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Gravel crunched under the tyres of Greg’s car as he parked next to Alex’s in the small car park the crew used at the Taskmaster house. He hadn’t been there in ages, and with how dark it was back there hours after the crew had left for the day, Greg was lucky he could pick his way toward the sole source of light.
He rapped lightly on the glass door of the lounge, and Alex blinked blearily up at him from where he was hunched over at the table. “Greg?” he said, or mouthed, really, since Greg couldn’t hear him through the door, and he stood as Greg let himself in. “What’re you doing here?”
“Rachel rang me,” Greg told him, arching an eyebrow as he glanced down at the multiple stacks of paper spread across the table. “She seemed to think you may be with me.”
It was a safe assumption, usually, since more often than not, when Alex forgot to answer his phone, some combination of alcohol and Greg were involved, though he at least usually had the sense to warn his wife beforehand. But Greg had barely even seen Alex recently, which meant when Rachel rang, Greg assumed Alex would be with the other other love of his life.
Even if, at the moment, comedy seemed in short supply.
“Oh,” Alex said, looking about as tired as Greg had ever seen him, and he fumbled for his phone, his forehead creasing when he saw the time and, assumedly, the missed messages from first Rachel and then Greg. “Shit, I didn’t even hear it—”
His fingers flew rapidly across the screen, and Greg used his temporary distraction to pull one of the stacks of paper to him, flicking through with increasing bemusement at every iteration of Alex’s signature scrawled across each page. “Practising, are we?” he asked as Alex set his phone down.
Alex’s eyes flew up to his before darting over to the stack of paper Greg was only halfway through, something like a blush darkening his cheeks. Which was odd, because Alex didn’t embarrass easily. “They’re bookplates,” he muttered. “For the, er, the tenth anniversary book.”
“Jesus,” Greg muttered, raising both eyebrows as he glanced around. “How many are you signing?”
Alex just shrugged. “As many as I need to, I guess.” Greg shook his head but Alex cleared his throat before telling him, a little pointedly, “I let Rachel know where I am, so you don’t need to stay.”
Greg recognised it as an attempt at a dismissal, but Alex would need to do better than that. “Do you want me to go?”
Again Alex’s eyes flickered to his and then away, but this time, he worried his lower lip between his teeth before asking abruptly, “May I ask you something?”
“You just did,” Greg said, perching on the edge of the table and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “But go on, then.”
Alex took a deep breath before asking, “When your dad used to go away, did you ever resent him?”
Greg blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “When he used to travel to teach, you mean?” he asked, and Alex nodded. Despite dying to know what had prompted this segue, Greg considered the question before answering slowly, “No, not really. I missed him, of course, but I don’t think I ever resented him. I understood it was his job, and I never thought he was a bad father for it.”
“Right,” Alex said, jerking a nod, and Greg sighed.
“What happened?” he asked, knowing fully well that something had to have inspired this, both Alex’s question and his late-night working.
But Alex looked away. “Nothing.”
“Really?” Greg said flatly, not even pretending to believe him.
Alex heaved another sigh and he scrubbed a hand across his face before telling Greg, “There was a– I was meant to take my boys to a Liverpool match, promised them ages ago, but something came up with the show, and—”
He broke off abruptly, and even though Greg suspected he knew where this was headed, he still prompted gently, “And?”
“I forgot.”
Alex muttered the words so quietly that Greg could barely hear him, and Greg had to tamp down his initial impulse to pull him in and hold him tightly. “And your boys are upset,” he said resignedly, knowing it was one of only a few things in the world that could dim Alex’s usual cheer.
But Alex shook his head slowly. “I don’t even think they’re upset,” he said tiredly, rubbing the cuff of his jumper between his thumb and fingers, the compulsive gesture just more evidence of his stress. “I honestly think they never expected me to actually make it in the first place. And that’s so much worse.”
And now Greg understood why Alex had asked about his dad. But he didn’t think his stories of how he valued his time with his father all the more when he’d get back from his travels would help in this particular instance, meaning he needed to change tacks. “So you’ve decided to work yourself to death instead,” he said, nodding. “Makes sense.”
Alex’s brow furrowed. “I’m not– I’m trying to finish this tonight so that I can free up a day. There’s an exhibition match at Crystal Palace that Key got tickets for, and, well, it’s not the same, but…”
He trailed off and Greg softened a little. “I’m sure the boys will love it.”
“I hope so,” Alex muttered.
Greg hesitated, wondering if it was perhaps best to leave well enough alone. But then again, he never did know when to keep his mouth shut. “That said, I’m not sure any of them would think it’s worth breaking your back over,” he said carefully, and Alex frowned at him in clear disagreement. “I’m serious, mate, I know that you feel guilty but I’m not entirely sure that hiding out here is the way to deal with that.”
“Greg,” Alex sighed, but Greg ignored him.
