Chapter Text
The first thing Greg did was try not to panic.
Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. The very first thing he did was try, immediately, to turn back into his human form. The second thing he did was panic, hauling himself up by his front paws to stare at himself in the dressing room mirror as if he needed to confirm with his own eyes that he was in fact a bear.
In his dressing room.
At the studio.
Where he would be expected onstage in less than an hour. And not even the comfortingly familiar Taskmaster stage with Alex at his side, but the Would I Lie to You? stage, because like a fucking idiot, he’d agreed to be a panelist.
So really the third thing he did was try not to panic, or more accurately, try to stop panicking.
The fourth thing he did was think, desperately, This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.
The only small comfort he had was that it was his dressing room, the one he used for Taskmaster, because he could pull a few strings even when making a guest appearance on another show that also filmed at Pinewood, so at least he knew from unfortunate prior experience how to make sure the door was locked even though he had to use his long claws instead of fingers.
After that, the only thing left to do was, well, panic.
He knew he should try to reach out to Alex, but there was the crux of the issue that had probably sent him into this latest ursine tailspin. After his conversation with Rachel, which he had left feeling hopeful, things…hadn’t exactly progressed as well as Greg had hoped. Alex did call that evening to report that his own conversation with Rachel went well, but that they needed time, and they needed time as alone as possible.
Which Greg could certainly respect, of course, and he had made sure to tell Alex as such, even as his own heart sank like a stone in his chest as Alex asked, as polite as ever, for a little bit of temporary radio silence. “Use the bond if you need me,” Alex had told him, the unspoken second half of that sentence lingering between them: and only if you need me.
And Greg had immediately agreed, and immediately worked on rebuilding the walls he’d spent nine years carefully maintaining in his own mind to avoid sharing anything too much with Alex.
The walls he’d hoped he’d never have to worry about again.
And Christ, was it lonely. He’d taken for granted how it felt to have Alex in his head, a constant, warm presence in the back of his mind, the occasional quirky thought bubbling up just to make Greg smile or laugh. He missed sharing stories about his day, missed the way Alex puzzled through ideas for tasks, missed– well, everything.
At this point, he’d even take Alex reciting football statistics in his head if it just meant feeling him there again.
But as bad as all that was, it probably wouldn’t have been enough on its own to get Greg stuck as a bear. No, what had almost certainly set this in motion was the text Greg had received almost three weeks ago now, a casual, friendly reminder from Alex that he and his family were going to Northern Ireland to visit Rachel’s parents for a few weeks.
The holiday had been booked ages before any of this, of course, but Christ if the timing wasn’t absolute shit, and not just because the full moon was only three days after Alex had left. With everything between them left on such uneven footing, not being able to at least see Alex was like pure torture.
He’d read the last of Alex’s text messages so many times that it might as well be burned in his corneas by now, a frustratingly vague: Conversations with Rachel are still ongoing, but going well. I’m hopeful that we’re getting around to figuring it out.
Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, since it wasn’t like Greg was allowed to ask for more details, or even to be irritated about the whole sodding situation. No, the only thing he was allowed to do was sulk as the days of radio silence stretched seemingly to infinity. So much so that when he was asked to fill the gap between filming his various shows with some panel show appearances, which he didn’t even particularly like doing anymore, he jumped at the chance.
At the very least, it was something to do, and might even be good for a laugh or two.
Well, the joke was certainly on him now.
Greg huffed a sigh that sounded just this side of a growl. Think, you idiot, he chided, glancing around the room for something, anything, that could help his current predicament. His clothes were in literal shreds on the floor, a casualty of turning suddenly from 22 to well over 50 stone and gaining several inches in every direction.
But as he nosed over the tattered remains of one of his favourite plaid shirts, he saw something that might help, and grunted a pleased noise as he pulled his mobile phone from where it had fallen. And once he had his phone free, the solution to his current predicament was so obvious that Greg was surprised he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Because they’d planned for this, once Greg’s shifting had started going wonky, and even though he had thought this was all behind him, he hadn’t updated his emergency contact. Just in case.
And thankfully for all parties involved, bear noses worked on touchscreens.
It took a bit of trying to access the emergency contact screen without accidentally dialling 999, but once he managed, he settled back on his haunches and just waited for the bellend to pick up. “The fuck do you want?” Rhod asked when he answered, which meant he was in a good mood. A good mood Greg was going to promptly ruin.
Greg growled a response, and Rhod was silent for a long moment. “Not to sound thick, but I assume you’ve tried turning back?” he asked finally. Greg just growled again and Rhod sighed. “Right, then, are you close to home?”
The noise Greg made was mostly negative, and more than a bit exasperated, because if he was close to home, he wouldn’t be fucking calling, now would he. Rhod barked a dry laugh. “Fine, fuck me for asking, I guess.” He fell silent again, and Greg knew Rhod well enough to know he was thinking, probably trying to figure out the most likely place for Greg to be calling him from. “Are you filming today?”
