don’t touch the back of my head?” he asked, and winced, embarrassed by his own admission. There was a story there, Aaron knew, and one he’d push about later, but for now, he just nodded. 

“Of course,” Aaron promised, reaching for his own shampoo. “Close your eyes, for a minute? I’ll be quick,” he knew asking a terrified Robert to close his eyes was a risk, but he didn’t want to blind him with shampoo either. “Hold onto me,” he suggested, at Robert’s worried look. “You’ll be able to feel what I’m doing.” 

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