Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2026-02-28 07:54 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2026-02-28 07:54 pm
Entry tags:
Fanfiction: By Proxy (The Goes Wrong Show, Robert/Chris)
I'm constantly delighted by how bonkers the dynamic between Chris and Robert is. Robert had a relationship with Chris's mother; Chris had a relationship with Robert's sister; are you two sure you're not just trying to sleep with each other by proxy?
Anyway, here's a fic about that.
Title: By Proxy
Fandom: The Goes Wrong Show (technically the televised version of A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Robert/Chris, past Chris/Robert's sister, past Robert/Celia
Wordcount: 2,100
Summary: “I wanted to speak to you about your dalliance with my sister.”
Chris is used to answering his door to find Robert there. Robert likes to drop by unannounced, to bargain for roles or share unsolicited thoughts on rewrites, or to browbeat Chris into an unscheduled rehearsal session.
Right now, though, they’re between plays; they’ve only just finished their unsanctioned performance of A Christmas Carol on the BBC. Which means, unfortunately, that Robert is more likely to be here about...
“I wanted to speak to you about your dalliance with my sister.”
Yes. That.
“Well.” Chris swallows. “Well, yes. I suppose you would.”
Robert draws in a breath.
“It’s – it’s over,” Chris says, hastily. “Just so you know. Elaine broke it off not long after the party. So...” He hesitates. “Well, if you’re here to ask me to end it, there’s no need.”
A part of him wants to apologise. He’s trying to resist the urge. Robert never apologised for his relationship with Chris’s mother; Chris certainly doesn’t owe him an apology for this.
“Will you let me in?” Robert asks.
Reluctantly, Chris stands back from the door and gestures him inside.
Robert, as usual, throws himself onto the sofa without being invited to sit. Chris makes tea, as much to delay this conversation as anything else. He’d assumed there would be a reckoning at some point. For once, he’s glad of Robert’s history with his mother; at least he can pull that out of his pocket if Robert gets too unreasonable.
Robert accepts the mug with a nod when Chris offers it. “Thank you.”
That seems like a good sign. That suggests, at the very least, that Robert is not furious with him. Robert is not a man who covers up his opinion of you with a veneer of politeness; Robert is a man who makes his opinion of you very clearly known.
“What did you want to discuss?” Chris asks. Drawing up a dining chair to sit on, rather than taking the sofa with Robert. As yet, Robert is displaying no particular inclination to punch him, but it’s still probably safest to stay beyond arm’s reach.
“Yes,” Robert says. “Well, I was a little puzzled to learn you and my sister had shared a bed.”
Shared a bed? That certainly wasn’t on the footage from Dennis’s party; is Robert making assumptions, or has he spoken to Elaine about the extent of their relationship? Whatever the case, he’s not wrong; there’s no point trying to deny it. “I’m sure you can appreciate that I had a similar reaction to finding out about you and my mother.”
“At least I had a clear motive,” Robert says, leaning back against the cushions. “It’s a mystery to me why you’d resort to Elaine. I thought you were aware that there was no need to find a substitute for me.”
“A substitute?” Chris asks. “Your sister? She’s not an actress, is she?”
Robert shakes his head, impatient. “Sexually, Chris. Sexually, obviously, not in the drama society.”
What?
“Robert,” Chris says, carefully, “I’m sure I must be imagining things, but... are you implying that I have some sort of sexual interest in you?”
“I am implying nothing,” Robert says. “You’re the one implying you’ve developed a sexual interest in me.”
This is absolutely not the discussion that Chris had braced himself for. “What are you talking about? When did I ever do that?”
“You slept,” Robert says, with exaggerated patience, “with my sister.”
Chris is desperately trying to follow whatever train of thought led here, but it appears to have derailed catastrophically, killing fifteen. “Your sister is not you.”
“You know me better than you know her.”
“We’ve... known each other for longer, yes,” Chris concedes. Where on Earth is this going?
Robert spreads his hands. “Well, why sleep with her and not me?”
“Robert,” Chris says, “how does romance work in your world? Do you imagine everyone operates their relationships on a first-come, first-served basis? Sandra’s known you for longer than she’s known Max; do you think she should have proposed to you instead?”
