Dec did end up going home that day, but only for a couple of hours to check his mail, to leave money out for the cleaner, and to give various members of his family a call as he'd been out of contact since getting sick.

All that was enough to tire him out - he still felt a bit weak and drained from how ill he'd been, even though Ant seemed completely back to normal. That always seemed to be how it went, though: Ant bounced back fast from illnesses. He claimed it was because when he was younger and the caretaker of his little sisters, he didn't have the luxury of malingering. Dec had always gone down hard with bugs - if the rest of his brothers or sisters had taken two days off school, it was a fair bet that Dec would end up taking the whole week, his mam had always said. It was genuine, too - even doing everything you were supposed to when sick, lying down and taking it easy and taking medicine and eating sensibly, did nothing to help him recover quickly.

Despite this clear difference between him and Ant, though, Ant had never gotten frustrated with him. Not even when others did: having worked together since they were teenagers, and been exposed to the same germs most of the time, they often got ill at the same time. Producers and directors and managers had been known, in the past, to give Dec a bit of grief when he was still coughing and spluttering and staggering about with a cold well after Ant had kicked it, despite their going down with it at the same time. They soon, learned, however, not to get on at Dec for it - Ant would always step in, protectively, to tell them to back off. Their relationship had always been this way, Ant taking the role of protector and caregiver going back to their Byker Grove days. Dec thinks it's linked to the fact that just as they were becoming good friends on and off set, he'd come down with a really bad flu that had left him a bit shaky and vulnerable for a few months. Ant, used to being the responsible one at home and having protective instincts, had attached himself to him and taken care of him, making sure he was okay. He enjoyed taking on that role, and Dec liked being cared for by him, and so they saw no reason to continue in any other way.

Dec knows he supports Ant in other ways, though, so the relationship isn't unequal. Ant is not not a people person, but he likes to take his time getting to know people, and he's less comfortable in crowds of people that he doesn't know. He also doesn't tolerate fools easily. Dec's very happy to take the lead when it comes to meeting new people and being charming, and he'll often insert himself between Ant and people he knows will wind Ant up to take the brunt of the interaction, knowing it'll slide easily off him. He's also better with details than Ant - he remembers names and dates and times (not that he's necessarily good at meeting those times, but still), and he's a perfectionist when it comes to timing and delivery at work. He often takes point on those matters, making sure everything is completely sorted, which is a way of taking care, he supposes.

He does sometimes worry that there's an imbalance in their relationship, though. Not because of anything Ant has ever said, or Lisa, but occasional others. When he and Georgie had broken up, a week or so later one of her friends had come round to pick up some of Georgie's stuff from Dec's house. She and Dec had never really clicked, and she had been in full on righteous fury mode - Dec couldn't really blame her; he saw some of Ant's protectiveness in her flinty gaze and sharp words as she collected various items. One thing she had said, though, had cut him to the core a bit: "Well, at least now you can run back to your friend, can't you? Get him to take care of you and patch up your wounds, and tell you everything's going to be okay. I don't know how he puts up with it, having you tagging at his heels like a sad, pathetic puppy. He's got his own life to lead, his own wife, but he can't get rid of you." She'd said more, quite a lot of it cruel, but that bit was the one that had stuck.

And that was why he'd been so careful, over the past few months since the break up, to make sure he wasn't getting in the way of Ant and Lisa; that he wasn't relying on them too much. That was why he'd retreated to his own home the first night he'd felt unwell. He didn't want to go over there and take up all of their time and energy when they might want to spend it alone, by themselves.

He'd regretted that choice very quickly, but had tried to tough it out. Obviously, that hadn't gone well for him: he still couldn't quite believe he'd been so ill that he'd had to be taken to hospital. His memories of that were pretty vague, which he thought he might be grateful for - he could recall sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling his heart racing and knowing that he was in a bad way, and then he had very brief recollections of the ambulance and then being poked with needles in the hospital. And then, he remembered being taken in by Ant and Lisa, and settling in to warm sheets, being cosy and cosseted and just cared for. Loved. And it had made him feel so much happier. He was so thankful they'd spoken to him about not coming round, and convinced him again that he wasn't a burden.

