Work Text:
Even after two months of something-like-dating, of spending a day or two together each week, Greg hadn’t quite gotten used to waking up with Alex in his bed.
It was — he squinted at the clock — 3:07am, woken up bang on time for his middle-of-the-night piss. Alex was fast asleep next to him, curled up surprisingly small, a peaceful expression on his furry little face. They didn’t cuddle while asleep, Greg was too inclined towards overheating and always worried about squashing his partners, but they slept facing each other, knees brushing against each other, feet tangled together sometimes, hands close enough to touch.
It still made him smile. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten. That Alex had finally, in his own funny way, worked out enough of his own feelings to make a move. Greg hadn’t been willing to risk the show or Alex’s marriage by reaching out himself, but he’d been watching and waiting, trying to decide whether Alex would want to explore their relationship. They were still working it out, for sure, but it was more than he thought he’d ever get.
Despite how much he wanted to lie there and enjoy the moment, though, Greg really did have to pee.
He started the process of disentangling himself from Alex, trying to keep the duvet still and not shift the mattress too much. Some days he got lucky. Most days, though, Alex’s parenting instincts kicked in, and at the slightest movement he woke up.
This time he made it out of the bed and was standing next to it when Alex cracked open one eye and said, “Wassit?”
“Just gotta piss. Go back to sleep, love.”
Alex grunted and closed his eyes again. Greg gave him a moment to settle, to get comfortable and slip back into sleep, before walking through to the bathroom and closing the door.
The bathroom light was unforgiving at three in the morning. He averted his eyes from the mirror and did his business. Some days he got back to sleep, but he was in a melancholy mood, so he didn’t rush back to bed. Instead, he steeled himself and made his soulmarks visible.
Soulmarks, at their most basic, represented parts of a person’s soul. New soulmarks appeared as new events or people or thoughts imprinted themselves on that person, and the soulmarks faded if they lost their importance. That much was common to pretty much everyone, but the details changed. Alex, for example, was a generally happy person who was not particularly inclined towards introspection, and that showed in his soulmarks: thousands of them, almost exclusively positive, and mostly from things other people had said or done.
Greg’s were more complicated. And it wasn’t that Alex was simple, because he definitely wasn’t. Greg genuinely believed that everyone was complicated on the inside, even if some people might require a lot of looking to find the complicatedness. Alex was definitely complicated — just not emotionally. Most things flowed past him like water off a duck’s back. Hardly anything ever made him really question who he was a person. He was often stressed, but he never seemed to have trouble falling asleep, whereas Greg was up half the night most nights between bodily insomnia and mental anxiety.
And that… well, that was reflected in their soulmarks.
The bathroom door opened, and Alex stumbled in, eyes mostly shut, and leant against Greg.
“Bed’s cold,” Alex said, voice bleary.
Greg, trying not to laugh out loud, rearranged their arms so that he could hold Alex upright. “Can’t be cold yet, I’ve only been here a few minutes.”
Alex hummed. “More than a few. Too long to just be pissing.”
“Ah, I see.” Greg rubbed Alex’s upper back. “You thought I’d died in here and came to rob my corpse.”
Alex snorted. “You’re in your pyjamas, there’d be nothing worth robbing.”
“That’s what you think,” Greg said suggestively. “Who knows what I’ve got hidden under my shorts?”
“So when I wasn’t looking, you bought a diamond cock ring?” Alex said. He groped around blindly and squeezed Greg’s crotch. “Ah, yes, I can feel it. Twenty-four carat gold, too, I believe.”
“You silly thing,” Greg said fondly. He kissed the top of Alex’s head. “Sorry if I scared you. Just being all existential in here. Nothing to worry about.”
“There’s always—” Alex began, looking up, and Greg could pinpoint the exact moment that they both realised that Greg still had his soulmarks out.
“Oh, fuck,” Greg said, feeling suddenly cold.
That wasn’t how he’d meant to show them to Alex. And he had meant to get around to it, eventually, maybe, just not by surprise, not in the middle of the night.
“Ah,” Alex said.
