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Paul Williams sits alone in his flat, hands trembling. Clutched in them like a precious gem is an envelope with the official Taskmaster wax seal on it. He’s been waiting for this letter – for this day – for what feels like forever, but he can’t quite bring himself to open it. The contents of this letter will dictate the rest of his life. Whether he has indeed been chosen as the Taskmaster New Zealand Assistant, and if so, who his Taskmaster will be. His soulmate.
Paul hasn’t been lucky in love. He used to think the whole “soulmates” thing was a bit bullshit, if he’s being honest, but after years of heartbreak, rejection, and lonely, lonely nights, he decided he’d throw his hat in the ring and give it a go. The Taskmaster’s Assistant position had been the perfect opportunity.
Some Andy or another in the International Soulmates Department had created this idea – a Taskmaster and their Assistant, bonded through a television show and through love. Paul had read up on the matchmaking process, but didn’t really understand it – it was a complicated thing, soulmates. He didn’t envy those who worked at the ISD. But he did have the right disposition for a Taskmaster Assistant, and it came with perks; he’d continue to be in the comedy business, maybe make a name for himself, would be allowed creative freedom on the show, and, of course, he’d get his very own official soulmate as well.
So he had sent in his CV and eagerly awaited an answer. The job posting listed over a dozen countries, and was said to basically guarantee success in both the show itself as well as the relationship between Taskmaster and Assistant. And now here he sits, envelope shaking in his hands, waiting to be opened.
He slides his finger under the red wax seal, taking a deep breath. It smells like wax. The seal pops under the pressure as he moves his finger, and with trembling hands he takes out the piece of paper inside.
It’s more like parchment, really, subtly off-white and sturdy. Thick. Black typewriter-looking font sprawls across the page, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if they really did use a typewriter. His eyes flick to the first line, seeing the word “Congratulations.” His heartbeat picks up, hands shaking even more. He tries to keep them steady as his eyes move faster than he means them to – scanning down the page for his name. He briefly registers a couple of other countries on the list, such as the UK, where Greg Davies would be Taskmaster to Alex Horne, and something called Junior Taskmaster with Rose Matafeo ( Rose got the job too! his brain registers, and celebrates a moment of happiness for his friend) with an Assistant named Mike Wozniak. Finally his eyes catch his country and they stall on the two names. One is his, of course, listed as Assistant. The other is his soulmate, his Taskmaster, his future.
Jeremy Wells.
For a second Paul’s mind goes blank as it tries to dredge up anything he knows about Jeremy. Hadn’t he been a radio host at some point? And then it hits him, square in the heart like a punch to the chest, as he remembers the poster. You know, the one with the iron?
Oh God, he thinks. That’s Jeremy Wells. That’s my…
But he doesn’t finish the thought. He physically shakes his head like it’s going to rattle the thought right out of there, and goes back to the top of the letter, now taking time to read the entire thing. Congratulations, he had been accepted as the Taskmaster New Zealand Assistant, please find below the list of names next to each country, blah blah blah, and at the end of the letter was a list of dates that filming would begin. Taskmasters and Assistants were more than welcome to reach out to each other before then to talk strategy ( and romance, it didn’t say) if they so wished. Contact information was given, as well as two QR codes – one for a Taskmaster group chat and the other for an Assistant group chat.
Paul fumbles his phone out of his pocket, almost dropping it on the floor in the process, and scans the QR code. When prompted, he enters his name and country, and just like that he’s in. It won’t take more than twenty-four hours for all of the other Assistants to join the group and start conversations; admin and keeping on top of everything is their job.
Jeremy’s contact information sits innocently on the page, and Paul just stares at it. His mind is racing with thoughts and memories of Jeremy. He doesn’t know the man very well, but what he does know is that Jeremy Wells is a hell of an attractive man. That’s undeniable. His sharp strong jawline, a beautiful head of hair, nice teeth… And he’s fit too, which never hurts. But why pick Jeremy as Taskmaster when he’s not really in the comedy scene? Could it be a soulmate thing, or did they actually think he’d make a good Taskmaster? Paul tries to imagine Jeremy in a suit. He can’t quite conjure up the image, so he makes a mental note to do some Googling later. His phone goes off – the first message from the Assistant’s chat from the UK Assistant – and it startles Paul out of his reverie. He debates whether he wants to respond to Alex Horne’s message or add Jeremy’s number and try to reach out. He settles on adding Jeremy’s number to his phone and responding in the group chat. Maybe Jeremy will reach out first so that Paul doesn’t have to.
