“And then Paddy came along. He’s one in a million, him. You know that?”
“Do you love him? Cos I do. I’m not scared of the word. He’s the dad I should’ve had.”
Aaron has been through so much, it’s actually scary he can relate to so many issues and thus help people, because he’s been there. He was already Seb’s dad and will be his dad again, and if, for instance, they decided to go there, he could become an excellent father figure to an orphan kid to extend the Robron family…
A bear-hug bonus 🐻🤗
Bonus #2: the ever handsome Mr. Sugden-Dingle 1st 😍
thank you for the tags my loves @stuckinanothertimezone @capseycartwright @aaronsugdens @jackiemerrick 💛
It’s weird, staying at the farm, when that’s where Bear and the other slaves were kept all that time. Except Bear and the others had barren cots, no access to proper food or medication. Dylan gets his own room, soft blankets and a full breakfast paired with a gruff “Take your fill” from Aaron.
He’s not a talker, Aaron. He doesn't try to get Dylan to open up. He doesn't fill the silence like Paddy does or fusses like Mandy. Mostly, his face does all the talking for him. He's ridiculously expressive and extremely hard to read.
Robert, surprisingly, is even less talkative than Aaron. He’s friendly if introverted, definitely kinder than village gossip makes him out to be, but apart from a court conversation over practical matters in the house, he doesn’t seem too concerned about getting to know Dylan. Which is fine, of course. Dylan’s just grateful to be here.
tagging the ridiculously talented @aelric @barnbert @bartonmatty @donotpercievemebaby @dreamer-of-ships @grassygreenferns @illbeyourreasonwhy @jcforsapphics @maybemystcha @mellaithwen @nerdyfangirl76 @robrondale @sugdendeeznuts @urfavrubyyy and anyone who fancies it :)
Number 7 for the prompt game + future fic, if it strikes your fancy? I've been a bit obsessed with Robron and kids recently 😅
fic prompt: 'i'm your daughter'
word count: 1.7k
warnings: n/a
summary: robert hadn't even wanted to attend ray's trial, but, as always, his problems start with orders from chas dingle
notes: not entirely pleased with this one tbh, but the wording of the prompt seemed more like a 'surprise kid reveal' to me... i am also working on a future fic with dads!robron that'll come out at some point... all you need to know for this one is that ray is alive and arrested for his crimes, and this concept was on my mind because @bartonmatty and i speculate about robert having kids during his 'missing years' all the time
The trial’s been dragging on for weeks.
It should be an open and shut case — probably will be, once they stop finding new evidence and witnesses, victims, all willing to testify against Ray Walters, the monster who hid in plain sight. There’s no way he can deny pretty much any of it, the odds stacked so high against him that his only real option is to brace for impact when they come crashing down on top of him.
Robert hadn’t really had any intentions of going to the trial, still feels a churning guilty sensation for luring the man back to the village to make a few quid, even if he’s fairly sure Ray wouldn’t’ve just slinked off for good after Mack politely told him to do one.
Still, Chas forces them to come along to the court — something about Dingle solidarity and supporting Marlon and April, and Aaron’s got some weird soft spot for Dylan since they’ve been hanging out together at Paddy’s — all dressed in their smartest attire.
We only see each other at weddings and funerals (and court appearances), that’s the Dingles’ relationship with suit and ties, Robert’s found.
April testified yesterday, and Dylan has spent the worst part of the morning being cross examined to within an inch of his life. They raked up his past, used every dirty trick in the book, and Robert’s honestly impressed that the kid held his own against the prosecution the way he did.
Apparently there’s a handful of other teenagers taking the stand over the next couple of days, each of them wanting to play their part in making sure Ray gets sent down for a long, long time.
Like he’s not already confessed to literally stabbing his Mum in the back, and essentially being compliant in a human trafficking organisation. It’s some ploy to appeal himself to Laurel, apparently — and fair play to the bloke. Sometimes delusion is the only thing you have to cling onto, and if he’s lucky Laurel might have just enough of it herself that she refrains from spitting on him when they take him down.
“‘M not comin’ again tomorrow,” Aaron grumbles, taking a long sip of his cheap vending machine coffee. It smells disgusting, and the face Aaron pulls afterwards speaks for itself. Robert’s glad he decided not to bother, can’t imagine how they’ve managed to fuck up a simple cappuccino.
Robert makes a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sigh of relief. “We’ve done our bit,” he agrees. “Chas can’t complain at that.”
“D’ya even remember who my mum is?” Aaron scoffs.
It’s nice, dating the only self-aware Dingle of the bunch.
Speak of the devil, and she shall appear. Chas comes whirling ‘round the corner, long coat swishing and high heels clacking. She’s terrifying, in that ‘nightmare dressed as a daydream’ sort of way.
“Come on, you two,” she huffs, “one of the other girls is about to do all that swearing on the Bible rubbish.”
Robert nudges Aaron forward with his shoulder, watches him drop his mostly full coffee into the bin as they pass by. “Cafe on the way home?” he suggests to assuage the disappointment of the subpar offerings here.
It’s a good deterrent for crime, to be fair. Robert will stay on the right side of the law from now on, if only to avoid the terrible facilities here.
Aaron shakes his head. “After the last few days, I want a pint. Or three.”
“Think we can arrange that,” agrees Robert, grinning as they follow Chas through the door to the courtroom.
There’s a girl standing in the docks where Dylan had been just an hour ago — strawberry blonde hair, watery blue eyes, a petite nose that turns up in a way that reminds Robert inextricably of Victoria.
Her back is ramrod straight, eyes darting around nervously until they settle somewhere in Robert’s vicinity, and then they widen to a comical degree.