“If she had any taste, perhaps,” Robert mutters. “But Max is not related to me. If he were, I’d be having this conversation with Sandra instead.”
Right. There’s some sort of consistent logic here, apparently, but it’s not any sort of logic that’s actually valid on Earth. “This is insane, Robert. By your reasoning, you must only have... become involved with my mother because you wanted to sleep with me.”
“Well, yes,” Robert says. “Obviously.”
Chris stares at him. Makes a couple of efforts to speak, finally manages it. “What?”
In immediate retrospect, there may have been... some indications, in this conversation, that Robert might have a less-than-professional interest in him. Chris should probably have given some more thought to that petulant little why sleep with her and not me?
Robert flaps a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m not saying I was looking for you inside her vagina, of course. I know it’s been decades since you were in there.”
Is this a dream? Is there someone Chris can petition, to ensure this all turns out to be a dream? “Please don’t phrase it like that.”
“But there’s a genetic similarity.” Robert makes a broad and vague gesture in Chris’s direction. “Similar features, similar expressions. And a similarity of manner, by which I mean you’re both atrociously repressed.”
“You cannot possibly be telling me you used my mother as some sort of – some sort of sexual substitute for me.” The thought of Robert sleeping with his mother was already unbearable. The thought of Robert sleeping with his mother while thinking of Chris is absolutely insane.
“Well, it wasn’t my sole motivation, perhaps,” Robert says, “but Celia wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting to me if it hadn’t been for her connection to you. This is how relationships work, Chris.”
“This is not how relationships work.”
“You and Celia have exactly the same expression when you’re angry, you know. And she was angry most of the time, except when we were making love; I haven’t had the pleasure of observing your expression under the same circumstances. As you weren’t receptive to my advances, your mother seemed a suitable understudy.”
This is the worst conversation Chris has ever had. He can hardly find the breath to speak. “Your advances? What advances?”
Robert frowns at him, as if Chris is the one spouting incomprehensible nonsense in this conversation. “I assumed you weren’t interested. If you didn’t realise what was on offer, I may have had more sex with your mother than necessary.”
That’s one thing they can agree on, at least, even if hearing it makes Chris want to claw his own ears off. “Robert, you’ve never—”
“I invited you to share my bed, Chris.”
“This never happened! When?”
Robert raises his eyebrows. “When we were in London for Haversham Manor, for one thing.”
That – now that Chris tries to recall, that may have happened. But... “I obviously wasn’t going to think that was a serious offer; I had my own bed in that hotel room!”
“You did,” Robert agrees. “I thought that might be an indication of the spirit in which the offer was made. The same offer I’ve made to you at my residence in Cornley, on multiple occasions.”
“My home is within walking distance of yours; I didn’t need a bed!”
“Again, I thought that might help you conclude that sleeping wasn’t what I had in mind.” Robert folds his arms, contemplative. “I’ve been too subtle, evidently. I’ll have to fix that.”
Chris is struggling to get his head around any of this, but there’s one thing he’s certain of. “I don’t think any problem in the world could be solved by you becoming less subtle.”
“I’d like to fuck you,” Robert says. “Are you amenable?”
Chris stares at him for a long, long few seconds.
“For God’s sake,” Robert says at last, “don’t tell me you didn’t understand that either.”
“Er.” Chris swallows. “N-no, I think I grasp your – your, er, your meaning.”
This is an appalling suggestion. Isn’t it? It’s ridiculous.
Chris’s stomach feels tight and twisted. It could be arousal; it could be nerves. It could be horror at the mental image of his mother and—
“Chris?” Robert asks, getting to his feet. Chris stands up himself at the motion, so sharply he knocks his chair over.
“You’re acting like a frightened rabbit, Chris.” Robert stoops to set the chair back upright. “I’m not going to eat you. I’m extending an invitation; all you have to do is express your opinion on the matter, and we’ll go from there.”
“Are you—” How can this possibly be a question Chris has to ask? How has he reached this point in his life? “Are you asking for a relationship?”
“We have a relationship,” Robert says. “We’re fellow actors; there’s no escaping that. I’m simply proposing that our relationship could have a sexual element.”
