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When Robin lived – millennia ago, a god's lifetime, when he was still only Ro – there was no concept of family or marriage or best friends. There was only tribe, and strangers. Tribe meant safety, meant love and protection, and above all, tribe meant touch.
They weren't shy about it, back then. Hugging, cuddling, grooming each other, bathing together – everything was allowed, was encouraged, was necessary for the sanity and health of the tribe.
Now, dead and without his tribe, Robin longed for that time. It took a while for things to change – he was hardly the first to die at that spot, and many came after him. They could be weary of each other, but decided quickly they needed to be each other's tribe in death, while they were unable to touch the living. At some point, though, humans... changed. Suddenly touch was frowned upon, was private, reserved for cubs and two people behind closed doors and closed curtains. Suddenly curtains were a thing.
Robin spent a few decades learning these new rules, spent a few decades spurned by new ghosts, cold and lonely despite never actually being alone. Humphrey was the first in some centuries he was allowed to touch, but even then he keenly felt how it was out of necessity, not out of want or need or love.
The women, especially Annie, were fun to be around, but they were both people of their times and would not abide a strange (and dirty) man touching them, not even a friendly clap on the shoulder. Kitty was more friendly, but also tiresome, and by the time of her untimely death Robin had long resigned himself to never have that communal affection back. Just another thing lost to time, along with mammoths and their stone circle.
Thomas would never accept affection from anyone less than a beautiful lady of his own standing, besides which Robin found him more irritable than Kitty's singing. Fanny and the Captain both were wound up so tightly they were liable to explode if anyone even looked at them friendly, in Robin's expert opinion.
Then, finally, came Pat.
***
Robin always enjoyed when children visited Button House. They were loud and rambunctious and unapologetic, and sometimes, sometimes, they could briefly see him and he could get in a good BOO. So he tended to hang around when the scouts visited the grounds, amusing himself by out loud commenting on their survival skills and shooting accuracy.
Pat was, funnily, his favourite scout leader. He was a good teacher, endlessly patient, and generous in praise and small touches. He was funny too, unintentionally so. His accent and dialect words made Robin laugh, as did his sometime clumsiness, physically and socially both.
The arrow made him laugh too. So shoot him (heh), Robin had been around too long to be delicate about death. Sometimes the way people died was very funny, and getting shot through the neck followed by crashing your bus into a tree was very funny.
Pat though, once he got over his initial I'm dead and I'm a ghost and ghosts exist and I'm DEAD?? freak out, was a blessing. His scout leader mind led to the creation of their Clubs, and the smallest of breaks from the monotony of their afterlife. He kept them in check as best he could during Clubs, and they knew that without him they would descend into chaos (they had tried, more than once. Cap was endlessly bitter he could never herd them with the understated authority Pat somehow managed. Robin mostly fell in line for Pat and not for Cap because it was very funny when Cap was reduced to Cap Noises, and looked ready to get sucked off out of pure frustration.)
He was also so affectionate. He would clap the Captain on the shoulders (and Cap would always look so surprised and so pleased at the same time); whenever he carried Humphrey's head he would apologetically stroke his hair a little, and he was always careful to steer Humphrey's body on the correct path away from any living humans; Kitty and Mary he taught camp-side games to, all three holding hands and laughing while Pat chanted something; Thomas liked using Pat as a fainting couch whenever a particularly beautiful woman moved through the house; even Fanny got some Pat action, though it was rarely more than the kiss he gave her hand when he first properly met her ("A real lady! Fancy that! Morris will be well jealous.")
Robin shied away from it all. He never meant to, but after so many years it was as if his body rejected the notion of physical affection. The first time Pat threw an arm around him, Robin shrugged him off. When Pat tried to ruffle his hair, Robin made an annoyed sound and left the room. Once, Pat elbowed him in an attempt to get his attention, and Robin loudly told him to stop (and left the room). He didn't know how to explain to Pat that it wasn't him, it was Robin who had gone millennia without proper affectionate touch, and receiving anything right then was too much.
One day, it changed.
It was a day Robin was feeling extra sad. He didn't know why, assumed it was some long forgotten special day, something that was important to him once and only the instinct of time remained. Or he was simply sad. Usually, though, he liked hanging out with Humphrey's head when he felt normal sad. Pat found him outside on the lawn, staring listlessly towards where he knew a forest once stood.
"You alright, Robin mate?"
Robin grunted.
"Well, that's no good. D'you want a hug?"
Robin considered this. When was the last time someone had actually hugged him? Years and years, he thought. Centuries, even. He shivered suddenly, a strong, full body shiver seemingly emenating from his very core.
"Aw, Robin. C'mere, mate," Pat said, and promptly engulfed him in a proper embrace. His arms were tight around Robin's back, one of his hands keeping Robin's head tucked into his shoulder. Robin's hands, without his conscious input, clawed onto Pat's shirt. Pat held him through Robin's full body shivers, and murmured nonsense at him until they abated.
"Pat," Robin said when they did, voice muffled by Pat's shoulder, "can let go now."
It took Pat half a second longer than it ought to have, but he let go eventually. "Blimey, I think I needed that." He gave one of his slightly awkward giggles, the one that he used when he felt embarrassed and tried to cover it up.
Robin patted his back. "Not very huggy, ghosts," he agreed.
Pat nodded. "No. No, we aren't, are we."
"Me like hugs."
"I like hugs," Pat retorted, only to quickly amend, "too, I like hugs too. Sorry, I'm not doing the Thomas thing!"
Robin snorted. "Could never. You not annoying."
"Be nice, Robin," Pat said, but Robin could see his pleased smile.
They stayed for a little while there, watching the clouds move in comfortable silence. When Pat eventually nodded back to the house, and asked "You comin' back in, then?", Robin gladly did.