“She’s lookin’ at ya,” Aaron observes, a hint of his natural suspicion bleeding into the tone.
“I doubt it,” dismisses Robert, though he feels a phantom burn in the side of his head, where he thinks her gaze might be lingering. “Never seen her before in my life.”
Which is true. Robert had stayed at an address in Hotten for a week after being released from prison, but he hadn’t so much as left his bedroom until he was packin’ up and shippin’ out to crash Aaron and John’s wedding ceremony — hardly enough time to be meeting and befriending wayward teenagers.
“I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” the girl declares, voice trembling, sounding distant, like she’s not quite in the room with them.
“Alright, let’s start with how you first met Ray Walters, shall we, Miss Sugden?”
Sugden.
Robert must be hearing things.
Except Aaron turns to him, brow furrowed, fingers twitching, no doubt to avoid his fists clenching. “Never seen her before?” he repeats lowly.
“I mean it,” Robert insists. “Aaron, I’ve got no idea who she is, honestly.”
Charity leans down from her seat behind them, rests her chin on Robert’s shoulder and whisper-shouts, “Did she say Sugden?”
“No.” It’s clearly a case of the Mandela Effect, or a collective reminder to get their hearing tested. There’s no way.
“Oh, I think she did, Sunshine,” Cain disagrees in his usual growl-like tone as he tugs Charity back into an upright position, just to make sure Robert can get a full view of his surly scowl. “Anythin’ we should know about?”
Robert scoffs. “Nothing I can tell you.”
As they bicker amongst themselves, somehow avoiding being told off by the presiding judge, the girl recounts her story — it’s about the same as Dylan’s; she thought Ray was her friend, felt grateful to him for helping her out, let herself get talked into the odd drug drop as a one off favour for a mate.
The prosecution asks if Ray ever solicited her to clients for money. Robert holds his breath, tells himself it’s because she’s a child, that he’d felt that same sick feeling after discovering that April and Dylan had been in similar positions.
“No,” the girl answers. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to be capable of it.”
There’s not much else to ask after that, just questions to establish a timeline — she’d met Ray about six months ago when he’d bought her a sandwich and a Coke at the bus stop, and offered to give her a lift to school.
“I didn’t take him up on it,” she clarifies, “my Mum taught me not to get in cars with strange blokes.”
“Didn’t she teach you not to sell drugs for them too?”
The girl’s expression turns deadpan, but Robert recognises the pain she’s trying to hide. He’s worn that mask, donned that facade and told the world he was fine until eventually people stopped asking and Robert convinced himself it was for the best.
“She must’ve forgotten to impart that wisdom on her six-year-old,” she snarks. When the prosecution just looks baffled, she elaborates, “She’s dead.”
“And your father?”
The girl glowers. “Well, chattin’ with him goes against the whole stranger danger schtick.”
Robert feels like he’s going to be sick.
He doesn’t know whether to clamber across the uncomfortable benches until he reaches this girl, shake her until she reels off her name and date of birth and her mother’s name, or hightail it out of there fast enough to qualify for the next Olympics.
“Robert…” Aaron mutters, places a comforting hand on his knee. Or maybe he just knows Robert well enough to know that his first instinct is to bolt.
“Don’t,” he snaps. “Seriously, Aaron.”
They sit in tense silence until the girl is escorted back through the corridor and out of sight.
In perfect unison, Robert and Aaron rise to their feet.
“I’m not lettin’ ya go on your own,” Aaron says, adamant, like he’s prepared to meet resistance.
Robert grips his hand, locks their fingers together and focuses on the feeling of Aaron’s thumb stroking his hand. “Thank you.”
Chas looks like she’s a second away from following, though one swift glare from Aaron has her backing down, if only temporarily. She’ll want answers, Robert knows, but she’s just gonna have to get in line.
They stumble out of the courtroom, hand in hand, both wound tight like springs ready to snap.
And there, sitting on one of the benches, is the enigma herself.
She doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a sullen, “Hullo.”
Aaron takes the lead, guides them over to lean against the opposite wall. “We didn’t catch your name,” he says softly, like they’ve approached a skittish animal. Maybe that’s what she is, something small and frail and easily spooked.
If she wasn’t before, Ray surely made her so.
“Elodie,” she says, accent lilting, not quite local. She’s quite well spoken for a teenage drug dealer, all things considered. Probably made her the perfect candidate in Ray’s eyes; unassuming, innocent looking, sweet. “Elodie Sugden.”
Robert gulps, knows this time there’s no mistaking it. “Right,” he says, suddenly can’t formulate any other words.
Aaron cuts in. “Sugden as in…”
Elodie looks up, stares Robert in the eye, looks directly into his soul as she confirms, “Yeah, Sugden as in I’m your daughter. Surprise.”
“Right,” Robert repeats lamely. He turns to Aaron, floundering. “I think I’d like those pints now.”
“You gonna buy me one?” Elodie queries, clearly sizing him up. “That’s what dads do, isn’t it?”
“Not for kids,” Aaron denies. “But ya can have an orange juice if ya want, and we can talk.”
Elodie hums. “I meant it. I don’t get in cars with strange blokes, especially not now.”
“You can get a lift with my mum,” Aaron offers.
“She’s strange, but at least she’s not a bloke,” Robert chimes in.
Elodie snorts. “You’re weird. Reckon I could take ya in a fight, though, so alright.”
Aaron grins. “She catches on fast.”
Robert doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, dreads to think really, but he knows what Aaron and his lot are like for taking in strays, especially gobby teenagers with a penchant for making fun of Robert Sugden.
A pint. Or three, Aaron said earlier.
Robert has every intention of drinking The Woolpack dry, actually. He’s got a feeling he’s gonna need it.
