#not all (in fact most) drivers aren’t naturally gonna be best of mates because they’re human and we human’s don’t become friends with

[softlass27]

❛❛ C’mere. Lean on me. ❜❜ (robron AU, one of them gets hurt)

Hope you like it, Amy!

ao3 link here

Sometimes Robert forgets that he is married to a very stubborn man.

It’s easy to forget because Aaron’s a lot more open and easygoing these days, compared to how he was in the early days of their relationship. More willing to show vulnerability than he used to be.

He still has his moments, though.

Like on the football pitch.

The Woolpack football team reformed about six months ago, and actually – shockingly – they’re pretty good this time around. Now that they’ve got rid of some dead weight (Paddy, the team is too polite to say, even if Robert isn’t), recruited a couple of new players and actually had time to practice together, they’re less like a group of clumsy kids having a kickabout and more like an actual team. They’ve even started winning matches.

Matty is now a force to be reckoned with, his nimble feet making him perfect for stealing the ball from opposing players; Ellis and Billy are so in sync they practically move together as one unstoppable force; David is surprisingly good at tackles, even if he does whine like a baby every time he falls over; and Vinny is… well he’s not the best goalkeeper in the world (or even the Dales), but what he lacks in natural talent he makes up for in enthusiasm.

The star player – in Robert’s entirely unbiased opinion – is Aaron. Look, Robert’s not exactly an expert in football, but from where he’s standing (on the side of a cold, muddy field until he can’t feel his toes), Aaron scores the most goals, executes the most successful tackles, has the most energy… Robert’s earned bragging rights, okay?

So there he’s stood one chilly Saturday morning in March, like the supportive husband he is, watching Aaron and his team. Well, he’s half watching, half chatting shit with Dawn while keeping an eye on Seb and Lucas playing together.

Seb is easily Aaron’s biggest cheerleader, in awe of his dad every time he sees him play. Last month, Robert couldn’t resist surprising Seb with a tiny version of the team’s strip for him to wear to every match, and he doesn’t know who was more delighted by it, his husband or his son.

But it’s just past the 70th minute now, there’s only so long a four year-old’s attention span can last. Robert can’t say he blames him; to be honest, he’s counting down the minutes until the final whistle blows and they can all head to the warm pub for a full English.

If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he wouldn’t have missed the brutal tackle that sends Aaron flying. One second Robert’s absently checking his phone, the next he hears the unmistakable sound of his husband’s loud yell, and he whips his head up to see Aaron sprawled on the grass, his face scrunched up in agony as he grips his left ankle.

Billy and Ellis are already shouting to the ref and charging towards a player on the opposing team, who holds his hands up and loudly protests his innocence. The team checks Aaron over; Robert can hear them telling Aaron to sit out the rest of the match but he’s shaking his head and insisting that he’s good to keep going.

Robert feels a tug on his on jeans and looks down to see Seb clutching his leg worriedly. “Is Daddy okay?” His bottom lip’s already wobbling, so Robert quickly lifts him up and gives him a squeeze.

“Daddy’s fine, he just took a bit of a tumble,” he says in his best reassuring voice, despite the fact that he’s more than a little worried himself. “He’s already getting back up, see?”

Matty’s helping Aaron to his feet and he manages to stay standing, though Robert can see him wince and wobble as soon as he puts weight on his injured leg. He spots Robert and Seb staring at him and gives them both a smile and a thumbs up, before waving off his teammates’ concerns and lining up to take a free kick.

This is enough to calm Seb, who wriggles impatiently in Robert’s arms until he lets him back down and goes back to playing with Lucas. Robert, on the other hand, isn’t quite so convinced by Aaron’s supposed recovery.

He watches as Aaron continues to play for the remainder of the match, his face twisting as he tries to run without putting too much strain on his left leg. It’s only a few more minutes, but time seems to stretch out as Aaron becomes slower and slower, the clearly-increasing pain becoming more evident in his movements.

“Just stop, you idiot,” Robert mutters under his breath. Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t make a difference.

To say Robert’s relieved when the ref finally blows the whistle is an understatement. If the match had gone on much longer, he would have barrelled onto the pitch and dragged Aaron off himself.

