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Chapter Text

The only reason that Greg Davies had kissed Alex Horne was because it was funny. That was it. And the way the other man had flushed pink and scrunched his nose had absolutely nothing to do with the rise in his heart rate or the fuzzy warmth that had spread through him. No it was just because he was a touch-starved, lonely old fuck. Besides he didn’t even like men. And he especially didn’t like his colleague Alex Horne, not like that.

This was what he repeated to himself in his head for the whole taxi ride home. But that night as he fell asleep he hugged his pillow tightly and tried not to imagine the other man, peacefully asleep, snoring in his arms.

- - - - -

“Hiya love I’m home.” A familiar voice called from the front door. “I got everything except eggs, they’d run out, I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get some on when I’m out later” Greg replied.

“How’s the writing going?” Alex asked as he walking into the study greeting Greg with a peck on the lips.

“It’s the first draft, so it’s pretty shit, but it’s something.”

“Right you continue with that and I’ll make a start on dinner.”

- - - - -

Greg rubbed at the sleep in his eyes as he groped at the table for his phone to turn off the alarm. What the fuck was that. Had he just dreamt about domestic bliss, much worse, domestic bliss with Alex Horne? He didn’t have time for this shit, it wasn’t like he believed in dream meanings or anything anyway. No, now was the time for coffee and most definitely not subconscious identity exploration. They had another filming day at Pinewood to get through and it was already 8am.

- - - - -

Greg managed to pass the day rather uneventfully all things considered. He did his job, not letting on that anything was wrong to the audience or the contestants; and took tactical loo breaks to avoid talking to Alex in intervals.

However, at the end of the second recording, someone pulled him aside and offered him a paracetamol and Alex managed to corner him before he could escape to the toilets or his dressing room again.

“Greg,” Alex addressed him hesitantly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah of course I am why’d you ask?”

“Well you’ve been acting off all day.”

“Really it’s nothing.”

“Look I get it, it’s okay, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Wow,” Greg laughed uncomfortably “I- well-.”

“Really I’ve been there too, look I know a great doctor, his name is Michael Jones, I’ll send you his details later.”

“Ah thanks mate.” Greg responded, equal parts bemused, relieved, and embarrassed.

Great, now all of his coworkers thought he had a UTI, but hey it was better than them thinking he fancied Alex. 

Chapter Text

That night Greg decided not to have an early night or call a friend or book a therapy session as would’ve all been sensible; and instead to get shitfaced. He was on his 6th glass of wine when he was approached by a rather handsome man who introduced himself as Sebastion – no, maybe Stan? Sam? Greg had forgotten his name within minutes but that didn’t matter, he had a certain air of charm to him. A cool confidence completely opposed to that of Alex Horne. And although the guy was hot, the main reason for the evening’s turn of events, although Greg would never admit it, was his own desperation to prove to himself that he definitely didn’t fancy Alex Horne.

Within an hour Greg had the other man pinned to the pub wall and they were kissing sloppily. At one point Sean, or Steve or whatever his name was broke off and whispered something about calling a cab and going back to his place into Greg’s ear. At this Greg blinked, coming to himself for the first time that night and shook his head.

“Oh – oh my God. Simon, I’m so sorry. I – I need to go home, sober up.” With that Greg legged it out into the chilly evening, ignoring the call of “What the-? My name is Scott” and hailing the first taxi he saw. He decided he would sleep it off and that the question of his sexuality was a problem for morning Greg.

And that was how Greg Davies woke up to 19 missed calls and hundreds of texts, including several from his mum, Alex, and his agent. There would indeed be many problems for morning Greg.

-----

Greg groaned and raked his hands over his face. He really was getting too old to drink this much, his head ached, and he was still in yesterday’s clothes. He rolled over, reaching for his phone to turn off the alarm he’d forgotten to switch off last night, planning to ignore it and sleep through the hangover. But when he saw the sheer volume of notifications he sat up, reading the latest one, a text from Rhod reading “Congrats on the boyfriend mate, Daily Mail is a bit of an eccentric way to come out though, don’t you think?”

Boyfriend? Daily Mail? Coming out? What was that lunatic on abo- Oh. Shit. Tentatively Greg opened Google and searched for his name. Immediately his screen was flooded with images of him in the pub with his tongue down another man’s throat and headlines reading things like “GAY TASKMASTER: GREG DAVIES SPOTTED MAKING OUT WITH MYSTERY MAN” and “BI-CON GREG DAVIES CONFIRMED”. Oh dear.