It makes this seem a little less intimidating, at least. Chris isn’t deciding whether to allow Robert Grove into his life. Robert Grove is a part of his life already; that’s something he simply has to deal with.
“I think—” Chris takes a moment to clear his throat. “I don’t think this is a question I’m willing to contemplate immediately after so much... so much sexual discussion of my mother. That’s... I’ll be honest: that’s not the sort of thing that gets me in the mood.”
“Well, why not? Your mother’s an attractive woman.”
Chris closes his eyes for a moment. “Can you please give me some time to think?”
Robert nods. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
-
In peace might not be the right phrase for it. Robert retreats into Chris’s bedroom, there to perform extremely loud vocal exercises; it’s impossible to forget about his presence. But, with Robert no longer physically in the same room, Chris feels at least a little more able to gather his thoughts.
He didn’t say no.
It hits him, suddenly. His immediate instinct was that Robert’s proposition was insane. He could have said no straight away; he could have sent him home.
He said he needed time to think. He was presented with the prospect of having sex with Robert, and... well, he didn’t jump at the chance, obviously, or right now he’d be—
But he didn’t reject it, either. Some part of Chris didn’t want to take the option off the table, apparently.
It’s a disconcerting realisation. He has to lie down on the sofa to process it.
The sofa is still warm where Robert was sitting on it. Chris stares at the ceiling, Robert’s vocal exercises in his ears, muffled by the wall between them. It feels like Robert is everywhere, suddenly; it seems impossible that Chris has ever been able to think about anything else.
Was he using Robert’s sister as some sort of substitute for him?
If Chris is honest, when he first started getting to know Robert’s sister, he had some vague idea of getting revenge on Robert for the whole business with his mother. He’s not proud of it; it was an ignoble impulse, and unfair to Elaine.
By the time Chris eventually kissed her, he was actually thinking of her, at least.
Well, he was mostly thinking of her, he thinks. She’s never quite stopped being Robert’s sister in his head.
But he wasn’t picturing Robert when they were together. He doesn’t think that would be possible. Robert is absolutely unique; he’s so distinctive and bizarre and forceful. God knows what he’s like in bed; Chris is probably going to end up pinned down by his throat, or thrown across the room, or chained to the bedpost while Robert negotiates for the lead in their next play.
Chris presses his hands over his face.
No. No, no, no. He cannot – he cannot allow these mental images to make him feel like this.
-
Chris hesitates in his bedroom doorway.
“You’ve reached a decision?” Robert asks, glancing up from Chris’s desk chair.
The thought of trying to put any desire for Robert into words is absolutely humiliating. Chris braces himself and strides over to kiss him.
Robert surges to his feet immediately, kissing back hard. His hands on Chris’s shoulders, then his hips, firm and forceful. It takes Chris a moment to register that Robert is physically steering him around the room, the way he does in rehearsals when he has strong opinions on the blocking.
(Well, perhaps not exactly the way he does in rehearsals.)
It makes Chris want to fight back for control. He manages to push Robert down onto the bed. Climbs on top of him, pinning him down, breathing hard.
“Your mother did the same thing, you know,” Robert comments.
Chris scrambles off him immediately. “Right, get out of my house.”
Anyway, here's a fic about that.
Title: By Proxy
Fandom: The Goes Wrong Show (technically the televised version of A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Robert/Chris, past Chris/Robert's sister, past Robert/Celia
Wordcount: 2,100
Summary: “I wanted to speak to you about your dalliance with my sister.”
Chris is used to answering his door to find Robert there. Robert likes to drop by unannounced, to bargain for roles or share unsolicited thoughts on rewrites, or to browbeat Chris into an unscheduled rehearsal session.
Right now, though, they’re between plays; they’ve only just finished their unsanctioned performance of A Christmas Carol on the BBC. Which means, unfortunately, that Robert is more likely to be here about...
“I wanted to speak to you about your dalliance with my sister.”
Yes. That.
“Well.” Chris swallows. “Well, yes. I suppose you would.”
Robert draws in a breath.
“It’s – it’s over,” Chris says, hastily. “Just so you know. Elaine broke it off not long after the party. So...” He hesitates. “Well, if you’re here to ask me to end it, there’s no need.”