The Woolpack’s team have won 2-1, so they’re in a jubilant mood, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders and slapping each other’s backs as they come off the pitch.

“Back to the Woolpack then, lads?” Vinny cries, to which they all cheer in agreement like it’s the best idea they’ve ever heard. Robert doesn’t know why they’re so excited; they always go to the Woolpack after a match, whether they win or lose.

Aaron walks – well, hobbles – over to Seb and swings him up into the air.

“You won again!” Seb crows happily.

“Course we did, we’re the best aren’t we?” Aaron grins and tips Seb back in his arms until he’s nearly upside down – a move that never fails to make him screech with delight.

Robert runs a hand through Aaron’s sweaty hair. “You’re not going to the pub, are you?”

Aaron puts Seb down and grabs Robert’s arm as he straightens up. Robert doesn’t miss the grimace on his face, the way his weight shifts to the side of his uninjured leg.

“Yeah, course I am. Team tradition, innit?”

“But your leg, you need to rest it.”

“Don’t fuss, my leg’s fine.”

“It is not fine.”

“It’s just a twinge, I can barely feel it,” Aaron replies with all the gusto of an idiotic footballer who’s just had a big win and wants to get hammered with his mates.

“You’re practically using me as a crutch right now,” Robert points out.

“No, I’m just… touching you. Normally.”

Robert blinks and tries very hard not to scream in frustration. He is literally the only thing holding Aaron up right now.

“Right, so you won’t mind if I just – ” He quickly steps away so Aaron loses his grip and tilts sideways, gritting his teeth when his weight lands on his injured foot. He reaches out for Robert quickly.

“Okay okay, fine, you've made your point, get back here.”

Robert rolls his eyes and returns to Aaron’s side, lets him lean against his chest and rest his head on his shoulder. He can feel Aaron letting out harsh, controlled breaths against his neck.

“On a scale of one to ten, how sore are you right now?”

“Like… four?”

“So that’s a seven, then.” All that gets him is an annoyed grunt and a soft headbutt in return.

“Sorry lads,” Robert calls out to the group. “I’m taking this one home, get some ice on his dodgy leg. You’ll have to have your piss-up without him this time.”

They whine and groan like they’re all half their ages, but agree readily enough, Matty coming over to pat Aaron on the back and tell he he hopes he feels better soon.

As the rest of the team troops off towards their respective cars, Robert pulls Aaron’s left arm around his shoulder. “C’mere. Lean on me.”

They set off at a slow pace, ambling towards the car while Seb zigzags about in front of them, kicking his miniature football that he brings to every match.

“You should’ve just stopped when the prick tackled you. You’ve probably made your leg worse now, you idiot.”

“Oi, I’m injured here, you wanna try being a little nicer to me?”

“Oh, now he admits it,” Robert grumbles and grips Aaron’s wrist a little tighter. “I’m just saying, you’re not exactly 21 anymore.”

“Rich coming from you, old man.” Aaron snorts.

They continue in silence until they reach the car, twin expressions of irritation on their faces.

Robert helps Aaron into the passenger’s seat, then goes to buckle Seb into his booster seat in the back. He spots one of Seb’s pillows (they keep it in there for when he needs to nap during long car journeys) and brings it to the front, tucking it under Aaron’s foot.

“Here, that might help until we get home,” he mutters, slamming Aaron’s door and heading for the driver’s seat before he can reply.

They pull out onto the main road and set off in the direction of Emmerdale, Robert driving as carefully as he can in an attempt to avoid jostling Aaron’s leg. It doesn’t take Aaron long to notice what he’s doing, and he reaches over to run his thumb over Robert’s wrist. A silent apology for snapping.

“Sorry you couldn’t go to the pub with the others,” Robert offers, only feeling a little bit bad.

“S’okay, think I’d rather hang out with you two anyway.”

Robert doesn’t know if he entirely believes that, knows how much Aaron loves hanging out with his teammates – especially on the high of winning a match – but he appreciates the gesture.

Aaron glances back to Seb, who’s happily tearing the little collection of daisies that he’d picked into shreds (Gonna have to give the backseat another hoover tomorrow, Robert thinks with a wince).

“What d’you say, mate – us three putting our feet up, big bowl of popcorn and a How to Train Your Dragon marathon?”