Greg didn’t know what to make of his tone. He didn’t want to see Alex’s expression, either, so he pulled him in closer so that Alex’s face was hidden against Greg’s shoulder. He was pretty sure that he’d involuntarily hidden his soulmarks the moment he realised, but he checked his arms just to be sure. Safely blank again.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.
Alex didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around Greg, properly returning the hug in a way that he didn’t normally do, and Greg held him tight, trying to get some comfort from his warmth.
“I really don’t,” Greg continued. “I don’t talk about them, I don’t think about them, I don’t look at them.”
“Except when you’re feeling existential?” Alex said.
Greg swallowed. “Yeah.” Except when he was feeling melancholy and existential, and couldn’t help but dip his toe in the familiar pool of self-loathing. He knew it was bad for him. But sometimes he couldn’t resist it, especially when he was struggling with a writing project or feeling inadequate next to more talented friends.
And Alex never stopped moving. Greg knew that, had known that since before they’d become friends, before they’d even started working together, but it had became so much more apparent now they were sharing more of their spare time. Rachel had told Greg to forbid Alex from checking his email after 10pm, and Greg had quickly learned to follow her advice, but that didn’t change the fact that Alex was always running from one thing to the next. And somehow, in all of that, Alex had found time to dedicate to Greg, and Greg was feeling increasingly guilty for it.
What did Alex see in Greg, anyway? Greg could humiliate and belittle him in the ways that Alex liked, both on the show and now at home, but apart from that, he was just another comedian, a lazy middle-aged man who drank too much and told crude jokes and didn’t look after himself. Alex already had Rachel, who was amazing, and his children, and friends who actually liked his stupid jokes, and a band who shared his sense of humour. He didn’t need Greg.
“Feels like you’re spiralling,” Alex said, his voice muffled by Greg’s t-shirt. “I would recommend not doing that.”
Greg laughed. It was a little more hysterical than he’d have preferred. “Easier said than done, mate.”
Alex hummed. He pulled his head back slightly so he could look up at Greg. “How many people’s soulmarks have you seen?”
Greg blinked at the non-sequitur. “Don’t know.”
“Not many, though, right?”
“No.” It was… three or four, maybe? Plus Alex, of course. He’d seen his sister’s when they were kids, and he’d shared them with one or two partners since, but he’d avoided sharing his own with anyone for a decade or two, and so he hadn’t seen anyone else’s either.
“I’ve talked to a few people since I did my spreadsheet,” Alex said. “Did research, too, looked through some Reddit forums, things like that.”
“I know I’m not the only person with depressing fucking soulmarks.” He really did. He’d seen enough sitcoms. But knowing that other people were also suffering didn’t take away from the fact that he didn’t like his own.
“I don’t think you do,” Alex said. “Greg, I’m the outlier here, not you. People like to focus on the positive ones, but that’s not the full story. You know most abuse survivors have soulmarks from their abusers?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Greg said, although he didn’t know that, not really. He couldn’t imagine what that would be like. Having to face up to the fact that someone who’d hurt you had left their mark on your soul. “Mine’s nothing to whinge about, is what you’re saying.”
“Greg,” Alex said sternly, and Greg couldn’t help but grin at the fact that he’d earned Alex’s dad voice. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?” He didn’t have the patience for digging through Alex’s indirect way of speaking in the early hours of the morning.
“Just that I love you. And that I don’t care what your soulmarks are. They don’t say anything about who you are.”
Greg snorted. “They say something. They’re called fucking soulmarks for a reason.”
“Nothing more than that they signify something that marked your soul.”
“So that’s why you spent two weeks agonising over a spreadsheet of your own soulmarks?” Greg said, raising an eyebrow. “They didn’t mean nothing then, did they.”
“Hmm.” Alex made a face. “Well, I’ve, uh, learned better since then.”
“Good save.”
Greg reached up and wrapped one hand around the back of Alex’s head, feeling the fluffy hair on his skin. Alex sighed a little and smiled up at him, unbearably soppily, and Greg couldn’t help but smile back.
