It was a hectic morning at the ITV offices, the usual buzz of activity filling the air. Stephen hobbled through the door on crutches, his ankle encased in a bulky, immobile cast. Every step felt like dragging his body through thick mud, the ache in his leg constant, a dull reminder of his vulnerability. He gritted his teeth, the urge to collapse overwhelming him, but he forced himself onward. He couldn't-wouldn't-let anyone see how much it hurt. Not today.
Ant and Dec, who had been casually discussing the day's schedule, immediately stopped as they noticed him. The conversation died in the air, replaced by an immediate shift in their focus.
"Careful, Stephen," Ant said, his voice laced with a deep, barely concealed concern as he rushed over. His brow furrowed, his eyes locking on Stephen's slow, painful steps. It was as if he feared the very ground beneath Stephen's feet might give way. "Do you want help with that bag?"
Stephen rolled his eyes, but his smile was weak, barely a twitch at the corners of his lips. He could feel the weariness creeping through him, the exhaustion hanging like a weight around his shoulders. But he wouldn't show it. He wouldn't break.
"I'm not helpless," he muttered, his voice hoarse with effort.
Dec hovered just a little too close, his gaze never straying from Stephen's every move, his worry palpable. "You're on crutches, mate. We don't want you taking another tumble," he said, his voice strained with a protective, almost anxious tone.
Stephen clenched his jaw, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. I'm fine. I don't need them smothering me. Still, he let them help him to his office, though every step they took together felt like a cage closing in on him. The space between them was filled with their unspoken worry, and it was stifling.
As they settled him at his desk, their concern didn't fade. They asked him a dozen times if he needed anything-anything at all. Their eyes lingered on him, and their voices carried the weight of their need to fix everything, to protect him.
"Do you need anything?" Ant's voice was softer than usual, almost too gentle. He sat down next to him, his hand resting possessively on the back of Stephen's chair, as though claiming him for safety.
On the other side, Dec stood tall, his arms crossed tightly, watching Stephen with an intensity that bordered on frantic. It was as though every second, every breath Stephen took, was a delicate balance, and they feared he might shatter.
"I'm fine," Stephen snapped, the words sharp and tense, though he instantly regretted them. He could feel the weight of their gaze on him, like they were dissecting every part of him. I just want space.
His eyes flickered to the door, a fleeting wish to escape before the suffocating tension drove him mad. "I just need to work, okay? Please."
Ant hesitated, his eyes scanning the desk, the paperwork, then landing on Stephen's strained face. "You sure? You shouldn't push yourself too hard." His voice was tentative, trying to gauge just how much was too much.
Stephen's pulse quickened, and his hands tightened around the crutches in frustration. Why can't they just let me be? His vision blurred with a growing sense of helplessness. "I'm not an invalid. I can write. I can hold a pen," he snapped again, the words sharp and stinging as they left his mouth. Immediately, he saw their faces fall, a mixture of hurt and confusion flashing across their features.
But before either of them could respond, the dam inside Stephen broke. The frustration, the guilt, the constant feeling of being coddled-it all came rushing out in a flood of heat. He stood up on one foot, his crutches trembling beneath him, the rawness of his emotions spilling over before he could contain it.

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Ant and Dec One Shots
FanfictionAnt and Dec have had a profound impact on my life, bringing joy and laughter during both the good times and the tough ones. Their infectious energy and genuine camaraderie create a sense of warmth that feels like spending time with friends. Their ab...