In comparison, his own house felt cold and a little unwelcoming. Not completely, of course - he loved his home, which he had essentially built from the ground up. It just felt a bit empty, with just him there. Once he'd done what he needed to do, it was a relief to head back to Ant's house, where he napped on the sofa for an hour, then woke up feeling almost completely back to normal.

The good thing about being better was that he was able to eat a whole portion of Lisa's excellent spaghetti bolognese, but the bad thing was that he didn't have an excuse to stick around any more, and so the next day he headed back home. He spent the day doing the usual stuff: he had a few people to catch up with and various house-related chores, and he ventured out to the supermarket to get some food in. A microwave meal for dinner plus the football on the telly kept him content enough, but it was still a delight to get a text from Ant just before he headed to bed, asking if he wanted to play some golf the following day. He did, and messaged back swiftly.

The next day started so well: the weather was cold and crisp, but clear, the low winter sun adding an extra challenge to the game. Ant was on fire, playing an absolute blinder and putting like a dream. Dec wasn't quite up to his usual standard, but kept up for the most part, losing out on the green, which was pretty typical - he tended to be a worse putter than Ant even on his best days.

When they finished their round, the sun had gone behind some cloud, and the temperature had started to drop. In the clubhouse, Dec rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet slightly to warm up. "What are you drinking?" Ant asked, having ordered a half-pint for himself. He'd driven there so couldn't risk more.

"Just a coke," Dec requested. "Might stay on the wagon for another day, just to be safe," he explained at Ant's enquiring look.

He almost wished he'd ordered a cup of tea, when they'd been sitting down for a few minutes. He still felt chilled through, his jumper doing little against the cold so that he contemplated putting his jacket back on too. Ant frowned, noticing. "You still not warmed up yet?"

"Not quite," Dec answered, summoning up a smile.

Ant frowned, not joining in with the smile. "Not enough insulation on you, mate. You look a bit skinny, ya kna."

"Really?" Dec looked down at himself. He hadn't noticed, but he supposed he'd probably lost a bit of weight over the past week. "Well, Lisa'll sort me out quick as. Impossible to stay skinny when her cooking's so good."

"True," Ant said, seeming a little happier, as he started chatting about some TV show he'd been recommended he thought Dec should watch with him.

Dec still wasn't warmed up fully when they'd finished their drinks, though, and he turned the heating up in Ant's car on the drive home. Ant put on some music, and they travelled in companionable ease, only occasional comments now and then. Dec had to be honest, he wasn't feeling brilliant. The cold had settled in his bones and all he really wanted was a piping hot bath and a cup of tea - though the coke he'd drunk was sloshing about unpleasantly in his stomach, making him want to open the car window to breathe in fresh air despite still feeling cold.

"You coming for tea?" Ant asked when they got close to their road, making Dec smile despite his issues - it was exactly the same phrase they'd used when they were kids, too, sleeping over at each other's houses. How lucky, he thought, that they still lived their lives in each others pockets.

If it had been a week ago, he'd have made some excuse up to go home himself, and nurse his ills alone, but after the past few days, he knew that Ant and Lisa wouldn't mind if he admitted the truth.

"Actually, mate, I'm feeling a bit rough again," he said as they turned along the leafy lanes of their neighbourhood.

Ant's forehead immediately crinkled in concern and he glanced over at Dec. "What, sick?"

"A little bit ... more just really cold. Maybe I'm just knackered - should have played nine holes rather than eighteen, I guess."

Keeping his eyes on the road, Ant reached out to press the back of his hand to Dec's forehead, missing slightly and bashing his nose briefly. "Sorry."

"How can someone so clumsy be so good at golf?" Dec wondered out loud, teasing slightly to try and ease the worry he can see gathering on Ant's face.

"You're warm, sunshine," Ant declared, ignoring the tease. "Like, fever warm. Have you felt bad all day and not said?"

"No, honestly, it came on in the clubhouse," Dec replied, feeling his own forehead to try and gauge the heat there. "I'm probably just tired, though." He shivered at the end of this, though, earning a raised eyebrow from Ant as he turned off to park in the courtyard at the front of his house.

"Well, probably," he said. "But I don't like you feeling poorly so soon after getting over whatever that bug we just had was ... it's not right. Come on, let's get you inside and you can soak in the tub to get warm again."