They really made a right pair, the two of them, both unable to accept a compliment but always ready to compliment the other. At least being sentimental was better than being existential, so he decided he may as well lean into it.
“Can we go back to bed now?” Alex said. He squirmed a little, but not enough to break Greg’s hold, so Greg wrapped his arms more tightly around him.
“Nope. We’re going to stay here until I’m done.”
“Please, Greg? It’s so cold.”
“Not for me!” Greg said cheerfully. “I’m nice and warm.” He wasn’t, of course, but that wasn’t the point.
Alex looked up at him through his eyelashes, and fuck, Greg was weak for his puppy dog eyes. “But Greg…”
Greg sighed. “Do you actually want to go back to bed? Or do you want to stay here until I’m done with the hug?”
Alex pouted, as he always did when Greg broke character, and didn’t answer the question.
“Right. Then we’re staying here until I’m done.”
And Greg was so entranced by the way that Alex could only enjoy hugging when it was allegedly against his will, that when they did finally make it back to bed, he fell asleep almost immediately.
—oOo—
Greg thought that that was the end of it, but he should’ve known that Alex could never leave anything alone. If something was bothering Alex, it would run around and around in that strange little head until he was compelled to act on it, and there was no way of predicting what that action would be.
And so that was why Greg didn’t see it coming when he got a message from Alex:
Alex: hi greg! was meant to meet with desiree burch this morning but it turns out we both thought we were meeting at the other’s place. can we come to yours? thanks 🎀
Greg: wouldn’t a cafe be easier?
Greg: that’s not a no
Greg: but i don’t understand why you’ve decided my place is best
Alex: it’s a work meeting so we need privacy
Alex: but it’s informal so I didn’t book anywhere
Alex: please? you can join us, it’s about the ths tv show
Greg had to stare at that for a moment to work out what he meant.
Greg: isn’t that a double ‘the’
Greg: but sure. just warn her it won’t be clean.
Alex: gr8 thanks! we’ll be there at 11
Alex: and no, it’s like saying the The Who poster
Greg: whatever
Greg: see you then xxx
Desiree was a breath of fresh air. American enough to speak her mind, British enough to know when to keep quiet, and always hilarious. She’d been to Greg’s place once before for a belated Series 12 wrap party once restrictions had lifted, and they’d run into each other a few times at Edinburgh and various other places on the circuit over the years.
“Thanks for having us,” she said to Greg when he met her at the door. “That Alex Horne, honestly, I don’t know what’s going on with him sometimes.”
“He said you both thought you were meeting at the other’s place?” Greg asked. He hung up her coat and showed her through to the kitchen. “And I assume that both were unavailable.”
“He said something like that, yeah, but I think he just wanted to save me the trip out to Chesham,” Desiree said. “Which, to be clear, I don’t mind at all. It’s on the Tube, for fuck’s sake, it’s hardly the middle of nowhere. And seeing as he and his band all live out there, I’m sure I’ll be making the trip plenty more times.”
“So he’s convinced you to sign on to his sitcom, then?” Greg said. He put a packet of biscuits on the table. “I’ve got black tea, green tea, or coffee.”
“Coffee, thank you,” Desiree said, sinking down into a chair. Greg put the kettle on and spooned some ground coffee into his French press. “And yes. I mean, you know Alex. It’ll be bizarre, but hilarious, and he’ll treat us well. He’s got me playing an obnoxious American, which is always fun. Dora, Flora, something like that.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” Greg leant back against the counter. “I didn’t realise he had proper characters in it too. He’s convinced me to play the Taskmaster again, pretty much. A pompous bully with my own name.”
Desiree laughed. “He does like that, doesn’t he? If it helps, from the scripts I’ve seen, he’s getting bullied by pretty much everyone over the series. Rachel might be in on it, even, though I don’t know if he’s convinced her yet.”
“Not yet,” Alex said, appearing in the doorway. “But I will.”
“Alex! That was sneaky,” Desiree said, clutching her chest. “Didn’t even hear you come in over the kettle. Do you have a key?”
“We are actually friends,” Greg said, amused. “I know we don’t always look like it on Taskmaster, but I don’t actually hate him. Most of the time, anyway.”