“And I suppose it’s rubbing salt in the wound at this point, but if you’re overextended, you’re allowed to cut back on your commitments.” He gave Alex a pointed look. “You know that, right? Just like you know you’re a good dad?” Alex shook his head, something stubborn in the set of his jaw, but Greg didn’t let him interrupt. “So maybe you only sign half the books promised – fans of the show who pre-ordered may be slightly disappointed but they’ll buy an unsigned copy anyway, so it’s not like there’ll be a loss of sales. Seriously, it’s not worth you doing this to yourself, and— “
“Greg.” Alex’s voice was sharp, and Greg broke off, frowning at him. Alex took a deep breath before continuing, in a far more careful, measured tone, “I’m fine.”
Greg knew this was his attempt to steer things back onto safer ground, that if Greg gave him the opportunity, he’d make a joke about the book signing or the edits or even missing the football that would make Greg laugh and forget about his concern in one fell swoop.
Which was why Greg wasn’t inclined to give him the opportunity.
Especially since this was just the latest in a long, long line of Alex burning the candle at both ends to the point where even Greg was concerned.
“You’re not.”
Alex exhaled heavily, the sound punching from his chest. “Do you not think that I’ve a better measure of that than you?”
“Given the years of evidence to the contrary?” Greg retorted. “No.”
For the briefest of moments, he was certain that Alex might actually swear at him, but as quickly as it flashed across his expression, it passed, tamped down once more under Alex’s never ceding control. “I’m fine,” he repeated, as if Greg might actually believe him this time.
Which he didn’t. “Mate, if you were any less fine, you’d collapse under the weight of how not fucking fine you are,” Greg told him flatly. “It’s a miracle, frankly, that you haven’t already.”
“Or maybe it’s a sign that I can handle it,” Alex shot back.
“Right, because you’re doing such a bang up job of it.”
Greg said it with just a hint of taunt, as if daring Alex to contradict him. Alex’s eyes flickered to his and away again, his thumb and forefinger once again rubbing compulsively against the cuff of his jumper. “I’m—”
“Swear to fucking Christ, mate, if I hear you say you’re fine one more time…” Greg trailed off ominously, half-expecting Alex to lean into it, to reiterate that he was fine once more, a parody of his usual brand of comedic contrariety.
It was more telling than anything that he didn’t, that he just glared silently at Greg before looking away once more.
Greg sighed, resisting the urge to scrub a hand across his face in frustration. Instead, he finally gave in to his impulse to reach out and gather Alex to him, wrapping him in an embrace too tight for him to squirm his way out of immediately. “You can’t be the only one holding it all together,” he murmured, resting his chin on the top of Alex’s head. “You’ve got to let someone help you, at least every now and then.”
Alex sighed heavily, but this time, it was without frustration or irritation. Just weariness, the kind that Greg felt in his bones as Alex sagged against him, all of the fight leaving him for at least as long as someone else was holding him. “Someone like you?” Alex asked softly, and Greg just squeezed him all the tighter.
“If you’ll let me.”
Alex mumbled something against Greg’s chest, and Greg stroked the back of his head gently. “What’s that?” he murmured.
“I wish it was that easy,” Alex repeated, lifting his head enough to be heard.
Greg sighed before bending down to kiss Alex’s forehead. “It can be,” he said. “If you’ll let it.” Alex just shook his head and Greg sighed again before telling him, “If I thought it would help, I’d kidnap you and take you on holiday somewhere.”
Alex huffed what might have been a laugh. “Mm.”
“I even went so far as to ask Rachel if I could,” Greg said, and Alex leaned back even further to give him a slightly amused look.
“I bet she loved that.”
But Greg shrugged, unwilling to let Alex make a joke of this. “She was open to the idea, if schedules permit.”
Alex pulled a face. “Big if.”
Greg ignored him. “But then I realised that would be what I would want.”
A frown puckered Alex’s forehead. “What do you mean?”
“If I’m stressed, if I’m going out of my mind with worry and responsibilities, disappearing for a while would make me feel better.” Greg shrugged again. “I don’t think it would help you.”
Alex considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “Probably not.”
Greg sighed and bent down to kiss the top of his head again. “I know.”
Alex leaned his head against Greg’s chest again. “Tempted to try it, though.”
“But not that tempted,” Greg said, and Alex hummed in agreement. Greg rubbed his back for a few moments before asking, “So what would help?”
Alex sighed. “Have they made any advancements in the field of cloning recently?”
Greg managed a light laugh. “It would help if you could be six places at once, wouldn’t it,” he agreed.
Alex nodded before glancing up at him again. “Absent that—”
He made a slightly helpless motion and Greg tightened his grip once more. “And I suppose genuinely encouraging you to take a few steps back on some of your projects is going to be met with the same reaction as the last time I suggested it.”
Alex tried to shrug, though Greg was holding him a little too tightly for him to manage. “You balance more projects than I do,” he pointed out.
Greg rolled his eyes. “Because I’m not also balancing a wife and three kids,” he said, poking him gently in the side.
