Quick warning that there is a description of a panic attack in the third section of this chapter
(*~*)
The last few years had brought some new challenges. Ant and Dec's rise to prominence had led to an expansion of their management team. They had PR people to handle news stories and public image; all the things both of them hated most about being in the public eye. Dec especially found it hard not to overthink things at times, more than a little paranoid about the tabloids and what they'd do about his little secret if it got out.
You'd think having staff designed to stop that sort of thing would make it better but in reality it was two or three more people Dec was now having to hide from. Unfortunately, anyone whose job it was to cover up similar 'scandals' tended to have a knack for sniffing them out. They tended to be quite blunt too but frustratingly sly at the same time. The pointed questions about girlfriends and relationships had turned to subtle suggestions of at least faking it if he wasn't interested in the real deal. Dec had been stubbornly ignoring the steadily more persistent ideas that he needed to be seen in public in some sort of relationship sooner or later.
That brought them to today's meeting, the aftermath of which saw Dec slumped against the car window as they were driven back to their houses.
People were starting to speculate apparently and it didn't help that he was best friends with someone who had married his teenage crush. Next to Ant's picket fence, Dec was a steadily crumbling stone wall.
The only thing this hadn't taken a toll on had seemed to be Dec's relationship with Stephen. He was very firm about not wanting to play pretend with someone else, adamant that it was akin to cheating even if Stephen happened to be completely okay with it. Ant also got the impression that it would destroy Dec to be seen with anyone else, particularly when he was so happy with who he already had.
Ant didn't know what to say to disrupt the windmill of thoughts that was no doubt spinning at full velocity in Dec's head. He hadn't said a word since the end of the meeting, not except for formalities; saying hello to someone in the management office hallway, thanking someone for holding a door.
It was difficult to watch him try to process another reincarnation of those negative attitudes he'd grown up around. Ant knew he couldn't stop the self-conscious feelings it had surely stirred up. He knew Dec would be quiet until they got home, maybe still quiet the next day.
It made him angry too. But, unable to act on those protective instincts, he joined Dec in his silent ruminations, leaning his head on the window and already looking forward to the next time Dec bounded into the car with his usual enthusiasm restored.
(*~*)
Stephen got out of his car, locking the doors and setting off down the road towards Dec's house. He'd noticed himself parking further away again recently, having slowly started to park closer. Realising what he was doing was a little embarrassing, even if there was no one around to see him. Or, at least, he hoped there was no one around to see him.
He'd not been particularly surprised by the spontaneous invitation from Dec, used to them fitting in evenings together whenever they could both manage it. He just presumed Dec had been busy and that his old plans had fallen through. Not that he was about to complain; after the day he'd had, after Jeff, he could use any distraction he could get.
But he knew something was up as soon as he got into the house, barely getting his coat off before Dec had wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face against his shoulder with a weary sigh. Knowing not to ask, he returned the embrace, bowing his own head to press against Dec's.
To start with, Dec held on like he thought Stephen would try to pull away if he wasn't clinging to him so tightly. But then, slowly, the hands fisted in the material of Stephen's shirt relaxed, sending creases of fabric unfurling across his back. That didn't mean he felt better though; at first the only sign was the slight movement of his shoulders, before Stephen felt something wet reach his skin through his shirt.
"What's going on, Deccy?" he asked gently, rubbing a hand over the shorter man's back. Dec's breath hitched briefly, like he'd only just remembered Stephen was still there. That brief release in tension, a sobbing motion, almost pushed Stephen's own fraying emotions over the edge but he continued to hang on by his fingertips, wanting to be there when Dec needed him.
"Bad day," he mumbled, barely decipherable as the words became embedded in Stephen's shirt. "Sorry."
Stephen hushed him under his breath, resting his chin on the crown of Dec's head and continuing all the little things he thought might help; a hand in his hair, the other on his back. "Do you want to tell me about it or just try and think about something else?"
"They want me to get a girlfriend," Dec ground out, a flash of anger doused by another shudder that wracked his body. "Said it looked obvious. They used to be subtle about it..."
"You had a meeting today?" Stephen guessed, slightly confused by Dec's unclear explanation.
"PR," Dec muttered darkly. "At this point they basically get paid to imply I'm gay whilst never outright saying it." He shook his head against Stephen's shirt. "It makes me feel so bad. Like I'm meant to be hiding or something. Just the way they look at me and say stuff – like they don't even want to say it out loud in case it's true because that's suddenly the worst thing in the world."
Stephen closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He was already frustrated with his own reaction, the voice in the back of his head that said they had a point. They didn't; there was nothing wrong with it; he just didn't know how to tell Dec that.
"I'm sorry," Dec mumbled, somehow managing to make Stephen feel worse. "Probably not what you need to hear right now."
"Forget about that," Stephen said dismissively, pushing the thoughts themselves just as firmly out of his mind. He started to berate himself for wanting a distraction so badly. This wasn't what he'd had in mind. "What do you keep telling me?"
Dec sighed again, never removing his face from where it had pressed into Stephen's shoulder. His reply was hard to distinguish, muffled and unclear, but Stephen had heard it enough times to know exactly what he was saying. "There's nothing wrong with it. We're happy and no one should be allowed to ruin that for us. We're not the problem."
"We're not the problem," Stephen repeated firmly. He almost tried to pull away, to get a look at Dec's face, but the shorter man moved with him, still burying himself into his jumper. "They shouldn't even be saying things like that. It's unprofessional."
Dec laughed bitterly. "I don't know what else they're getting paid to do."
"What does Ant have to say about it all?" Stephen asked gently, slowly starting to steer them away from the black hole of internalised homophobia that they could both do with escaping from.