Dec felt warm just at the suggestion he come over, but there was still some of that nervousness left over, so he asked, "You sure? You've only been rid of me one night."

"Don't start this again, dafty. Come on, let's go."

Dec was ushered in and Ant made him sit and drink tea while he ran him a bath. Lisa was out at a meeting, not due back till late, so they were on their own, and Ant was in full protective mode. After Dec had emerged, dressed in spare, fleecy pyjamas and one of Ant's biggest and cosiest hoodies, he put some tablets and a bowl of soup in front of him and order him to eat up, while sticking a thermometer in his ear at the same time.

"101," he announced when the beep came through. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," Dec said honestly, though he winced slightly at a new development. "Head's aching, though."

"Paracetamol will hopefully ease that a bit," Ant said, putting a hand to Dec's brow again as if to check if it had changed at all from ten seconds ago. "What are you like, eh? At least you're here again, this time. Only you, Declan, could catch two bugs in the space of seven days."

"What can I say? I'm unique!" Dec grinned, only to wince again when his head throbbed again.

Ant winced in sympathy, and they sat and ate their respective dinners quietly. Dec got through half his soup before his belly started to rebel, and he pushed his bowl away, putting a hand to his stomach and closing his eyes, breathing carefully.

"You okay?" Ant asked quietly. Dec didn't - couldn't - answer. He could remember throwing up so many times those two nights he'd been on his own, vividly recalling the sensation and feeling very reluctant to revisit it again. Unfortunately, his body seemed to have other ideas: there was a churning under his ribs which wouldn't be calmed, and goosebumps were rising on his skin despite his layers as saliva gathered in his mouth, faster than he could swallow it down. Despite his efforts, the unwanted action became inevitable, and he opened his eyes as it became imminent, knowing he'd have to decide between rushing for the kitchen sink or the toilet just off the utility room.

He didn't have to make the choice: Ant was there, having fetched a basin noiselessly and approached just in time to thrust it under Dec's chin as the vomiting began. He supported Dec with a hand on his shoulder blade, letting Dec hold the basin and waiting patiently through the harsh gagging coughs. When Dec finally felt like he was finished, it was Ant who took the basin from him and encouraged him to lean back in his seat and wait while he cleaned up - no fuss about the grossness of it.

Dec waited, breathing shallow and head throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He felt utterly rotten. He looked up at Ant apologetically when the other man returned, carrying a glass of water for him to sip at delicately. "Sorry," he said, a little hoarsely.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Ant replied, though he looked worried. "Mate, this isn't right, you getting sick again so soon."

"It's probably nothing serious," Dec rushed to reassure him. "Just me being bloody delicate, as per usual. You know what I'm like."

"Yeah, I do ... but this seems like overkill. I've got a bad feeling, Declan ... I think I should call someone. NHS 24, just as a start."

"Ant, it'll just be a bug. People do get them close together sometimes. I know I look awful, but honestly, it's not that bad. I've only thrown up once, and I'm not anything like as bad I was last time. And I'm with you this time, aren't I?"

"Yeah, I guess," Ant said, sounding a bit uncertain. "You need to keep drinking, okay? And let me know if you're feeling worse in any way."

"I will, mate. I promise," Dec said.

Reluctantly leaving the phone alone for the moment, Ant helped Dec back to 'his' room, setting him up comfortably in the bed he'd spent too much time in over the past week, recovering from bug number one, usually with Ant either dozing beside him, or doing other stuff, like watching TV or reading a book or replying to their work emails. Ant took up his normal place, on the other side of the bed, turning the television on low but keeping most of his attention on Dec. He could tell; could feel his friend's eyes scanning him every two minutes to check if he was sleeping or in any distress. Despite how ropey Dec was feeling, the knowledge his friend was there was comforting, an additional warmth to combat the fever chills.

He lay quietly, staying as still as possible to appease his unsettled stomach, and grateful for the literal warmth he could leech from Ant where his back rested up against his friend's side. He could feel the tension in Ant's body and knew, with a feeling of guilt, that it was from concern over him. As sleep start to encroach, he reached over clumsily with his hand to pat at Ant's thigh.

"I'll be fine," he reassured him, his voice coming out slurred and slow. "Jus' fine."

Before he drifted off, he heard Ant murmur softly, "I hope you're right, little one. I hope you're right."