Greg grunted what he hoped was an affirmative, and Rhod sighed. “I hope you’re in your dressing room and not onstage in front of a bunch of cameras, though I s’pose you probably wouldn’t have called me if it was the latter.” Greg growled again and Rhod muttered something rude under his breath that Greg probably wouldn’t have heard if he was human. “Right, well, you’re lucky I was already in London. What studio are you at? Christ, you better not be filming Countdown, I don’t want to go all the way to Manchester. Are you at Pinewood?”
Again, Greg made a noise he hoped was confirmation, and Rhod made a frustrated noise in response. “Chesham’s closer than I am, why’m I– You know what, never mind, tell me when I get there. I’ll swing by yours for some clothes and then I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Rhod hung up, and Greg was left hoping that the traffic on the M4 wasn’t as shit as usual, and that Rhod drove like an absolute madman.
At the very least, he could almost certainly be assured of the latter, though the same could be said about Rhod on any day ending in ‘y’.
He wasn’t a religious man by any stretch, but it was still something of a miracle, how quickly Rhod got there, miracle enough that Greg thought he might be inclined toward conversion. He certainly beat the production crew coming around to get Greg to the stage, at least, which was as much as Greg could hope for.
Rhod, ever subtle, pounded loudly on the door while calling, “Let me in, you prick.” Greg rolled his eyes but hurried to the door, carefully using his claws to twist the lock. He huffed at Rhod through the door and Rhod let himself in, closing and locking the door behind him. “Took the A40 instead of the M4,” he told Greg, as if Greg had asked or cared about the bloody traffic. “And I told production you’ve got food poisoning and explosive diarrhoea.”
Judging by the glee in his tone, he’d taken great pleasure in doing so, and Greg growled at him. “Don’t blame me, it was the only thing I could think of,” Rhod said, tossing the bag of Greg’s clothes on the counter before turning to face Greg, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Thought this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore now that Alex knows.”
Greg let out a low rumble, looking pointedly away. “And why isn’t Alex the one here dealing with it?” Rhod pressed. “Thought you two were just about sorted.” Greg ground his teeth together and made a somewhat pained noise, though he honestly wasn’t even sure if it was more an answer to Rhod’s question, that Alex was fucking gone, or to the latter, that he too had thought they were about sorted.
Clearly, he’d thought wrong.
“Is he on holiday?” Rhod guessed. “Don’t see why that would matter, you’ve gone on holiday to Spain and such, and I don’t remember hearing about a rabid bear wandering around Andalusia, so if it’s a distance thing…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “Or is it that he’s off without you, and not the other way around? Bit hypocritical, mate, but—”
Greg growled again, impatient with what was clearly not helping him turn back into being a human. “Right, so let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” Rhod said, leaning against the makeup counter. “Alex is on holiday, I assume with his family– his wife’s Irish, isn’t she? Northern Irish? Have they gone to visit her parents?” Greg gave him a look even as he nodded his shaggy head. “So he’s up in Northern Ireland and that’s enough to get you stuck as a bear. But he’d still feel it through the bond and be able to help, wouldn’t he?”
There was something pointed in the way Rhod said it, and Greg didn’t bother dignifying that with an answer, nevermind the fact that his answer would’ve been unintelligible anyway. “Unless you’re back to purposefully blocking him,” Rhod said flatly, not pitching it as a question, and Greg just looked down at his massive dinner plate-sized paws as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Gregory, why would you do a thing like that?”
Greg just shrugged, still not looking at him, and Rhod sighed heavily. “Right, fine,” he said, straightening. “I have to do every fucking thing for the two of you, it seems.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and Greg growled. “I’m calling Alex and telling him to get the next fucking Ryanair flight back, I’ll spot him the 20 quid—”
Greg growled again, louder this time, a warning for Rhod to leave it the fuck alone, to leave Alex alone, but Rhod didn’t even glance up from his phone. “Oh, shut it, you lump,” he muttered instead, still scrolling through his phone, oblivious to the panic Greg could feel building in his chest because Alex had asked for radio silence, and this was emphatically the opposite of that, and— “I don’t know what’s gone wrong between you two this time but he deserves to know, and—”
The next thing Greg knew, Rhod was flat on the ground, his phone shattered in a hundred pieces across the floor, Greg’s bared teeth inches from his throat, one of Greg’s paws pressed squarely against his chest, and his other paw—
If Greg had felt panicked before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now, staring from his claws to the five ragged scratches on Rhod’s arm, and the blood—
Oh, Christ, there was so much fucking blood.
He didn’t even realise he was human again until his hands were on Rhod’s arm, fumbling with a scrap of his shirt to press against the bleeding as he babbled, panicked to the point of incoherence, “Oh my God, Rhod, I’m so sorry, I’m so– fuck, I didn’t mean—”
Rhod pulled his arm away, his face ashen. “Go,” he said, his voice like gravel, and Greg swallowed, hard.
“Rhod—”
“Put your fucking clothes on and go,” Rhod ground out, wincing as he tried to sit up. “I mean it, mate. Get the fuck out of here before you hurt someone else.”
So Greg did.
He dressed himself in what felt like record time before practically fleeing from the studio, not caring if someone saw him basically sprint to the car park, just needing to get away from there, from what he’d almost done – from what he had done.