The first person that Greg called back was Alex, not for any weird reason, only because he was technically (very technically) his boss. It only took one ring for the him to pick up the phone.
“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” Alex’s worried voice demanded.
“Most people start with hello. Besides, my love-life is none of your business.” Greg replied.
“In this case, I think it might be, this could be a publicity crisis for the show. Besides you shouldn’t have sex when you have a UTI.”
Greg couldn’t help but laugh at that last part, which seemed to agitate Alex all the more.
“I’m serious Greg it could be dangerous, I’ve done some research and it could even lead to-”
At this point he was cut off with another roar of laughter, through which Greg just managed to splutter 
“Alex, I do not have a UTI.”
“Oh, okay, well phew because-”
“And I also didn’t shag him.”
“Good.” Alex responded, sounding almost a bit jealous.
“Look, I’ll sort it, don’t worry, I’d better go now, get on top of damage control and all.”
And with that Greg hung up.

The rest of the morning consisted of many important phone calls, which Greg, mind you was far too hungover to make. After some discussion, they decided that his agent would publish a statement confirming what had happened, that Greg was queer (even though he still wasn’t sure about that one) and turning it onto the media, accusing them of homophobia, pointing out that if it’d been a woman, there wouldn’t have been nearly so much uproar.

After lunch he finally got round to calling his mum who was if anything a bit too enthusiastic in her support:
“What’s his name?”
“Spencer, I think?”
“He’s very handsome, I would love to have you both over for dinner at some point.”
“I’ve already told you, we aren’t together, I don’t even know him.”
“Alright, but just in case you are together, I want you to know that it’s absolutely fine, I’ve always thought gay people were more interesting than the rest of us anyway.”
“Ok, thanks mum. Gotta go now, love you, bye!”

And lastly he took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable mockery he was about to face and called Rhod.
“Hey mate, sorry about the papers, they can all go fuck themselves, but genuinely congratulations about the guy, he’s hot.”
“We’re not dating, I was drunk”
“Fair enough, it happens.”
“Why aren’t you more surprised by all this?”
“So what you snogged someone in a pub, who cares?”
“It was a man though.”
“So?”
“I’m not gay.”
“Yeah I know, you’re bi.”
“Thanks for letting me know!”
“What, you didn’t know you liked men?“
“No! I still don’t even know if I do.”
“But you’ve been shagging Alex for years.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“It’s okay, we all know, but we keep quiet about it for your sake.”
“Who’s we?!”
“About all of the British comedy circuit.”
“All of the British comedy circuit think I’m fucking Alex Horne?”
“No, we all know you’re fucking Alex Horne, and the internet perverts are pretty sure too!”
“But I’m not.”
“Well clearly not anymore as you’re seeing this other bloke now.”
“No I’m not seeing anyone, and I promise you, I have never in my life had sex with Alex Horne, or any other man for that matter.”
“Well that is a surprise. But good I suppose, it’s probably a bad idea with a UTI.”
“What the fu- how do you know about that? And for the record I don’t.”
“This is showbiz, information travels quickly”

Chapter Text

Alex was more upset about what’d happened than he cared to admit. He had tried to convince himself that he was worried about PR for the show or for his friend’s wellbeing; that the tight twisted feeling in his stomach was anything but jealousy. Maybe it was shock, he’d never had any idea that Greg was queer, even after all these years of knowing him. The more he thought about it, the more the knot twisted: Was their friendship merely a front? How could he not have known such an essential piece of information about Greg’s life? And why on earth had he felt that relieved when Greg told him that he hadn’t slept with whoever that other (frustratingly gorgeous) man was? Sure he worried about Greg’s health, he wasn’t that bad of a friend, but it was more than that, the relief had felt too personal.

Alex was brought out of his mind and back to reality by a knock at his flat door.

For God’s sake, he was spiralling. He was overthinking it, he knew that, there was no need. Ultimately it really wasn’t any of his business. Hell, when he’d been on the phone to Greg, the other man hadn’t sounded nearly so stressed about the whole situation, even though it was his life being fucked about with in the press. Greg always managed to have a somewhat calm disposition about him, when it mattered anyway. Whenever Alex was fretting about casts and schedules and contracts, running around like a madman, Greg felt to him like a pillar, an anchor or a buoy, somehow still in an ocean of chaos. Alex realised with a level of guilt that what he really wanted to do right now was call Greg again, to talk to him. Not even necessarily about any of the shit going on, just small talk or something to quieten his mind.