He’s not quite that lucky.
Days pass, then weeks. Weeks turn into months. The recording timeline for each Taskmaster series is a bit wonky with all the countries needing to work around scheduling not just for the Taskmaster and Assistant but for the contestants and crew as well. The UK series is set to record first, and it looks like they’re going to power through a good amount of seasons before New Zealand’s even begins. Alex seems excited, at least, generating task ideas in the chat and providing seemingly endless amounts of energy and suggestions.
Whenever Paul opens his messaging app to text Jeremy, he stares blankly at the screen. He has no idea what to say, and after months of no communication on either end, at this point it would just feel awkward. He considers asking the group chat for advice, but it’s just so embarrassing. Maybe everything will change when they finally meet in person prior to the first studio record.
Again, Paul’s luck has seemed to disappear.
The first meeting with Jeremy is incredibly awkward, and Paul is surprised he doesn’t die of embarrassment. As he tries to introduce himself, he stumbles over his words and stutters like he’s been garbling words his whole life. Jeremy in the flesh is severe. Handsome, yes, but unwavering and resolute. He acts like a man who knows exactly what he wants. And what he doesn’t want, it seems, is Paul. Paul, who dresses up in the nicest suit he owns to impress his Taskmaster. Paul, who withers under Jeremy’s gaze whenever he deigns to look his way. Paul, who just wants to be loved, to be wanted, to be seen. Paul, who has been paired with the coldest person he’s ever met.
Or so he thinks.
As the UK series progresses, it paves the way for other countries; it sets a standard. Paul’s mouth fully drops open when he watches the first episode – the first episode! – and already Greg is straight out the gate with the first thing he ever says about Alex: “As always, I am both aided and fluffed by my personal assistant…” It’s incredible. Brassy and bold, and Paul is so envious. It continues throughout their first few seasons and just gets more and more ridiculous. They even kiss on screen and Paul’s heart rate is through the roof. Greg and Alex flow together so well, with endless touches and taunts, straight-up kinky references to their home life, and longing gazes at each other throughout the series.
Taskmaster New Zealand is all set to record, and then the pandemic hits. But the show must go on, and Paul is desperate to sit next to Jeremy, who has all but ignored him since their first meeting. Paul decides not to push it; let Jeremy come to him in his own time. Surely he must realize that soulmates have to be together eventually… right?
Despite the pandemic, the nerves of shooting the first episode, and having absolutely no idea what Jeremy is going to be like, the first record goes very well. The contestants are doing their best in a studio that has clearly never watched another country’s Taskmaster. It's fun to rile up Paul’s brother, Guy, who is on the panel. And it is nice to sit next to Jeremy, even though he’s stone faced and his scoring makes no sense at all. Paul feels right at home by his side. He has no reason to, but he does. That’s just the truth.
The first season goes off smoothly, and they’re greenlit for a second (it’s very rare for anyone not to get greenlit for more, but the United States was different – for one thing, Alex had to fill in as the Assistant, but everyone already knew he belonged to Greg). Paul is thrilled with the news, and in his spare time he writes down ideas for a musical episode and quirky interstitials.
The second season is even better, with a more knowledgeable audience and wider fanbase. Jeremy still seems so far away and unreachable, but Paul remains in good spirits now that he doesn’t have to deal with his brother on the show, and he enjoys himself. He even gathers up the courage to glance at Jeremy more often, although it’s rarely reciprocated.
By season three Paul is feeling that desperation again. He wants something – anything – a crumb of affection would do. He’s a patient man, but he feels like he’s being pushed to his limits. He struggles through season four.
And then he watches UK series thirteen, and everything changes.