A part of him wants to apologise. He’s trying to resist the urge. Robert never apologised for his relationship with Chris’s mother; Chris certainly doesn’t owe him an apology for this.
“Will you let me in?” Robert asks.
Reluctantly, Chris stands back from the door and gestures him inside.
Robert, as usual, throws himself onto the sofa without being invited to sit. Chris makes tea, as much to delay this conversation as anything else. He’d assumed there would be a reckoning at some point. For once, he’s glad of Robert’s history with his mother; at least he can pull that out of his pocket if Robert gets too unreasonable.
Robert accepts the mug with a nod when Chris offers it. “Thank you.”
That seems like a good sign. That suggests, at the very least, that Robert is not furious with him. Robert is not a man who covers up his opinion of you with a veneer of politeness; Robert is a man who makes his opinion of you very clearly known.
“What did you want to discuss?” Chris asks. Drawing up a dining chair to sit on, rather than taking the sofa with Robert. As yet, Robert is displaying no particular inclination to punch him, but it’s still probably safest to stay beyond arm’s reach.
“Yes,” Robert says. “Well, I was a little puzzled to learn you and my sister had shared a bed.”
Shared a bed? That certainly wasn’t on the footage from Dennis’s party; is Robert making assumptions, or has he spoken to Elaine about the extent of their relationship? Whatever the case, he’s not wrong; there’s no point trying to deny it. “I’m sure you can appreciate that I had a similar reaction to finding out about you and my mother.”
“At least I had a clear motive,” Robert says, leaning back against the cushions. “It’s a mystery to me why you’d resort to Elaine. I thought you were aware that there was no need to find a substitute for me.”
“A substitute?” Chris asks. “Your sister? She’s not an actress, is she?”
Robert shakes his head, impatient. “Sexually, Chris. Sexually, obviously, not in the drama society.”
What?
“Robert,” Chris says, carefully, “I’m sure I must be imagining things, but... are you implying that I have some sort of sexual interest in you?”
“I am implying nothing,” Robert says. “You’re the one implying you’ve developed a sexual interest in me.”
This is absolutely not the discussion that Chris had braced himself for. “What are you talking about? When did I ever do that?”
“You slept,” Robert says, with exaggerated patience, “with my sister.”
Chris is desperately trying to follow whatever train of thought led here, but it appears to have derailed catastrophically, killing fifteen. “Your sister is not you.”
“You know me better than you know her.”
“We’ve... known each other for longer, yes,” Chris concedes. Where on Earth is this going?
Robert spreads his hands. “Well, why sleep with her and not me?”
“Robert,” Chris says, “how does romance work in your world? Do you imagine everyone operates their relationships on a first-come, first-served basis? Sandra’s known you for longer than she’s known Max; do you think she should have proposed to you instead?”
“If she had any taste, perhaps,” Robert mutters. “But Max is not related to me. If he were, I’d be having this conversation with Sandra instead.”
Right. There’s some sort of consistent logic here, apparently, but it’s not any sort of logic that’s actually valid on Earth. “This is insane, Robert. By your reasoning, you must only have... become involved with my mother because you wanted to sleep with me.”
“Well, yes,” Robert says. “Obviously.”
Chris stares at him. Makes a couple of efforts to speak, finally manages it. “What?”
In immediate retrospect, there may have been... some indications, in this conversation, that Robert might have a less-than-professional interest in him. Chris should probably have given some more thought to that petulant little why sleep with her and not me?
Robert flaps a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m not saying I was looking for you inside her vagina, of course. I know it’s been decades since you were in there.”
Is this a dream? Is there someone Chris can petition, to ensure this all turns out to be a dream? “Please don’t phrase it like that.”
“But there’s a genetic similarity.” Robert makes a broad and vague gesture in Chris’s direction. “Similar features, similar expressions. And a similarity of manner, by which I mean you’re both atrociously repressed.”
“You cannot possibly be telling me you used my mother as some sort of – some sort of sexual substitute for me.” The thought of Robert sleeping with his mother was already unbearable. The thought of Robert sleeping with his mother while thinking of Chris is absolutely insane.
“Well, it wasn’t my sole motivation, perhaps,” Robert says, “but Celia wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting to me if it hadn’t been for her connection to you. This is how relationships work, Chris.”