Alex flinched away. “Just me.”
“Just you,” Greg said quietly. “And you are shockingly low maintenance for being as big of a comedy name as you are. You could probably stand to be a bit higher maintenance, in fact.” He prodded him again. “Demand I accommodate your schedule more instead of trying to work everything around mine.”
Alex scowled. “I don’t—”
“Mate.”
Alex scrunched his face up before smiling slightly. “Yeah, all right.”
But Greg wasn’t done with him yet. “I mean it, though,” he said. “It’s no great hardship asking me to drag myself out to Chesham or Chiswick or wherever is more convenient for you.”
“Mm,” Alex hummed in that tone that indicated he didn’t agree but didn’t plan on arguing the point any further. “Well. You’re here now.”
“Yeah, I am,” Greg said, kissing the top of his head one last time before finally releasing him. “So how can I help, since I am here?”
Alex ran a hand across his mouth as he surveyed the piles of paper. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve about 500 more to sign before I can call it a night.”
Greg nodded slowly. “So I should teach myself to forge your horrible signature.”
Alex laughed and looked up at him, a genuine smile creasing the corners of his eyes. “You can barely sign your own name and now you want to have a go at mine?”
“Fuck off, my signature’s fine.”
Alex’s smile widened. “If I didn’t know what you were trying to spell—”
“Fuck off,” Greg repeated, but he was laughing as well.
Alex’s smile faded, just slightly, and he sat back down at the desk, his shoulders hunching automatically. “Well, since you’re not going to learn how to forge my signature in the next few hours, there’s not really much for you to do,” he said, with a sort of forced levity.
For a moment, Greg just looked at him, his own shoulders aching sympathetically at the sight. Then he turned and grabbed the chair Alex normally sat in during tasks, dragging it over to the desk and plopping down decisively on it. “Okay.”
Alex blinked at him. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting down,” Greg told him, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “My knees aren’t what they used to be so I don’t think I can just stand there for the next however long it takes for you to scribble ‘Little Alex Horne’ 500 more times.”
Alex didn’t smile. “You’re staying.”
Greg nodded. “I’m staying.”
Alex tapped the end of his pen against the desk. “Why?”
Greg just shrugged. “Because I can’t drag you away, and I can’t do it for you. So the only thing left for me to do is keep you company.”
“You don’t—” Alex started, but Greg interrupted him.
“I do.”
Alex scowled. “I’m—”
“You’re not,” Greg said cheerfully. “Anything else?”
Though Alex shook his head, he was smart enough – or, somewhat more likely, tired enough – not to argue further. But Greg thought he saw the tension in Alex’s shoulders ease, just slightly, as he returned to scrawling his signature.
For his part, Greg pulled out his phone, content to scroll mindlessly through it for as long as it took after he sent off a few messages of his own. After a long moment, Alex said quietly, “Greg?”
“Yeah?” Greg said, not looking over at him.
“I love you.”
Greg glanced up from his phone, his smile soft. “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.” He reached out to rest his hand lightly on Alex’s arm. “And even though you’re not fine, we are. D’you understand me?”
Alex’s eyes met his, and he nodded. “Yes.”
“Good.” Greg patted his arm before sitting back in his chair. “When you’re done here, I’m going to drive you home.”
“I have my car—” Alex protested immediately, just like Greg knew he would.
“Someone from production will bring it out to you tomorrow,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
Not that it was enough to stop Alex. “That’s– they shouldn’t—”
“But they will,” Greg said firmly. “Because they also care about you. Because helping you isn’t a burden, or an obligation.” He gave Alex a look. “Something you’d do well to remember.”
Alex huffed a sigh. “I’ll try.”
“Good.”
Greg expected that to be the end of it, but Alex took a deep breath before starting, “And you’re sure– I mean, you don’t have to stay.”
“I know that I don’t have to,” Greg told him. “But I want to.”
For a moment, it looked as if Alex might argue further, but instead he just shook his head. “If you’re sure,” he said, in a tone indicating he rather thought Greg wasn’t.
Greg gave him a look. “Quite a small if, as it were.”
Alex managed a small laugh. “Right,” he said.
“I mean it,” Greg said. “I can sit here all night.”
“It’ll be terribly boring…” Alex warned, as if that was what Greg cared about.
“Alex,” he said firmly, waiting until he finally looked at him. “I’m fine.”
The use of the phrase that had started this all had its desired effect, as Alex again managed a laugh, this one a little louder, and a little more genuine. “Okay,” he said simply without any further attempt at an argument, already getting back to work.
In truth, fine was probably overselling it a little. Greg was tired, and could’ve done with a good night’s sleep, though he also knew being at home was no guarantee these days of sleep of any quality. The chair was also about three inches too short to be comfortable for long, and if he’d’ve known he was going to be spending his evening like this, he’d’ve eaten something more substantial for dinner.
But it was for Alex.
And for Alex, Greg would do just about anything.
Including sitting there with him until Alex believed it, too.