An unexpected love || Ant x Stephen

The Morning after. Pt 2 - Chapter Three

The kitchen was silent, save for the rhythmic sloshing of soapy water. Ant was focused on a single mug with an intensity that bordered on the obsessive. He wasn't just cleaning it; he was trying to scrub the memory of the previous night into something manageable.

"Yo, Ant! You in?"

The voice echoed from the hallway—sharp, familiar, and far too observant. Ant didn't stop scrubbing. "Uh, yeah! In the kitchen!"

Dec strolled in, looking far too energized for a man who had been celebrating until the early hours. He stopped dead, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Ant. He didn't say anything for a long minute, just let his gaze travel from Ant's tense shoulders to the sink full of bubbles.

"What's wrong?" Dec asked, his voice dropping an octave into that 'serious' tone he reserved for real crises.

Ant didn't look up. "Nothing. Why would something be wrong?"

Dec rolled his eyes, pushing off the doorframe to stand beside him. "Ant, we've been best mates since we were thirteen. We've lived together, worked together, and shared every major life event for over twenty years. Also," he gestured vaguely at the counter, "you have a state-of-the-art dishwasher. You only wash the dishes by hand when you're trying to distract yourself from a nervous breakdown. So, I'll ask again: what's wrong?"

Ant sighed, finally turning off the tap. He dried his hands on a tea towel, staring at the checkered pattern as if it held the answers to his life's problems. He knew he couldn't hide it. If he didn't tell Dec, it would just manifest as a weird energy during the live show, and they couldn't afford that.

"It's about Stephen," Ant finally admitted, the words feeling heavy and jagged in his throat.

Dec's eyebrows shot up. His protective streak flared instantly. "What happened? Did he say something? Is he alright? He looked a bit peaky this morning."

Ant took a deep breath, his heart doing a nervous dance in his chest. "Once you and the others left... I took him upstairs. He was pretty far gone, Dec. I was just trying to get him into bed, get him some water, you know? And then... well, we sort of... we kissed."

The silence that followed was deafening. Ant kept his eyes glued to the floor, waiting for the fallout. He expected shock, maybe a joke to break the tension, or even a lecture about professional boundaries.

"Oh," Dec said simply.

"Oh," Ant echoed, finally looking up.

Dec's expression was a complex map of surprise and calculation. He wasn't angry, but he was clearly processing a million thoughts at once. "What... uh, what does this mean? For the friendship? For the show?"

Ant shrugged, feeling a sudden surge of vulnerability. "I don't know. He told me this morning he didn't remember it. Or he's pretending not to. I think he's scared, Dec. And honestly? I think I'm terrified."

Dec watched his best friend, seeing the genuine conflict in his eyes. He realized this wasn't just a drunken mistake—this was a seismic shift in Ant's world.

"Ant," Dec said softly, stepping closer. "Do you... do you like him? Like, really like him?"

Ant hesitated. He thought about the way Stephen made him laugh, the way they worked together like two halves of a whole, and the way that kiss had felt—like a lightbulb finally being screwed into a socket.

"I think so," Ant whispered. "I think I've liked him for a long time and just... called it something else."

Dec let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for years. A small, supportive smile broke across his face. "You know it's okay, right? It's okay if you're gay, or bi, or whatever you want to be. I didn't treat Stephen any differently when he told us, and I'm certainly not starting with you. You're still you."

Hearing those words felt like a physical weight lifting off Ant's chest. He let out a shaky laugh, a few stray tears of relief pricking at his eyes. "I like Stephen Mulhern. God, that sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud."

"It's a bit ridiculous," Dec laughed, pulling Ant into a quick, firm hug. He leaned in and whispered, "I'm proud of you, Ant McPartlin. Truly."

Ant pulled back, giving a lopsided, grateful smile. "Thanks, Dec. Really."

"Right then," Dec said, his eyes sparkling with that familiar "producer" energy. "So, what are we going to do about this? We need a plan. Do we talk to him at rehearsals? Do we wait for the wrap party?"

Ant's face dropped. "What? No! We aren't doing anything! I'm going to go to work, be professional, and pretend my heart isn't trying to leap out of my chest every time he looks at me."

"Ant, you can't just ignore it! The chemistry is going to be visible from space!" Dec started to argue, but he was cut off by the sharp honk-honk of the car waiting outside to take them to the studio.

"Saved by the horn!" Ant said, moving with newfound speed. He grabbed his jacket and keys, practically shoving Dec toward the front door. "We have a live show to do, Declan. Professionalism!"

Dec stumbled out onto the pavement, shaking his head. "This conversation isn't over, mate! I'm the captain of this ship now, and we are not letting Stevie escape!"

Ant just groaned, locking the door behind them, knowing that while he had Dec's support, his peace and quiet were officially a thing of the past.