“Oh,” Alex said awkwardly. “You’re too kind, Greg.”
Greg rolled his eyes. God forbid Alex accepted a compliment. “I’ll leave two to it. Yell if you need anything.”
He retreated to his study and, bolstered by the unexpected company, managed to get a couple pages written for The Cleaner. In fact, he became so immersed in it that he completely forgot that Alex and Desiree were there until he returned to the kitchen for a snack and was startled by their presence.
“Oh, hey, sorry,” Greg said. “I’ll just—”
“Don’t go, you’re not in the way,” Alex said.
“We’ve finished talking about business anyway,” Desiree said. “Has Alex shown you this spreadsheet of his? It’s incredible.”
Greg leaned over her shoulder to look at the screen. Sure enough, it was the soulmark one. “Yes, I’ve heard a thing or two about it,” he said, trying not to laugh.
“I’ve never thought to do the like with my own, but maybe I should,” Desiree said. “I’ve got a five minute routine about them, playing off the joke that bisexuals have to have exactly the same number of soulmarks from men and women, and so I allegedly go around flirting with people whenever there’s a discrepancy. But I don’t actually know how many I’ve got.”
“Does it matter?” Greg said. “People put too much importance on them anyway.”
That was perhaps a bit too pointed, and he probably deserved the way that Alex completely ignored it.
“What about, uh, non-binary people?” Alex said. He pronounced ‘non-binary’ like he’d only just learnt the word, which he pretty much had, given that he’d spent a while telling Greg all about what he’d learned from a future contestant’s agent. “Shouldn’t leave them out.”
Desiree slapped his arm playfully. “Look at you, down with the kids! You’re right, too. I’d better add them in somewhere.”
“How did you get onto the topic, anyway?” Greg asked. “Alex hasn’t talked about his spreadsheet in ages.”
“Really? I got the impression he’d just finished it.”
“I finished it a little while ago, but it’s always a work in progress, obviously,” Alex said stiffly. “And, uh, I think we were talking about permanence of the self or something.”
Desiree turned to look at Greg. “It’s remarkable how much it doesn’t seem to bother him. We were workshopping my character, and talking about how downtrodden and harried his own character is, and I was saying that I’d hate to be typecast like that, but he said he likes it.”
“I do,” Alex said.
“Oh, he does,” Greg said suggestively, and Desiree laughed.
“Mmm, I bet. But yeah, I feel like it’d get to me, and he was showing me the proof that it doesn’t. The most unrelentingly positive set of soulmarks I’ve ever seen. And you Brits are all repressed, but us Yanks less so, so I’ve seen a lot of soulmarks in my time.”
Greg’s grin felt frozen on his face. He could see what was happening now. Damn Alex for being unable to let anything go.
“Yeah, mine are nothing like that,” he said as neutrally as he could.
“Mine neither, let me tell you,” Desiree said. “Hell, my heart’s on my sleeve and my insecurities are written plain for everyone to see. I’m a literal woman.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Alex said. “Showing them to people?”
Desiree shrugged. “I mean, it’s like any other way of being vulnerable, right? I could be uptight and hide them forever, or I could come to terms with them and live with who I am.”
“Alex said once that he’d go around all the time with his out if he could,” Greg said, trying to divert the conversation.
“Yeah, well,” Desiree laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, myself, but you lot could certainly lighten up a bit sometimes. No need to hide everything under a waistcoat and a stiff upper lip, if you know what I mean. S’not the end of the world to open up to your friends sometimes.”
Greg had nothing to say to that. He shook his head and rummaged around in the fridge for some sandwich toppings. “Are you staying for lunch?”
“Oh, no, I should be going,” Desiree said, glancing at her watch. “Jeez, I hadn’t realised how late it was. Alex, good talk, send me the final scripts once you’ve got them. Greg, thanks so much for having us, it was great to see you again.”
“It was good to see you,” Greg said genuinely. “Unexpected, but good. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Sure thing,” Desiree said. She retrieved her coat from the coatrack. “Alex, you coming?”
