An unexpected love || Ant x Stephen

A drunken kiss - chapter one.

The 2016 National Television Awards had been a whirlwind of gold confetti, roaring crowds, and the familiar weight of heavy trophies. But for Stephen Mulhern, the real event began in the back of the black cab speeding toward West London.

The interior of the taxi smelled of expensive cologne and the faint, crisp scent of the night air. On one side, Phillip and Holly were huddled together, whispering and giggling over some shared joke from the ceremony. On the other, Stephen was wedged firmly between Ant and Dec—the two anchors of his professional life and the two biggest complications of his private one.

Every few minutes, Stephen found his gaze drifting to the left. He wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore; the champagne had eroded his usual self-preservation. He watched the way the streetlights strobed across Ant's face, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw and the crinkle of his eyes when he laughed. To Stephen, Ant wasn't just "Ant from Ant & Dec." He was a masterpiece of effortless charm. He looked at Ant's smile—that specific, lopsided grin—and felt a terrifying mix of adoration and melancholy.

Coming out to the boys two years ago had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. He remembered the cold sweat and the way his voice had cracked. They had been wonderful, of course - supportive, kind, and completely unfazed. But their acceptance was a double-edged sword. It meant he could be himself, but it also meant he had to hide the fact that he was hopelessly in love with one of them.

"Keys... I swear I had them in this pocket," Ant muttered, fumbling at his front door.

Stephen stood on the pavement, the January chill biting through his blazer. He was daydreaming, lost in the rhythm of Ant's frustrated movements, when he felt a heavy weight on the side of his face. He turned his head sharply.

Dec was watching him.

It wasn't a casual glance. Dec's eyes were narrowed, his head tilted in that analytical way he had when he was trying to solve a puzzle. Stephen felt his heart drop into his stomach. He quickly snapped his head forward, pretending to be fascinated by a distant streetlamp, but the damage was done. Dec's intuition was legendary; he could read Stephen like a script.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifted to manic energy.

"Who wants to play Pie Face!" Ant yelled, throwing his arms up as they entered the warmth of the living room.

"You're joking!" Dec laughed, leaning against the sofa. "We've just won an NTA, and you want to get whipped cream in your hair?"

"I'm serious! It'll be brilliant!" Ant turned to Stephen, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Stevie? Pie Face? Come on, don't let me down."

Stephen looked at the floor, then back at Ant's pleading expression. "I've... I've never actually played it," he admitted quietly.

Ant gasped, a comically offended expression crossing his face. "You've never played Pie Face? The man who hosts In For A Penny hasn't been creamed? That's it. Rules of the house: you're first."

While the cream was sprayed and the plastic arm was loaded, Stephen tried to focus on the game, but he could feel Dec's gaze burning into him from across the room. Every time Stephen laughed at a joke or leaned in closer to Ant, Dec was there, observing.

As the night wore on, the "celebration" turned into a blur of self-medication. Stephen, usually the light drinker of the group, found himself reaching for every bottle of beer or glass of wine within reach. He needed to drown the anxiety. If Dec knows, Ant will find out. If Ant finds out, it's over.

The logic was circular and brutal. He had convinced himself that this "crush" was a temporary glitch - a year-and-a-half-long glitch.

In the kitchen, Dec finally pulled Ant aside. "I think something's up with Stephen," Dec whispered, glancing toward the living room.

"What? He's fine, Dec. He's just had a few," Ant replied, leaning against the counter.

"No, it's more than that. He's... he's acting weird. Even for Stephen."

Before Dec could elaborate, Stephen stumbled into the kitchen. He wasn't walking so much as being navigated by gravity. As he reached the kitchen island, his knees buckled. Ant lunged forward, catching him by the shoulders with practiced ease.

"Whoa! I think you've had enough for tonight, mate," Ant laughed, though his voice held a note of genuine concern.

"I think we all have," Dec added, exchanging a knowing look with Ant. "Time to call it a night."

The house fell quiet as Holly, Phil, and Dec headed across the street. Ant remained, acting as a human crutch for Stephen.

"Okay, mate. Let's get you upstairs," Ant murmured, hoisting Stephen's arm over his shoulder.

"You've got nice eyes, you know," Stephen mumbled, his head lolling near Ant's ear.

Ant chuckled, a bit awkwardly. "Stephen, they're just green. Standard issue."

"No... they look pretty. Like... like emeralds or something," Stephen insisted, his voice thick with honesty that only comes from a bottle of gin.

Ant didn't answer, but his grip on Stephen's waist tightened slightly as they navigated the stairs. He led him into the guest room and sat him on the edge of the bed. With the care of a long-known friend, Ant helped him out of his blazer and shirt, leaving him in his white undershirt. He grabbed a pair of soft sweatpants from his own room and helped Stephen change, folding the discarded clothes neatly on a nearby chair.

"Okay, come on, Stevie. Under the covers," Ant said, reaching down to swing Stephen's legs onto the bed.

But Stephen didn't move. He reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he cupped Ant's face. He looked into those "green" eyes and saw a kindness that broke his heart. The filter was gone. The fear of the friendship ending was momentarily eclipsed by a desperate, crushing need to be known.

He pulled Ant down.

The kiss was messy and smelled of alcohol, but it was electric. For thirty seconds, Ant froze, his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. But then, slowly, almost instinctively, his hand found the small of Stephen's back. He kissed him back—not out of pity, but with a sudden, surging realization that sent a jolt through his chest.

The reality of the situation crashed back in after a minute. Ant pulled away, breathing hard. He looked at Stephen, who was smiling softly, his eyes half-closed.

"Uh..." Ant scrambled for words, his heart hammering against his ribs. "You're... you're drunk. You don't know what you're doing."

"I do," Stephen whispered, but his eyes were already sliding shut.

"Sleep, Stephen. Just sleep." Ant tucked the duvet around him and practically ran for the door.

He reached his own bedroom, shut the door, and leaned his forehead against the wood. His heart wouldn't slow down. He had spent months questioning things in the quiet hours of the night - thoughts he hadn't even shared with Dec. He had always told himself he was just confused, but as he stood there, the ghost of the kiss still tingling on his lips, he realized he wasn't confused at all.

He was just terrified of how much he had enjoyed it.