Remembering what’d taken him down this second train of thought in the first place Alex hurried to his door, some illogical wish in the back of his mind hoping that it would actually be Greg. Of course when he finally opened it, it wasn’t Greg but Mark who greeted him.

Immediately and without a word, Mark pulled him into a firm hug. While confused, Alex appreciated it. A lot.
“Oh Alex, I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I could.” The man said, muffled by Alex’s jumper.
“What do you mean?” Alex said, unhooking himself from Mark
“Tim wanted to come too but he’s out of London at the moment. Sorry it was my weekend with the kids so I couldn’t get away any earlier in the day.”
Turning to the clock, Alex realised it was already 7pm.
“Did we have plans? If we did I’m afraid I’ve forgotten, busy with work and all.”
“No we didn’t, but after I saw the news I just had to come over and make sure you were okay.”
“What news?”
“Oh my God, Alex, you don’t know? Haven’t you used the internet today? Or spoken to Greg?” Mark asked incredulous.
“Yes, I have, both in fact, and I still have no idea what you’re on about.”
“Oh Alex, I know you never actually told us, but we knew.” Mark replied looking pityingly at the other man.
“Knew what?”
“We knew about you and Greg.”
“What about us, that we host a TV show together? I think most of the UK knows about that.”
“Alex…”
“Oh, do you mean about him kissing me in recording the other day? I mean I know it was unexpected but I didn’t mind it so m-“
“He did that?” Mark interjected, horrified.
“My God, that makes it all so much worse. Publicly acknowledging your relationship on TV and then going off and-“
“Our what?” Alex spluttered
“Oh shit sorry, I didn’t mean to rub salt in the wound or anything.”
“No, no Mark, don’t worry. Greg and I are not together,” Alex raised a finger to stop Mark from cutting in “and we never have been. And assuming you’re referring to the news surrounding him kissing some guy in a pub, it should really be him people are checking in on, it’s nothing to do with me.”
“Oh. Wow, okay. I mean, that’s good, that means you’re okay right?”
Alex paused for a moment. Truthfully he wasn’t okay, but he wasn’t even sure why. And if he could talk to anyone about it, it would be Mark.
“Not exactly.”
“Well this is definitely going to be more complicated than I’d anticipated.”

Alex and Mark spent the rest of the evening sitting on Alex’s sofa, drinking beer and having conversations which were far too serious for two comedians.

Chapter Text

By some kind of miracle, within a week the whole thing had largely diffused with the public generally taking his side in the matter and being quite supportive. The internet freaks seemed happy for the confirmation of his queerness and it’d done wonders for his publicity. There were still a some who said it was a stunt, used him as an example of “comedy getting too woke” or called him slurs on Twitter. But luckily they were the minority. And soon enough they back in the studio to film the last two episodes of the series.

"Next to me sits a man who - and I never thought l'd need to say this - I have never had intercourse with. I mean have you seen the bloke? I'd never fuck him. He looks like a small child's drawing of a sickly rat in human form. Besides he gets all awkward with any physical contact whatsoever! See?" As he said this, he reached over grabbing Alex’s hand to prove his point, and as expected, Alex’s ears flushed pink and he tensed.

The rest of the recording went well with all of the usual “banter” amongst the cast which would never make it into the final edit but seemed to amuse the studio audience enough. On the surface, to anyone watching, everything looked normal. But Alex could feel that something was different, although he couldn’t tell if it was within himself or Greg or between them both. They could easily put on a show, but Alex worried that Greg had seen the momentary slip of the mask when he’d touched his hand. It’d felt like a jolt of electricity right through him, and if he was being honest all he had wanted to do in that moment was keep the other man’s hand there, hold on and never let go.

That night Alex couldn’t sleep, he stared at his ceiling. He already knew from his talk with Mark that he wasn’t as straight as he’d previously believed. And it seemed like he did have something of a crush on his co-host. But that was it. Just a passing fancy, it was just because he was there and he was nice and I mean, didn’t most of the UK fancy him at least a little bit. So why had he felt anything other than comedic appreciation when Greg had introduced him, he’d never felt insecure about any of his in-persona teasing before. But the words “I'd never fuck him” repeated over and over in his head, twisting and taking on a malicious voice of their own. Why would Greg even consider sex with him, never mind any sort of relationship. He’d seen the pictures, that man from the pub had been at least 10 times more attractive than him.