“I — uh, that’s up to Greg,” Alex said, glancing up at Greg. He seemed a little apprehensive, which made Greg grimly pleased. So he’d finally realised that Greg didn’t appreciate his little manipulation.
He was tempted to send Alex off. But that would be a bit too mean, and Alex might take it hard, which Greg didn’t really want. He didn’t want Alex meddling, but he’d accept that as a cost of keeping Alex in his life.
“I owe him lunch,” Greg said instead. “Cancelled on him last week, and I think this was his way of pinning me down to talk about the next series of Taskmaster. Provided he’s free, of course.”
“I can stay for lunch,” Alex said without checking his watch.
“Alright, then I’ll see you both later,” Desiree said.
Greg saw her to the door. She paused outside his flat and said, quietly, “Are you two…”
Greg just raised an eyebrow at her.
“Right. None of my business.” She doffed an imaginary hat at him. “’Til next time.”
When Greg reentered the kitchen, Alex had already started putting together some sandwiches. Given that that, at least, was unlikely to give anyone food poisoning, Greg sat down and pulled Alex’s laptop over to himself.
“I really did have to meet with her,” Alex said quietly. “I promise.”
“I believe you,” Greg said. He tabbed through the sheets of the spreadsheet. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for. The graph of positive vs negative soulmarks was too depressing, though, so he closed the laptop. “Doesn’t change the fact that you organised to meet here and brought up the soulmark thing with her on purpose.”
Alex paused for a moment, outlined by the sunlight coming through the window behind him. “I did,” he admitted.
“Solely for the purpose of trying to convince me to change my mind about mine.”
Alex waggled one hand from side to side. Given that he was holding a butter knife, which immediately dropped a lump of butter on the floor, the effect was slightly ruined. He rushed to grab a sheet of kitchen paper, and Greg watched, more amused than he wanted to admit, as Alex struggled to clean it up without just spreading butter around everywhere.
Eventually the floor was clean and Alex sat up on his haunches. “I didn’t do it solely to try to change your mind,” he said seriously. “I was genuinely interested in her perspective as an American, and I’ve brought it up with a lot of other people too. But I did suspect, or hope, maybe, that it might change your mind.”
“You’ve got an uphill battle if that’s your goal,” Greg said wryly. He stood up with a groan and wandered over to scratch Alex under the chin, prompting that delightful gap-toothed grin.
Despite his words, Greg couldn’t deny that he was curious. He’d always had fans, like most comedians, young women (and occasionally men) who hung around after shows and asked him out in bars and once, memorably, sent him weird shit in the post. But since growing a beard and getting glasses he’d been getting more and more romantic or sexual attention, even as he grew older, and he didn’t think that it was just because Taskmaster had made him more well-known. And some of the contestants had hit on him, jokingly or seriously, and Alex had been writing more and more lines about Greg being attractive, and now he himself was making fewer jokes about being fat and ugly.
His body had never quite felt like his. Since his growth spurt at sixteen it’d been the first thing people had noticed about him, something they always commented on, something he couldn’t ignore lest he frighten or intimidate people by accident. It had always haunted him, but maybe he could be persuaded to let Alex try to change his mind. Maybe Desiree was onto something about the Brits being too repressed.
“You’re considering it,” Alex said.
Greg rolled his eyes and pretended to slap Alex upside the head. Alex obligingly gasped and rocked sideways as if Greg had actually put any force behind it.
“Fine, I’m considering it,” Greg said begrudgingly. “Do your worst. But not now. Shove over and let me make the bloody sandwiches.”
—oOo—
The next time Alex could stay the night was the following weekend. Greg almost called Alex four times in the intervening days, thinking to back down, but he talked himself out of it each time.
He stood by his view that soulmarks didn’t matter. If Alex had spent less time thinking about his soulmarks and more about what he wanted, for example, then they could’ve gotten closer a whole lot earlier. Soulmarks were nothing more than memories, moments or people or ideas that’d imprinted themselves on you, and they certainly didn’t tell you everything you needed to know about a person.