“Dragons!” Seb yells, throwing the remnants of his daisy petals in the air.

Dragons are Seb’s newest favourite thing, quickly overtaking dinosaurs in his estimations (“Because dragons are like dinosaurs ‘cept they can breathe fire, Daddy,” he’d explained matter-of-factly. Robert couldn’t really fault his logic).

Aaron laughs and turns to Robert.

“So?”

Robert grins without taking his eyes from the road.

“Dragons it is.”

#my writing #robron

[vminni]

Hole in One (In Your Heart)

“Not to sound dramatic, but I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”

Felix didn’t even bother sparing Jisung a glance, “You aren’t dying.”

“Easy for you to say when you’re some sort of sun god,” Jisung groaned. Felix was all tanned and freckled and golden, beautifully sunkissed. Jisung was red with sunburn and more sweaty than he’d ever been in his life, his blonde mop of hair stuck unattractively to his forehead. “How much longer until I can know air conditioning again?”

Felix pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and consulted it, “We have one more round. Three guys. One of them didn’t request a caddie.”

Jisung grabbed the hem of his baby blue polo and fluttered it, hoping to get some air flow to his sticky skin. He looked like he’d fallen into the country club’s pool fully clothed.

“Do you want to go inside and clean up a bit before they get here?” Felix side eyed him and Jisung had never hated his friend more. First for getting him this stupid job and second for the way the sun turned Felix even more stunning than he already was. It was highly unfair.

“Nah,” Jisung lifted his shirt to wipe at his brow. “It’s just gonna be three stuffy old men. They’re paying for a caddie, not a boy toy. I don’t need to be pretty.”

“Alright,” Felix shrugged. He settled down in the grass at the edge of the course, which was unprofessional and would get him scolded if anyone saw, but Jisung was too tired to warn him. He flopped down next to his best friend, laying spread eagle on the manicured lawn. “Imagine if they let us use golf carts. I would die for a golf cart right about now. Imagine sitting. Imagine not having to carry the clubs. Imagine having shade.”

Jisung actually moaned at the thought and chuckle startled him, causing him to bolt upright. Felix scrambled to his feet and apologized profusely, bowing to the three boys in front of them.

Jisung followed as Felix tried to rectify the situation, “You guys must be our 2 o’clock. We’re so sorry for our unprofessional actions. It’s been a long day. Though that’s no excuse. Please forgive us.”

The boy in the front just shrugged, clearly unbothered, “No worries, mate.”

Felix gave him a little nod of his head and dug his paper out of his pocket, “Um, Chan, Changbin and Minho? One of you didn’t want a caddie?”

“That would be me,” the same boy spoke. He was blonde and dimpled and way more built than Jisung could ever dream of being. He and the sharp faced boy at his side were wearing polos with a little logo that probably cost more than Jisung’s whole paycheck. The clubs in the bags on their backs were new and shiny and, even though Jisung knew little to nothing about golf, clearly expensive. There was an ease to the two of them that screamed money, screamed that they belonged. This was their world and Jisung was just here to serve them.

Their friend though, he was interesting. He hung back a bit and, while he had the face of a country club brat, his polo was lacking the little horse logo and his clubs were obviously secondhand. He smiled when he noticed Jisung eyeing him, soft and small and breathtakingly beautiful. Jisung was suddenly grateful for his sunburned face. No one would be able to tell he was blushing.

“I’m Felix, this is Jisung.” Jisung couldn’t really focus as Felix introduced them, hyper aware of how awful he looked. Why hadn’t he taken Felix up on his offer to go inside and get cleaned up? The most beautiful boy in the world was standing in front of him and he looked like he’d never seen a shower before in his life.

“Chan,” the blonde offered a dimpled smile. He hiked his thumb towards the boy next to him, whose muscled arms Felix was not so subtly checking out, “Changbin.”

The beautiful boy cut him off before Chan could introduce him, smiling wide enough to make his eyes crinkle, “And I’m Minho!”

Jisung wasn’t sure if it was Minho’s smile or heat stroke, but he suddenly felt incredibly woozy.

Felix didn’t give Jisung a choice, just reached over and slid the bag of clubs from Changbin’s back, slinging it over his own shoulder, “Have you golfed before? Or will you guys be needing pointers and advice on clubs?”

