Ant and Dec One Shots

The Weight Of Exhaustion

It had been a long, busy week of filming, and Dec couldn't help but feel the weight of exhaustion bearing down on him. He loved spending time with Ant and Stephen, but lately, something had shifted in the air, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't that Ant and Stephen had changed, but there was an unspoken tension, a subtle distance that seemed to grow each day. The easy laughter, the playful teasing, the gentle affection they shared-it all felt different now, like something he wasn't a part of.

It started small-insignificant moments that seemed harmless on their own, but piled up like quiet whispers that slowly built walls around him. Ant and Stephen would exchange a glance, a knowing look that lingered just a second too long. Then they'd turn their attention back to the task at hand, leaving Dec standing there, unsure of what he had just witnessed. Sometimes, they'd share inside jokes, little comments that made Dec smile awkwardly, a half-hearted chuckle escaping his lips as he pretended not to care, pretending it didn't bother him. But it did. It gnawed at him.

Tonight was worse. Much worse.

They were in the living room of Ant's flat after dinner, the TV softly playing in the background, but Dec wasn't really watching. His mind was too full of thoughts that made his chest feel tight, his heart heavier than it had any right to be. Ant was sitting on the sofa, leaning comfortably against Stephen, his arm draped casually around Stephen's shoulders as they talked about a new project. Stephen, in turn, was sitting close, so close that Dec could feel the heat of their shared space. His hand rested lightly on Ant's leg, the easy intimacy of the gesture making Dec's chest ache in a way he hadn't anticipated.

The warmth between them was undeniable, and Dec felt the absence of it in his own space. The laughter that echoed between Ant and Stephen now seemed like a distant melody, one he wasn't quite part of. He wasn't even sure when it started, this growing sense of loneliness, but it had settled deep in his bones. It wasn't just about the physical closeness between them-it was the emotional distance that was creeping in, the sense that he wasn't needed in the same way anymore. That he was becoming an afterthought, a ghost in their shared moments.

"Dec, you okay?" Stephen's voice broke through his spiralling thoughts, and Dec looked up, meeting his concerned gaze. The softness in Stephen's eyes made Dec feel even more exposed, as if Stephen could see straight through him. He forced a smile, but it felt hollow.

"Yeah, just tired," Dec muttered, shrugging it off, trying to dismiss the weight on his chest. "I'll be fine."

But it wasn't just tiredness. It was the quiet ache of feeling forgotten, of being on the outside looking in. The easy banter that used to fill the room now felt like a private language between Ant and Stephen, one that excluded him. There were times when he would glance between them and feel like a third wheel, an extra person in a space meant for two. And it hurt more than he cared to admit.

Ant caught his eye, a flicker of something passing between them, but then his attention returned to Stephen, the effortless connection between them never faltering. The sight of it, the way they fit together so naturally, made Dec's chest tighten with an ache he couldn't explain. He had always been the one to tease Ant, the one to pull him into a hug when things got tough, the one who could always count on Ant to be there. They were a team, a duo that had weathered years of highs and lows. But now, it felt like there was someone else in that team, someone who was slowly taking his place, even without meaning to.

The feeling of being overlooked, of being the invisible one in their trio, was growing unbearable.

Without thinking, Dec stood up abruptly, needing space, needing air. "I think I'm going to head to bed," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. The words sounded final, even to him. "Long day."