The Christmas holidays seemed to fly by in a blur. Without the stress of college and coursework Robin took on more shifts and spent most of her nights out either with her work friends at the pub or with John, Stu and the band at their gigs. It was the most fun she'd ever had, not that she wanted to admit it to anyone in fear that they'd realise just how boring her life used to be.

Even if she saw John every night, neither of them spoke of the kiss. When John had said it was their little secret, it was almost as if it had become a secret from even themselves. Neither of them mentioned it, or even referenced it, and Robin had begun to wonder if John had started to pretend it hadn't happened. She soon realised that it wasn't the case. Whenever they saw each other they were with other people, and it wouldn't be right to go sneaking off just to see if their previous passion still existed. Occasionally John would glance over at her if they were in a room full of people and Robin would blush, but they made no other move than that. They both acted as if it was forgotten, neither of them knowing just how badly the other was dying to bring it up and explore whether it could happen again.

Both of them were, however, too busy to make the kiss their sole priority. John had gigs with the Quarrymen, and Robin took on more and more shifts since she didn't have college to worry about. She went to whatever gigs she could, they were mad fun and she more often than not woke up the morning after with a hangover. Her alcohol tolerance was certainly improving, but it was not up to the standards of everyone else in the group. It was a little embarrassing, especially since George was three years younger than her and could drink her under the table quite easily, but the others found it funny, and she was grateful that John always made sure she never got in too much of a state and always got home safe.

Christmas Eve was spent at the restaurant on a long shift with Ana and Susie before meeting Kay and her boyfriend Frank down at the pub. The three of them then went down to a few clubs and met John and the others, meaning Christmas morning Robin woke up with a hangover. Not that it mattered, since her mother and uncle were both hungover too. Rita had been out with her work friends and Albert had met up with old school friends for a festive pub crawl. As a Christmas treat Robin's mother put aside all her bitterness so the three Knight's enjoyed a calm Christmas Day.

It was different to the sort of celebrations she was used to at home, considering all Robin usually cared about was the food. Back in Sheffield her Dad always did the cooking, food being something that ran in the family since he was just as good a chef as his restauranteur brother, but other than Albert preparing an impressive feast, she also had considerably more presents than usual, most of them being art supplies or records.

"My mate Brian runs a record shop," Albert had told her as he gifted her the box full of records ranging from blues and jazz to skiffle and rock. "He told me what all the best ones are,"

"They're brilliant, you're brilliant," she told him gratefully, meaning it with her whole heart.

Together they sat and watched the Queen's Speech and the many different carol services that were televised before Top Hat starring Fred and Ginger came on, one of Robin's favourite films. Everything was calm and peaceful, and it was probably the most content Robin had felt in the house since moving in. That night as she went to bed, trying not to glance over at John's house as she closed her curtains, she hoped that maybe this was the start of something new. Maybe she and her family were turning over a new leaf and she and her mother could start to build a normal relationship.

Of course, that was wishful thinking, as the very next morning things were back to normal. With Albert going out to meet his friends, Robin was home alone with her mother. Part of her wished she could see her friends too, she wanted to go round to John's or get the bus to Stuart's bedsit, maybe even visit Kay and her sister, but she had a Boxing Day tradition she hated to ignore, the very thought of missing it making her stomach clench in nerves.

Her mother found her in the living room crouched next to the radio, desperately trying to tune it to the right station, hoping with her whole heart that she'd be able to reach the Sheffield stations. Knowing exactly what she was doing, Rita let out a scoff, sighing and shaking her head as she threw herself down onto the sofa with a glass of wine.

"Not the bloody football, Roberta," she sighed boredly, though Robin didn't even look over to her, still focusing on tuning the radio. "You're wasting your time, what's the point listening to it? It's not like you're there watching it, you won't have a clue what's going on it'll just be hooligans and oiks shouting and swearing,"

"Hooligans and oiks, also known as the people Dad used to call his friends," Robin muttered exasperatedly under her breath before looking over her shoulder at her mother. "You know broadcasted games isn't just the noise, there's commentary telling you what's going on,"

"Well whatever, I'm not listening to it," she dismissed, getting up and pushing Robin aside slightly to unplug the radio. "Waste of time and energy if you ask me,"

"Well, I didn't really ask you," Robin restrained herself, trying to keep calm as she plugged the radio back in. "You know the Wednesday match is important to me, you know the Boxing Day tradition,"

"What, the tradition that started just because I didn't want you around the house and your weak willed father thought he'd take you along on his boys day out because he felt sorry for you?" Rita snapped sharply, and Robin tried not to flinch.

