Notes: Not an experienced writer and sorry for the weak ending.
Disclaimer: I don't know David Mitchell or Robert Webb, and the story is completely fictional.


"Was what Shappi said true?" David broke the silence.

"What...? Oh, that. It was true."

"I'm wondering why." David stared at Robert. Robert's eyes were still on the road in front of them.

"Told you already, it was for distinguishing you from the novelist." Robert responded absentmindedly.

"But..."

"Is it that important, David?" Robert interrupted him. Robert didn't sound angry or anyting but David felt the atmosphere was awkward.

"No."

Long pause.

"I don't want to start it, but I've always assumed you were sick of me. So feel a bit surprised."

"Huh, you just can't leave it, can you?" Robert was in a mocking tone, which David sometimes thought funny and sometimes thought annoying. Now it was the latter.

David turned his head and watched the view outside. "I think it was sweet and lovely," He said thoughtfully. "I'm pleased to know what you call me when I'm not around, even it was just for distinguishing."

"That big mouth Shappi, made me so embarrassed!" Robert mumbled. David could tell clearly from his voice he was smiling inside although his face didn't show. "I AM sick of you but I-I thought of you often whilst talking to Miranda and Shappi and wished you were there. You would hijack the conversation if you'd been there, Ohhh, I would hate that. But still, I missed your jokes. I guess I was sort of proud as I called you that and the fact you're my partner, erm, writing partner, I don't need to work hard alone like them because you're always there by my side. Maybe...I'm not as jealous of you getting all the attention as I imagined..."

"What time is it? We haven't had any alcohol yet, right?" David pretended he was confused, but he was actually happy to hear what Robert told. He was just shy to show it to Robert. "Secretly admiring his working partner, saying something opposite of what he really thinks and all the confession," he spoke like a posh critic was reviewing a play. "Am I listening to a romantic comedy?"

"Spot-on, love!" Robert laughed. "Except the secretly admiring bit."

"Oh, yeah, you're admiring unsecretly. Thank you for pointing out. I'm touched." David switched back his usual tone.

"I didn't mean that!"

"Whatever. I can read the subtext." David smirked and took a small notebook out of his bag. He then wrote something quickly on it.

"What are you writing?"

"Oh, just ideas for sketches," David looked concentrated on what he writing. "inspired by your confession. Adding some gay jokes might be a quite nice, isn't it? Don't worry, I'll change the names and scenario. Nobody will know it's actually from you."

"How dare you, David! Are you planning to get back home on your own?" Robert raised his volume.

"Only ten minutes away from here and I can take a cab if I like! So, thanks for your concern."

"Right...I'll drive directly to my flat!"

"Your Abi will give me her full support. Women LOVE gay jokes."

"Fine. I tell you what, I'll take you to the pub, and you will do nothing but drink with me until drunk! I'll steal your diary then."

"Robert, you're childish beyond my imagination! Hard to believe you're actually older than me!"

"Remember, don't mess with a nearly alcoholic, haha!"

They didn't utter a word later on the way to the pub, but they had smiles on their faces and somehow felt fulfilled and even strength after the coversation. Apart from the heartwarming moment, David started to worry about his diary very much, but that's another story.