"He hates it," Dec murmured, sounding upset again. "He knows he can't step in and defend me 'cos it will look so obvious that I am – you know, actually gay. We both know the PR team can't turn around and accuse me of it – they might actually lose their jobs if they do that. But if we give them enough reason to be able to ask, what am I meant to say?"
Stephen couldn't imagine what would happen if they knew. Maybe they'd push Dec to come out, say it would be a good thing for their image after all. Or maybe not a good thing, but something that would get people talking. He was so scared of them using Dec as a tool to gain attention, he knew it would hurt the other man so much if that happened.
"You don't have to say anything," he replied, "They might forget that you and Ant aren't just a product that needs selling, but you're both human beings. All of this... it's more than a couple of news stories - it's your life, Dec. You don't have to tell anyone anything until you're comfortable with them."
"What if that never happens?"
"I don't know," he said honestly, "But there's no point thinking like that. We're taking everything one step at a time. That's all we can do."
Dec sighed, the weight from his forehead against Stephen's shoulder increasing momentarily, as if he was trying to melt into Stephen and disappear. "Are you okay?"
The question surprised Stephen and he wondered if his own day had somehow been tattooed onto his forehead. But then he remembered that Dec asked that a lot now; even when he was smiling or making a joke, Dec would ask. Just to make sure.
"Yeah," he replied quietly. And maybe he should have been honest but if he was being honest, the answer would have been no all too often and Dec would have looked quietly devastated almost permanently.
"I'm sorry," Dec whispered again, his head turning so it was just one ear pressing against Stephen's chest, giving him a view of red eyes, tear-streaked cheeks. Stephen shushed him, taking a steadying inhalation of his own. Dec lifted one hand and rested it shakily against his chest, the heat of his palm as reassuring as it always was.
Stephen thought that maybe this meant he was feeling a little better, even if the sight of his face was not at all reassuring. But then his shoulders were trembling minutely, the frequency accelerating over time, and Stephen got the impression they still had the worst part of the storm to ride through.
(*~*)
Dec didn't acknowledge the transition from unsteady calm to his breathing running away with itself until Stephen's deliberate actions; a hand stroking over his head, the hushing under his breath; finally started to register.
It had been a while.
The feeling never got old or easier to deal with, although he went into it with the weary resolve of a war-torn soldier, trying to remember that he could breathe and that everything was fine.
Only he couldn't breathe.
And nothing felt anywhere close to fine.
Stephen's voice was just out of reach, hovering hazily at the end of an echoing tunnel. Dec could feel the words reverberating through one side of his face, the side that was warmer, heated by Stephen's chest. His heartbeat was there too, something reliable for Dec's wandering focus to grasp.
The sound faded for a moment and then there was a pressure on his shoulders, joining the weight that had already settled there throughout the day. It was the only thing he could concentrate on, unable to feel himself in his body, like he was a hovering cloud of gas and Stephen was the only thing keeping him from drifting into a million different particles.
And then there was warmth again; something draped over legs he could now feel, the sensation of a colder draught against his feet. He focused on the continuous hum of Stephen's voice, every indistinguishable word still travelling through the length of his body, originating from that epicentre of heat resting against one of his cheeks.
"Focus on me, Decs."
Even when he was panicking, Dec registered the undertone of stress in Stephen's voice. Instinctively he did as he was told, trying to alleviate the other man's worry even as his own continued to consume him.
"Breathe when I do."
It got easier, slowly. Sometimes the air came in a rush and the steady pattern faltered but Dec kept trying to find that rhythm again, one that usually came so naturally.
"It's okay. I'm right here."
Dec lifted his head slightly from the warmth of its cocoon, slumping back against Stephen moments later with a luxurious, drawn out breath. He concentrated on the sofa, on the blanket draped haphazardly over his legs, on the way he was sat next to Stephen with his head resting on his shoulder, the younger man's arm wrapped around him.
"Sorry," he said a little roughly, "That's not happened for a while."
"Panic attack?" Stephen asked softly, his hand moving continuously up and down Dec's arm.
"Think so," Dec murmured, shrugging a little but being careful not to displace Stephen's grip around him. They hadn't been that close for as long for some time and, selfishly, he didn't want it to come to an end. Giving Stephen space when he needed it was painful for both of them, worth it only because Dec wasn't sure he could live with feeling him get so tense whenever they got too close. "I never really – I haven't had it diagnosed or anything."
"When did you last have one?"
"Years ago." Dec screwed his face up and thought carefully. "Probably before I came out to my mam. The run-up to all that; I was a bit of a mess. I got them more when I was younger – as soon as all the church stuff started. Things just get on top of me sometimes..."
Stephen held him close again, not saying anything else for some time.
"Can we..." Dec hesitated, feeling unusually sheepish, "Can we talk about something else?"
"Of course we can," Stephen murmured, "We don't have to talk about anything if you don't feel like it."
"I wish we could just disappear sometimes," Dec said wistfully, "Go off somewhere with no one around or just take the people who wouldn't bat an eyelid about the two of us."
"You'd get bored," Stephen teased softly, making Dec huff out a laugh. "It would be nice though."
Dec closed his eyes, inhaling another slow breath and feeling the familiar smell of Stephen's clothes calm him even further. He felt Stephen move slightly, then the low sound of something on the TV, smiling slightly to himself.
His eyelids slipped half-open again, staring at the blurry image of the screen through tired eyes. He recognised the episode of some obscure crime drama playing and smirked a little as one of the characters came on the screen. "He's the murderer."
He felt the stutter of Stephen's chest as he laughed, exhaling amusedly at the same time.
"Thanks, Declan."