“I golf all the time,” Chan answered. “Changbin does a bit. Minho, this is your first time, right?”

“Yup!” Minho was cheery as he grinned. “First time golfing, first time at a country club, first time feeling so fancy. I don’t know anything about golf.”

“Oh no,” Jisung blanched and the whole group turned to look at him. He was staring at Minho in horror, “I don’t know anything about golf either! I can’t help you.”

Chan furrowed his brow, though Minho seemed unperturbed by this piece of information, “Why are you working as a caddie if you don’t know golf?”

“Felix got me the job,” distress worked its way into Jisung’s tone. “Most of the people we caddie for are regulars who don’t want any advice. And if they do Felix gives it.” He turned to his friend, who was standing a little closer to Changbin than was really necessary, “Maybe we should switch.”

“It’s fine,” an arm draped itself over Jisung’s shoulder and he burned at the thought of Minho feeling how sweaty he was. It was obvious by looking at him, but feeling it too? Jisung was going to die. “I don’t care about golf. I’m only here because Chan promised we could get steak at the clubhouse when we were done. I don’t need any advice.”

“Great,” Felix chirped. “Let’s head out then.”

He traipsed towards the first hole, Chan and Changbin on his heels. Minho’s arm fell from Jisung’s shoulder and he kept his eyes on his feet, not wanting to look at the other boy in case he was wiping his hands on his shorts after touching Jisung’s disgustingly damp body.

“Here,” a water bottle was pressed in his hand and Jisung finally glanced up, confusion coloring his face. Minho laughed a little, “You look like you need it more than I do.”

Jisung cringed and played with the cap, “I’m so sorry. I’m nasty, I know. I don’t do well with the sun.”

“It’s fine,” Minho nudged Jisung’s arm with his own. “A little sweat never hurt anyone. But I don’t want you to dehydrate, okay? I need my caddie.”

Oh, right. Jisung was here to work for him. He’d forgotten for a second.

He held his arm out for Minho’s bag of clubs and the other boy hesitated. He gnawed on his lip for a second, “What happens if I carry them? Do you still get to come with us?”

Jisung shook his head.

“Do you get to go inside?”

Jisung shook his head again, “They’ll find something else for me to do. Someone else to caddie for. Or have me collect the balls from the driving range.”

Minho slowly slid the bag off his back and let Jisung take it, though it looked like it pained him to do so. Jisung lugged it onto his shoulder and hitched a thumb towards where the others had gathered, “We should probably go catch up with them.”

Minho nodded and they made their way to the other three, Minho’s water bottle still clutched loosely in Jisung’s grip. Felix eyed it strangely when they approached, but didn’t ask. Jisung set down the clubs and took a swig, grateful for the cold that worked its way down his throat. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he’d been until he’d guzzled down half the bottle.

“Who wants to tee off first?” Felix pulled a driver out of Changbin’s bag of clubs and handed it to him.

Chan extracted the same club from his own set and shrugged, “Bin, you want to?”

“I’ll go first,” Minho volunteered. “For all we know I’m a natural. I might impress you all with my incredible sense for the game.”

“Well, go on then.”

Jisung dug the driver out of Minho’s bag of clubs but he waved him off, peering down at the others. He pointed to the five iron, “I’ll take that one.”

Jisung wasn’t going to argue with him, even though the others had done something different. He withdrew the club Minho wanted and pressed it into his hand.

“Thank you,” Minho set up his tee, balancing the ball on top and making a show out of eyeing the flag in the distance that marked the hole. He lined his club up and squatted, drawing Jisung’s eyes to his thick thighs. A loud snort broke the quiet and Minho stood up, wielding his club like a sword as he turned on Changbin, “No laughing at my form.”

“Sorry, continue.”

Minho squatted down again and wiggled his club back and forth a few times, before bringing it back and whacking the ball. It traveled about ten feet in the air and five on the ground, slowly rolling to a stop pathetically close to where they were all standing.

“Oh well,” Minho shrugged. “Guess I’m not the next Tiger.”

He returned to Jisung’s side, but didn’t hand back the club. Instead he informed him, “I’m going to use this one the whole time. I can hold it.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

Jisung was very aware of how close Minho was to him, their shoulders bumping as they turned to watch Chan’s drive arch through the air. He was also all too aware of how terrible he must smell, and although Minho had already been nice about his sweat, he felt the need to apologize again.