The problem with her mother was that she always escalated things far too quickly. She'd witnessed her and her father going from a quiet conversation to a screaming match in mere seconds, as if Rita was so scared of someone opposing her she needed to get her opinion across as boldly as she possibly could. Except sometimes it wasn't just bold, it was rude and a little scary, not that Robin was going to show just how hurt she was. It was still Christmas, she wanted to try and keep the peace wherever possible, not wanting her mother's temper to get the better of her as it normally did.

"Please," Robin sighed. "The scousers hate Sheff football, no pub's going to be showing the match and it's the first Boxing Day game I'll have missed in ten years. It's the first one... the first one without Dad,"

"Oh, get a grip," her mother snapped, completely ignoring the gentleness of Robin's pleas. "It's football. I thought you'd have better things to do. Thought you had all these wonderful mates who'd be taking you out around town, or have they got bored of you by now so you're resorting to pretending your father's still alive?"

"At least if I pretend Dad's still alive then at least I'll have one parent who actually likes me," Robin said bluntly, hoping the harshness of her tone would hide the lump forming in her throat. "At least Dad spoke to me as if I matter. I know I fucked up both of your lives but at least Dad didn't make me feel like a mistake,"

Usually Robin thought her words through carefully, not rising to her mother's level, and maybe if she'd have kept her cool and kept quiet she wouldn't have felt her mother's hand collide sharply with her cheek. Before she could stop herself she had let out a gasp, her breath catching in her throat at the shock that her mother had hit her. That was new, her mother never normally bothered with violence, but as soon as she had crossed the line she seemed unstoppable, slapping her other cheek even harder. Robin winced slightly, her hands moving to cup her cheeks but before she could even think about fighting back, her mother had grabbed her by her hair and was dragging her to the back door.

"Do you know how ungrateful you are?" her mother muttered as Robin tried to prise her hands off her hair, though it was no use. "You're just one big screw up and I can't bare to look at you, I don't even understand how your father would voluntarily spend time with you, let alone your new friends,"

"Aren't you a wonderful mother?" Robin spat before she could stop herself, though her mother had flung the backdoor open, roughly shoving her outside.

It wasn't until she was falling back into the garden that Robin realised it was snowing, and as she heard the door lock click into place did she also realise her lack of a coat.

***

Robin wasn't quite sure how long she'd been sat up in the tree branches, but it was long enough to be absolutely freezing. Completely locked out with no ally in the house she felt the tree was her one refuge, but it wasn't as much of a safe haven as it had been the day she moved in. The leaves had all dropped onto the ground, leaving her exposed, not that she cared, closing her eyes and shutting out the rest of the world.

Her mother had locked her out on the flat balcony once in a snow storm when she was fifteen. She'd coped once, she could cope again, plus the cold was making her cheeks sting much less, instead the rest of her face aching from the cutting wind. She still couldn't quite believe her mother had slapped her or grabbed her by her hair, but at the same time it was perfectly understandable, seeming like the exact sort of thing she would do.

Robin tried not to think about it. Instead she kept her eyes shut and imagined she was at the football. If she focused hard enough she could pretend she wasn't sat in her uncle's tree but in her usual seat of the kop at Hillsborough stadium. It was always freezing there too, so it was easy enough, and she pretended that she could hear all the chants and cheers. At least if she was imagining the game she could pretend her team were winning, since the unknown reality was probably not as positive.

"Living up to your namesake?" a voice called teasingly, and without even opening her eyes Robin let out an exasperated sigh, not able to imagine anything worse than John seeing her in her current state. "Little Robin bird in a tree?"

"If you even think of making 'bird' my nickname I'll murder you," she snapped back tiredly, still not looking at him, hoping desperately that for once John wouldn't push her further and just leave her alone.

Of course he didn't. Instead she heard him laughing to himself, and heard the noise of him resting his guitar case against the fence. Part of her wanted to look at him, imagining how he looked, probably in his thick winter coat and a scarf, snow scattered in his hair. She wondered if he was wearing his glasses, or if he was blind like he usually was, but she was too caught up in her own thoughts to care too much.

She remembered how safe and comfortable she had felt that night in the Cavern when he kissed her. His voice had been so gentle when he'd joked about it being their secret. Thinking about it a few weeks on it felt like she'd been dreaming, the situation with her mother making her feel as though she was right back home, stuck in a life where no one really cared about her. It didn't help that her mother had instilled the doubt in her that her friends had really gotten bored of her, making it feel like a real lifetime ago that John was holding her close and kissing her with such passion. After what her mother had done, it felt completely unreasonable for him to have wanted to be with her in any sort of romantic way.

