Oneshots and Other Things

Replaceable ~ Part 2

A very (very) delayed part two...

(*~*)

"You're doing it again."

Dec blinked out of his preoccupation, starting slightly as Stephen spoke. He tried to muster an uncomprehending frown although they both knew what he'd been doing.

"Am I not allowed to worry?" he retorted, keeping the question light and his tone delicate. He was skating on thin ice, as he tended to whenever the topic of of Simon came up.

Stephen's mouth twisted unhappily as if to say he wasn't allowed to do that, although he didn't say as much. "You don't have to look at me like I'm a stray puppy who's been left out in the rain."

Dec snorted under his breath involuntarily, clinging to the usual shred of concern that latched onto Stephen even when the younger man managed to put on a performance or make a joke. It was hard, without leaving those deliberate reminders for himself, to remember that the other man was far from happy.

"What did he say this time?"

This time, in the next instalment of Stephen answering questions non-verbally, Dec merely received a raised eyebrow in reply. He knew what that meant; 'are you really expecting me to come straight out with it?'

And so, he changed his approach. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Stephen answered straight away. "We actually finished on time, which is nice. And there were plenty of good acts." The 'but' Dec was hoping for never came.

"How is it with the smaller crew?" Dec asked gingerly, creeping ever closer to the edge of that wafer-thin ice. Stephen frowned unhappily for a single, fleeting moment.

The BGMT crew had been cut quite severely for the latest series; the latest piece of evidence that Simon was still unhappy with what they were producing. That's how Stephen had taken it anyway – how most people would probably have taken it, in Dec's mind.

If Simon didn't hate the ITV2 show, he had a funny approach to signalling his silent approval of what they were doing. One of these methods had involved several people that Stephen had worked with for years losing their jobs.

It had been sudden, they hadn't had a lot of warning, and Dec couldn't remember ever seeing the same quiet, hurt anger in Stephen's eyes before that hearing the news had brought on. Inexplicably, he seemed to blame himself. After all, he seemed to have taken on as much of the stress as he could for the last few years, doing anything he could to alleviate other people's and only amplifying his own in the process.

He really, quite desperately needed to learn how to be a bit selfish sometimes.

Dec, through all of his almost transparent invitations to go for a walk or a coffee or just to hang out, was yet to convince him of such a fact. The offers had been heavy-handed, far too regular since the news about the BGMT down-sizing made its way through the crew. Stephen had often made excuses, especially avoiding seeing either him or Ant on a one-to-one basis, like he knew they were less likely to bring it up if all three of them were together.

And now, a few days into the auditions, he knew Stephen was only sat in front of him at the bar because he'd deliberately waited until he returned from the theatre. Because no one else was there as well so he had no excuse to ignore Dec's tentative wave.

"We're managing," Stephen replied vaguely, glancing around the room distractedly. Dec wondered if he'd be able to say, 'I'm managing,' without letting one of those cracks in his voice undermine his promise.

"I'm sure you're doing a good job," Dec said, hoping to be vaguely reassuring.

Stephen huffed out an unamused laugh, shattering that illusion instantly. "That makes one of us."