“This is not how relationships work.”
“You and Celia have exactly the same expression when you’re angry, you know. And she was angry most of the time, except when we were making love; I haven’t had the pleasure of observing your expression under the same circumstances. As you weren’t receptive to my advances, your mother seemed a suitable understudy.”
This is the worst conversation Chris has ever had. He can hardly find the breath to speak. “Your advances? What advances?”
Robert frowns at him, as if Chris is the one spouting incomprehensible nonsense in this conversation. “I assumed you weren’t interested. If you didn’t realise what was on offer, I may have had more sex with your mother than necessary.”
That’s one thing they can agree on, at least, even if hearing it makes Chris want to claw his own ears off. “Robert, you’ve never—”
“I invited you to share my bed, Chris.”
“This never happened! When?”
Robert raises his eyebrows. “When we were in London for Haversham Manor, for one thing.”
That – now that Chris tries to recall, that may have happened. But... “I obviously wasn’t going to think that was a serious offer; I had my own bed in that hotel room!”
“You did,” Robert agrees. “I thought that might be an indication of the spirit in which the offer was made. The same offer I’ve made to you at my residence in Cornley, on multiple occasions.”
“My home is within walking distance of yours; I didn’t need a bed!”
“Again, I thought that might help you conclude that sleeping wasn’t what I had in mind.” Robert folds his arms, contemplative. “I’ve been too subtle, evidently. I’ll have to fix that.”
Chris is struggling to get his head around any of this, but there’s one thing he’s certain of. “I don’t think any problem in the world could be solved by you becoming less subtle.”
“I’d like to fuck you,” Robert says. “Are you amenable?”
Chris stares at him for a long, long few seconds.
“For God’s sake,” Robert says at last, “don’t tell me you didn’t understand that either.”
“Er.” Chris swallows. “N-no, I think I grasp your – your, er, your meaning.”
This is an appalling suggestion. Isn’t it? It’s ridiculous.
Chris’s stomach feels tight and twisted. It could be arousal; it could be nerves. It could be horror at the mental image of his mother and—
“Chris?” Robert asks, getting to his feet. Chris stands up himself at the motion, so sharply he knocks his chair over.
“You’re acting like a frightened rabbit, Chris.” Robert stoops to set the chair back upright. “I’m not going to eat you. I’m extending an invitation; all you have to do is express your opinion on the matter, and we’ll go from there.”
“Are you—” How can this possibly be a question Chris has to ask? How has he reached this point in his life? “Are you asking for a relationship?”
“We have a relationship,” Robert says. “We’re fellow actors; there’s no escaping that. I’m simply proposing that our relationship could have a sexual element.”
It makes this seem a little less intimidating, at least. Chris isn’t deciding whether to allow Robert Grove into his life. Robert Grove is a part of his life already; that’s something he simply has to deal with.
“I think—” Chris takes a moment to clear his throat. “I don’t think this is a question I’m willing to contemplate immediately after so much... so much sexual discussion of my mother. That’s... I’ll be honest: that’s not the sort of thing that gets me in the mood.”
“Well, why not? Your mother’s an attractive woman.”
Chris closes his eyes for a moment. “Can you please give me some time to think?”
Robert nods. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
In peace might not be the right phrase for it. Robert retreats into Chris’s bedroom, there to perform extremely loud vocal exercises; it’s impossible to forget about his presence. But, with Robert no longer physically in the same room, Chris feels at least a little more able to gather his thoughts.
He didn’t say no.
It hits him, suddenly. His immediate instinct was that Robert’s proposition was insane. He could have said no straight away; he could have sent him home.
He said he needed time to think. He was presented with the prospect of having sex with Robert, and... well, he didn’t jump at the chance, obviously, or right now he’d be—
But he didn’t reject it, either. Some part of Chris didn’t want to take the option off the table, apparently.
It’s a disconcerting realisation. He has to lie down on the sofa to process it.
The sofa is still warm where Robert was sitting on it. Chris stares at the ceiling, Robert’s vocal exercises in his ears, muffled by the wall between them. It feels like Robert is everywhere, suddenly; it seems impossible that Chris has ever been able to think about anything else.
Was he using Robert’s sister as some sort of substitute for him?
