In My Place [Ant x Dec]

xvii. 'Does Rapidus cure guilt, Anth?'

Declan Donnelly really disliked having hangovers, as any normal person would. The constant throbbing in the back of his head made him want to be swallowed whole by the Earth itself and never be given back.

Scratch that.

Declan Donnelly fucking hated hangovers because they made him want to bang his head repeatedly until the constant damned throbbing subsided.

Ah, much better.

Grumpy as ever, the forty-year-old TV presenter sat up in his bed, noticing that the spot next to him was empty, the sheets and pillow still wrinkled. He shut his eyes and put his face in his hands as a sharp pain hit him just behind his forehead, groaning in pain.

As he waited for the agonizing pounding to subside, Declan tried to recall the early morning's events, and blurred images of him walking home alongside Anthony just as the sky was starting to get a shade clearer popped randomly in his memory. However, everything that had happened afterwards was still unknown to the Geordie, whose headache was starting to get slowly, but progressively, better.

He got up and quietly padded over to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His reflection stared back at him as he looked at the mirror, noticing that his hair was all over the place; though his eyes held a certain gleam he could not quite know the origin of. Subtly, Dec made his way out of the bathroom and down the stairs, towards the kitchen. His mind wandered briefly to the morning of two weeks ago, when he had found Ant instead of Ali making him breakfast, resulting in him realizing that he had been in love with his best friend after having had a fight with his wife.

This time, though, it was Ali - Dec could not help but feel a twinge of disappointment - sitting at the kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around a white cup of what looked like black tea, her nose a little red. She sniffed every now and then, and when she looked up at her husband, a small tired smile made its way onto her dry lips.

"Good morning," Ali greeted with a small voice, wincing a little as she did so.

"Hello," Dec greeted back, a concerned expression drawn across his face. "You're not feeling any better, are you?"

Ali shook her head briefly, before coughing violently. She sighed as she took another sip of her cup and sniffed again.

"Slept well?" She managed to croak, before wincing slightly again. Okay, no more talking, she thought miserably.

Dec nodded his head in agreement, and looked at the watch on the wall just above the kitchen sink, checking the time for the first time this morning - or was it? Turns out, it was already midday, and as he looked out the window, Dec saw that the sun was up and there barely were some clouds in the blue sky. It was a bright saturday.

"Have youse taken your medicine, like?" Dec asked softly, his mind still occupied with trying to remember what had happened in the early hours of the day. A faint image had been replaying in his head over and over ever since he woke up, but, no, surely Ant couldn't have...

"Yes," Ali whispered. She was tapping her fingers gently on the wooden surface of the kitchen table and a soft wheeze could be heard with every breath she took. She yawned, then immediately regretted it, when a sharp pain stung her tonsils.

"You ok?" Dec took a step towards his wife as he saw her wince painfully. He slowly curled his fingers around Ali's arm, and placed a hand on her back, motioning her to get up. She did, all so reluctantly, and when she was standing on her feet she immediately pressed her shivering frame to her husband's, depositing her forehead upon Dec's shoulder. "Youse are burning, Al," Dec remarked sadly, rubbing his palm up and down the blonde's back.