—————————————————————

Across London, against his better judgment, Greg was drinking again, at least he wasn’t alone this time. Roisin was over.
“So Rhod wasn’t exaggerating?”
“Fuck no!” She said through a fit of giggles “Look I’ll show you the Taskmaster group chat.”
“There’s a Taskmaster group chat that I’m not on?”
“Mhm.” Roisin said getting it up on her phone
“But I’m the host of the bloody thing.”
“Yep. But we all need some kind of support group after all you both put us through! Look here.” She said passing over the phone.

—————————————————————

Taskmaster Veterans

Mark Watson: Can I just check, everyone else thought Alex and Greg were in a relationship too right?

Noel Fielding: Well duh.

Joe Lycett: I got a vibe

Sally Philips: Well clearly not anymore [Screenshot attached of news article]

Mark Watson: Turns out they never were!

Roisin Conaty: WHAT?!

Nish Kumar: Are you sure?

Mark Watson: Yeah I was just over at Alex’s place. Honestly really surprised.

Tim Key: Okay but they definitely fancy each other right?

Aisling Bea: 100%

————————————————————— Greg’s jovial smile slipped from his face as he read the last couple of messages, he hurriedly passed the phone back.
“You haven’t even had a chance to read the best bits yet! We came up with a ship name and everything.”
“Do you really think that Alex… y’know…”
“I know your eyesights gotten worse old man but I didn’t think you were that blind!”
“And I feel like that about him?”
“Why’re you asking me?”
“I dunno, you know me.”
“Better than you know yourself?”
“Maybe.”
They sat in contemplative silence for a few seconds, Greg was eager to change the subject.
“So c’mon, tell me what ‘ship name’ you came up with.” Greg said with mock reluctance laced with amusement.
“Grelex.”
“Grelex. A group chat full of comedians and the best you lot could come up with was Grelex. It sounds like an overpriced starter at a fancy restaurant.”
“Look it was that or Aleg Darne.”
“Oh god that’s even worse.”
They spent the rest of the evening chatting about work and mutual friends, the tension gone.

Chapter Text

The next day would be the last of studio recordings for this series. It was the first one to have ten episodes, it was a good excuse for Greg and Alex to see more of each other though neither would ever admit it. Nonetheless, today would likely be the last they saw of each other for a while.

The studio recording went well, the jokes landed and nothing out of the usual (at least for the fever dream that was Taskmaster) happened. Alex had been swarmed by crew and co-stars congratulating him on another good series. So the first chance he got to catch up with Greg was at the afterparty.

He felt the warmth of other man’s presence before he saw him, and it was confirmed by a large hand landing on his shoulder with a sincere greeting of “Well done mate!”
They chatted with Liza and a few others for a few minutes, all the while Greg’s hand never leaving his upper arm. Eventually the conversation branched off into something which didn’t interest either of them and Greg grabbed his hand and led him over to the bar, saying something about getting another round of something for everyone that he’d need an extra pair of hands to help carry.
“Nine beers please!”
“Nine? Greg, I know you have big hands but we can’t possibly carry nine beers between us.”
“Oi, cheeky! You’re right though. Oh well, I suppose we’ll just have to drink ours here.”
“Won’t the others-”
“The others can wait. C’mon, sit down”
Alex obliged, pulling up the barstool next to Greg.

They made small talk for a bit, it seemed casual at surface level but Alex could tell that something was up by the way Greg was holding onto his beer glass like a drowning man to a plank of broken wood.
“Greg are you drunk?”
“Of course I’m drunk, you’ve been here the whole evening, you’ve seen me drinking, we’re drinking right now.”
“No that’s not what I- how many units have you had?”
“How should I know?”
“You need to keep track of this stuff, I know you hold your drink well but there’s still a limit.”
“Nah, I’m fine, you worry too much mate.”
The men sat in silence for a minute, Alex looked straight forward at his beer while Greg stared at him intently. Then all of a sudden, as Alex was picking up his drink for another sip he felt a hand on his face and before he could question it, his lips were ensnared in Greg’s. It was passionate and sloppy and electric and for a moment it was all that mattered. But reality quite literally flooded back when the glass that Alex had been holding crashed to the floor and its contents spilled all over them both. They drew away from each other, but it was too late, everyone was looking at them and they were soaked and Greg was looking at him with what could only be described as horror.