If Chris is honest, when he first started getting to know Robert’s sister, he had some vague idea of getting revenge on Robert for the whole business with his mother. He’s not proud of it; it was an ignoble impulse, and unfair to Elaine.
By the time Chris eventually kissed her, he was actually thinking of her, at least.
Well, he was mostly thinking of her, he thinks. She’s never quite stopped being Robert’s sister in his head.
But he wasn’t picturing Robert when they were together. He doesn’t think that would be possible. Robert is absolutely unique; he’s so distinctive and bizarre and forceful. God knows what he’s like in bed; Chris is probably going to end up pinned down by his throat, or thrown across the room, or chained to the bedpost while Robert negotiates for the lead in their next play.
Chris presses his hands over his face.
No. No, no, no. He cannot – he cannot allow these mental images to make him feel like this.
Chris hesitates in his bedroom doorway.
“You’ve reached a decision?” Robert asks, glancing up from Chris’s desk chair.
The thought of trying to put any desire for Robert into words is absolutely humiliating. Chris braces himself and strides over to kiss him.
Robert surges to his feet immediately, kissing back hard. His hands on Chris’s shoulders, then his hips, firm and forceful. It takes Chris a moment to register that Robert is physically steering him around the room, the way he does in rehearsals when he has strong opinions on the blocking.
(Well, perhaps not exactly the way he does in rehearsals.)
It makes Chris want to fight back for control. He manages to push Robert down onto the bed. Climbs on top of him, pinning him down, breathing hard.
“Your mother did the same thing, you know,” Robert comments.
Chris scrambles off him immediately. “Right, get out of my house.”
no subject
XD XD Poor Chris.
I may have had more sex with your mother than necessary.”
That’s one thing they can agree on, at least, even if hearing it makes Chris want to claw his own ears off.
Giggling aloud at this.
“I’ve been too subtle, evidently. I’ll have to fix that.”
Chris is struggling to get his head around any of this, but there’s one thing he’s certain of. “I don’t think any problem in the world could be solved by you becoming less subtle.”
Hard agree XD
(And leave it to Robert to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, lol.)
no subject
I whooped immediately.
Robert is not a man who covers up his opinion of you with a veneer of politeness; Robert is a man who makes his opinion of you very clearly known.
Understatement!
“At least I had a clear motive,” Robert says, leaning back against the cushions. “It’s a mystery to me why you’d resort to Elaine. I thought you were aware that there was no need to find a substitute for me.”
*delighted screech*
“You slept,” Robert says, with exaggerated patience, “with my sister.”
DUH
“Robert,” Chris says, “how does romance work in your world? Do you imagine everyone operates their relationships on a first-come, first-served basis? Sandra’s known you for longer than she’s known Max; do you think she should have proposed to you instead?”
Robert's cast-iron irrationality and belief that everyone else is wrong continues to amuse me so much.
“Well, yes,” Robert says. “Obviously.”
Pffftttttt
Chris should probably have given some more thought to that petulant little why sleep with her and not me?
HAHAHAHA
“Oh, I’m not saying I was looking for you inside her vagina, of course. I know it’s been decades since you were in there.”
Oh god
The thought of Robert sleeping with his mother while thinking of Chris is absolutely insane.
You'd either never experience arousal again OR develop an extremely troubling new fetish
That’s one thing they can agree on, at least,
Hahahahahha
“Again, I thought that might help you conclude that sleeping wasn’t what I had in mind.” Robert folds his arms, contemplative. “I’ve been too subtle, evidently. I’ll have to fix that.”
Not something he's often accused of
that’s something he simply has to deal with.
sjsksksksksksks
The sofa is still warm where Robert was sitting on it. Chris stares at the ceiling, Robert’s vocal exercises in his ears, muffled by the wall between them. It feels like Robert is everywhere, suddenly; it seems impossible that Chris has ever been able to think about anything else.
This is so extremely vivid and so very funny.
God knows what he’s like in bed; Chris is probably going to end up pinned down by his throat, or thrown across the room, or chained to the bedpost while Robert negotiates for the lead in their next play.
you liiiiike iiiiiit
Chris scrambles off him immediately. “Right, get out of my house.”
AGHAHAHAHAHAH