“I’m sorry.”

Minho turned to him with a furrowed brow, “About what? I told you I don’t care about golf. And I picked this club out, if I suck then I suck. It’s not your fault.”

Jisung’s face burned, “No, um, about this.” He gestured to his body and pushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead, “You should probably stand upwind from me.”

Minho just rolled his eyes, a sort of fondness creeping into the set of his smile, “I already told you, I don’t care about how sweaty you are. It’s hot and you spend all day outside carrying around heavy bags. I’m a bit more concerned about the fact that your friend doesn’t seem to be sweating at all.”

They both looked at Felix, who was glowing under the sun’s rays as he laughed at something Changbin had said to him. Jisung sighed, “He’s blessed by the sun gods. Lucky him.”

“Minho, you’re up!” Chan called and Minho offered Jisung another smile before skipping over to where his ball rested. He did his dumb stance, wiggled his butt a little (not that Jisung was looking) and proceeded to poke the ball forwards a few more feet.

“Oh well,” he returned to Jisung with a shrug. “Golf does not seem to be my game.”

“It’s going to take us ages if you keep playing like that,” Changbin called from further down the green, his own ball already near the hole. “We’ll be out here all afternoon.”

Minho ignored his friend, choosing instead to grin at Jisung, “The longer I take, the more time I get to spend with you.”

Jisung felt woozy again.

This time it definitely had nothing to do with the sun.

-

“I hope you enjoy your steak,” Jisung swung Minho’s bag off his back and held it out towards the other boy, hoping his disappointment about the end of their day wasn’t too palpable.

“Are you done caddying for today?”

Jisung nodded and Minho brightened, “Come eat with us!”

“I can’t,” Jisung played with the edge of his polo. “Staff, um, staff aren’t allowed in the dining room. Except the ones who work there, obviously.”

Minho furrowed his brow, “For real?”

“Wouldn’t want the stuffy old richies to have to catch a glimpse of the working class when they’re enjoying their expensive meals,” Jisung laughed bitterly. He hated that stupid rule.

“That’s dumb,” Minho seemed annoyed as well. “You work so hard, you deserve some good food.”

Jisung shrugged, “We can eat the food. Just not in there. There’s a staff room.”

“What if you were a guest? I came here as Chan’s guest today, but Changbin can still bring someone. Can you eat in the dining room then?”

Jisung wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to push it. He was barely hanging on to this job as it was, “I don’t know. It’s probably for the better if I don’t. But thanks for asking.”

“Oh,” Minho deflated a bit. “Well, it was really nice meeting you. I’m sorry I couldn’t carry the clubs myself. I would have, but I didn’t want you to leave. Sorry for being selfish.”

Jisung blinked a few times, confused by Minho’s words, “You wanted me around?”

Minho giggled and Jisung’s heart fluttered in his chest, “I literally told you that I didn’t mind golfing so shitty because it meant I got to spend more time with you.”

“I know,” Jisung nudged at the grass with the toe of his shoe, “I guess I just didn’t believe you meant it.”

“Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

Jisung shrugged and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, eyes focusing over Minho’s shoulder where, judging by their twin blushes, it appeared Felix was getting Changbin’s number.

“As soon as I heard you moaning at the thought of shade, I was a goner.”

Jisung pressed his hands to his warm cheeks and groaned, “Oh god, I forgot about that.”

“You’re cute,” Minho declared. “I’d like to see you again. If you’d want to.”

Grateful for his sunburn once again, Jisung nodded, “Oh, um, yeah. I-I’d love that.”

“Cool,” Minho pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it out to Jisung. “Number, please.”

Jisung entered his number and returned the phone to Minho. He seemed like he was about to put it in his pocket but he hesitated, “I know you’ll probably say no, because you spent the whole day apologizing for how you look, but can I take a picture of you? For your little icon thingy?”

Jisung winced, but he didn’t want to disappoint Minho. He nodded and suddenly Minho was next to him, arm around Jisung’s shoulder and cheek pressed against his. He held his phone out in front and snapped a few pictures, lips pursed in a kissy face. Jisung, shocked that Minho was so close, could do nothing but stare into the camera with wide eyes.