But Greg couldn’t deny that his soulmarks bothered him. And if Alex could help him feel more at ease with them, well, then maybe that was something he should pursue. Especially given that Alex had already seen the worst one.
“Here,” Alex said. He squeezed Greg’s shoulders briefly and then stood back, making his soulmarks visible.
It was quite a striking image, especially because Alex was only wearing pants. Greg had seen them a few times now, but he still couldn’t get over just how many soulmarks Alex had. And they didn’t ever seem to fade, either. Greg’s often faded or became illegible, probably due to his terrible memory, but Alex still had plenty from his childhood that were as clear as ever.
“Your turn now,” Alex said.
Greg pulled off his shirt and track pants. He didn’t mind being semi-naked, often preferred it in fact, but it was different like this when he knew what was coming, and he shivered despite the fact that they’d turned the heat up.
Alex stepped forward again. Greg was sitting on the couch in just his pants, and Alex reached out to hold both his hands. It felt somewhat like an inversion of their usual dynamic, but Greg didn’t mind so much. He was trusting Alex to lead the way this time, after all.
“You can do it,” Alex said quietly. “I’m not going to judge.”
“You say that now,” Greg said, only half-joking.
“Greg,” Alex said sternly, and Greg shut up.
It was easier than he thought it might be to bring his soulmarks forwards. He closed his eyes for a moment, just in case Alex reacted poorly, and then opened them to see Alex grinning at him.
“There you go.”
Greg tried to grin back. He suspected it came out more as a grimace. “What now?”
Alex shifted slightly. “Well, that’s up to you. I had plans, but…”
“But it feels weird?”
“Yeah,” Alex said. He flushed. “Not that I’m not open to topping, but it feels wrong.”
“Like this, at least,” Greg said. “I like bottoming or subbing in sex, but this isn’t sex. Unless you want it to be.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Then tell me what you want, and I’ll make you do it,” Greg said. He tugged gently on Alex’s hands, and Alex fell gracelessly onto his knees on the carpet. “There. That’s better, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Alex said, the stress lines vanishing from around his eyes. “Thank you, Greg.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Greg said. He pulled his hands up, still holding onto Alex’s, and rested them comfortably just above his knees. “Now, my sweet young prince. I believe you had plans for making me see my soulmarks in a different light. Is that right?”
“Yes, Greg,” Alex said.
“Well, go on, then.”
Alex’s blush deepened, and Greg watched, fascinated. How curious it was that both of them became immediately more comfortable with vulnerability when Greg was in charge. Greg knew why he himself preferred it, because he’d always kept strict boundaries between his life and his work. And he supposed he knew why Alex preferred it, because he struggled to articulate or understand his feelings, and so it was easier if someone made him. But he still couldn’t believe that they’d gotten so lucky as to be compatible in that.
“Uh,” Alex said. “Well, I guess I thought that you’d face up to them. Read them out, maybe. And then I suppose I’d, uh, challenge them?”
“Surely you don’t want to challenge all of them,” Greg said, letting his mouth twist in a smirk. “The one on my right shoulder, for example. Do you want to challenge that?”
Alex looked up, and laughed a little when he saw the soulmark in the shape of Greg’s mum’s face, surrounded by a few soulmarks featuring choice quotes from her. “No, Greg.”
“That’s right,” Greg said. “You need to be more specific, little Alex Horne.”
“I see,” Alex said. “Then, uh, I suppose I’d challenge the ones that are making you feel bad.”
“Better,” Greg allowed. “Why don’t you start with the one on my right hip.”
“I, okay,” Alex said. “It says. Uh. Do I have to read it out?”
“I want you to. But not if it’s too far.”
Alex took a deep breath. “I just — I don’t know if I’m allowed —”
“Mate, there’s nothing straight about what we’re doing,” Greg said, amused. “You’re allowed.”
Alex huffed, but didn’t deny it. “It says ‘poof’. And ‘faggot’. And a few other words. Do I have to read them all out?”
He sounded genuinely uncomfortable at the thought, so Greg relented. “No, that’s good, you did well.”
Alex sighed in relief. “Thank you, Greg.”