Abruptly, Greg stood up, knocking over his bar stool in the process and ran. Jesus Christ. He had to stop doing this.

Chapter Text

Taskmaster Veterans

Roisin Conaty has added Alice Levine , Asim Chaudhry , Liza Tarbuck , Russel Howard and Tim Vine

Roisin Conaty : Congratulations on surviving Taskmaster guys! Welcome to the club! Hope you’re having a great time at the wrap party!

Alice Levine : You guys will never believe what just happened.

Russel Howard : Greg just snogged Alex at the bar, got beer everywhere and did a runner.

Josh Widdicombe : Oh for fuck’s sake

Roisin Conaty sent an invite links to “Getting the idiots together (Alex Support Group)” chat

Roisin Conaty : Right to everyone, feel free to join this chat to do damage control with me. You can think of it as charity if that helps persuade you?

Frank Skinner : I’m sorry but isn’t this meant to be a work group chat.

Sara Pascoe : Yeah but we’ve all finished Taskmaster now, besides we’re comedians, you can’t exactly expect a work group chat to be formal

—————————————————————

Getting the idiots together (Alex Support Group)

Tim Key joined using this group’s invite link

Noel Fielding joined using this group’s invite link

Mark Watson joined using this group’s invite link

Nish Kumar joined using this group’s invite link

Alice Levine joined using this group’s invite link

Russel Howard joined using this group’s invite link

Roisin Conaty : Feel free to add anyone else who could be helpful

Mark Watson added Ed Gamble and Rhod Gilbert to the group

Tim Key added Mike Wozniak to the group

Nish Kumar : I think that’s everyone?

Ed Gamble : 👍

Roisin Conaty : Right. Who here is close to Alex.

Tim Key : Mark and I are probably the most.

Roisin Conaty : You two go over to his place ASAP. Take ice cream.

Mark Watson : Yes Ma’am

Rhod Gilbert : What about the giant?

Roisin Conaty : Best to leave him for now I think. He’s probably asleep anyway.

———————————————

Alex had not been having a good 24 hours. Everything at the wrap party after the kiss had been a blur of NDAs and sympathetic colleagues. Apparently an “Alex Support Group” WhatsApp had been formed although Alex himself hadn’t been invited which felt mildly counterintuitive. In fact, he only knew about it because Mark and Tim had shown up on his doorstep around midnight with food and tissues - and those two couldn’t keep a secret to save their lives.

———————————————

That morning Greg woke up in a situation that was becoming unfortunately familiar: With a pounding headache and numerous regrets.

Well that was that. End of his career, his friendship with Alex Horne, what felt like his whole life. He wouldn’t even have bothered getting out of bed if it hadn’t been for the framed photo of him and Alex, arms over each other’s shoulders and smiling at some award show, glaring pointedly down at him from the shelf across the room. Begrudgingly he stood to place the picture face down. Out of habit as he made to get back into bed he picked up his phone to check it.

He blinked. Only 2 messages. One from Andy D and one from Alex.

Andy D: Don’t worry about it everything that happened last night, everyone’s keeping hush and I’d had the barmen sign NDAs anyway. Press will have to physically fight me to get their hands on any information. Get some rest and sleep it off.

Alex: I think we should talk. 6pm at my place? I would suggest somewhere more neutral but this conversation would be better held in private.

He sent a quick thank you to Andy and considered not responding to Alex. Not showing up. Pretending he’d slept through the day and woken up feeling sick - the second part of which wasn’t technically a lie. Unfortunately, though Greg would openly (and especially in this moment) call himself an idiot, he wasn’t a coward. And he especially didn’t want to be a coward at the emotional expense of Alex Horne - a man who he loathed to say he really did care about.

And that’s how Greg found himself standing at Alex’s front door at 5:45 wondering when would be a socially acceptable time to ring the bell. Although, all things considered he supposed that social norms had gone out the window a bit. He hovered awkwardly for another few minutes before relenting and deciding to send a text.

“Hello Alex, I’m here.”

No that was too vague

“Hey mate -“

No too informal

“Alex I’m here.”

No too forward.

Maybe add a kiss?

Nope definitely not.

Greg sighed, he knew he was overthinking. It was just a perfunctory text to let his colleague know that he had arrived.

Oh fuck it, he was overthinking and it this point it was nearly six anyway. Greg Davies took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.