Oneshots and Other Things

Making Moves

Wrote this in one go when a well-timed Tumblr prompt forced me to feel some things and as per usual I projected them onto Stephen. Not sure if it's very in character and almost didn't publish it but in the end I decided I might as well.

Dec/Stephen (pre-relationship)

(*~*)

He doesn't know what to do with his feelings. He often doesn't – he's never learnt, if that's something you're meant to learn. Emotions are sensations that he categorises, often pushing them away as they tear into him, demanding his attention.

Attraction is an empty pit in his stomach, a sinkhole that seems to consume everything else. He can't maintain eye contact without feeling the ground lurch under him. And looking at someone who makes him feel like that feels like a risk. He runs from the people who make him feel things. It makes everyone think he hates physical contact, that he wants his own space, when the truth is that he just doesn't know how to reciprocate that sort of thing, let alone incite it.

The people who ignore those signs still hug him and he melts against his friends when they do. It's a lot to be close to someone like that, even in a purely platonic way, but he doesn't hate it. He doesn't know how to tell people he doesn't hate it when they assume he does.

Despite all of that, his friends stick around and he just gets used to running away from anyone who could be something else. He never expects them to chase him.

(*~*)

It probably takes Stephen one whole, embarrassing year to figure out that it's not just a friendship thing. By the time he does, he's impressed that Dec has kept going, kept feeding those little hints that he wants something more.

He's also terrified. Because usually he can distance himself from someone he doesn't know all that well but this is Dec. He can't lose Dec.

For a while, he tries to remain oblivious. If he can return to his ignorance of before, they can continue to be friends without him having to address the elephant in the room. The elephant has other ideas though: he starts to notice Ant glancing between them with a residual smirk on his face that suggests he knows exactly what Dec is doing; Stephen can't ignore Dec when he pushes beyond the boundaries everyone else adheres to; Dec takes it all so slowly that Stephen can almost block it out anyway.

Sometimes, the older man can get away with making it a joke. He turns up late to a lunch break at Britain's Got Talent and instead of pulling up a chair, he sits on Stephen's lap with nothing but a teasing grin. Even though he's barely perched on his knees, Stephen's brain helpfully short-circuits. He doesn't take part in the rest of the conversation, too focused on the heat and weight of Dec against his legs. He barely wants to breathe in case he shifts in the wrong way, sends the wrong signal.

He doesn't even know what the wrong signal would be.

A couple of weeks later, there is a hold-up in a backstage corridor. Stephen is lingering to the back of the BGMT crew as they slowly filter through the hallway, moving towards the ITV1 wing of the theatre. He's going to film with Ant and Dec but it seems that the latter was late to get that memo too.

"Sorry, Stevie." His voice is the only pre-warning Stephen gets before a hand brushes the back of his spine. It's light and gentle, both his tone and the touch that follows it. Stephen's spine stiffens for no reason, feeling like he's trapped in quicksand. It's a relief to be stationary already because he isn't sure he'd be able to make himself move.

Dec squeezes past, brushing against Stephen's arm and flashing an apologetic smile, his hand trailing from Stephen's arm to his waist as he shuffles around him. He glances back as he continues to try and wade through the crew in front of him, looking amused at his own predicament.