“Now go on,” Greg said. “How were you going to challenge them?”
Alex made a face. “I suppose I would tell you that there’s nothing wrong with being gay. Bisexual. But I think you already know that.”
“I do,” Greg said. Being queer was something he’d long since come to terms with. It’d been hard as a teacher, given Section 28 and all, not to mention the AIDS epidemic. Being specifically a drama teacher had made it both better and worse. But no one was too willing to challenge the 6’8 man for being too camp, and if they had, he’d pointed out that it made him less threatening than if he’d been macho and masculine. And since quitting teaching, since becoming a comedian, he’d happily lived in the space of plausible deniability that generations of exceedingly camp male actors had created for him.
He focused back on Alex. “Why don’t you try the ones on my knees next.” He tapped their joined hands against his skin to make it clear which ones he was referring to: ‘lazy’ on his left knee, and ‘useless’ on his right, both in large bold lettering.
“Hmm.” Alex studied them for a moment. “Well, I don’t think you’re lazy. You need more rest than I do, but that doesn’t make you lazy, it makes you sensible. And you’re certainly not useless. You’re very useful. You’re always trying to help.”
“Not always,” Greg said. His throat felt tight, which was utterly ridiculous, given that Alex had said hardly anything. “I spend a lot of time fucking around doing shit all, you know that.”
“Like I said, resting,” Alex said. “Especially because, you know.”
“Because I’m old?”
“Very old,” Alex agreed. “And old men need their naps, otherwise they get grumpy and miss their cues and forget their lines.”
“Very funny,” Greg said. But weirdly it did make him feel a bit better. Sure, sometimes he was just being lazy, but it was true that he’d started to genuinely need a nap in the afternoon on busy days, especially when he had a full day of filming for Taskmaster or one of his sitcoms. And if he skipped his nap, it made it worse for everyone, especially when they had to keep starting over every time he made a mistake.
“It’s working, isn’t it,” Alex said.
Greg groaned. “It’s like you want me to punish you.”
“Yes, please,” Alex said.
He looked so eager that Greg couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe later. And yes, it’s working, fuck you.”
“More?”
“One more,” Greg allowed. He sighed. “Go on, then. Do the big one.”
“Hmm, you’ll have to be more specific,” Alex said.
Greg glared at him. “You know what I mean. The one on my face.”
“There’s a few on your face.”
Greg seriously considered just standing up and leaving him there. “If you continue like this, silly boy, I’ll make you eat a quinoa salad for dinner.” There were punishments that Alex liked and punishments that Alex didn’t like, and eating quinoa was definitely in the latter camp.
“Ah.” For a moment Alex looked like he was considering it anyway, but thankfully the threat worked. “The one on your forehead, then.”
“Yes, Alex,” Greg said, exasperated. “The massive one on my forehead that says —”
He broke off, frustrated with himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“The one that says ‘big fat oaf’,” Alex finished. “In Rhod Gilbert’s handwriting.”
“I don’t know that it’s Rhod’s handwriting,” Greg said quickly. “He’s certainly not the only one that’s said things like that to me.”
“No. You’ve said it about yourself, for example.”
“Yeah, I have.” Greg sighed again. “Didn’t work so well.”
“Well, you’re not going to challenge something by reinforcing it,” Alex said, unfairly reasonably in Greg’s opinion. “What you’ve got to do is challenge it by challenging it.”
“Thanks, genius.”
Alex shuffled a little closer, hampered by the awkward placement of his arms, and rested his head against Greg’s left knee. “You’re very big, but I like it. You’re overweight, but so am I, and no one cares. And you’re not an oaf. You’re an intelligent, kind, caring, thoughtful man.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“No,” Alex said. “I love you.”
Greg took in a deep breath and let it out again. He wasn’t going to cry, damn it. “I love you too. Please stop talking.”
“Enough for today, then?” Alex said.
“Yes, beautiful boy,” Greg said. He let go of Alex’s hands, grabbed him under the shoulders instead, and lifted him up to cuddle next to Greg on the couch. “Enough for today.”