By not removing herself from that toxicity, by not opening her eyes and being brave enough to look down at John, she missed his expression of concern and the way his eyes narrowed when he saw the red tinge to her cheeks. He'd been in more than enough fights to know her face wasn't just red because of the cold. Something had happened, he knew with dread. Robin was sarcastic most of the time, but she only ever snapped at him if she was angry and had reason to be defensive. The first time they met, the times he had been horrible to her, the day she broke up with Ant, she'd sworn at him and threatened him, but that wasn't who she was truly. Underneath the protective shield she was kind, her gentle soul marred by bad experiences from the past, or at least that was the Robin he had been getting to know over the last few weeks. Something bad had happened, and she had resorted back to the agression, probably without even meaning to.

It didn't take him long to piece together a story in his head. She wasn't wearing a coat, and by the way she was shuddering from the cold she'd been in the tree a while. If he hadn't been wearing his glasses he might have missed the way her fingers were bright red from the temperature, or the way her eyebrows had a crease in between as if she was trying to focus on not crying. He remembered the stories she'd told him about her home life, the short tales she'd trusted him with and tried to downplay, and instantly his mind came to a conclusion that she must have had an argument with her mother.

"What did she say to you?" he asked bluntly, yet she still ignored him. "Robin. I thought we agreed to talk properly when it came to stuff like this?"

"I don't want to," she shook her head, finally glancing down at him for barely a second, but it was long enough to see that despite trying to hide it, her eyes looked awfully sad. "You should go inside, it's cold,"

"Says the bird in the tree without a coat," he said firmly, refusing to move from his spot by the fence. "You're going to freeze if you stay like that much longer, or you'll make yourself ill,"

"Aren't you caring?" she remarked sarcastically, making his sigh in frustration.

"Yes, I do surprisingly care about you enough to not let you get frostbite," he snapped, sounding serious enough to get her attention properly. "I'm not going in until you tell me what's gone off,"

"I've been locked out, alright?" she sighed, daring to shift her position in the tree to get a better look at him, trying not to get distracted by how handsome he was in his glasses. "Mum said some stuff, I said some stuff, now Mum's gone out boozing and Al's out with his mates and I'm locked out here until one of them comes home and all I fucking wanted to do was listen to the bloody football!"

"Come on then," he said simply, gesturing for her to get down from the tree, making her frown. "Wouldn't be the first time you've been round mine to warm up and tell me your troubles,"

He was trying to make light of the situation for her own sake, knowing she'd hate it if he was offering his sympathy for her messed up day. After everything that had happened all she wanted to do was sit by his fireplace and smoke cigarettes until his aunt kicked her out. She didn't want to be alone in the snow, left with her own sad thoughts. If she went in with John, maybe she'd be reminded that people actually liked her and she wasn't the terrible mistake her mother thought she was. She wanted to accept John's request more than anything, except there was one problem that stood in Robin's way.

John seemed to realise this instantly, and after letting out a short laugh of disbelief, he disappeared down his garden path towards the front of his house. Guessing what he was about to do and feeling foolish, she shut her eyes until she heard his footsteps approach her, his boots crunching under the settling snow. She glanced down, seeing him stood under here she was sat, holding his arms out.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, crossing her arms.

"Says the bird who decided to climb a tree in a snow storm," John joked lightly, nodding his head at her again. "Come on, let me help you down,"

Sighing, Robin set her pride aside and began to shuffle along the sturdy branch until she got to the dent in the treetrunk that she could put her foot into. The snow hadn't been as thick when she fist climbed the tree, but climbing down was another story, making her silently grateful that the branch wasn't too high, and John was right underneath her to steady her decent. As soon as she was close enough he put his hands on her waist, and though she was too heavy for him to properly lift, he made sure to securely guide her down.

The placement of his hands took her straight back to the Cavern backroom and she had to fight against her instincts to kiss him right there. It felt foolish to need his help out of the tree and then kiss him straight away as if she was some sort of fairy tale damsel. John was certainly no fairy tale prince, but as soon as her feet hit the snow and she stumbled slightly as she regained her balance, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, as if to make sure she was safe.

It was only when he engulfed her into his arms that she realised just how cold she was. Against his body, warm under all of his winter layers, she began to shake, making John frown in a slight panic. To warm her up a little he pulled his coat around her, oversized just enough to cover her, though he knew it wouldn't really help too much.

"Mimi's out at her sisters, I bunked off to go see Paul," he explained, beginning to lead her down towards his house. "We'll be home alone for a good few hours, come 'ed, let's get you warm,"

***

John was true to his word, sitting her in front of the fire with a thick blanket around her, and after a mug of tea and about three cigarettes Robin had finally stopped shivering. She'd briefly told him what had happened, and though he was seething he knew better than to show it to her.

"I didn't mean to ruin your Christmas with my trouble," she told him quietly after a moment of silence, the two of them sat across from each other on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"Trust me, you're not the one to ruin my Christmas," he reassured her, ruffling his hand through his messy hair and adjusting his glasses to look at her properly, grateful that the red marks on her cheeks had faded. "She shouldn't have hit you,"

"You've given plenty of people black eyes," she pointed out with a shrug.