“I do everything for him,” Alex had said, sweating and out of breath.
And Paul wants that so badly. No – he needs it. He can’t live like this, waiting forever for his own Taskmaster to finally notice him for what he is – not just an Assistant, but a soulmate. A proper one. So he gets out his phone and goes to the group chat. Asks a general question: How long did it take you and your Taskmaster to click?
He gets a few responses that are general and vague, but Alex and Rose offer to give him a call, and Tom Cashman sends him a private message saying it’s been a slow burn. Paul takes both Alex and Rose up on their offers. He calls Rose first, since they’re already friends.
“Mate, Mike is kinky as fuck,” she tells him, and he hears the smile in her voice. “He might not look it, but that boy is fit.”
“Not really helpful, Rose,” Paul says, but he’s happy for her. He really is.
Alex is equally unhelpful, at least at first.
“How quickly did you get on?” Paul asks, and hears Alex hum.
“To be honest, the first meeting we had ended with us f– snogging in his dressing room.” He sounds embarrassed. “It was quite nice, actually.”
Paul sighs, squeezing his eyes shut.
“But every relationship is different,” Alex says. “It takes time. Greg and I got on so well right from the get-go. We were lucky. Have you tried talking to Jeremy about it?”
Paul’s stomach clenches. “No,” he says, eyes still closed. “It’s too…” He doesn’t want to say scary. “He’s too intimidating.”
Alex hums again. “I know how that feels.” He sounds almost wistful. “But he’s just a person, just like everyone else. You’ll get there, Paul. I promise.”
“Cheers, mate.”
But it doesn’t make him feel any better.
It’s season five and Paul has had enough. This is it, he promises himself. This is when it has to happen.
And for once, his luck agrees.
Or, at least, the contestants do.
Between Hayley pushing the limits of what can even be aired on the show and Tom giving Paul knowing looks throughout the record, Paul is flustered. He knows his friends just want to help him, but as always, Jeremy is as solid as a statue, impenetrable. Until Abby brings in the commission.
It’s gorgeous. It’s perfect. It’s everything Paul has wanted and more. Amidst the screams of delight and shock from the audience, he stands up to take a picture of it on his iPad. Does he dare look over to Jeremy to see what his reaction is? He does. Jeremy remains stone-faced as always.
And then he gives Abby the five points. Before the audience has stopped clapping.
Paul doesn’t know what this means.
Shortly after, Jeremy calls for a break. He leans over his throne to whisper in Paul’s ear, “Come with me.”
Paul sets his iPad on his own throne and obediently follows Jeremy out of the main room. They walk down a hallway in silence until they arrive outside Jeremy’s dressing room. Paul has never been in it. Without even looking at Paul, Jeremy swings open the door and steps inside. Paul follows. The room is dark – Jeremy hasn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but before Paul can ask what they’re doing here, Jeremy slams the door shut behind Paul and slams Paul against the door. He reaches his elegant fingers up to Paul’s neck, brushing the skin there and setting Paul’s nerve endings alight. He drags his fingers up and into Paul’s hair, around the back of his head, grabbing him and pulling Paul’s face forward. Their lips meet – Paul whimpers at the sudden unexpectedness of it all – and it’s fire. Jeremy breathes harshly through his nose as his tongue pries between Paul’s lips. The hand that isn’t in Paul’s hair goes to Paul’s shoulder and yanks him toward Jeremy with surprising strength. They’re all lips and moans and bodies tangled together like horny teenagers, and Paul’s legs almost give out when he feels Jeremy grinding into him.
Just as suddenly as it started, Jeremy is gone. He steps back, away from Paul, removing his hands in the process. Paul feels cold without them. In the shadows, he sees Jeremy run a hand through his hair and straighten his tie.
“Right,” he says to Paul, in a voice that doesn’t at all hint at what he was doing only seconds prior. “Let’s get back out there, shall we?”
Paul doesn’t trust himself to speak. He follows Jeremy back into the studio and takes his place next to his Taskmaster, a hint of a grin barely visible on his face.
It’s about time.