Minho laughed when he pulled away and checked the photos, delight spilling out of his lips, “You’re adorable.”

Jisung scrubbed at his sweaty hair, “T-thanks.”

“I’ll text you details for our date later, okay?” Minho wiggled his phone. “What days are you off?”

“Thursday and Friday,” Jisung silently cursed the fact that it was only Monday.

“Alright,” Minho bounced on his toes for a second, then came in and gave Jisung a big hug. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

Jisung was frozen, arms awkwardly dangling at his side, as Minho pulled back and gave him one last smile, “Bye, Jisungie.”

As soon as he disappeared into the clubhouse Jisung collapsed, sprawling out in the grass. Felix was at his side in a second, concern etched in every feature, “Jisung, are you okay? Do you need water? Should I carry you inside?”

“Minho asked me out,” he stared up into the sun, suddenly forgetting why he’d hated it so much. “Please tell me this is real and just not some weird symptom of heat stroke.”

“I don’t think you’re hallucinating but I do think some AC would do you good,” Felix reached down and wrapped his small hand around Jisung’s wrist, tugging his friend up. “Come on, let’s go in.”

“Maybe I really did die,” Jisung sat up, but didn’t go any further than that. “This has to be the afterlife. This is too good to be true.”

“Not dead,” Felix confirmed. “Just very sweaty and very sunburnt.”

-

Jisung paced his front hall, hands sweaty and nerves clogging his throat. It was Thursday night and Minho was on his way over to pick him up and Jisung felt like his heart was about to explode. He had no hint to where they were going except for the ‘dress fancy!’ text that Minho had sent him earlier in the day.

He was wearing a slim cut pair of navy blue dress pants and a tan blazer over a white dress shirt. His sunburn had began to fade into a tan and his hair was softly styled, parted over his forehead. He didn’t look anything like the sweaty mess he’d been when he met Minho, but that was somehow causing him even more panic. What if Minho didn’t like him anymore?

The doorbell rang and Jisung’s stomach twisted. He was here.

It took him a few minutes to work up the nerve to open the door and when he did he was greeted by the sight of Minho in a tailored black suit, a single red rose clutched in his fingers. His jaw dropped slightly as Jisung joined him on the step and tugged the door shut behind him.

“Wow,” Minho blinked and Jisung wasn’t sure if it was just the poor lighting on his porch or if Minho was actually was blushing. “You clean up really nice.”

Jisung smoothed his sweaty palms on his pants, “Thank you.”

“This is for you,” the flower was presented to him and he accepted it, his fingers brushing Minho’s lightly as he did so. “And now, our chariot awaits.”

Jisung’s gaze followed the grand sweep of Minho’s hand towards the road and he gasped, “Is that a limo?”

“It is indeed,” Minho presented his arm and Jisung took it, a little unsteady on his feet as they headed down the front walk. “Tonight, you get to be treated like a king.” He opened the door and placed his hand on the small of Jisung’s back as he climbed in, following right behind. “I really hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to the country club. I know you work there and probably would like to avoid it on your days off, but I wanted you to be able to eat in the dining room. Chan and Changbin lent me their memberships for the night.”

Jisung was touched and a little excited at the thought of finally being able to enter the forbidden land, “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” Minho placed his hand on his own thigh, palm up, and Jisung took the hint, folding his fingers with Minho’s. They spent the whole ride grinning at each other, cheeks pink and eyes locked.

When the car came to a stop on the sweeping driveway of the country club, the limo driver opened the door and gestured for them to exit, “Sirs.”

They climbed out and Minho offered his elbow again, leading Jisung into the building as if they truly belonged there. They both knew they didn’t, but it was fun to pretend, and Jisung was enjoying the experience.

They were led to a small table that overlooked the golf course, a single candle burning in the middle.

“I highly recommend the steak,” Minho grinned at Jisung over his menu. “It’s quite delightful.”

“Oh, is it?”

“You know what else I recommend?”

“What would that be?”

Minho winked and Jisung felt his face grow hot, already knowing what Minho was about to say before he said it.

“The caddies.”

#minsung #han jisung #lee know #this is dumb #but oh well