"Not people I like though, not people who I love!" he protested. "Robin, me and Mimi have disagreements all the time, but she never calls me a mistake, and she never-"

"My Mum isn't Mimi, John, and technically Mum isn't lying by calling me a mistake," she pointed out, shrugging again as she pulled her thick blanket around her tighter. "I know it's not normal, I know it's shit, but this is the first time she's ever done anything physical, she normally can't be bothered. At the end of the day, she's my Mum, and I'm nearly eighteen. I'm an adult soon enough and I can go off and find somewhere else to live,"

"I'd miss being next door to you," he murmured quietly, half hoping she wouldn't hear. "Where would you go?"

"Dunno, maybe just some dingy flat until college is over, then somewhere far away," she said, looking into the fire. "I used to want to go somewhere busy and lively, like London or New York, somewhere I could make it as a proper artist, but now I think I just want to be nowhere, far away from everything where I could just paint and be myself,"

"You'd be lonely," John said a little bluntly, trying not to be too hurt that her dream was to leave everything behind, everything including him.

Robin let out a quiet sigh, fiddling with her hair, pulling the ends of it and knotting it between her fingers as she thought. John was right, she didn't really want to spend her life being lonely, but at the same time, she didn't want to live around people who would make her doubt herself the way her mother did, and she didn't want to be near people like Ant who just wanted to use her.

Her mother was an exception though. She had her problems and found a solution in berating Robin, but everyone else was respectful enough to Robin. Other than Ant, everyone she had met in Liverpool had been nice enough, and they had shown her that there was life outside of her paintings; John especially. She wondered if he thought about their kiss as much as she did, or if it was just a thing of a whim to him, if his words were just words rather than the declarations they had seemed to be.

As if their thoughts were aligned, John cleared his throat, and when she looked up at him he was staring at her, biting his lip as if he was trying to find the courage to speak.

"You're confusing, y'know," he said after a moment. "Cause you're really confident, and you know who you are and what you want, but then sometimes it's like you're scared of yourself,"

"You say that as if you're not the exact same," she said, trying to shift the focus away from yourself.

"Your mother is so wrong, y'know, because nothing about you could ever deserve to be treated so meanly," he continued, and as Robin felt her face grow hot from the attention, John changed his position so he was kneeling much closer to her. "Seriously, I wasn't lying the other night,"

The other night. He was thinking about the Cavern. Robin met his gaze, leaning over and taking hold of his hand, feeling as though she needed the physical connection not just to fully understand what he was saying, but to remind herself of the way she'd felt with him that particular night. Her hand in his also seemed to encourage him to carry on, his expression seeming more confident and determined, as if he had to say everything.

"What I said the other night, I do mean it," he said seriously, the most serious he had ever been around her. "I hate thinking that anyone treats you bad because when I'm with you I really do feel like I'm gonna explode I like you that much, and I just want to be around you all the time cause I like the person I am with you, and I like the way hanging around with you makes me feel. Ever since the other night I've felt like an idiot cause I didn't tell you everything, like the way your smile makes me feel mad inside, or how I like whenever we get the bus and there aren't any seats so I get to hold your hand so we don't fall over or... bloody hell, just... I like you, alright? I don't really understand it all, but I know I've never liked anyone half as much as I like you,"

Unknowing what else to do, Robin leant over and kissed him. Her hand going to the back of his head to pull him closer, she felt him almost deflate in relief before his hands were either side of her face, savouring how it felt to be touching her. The constant guitar playing left his fingers a little rough, but she liked how it felt when he rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks, feeling his lips moving against hers.

It was intended just as a kiss to reassure him that how ever he felt her feelings were along the same line, but it quickly grew into something more. Clearly they had left a lot unfinished when Paul interrupted them a few nights before and before either of them really understood what was happening Robin was practically sat on John's lap, her legs either side of him and her blanket left behind as John held her close, his hands resting firmly on her waist as if he couldn't bare to let go.

"I really am mad for you," he breathed out against Robin's lips before his own began to trail kisses across her cheeks and down the line of her jaw.

Everything else was forgotten, the only thing that mattered being John as she tilted her neck back, sighing in contentment as his kisses spread down from her jaw. Everything else in the world was irrelevant, and she had never felt so strongly about someone as she did in that moment. She wanted him to keep kissing her forever, and even though as his lips were on her neck they were probably going to leave a red mark, she didn't care. She wanted to be with John, more than anything else in the world.

She wanted him so badly that she didn't oppose when he suggested they move upstairs.

***
Word count: 4427
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