It was like all his worst fears come to life, and he barely paid any attention to where he was going, adrenaline and muscle memory taking over as he bit back bile at the memory of the look on Rhod’s face, at how Greg could’ve hurt him so much worse than he had, how— Well, how the only person he wanted to talk to was Alex, which explained why when he clued back into what he was doing, he was pulling into Alex’s drive.
Only Alex wasn’t fucking there.
For one long moment, Greg just sat in his car, staring through his windscreen at Alex’s empty house, his grip tight enough on his steering wheel to leave permanent imprints. Then he fumbled with his seat belt and got out of his car, slamming the door behind him.
This time, he at least made it to the treeline and out of his clothes before he was back as a bear, the guilt and worry easier to deal with in a brain that wasn’t fully human. He lumbered into the beechwood trees, not even caring where his paws took him, just walking until the ache in his paws matched the hollow ache in his chest.
Then, the only thing left to do was find someplace to curl up and try to sleep.
When he woke the next morning, still a bear, he stretched but didn’t move from the chalky scrape he’d used as a makeshift den, feeling, if possible, even more miserable in the light of a new day than he’d been before. He set his head on paws and cast a baleful look at the birds chirping loudly in the trees, wondering idly if it’d be possible for him to hibernate until Alex and Rachel figured out everything they needed to.
Sure, it’d put a kink in his filming schedule, but at this point, it was undoubtedly a safer alternative. Besides, if he kept attacking fellow comedians, there was at least a passing chance he’d end up blacklisted and fired from all of his various shows anyway.
At this point, he’d almost take it.
Of course, Greg could only wallow in misery for so long until he got bored with himself, and he figured he might as well find a spot closer to Alex’s to hunker down in until he died, or got hungry.
Or pulled his head out of his own arse.
It was impossible to predict which was more likely to happen first.
But as he slowly padded across the downs, he felt a tug of something he couldn’t quite place in the back of his mind, something familiar, something that felt like—
Alex.
Alex was there. Alex was there, and Greg’s walk turned into a run, and then a sprint, not caring if he was seen, not caring about anything other than getting to the one person he needed so desperately to see.
By the time he saw Alex, it was like something in him had come alive again, become human again, and he immediately transformed back into being a human without even breaking his stride.
But as he got closer, judging by the look on Alex’s face, he was beginning to think he should’ve stayed as a bear.
Alex was furious.
Well, that was probably an overstatement – Greg honestly wasn’t sure Alex ever even got furious, but he was certainly about as upset as Greg had ever seen him. So he slowed as he approached, eyeing him warily as he held a stitch in his side like the old man he was. “Hi,” he managed, though it came out like the breathless gasp of someone who wasn’t meant to run like that in any form.
“Hi,” Alex said, his tone clipped, and Greg swallowed, hard.
“I hurt Rhod,” he said, for lack of anything better to say, because he needed to get it off his chest before anything else.
“I know,” Alex said, sounding tired. “He called me from A&E.”
Greg winced. “Christ, he had to go to A&E?”
Alex just shrugged. “Think the studio made him go for liability reasons. Especially since I’m not entirely sure anyone really bought his explanation that he got 5 identical claw marks from breaking the dressing room toilet door open after you got stuck inside with explosive diarrhoea.”
Despite himself, despite everything, Greg still managed to huff a small laugh at that. “That the explanation he went with?”
But Alex didn’t laugh. The corners of his lips remained resolutely downturned, his brow resolutely furrowed. “It’s creative, at least. And doesn’t necessarily require a lot of follow-up questions from you. Just a discreet cheque to cover the damages, since I imagine Rhod probably had a bit of fun with making it look convincing.”
Considering the last time Greg saw Rhod, he hadn’t seemed capable of having much fun with anything, and his stomach twisted with a fresh wave of guilt. “Is he all right?”
Alex shrugged again. “From what I gather,” he said. “I obviously haven’t been to see him. He seemed in good spirits on the phone though.” He gave Greg a look. “Besides which, he made it perfectly clear this was all my fault.”
“Your fault?” Greg repeated.
“Yes.” Suddenly Alex couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Something about abandoning you and not communicating with you and letting you drive yourself mad.”
Greg pulled a face. “Bit dramatic.”
“Mm,” Alex hummed noncommittally. “So is getting stuck as a bear in the middle of Buckinghamshire.”
Greg scowled. “I wasn’t—”
But Alex didn’t let him finish. “Did I or did I not tell you to use the bond when you needed to?”
Greg’s scowl deepened. “Right, because I was going to interrupt your time with your family because I was cranky and lonely.”
Alex gave him a look. “Seems like a better option than almost ripping your best mate’s arm off.”
Greg jerked a shrug. “For him, maybe,” he muttered.
“For all of us.”
Greg crossed his arms in front of his chest, irritated. “It wasn’t your problem.”
Now the look Alex gave him was downright scornful. “Except that it is.”
“I was handling it,” Greg said dismissively.
“Clearly you weren’t!”
Greg blinked, taken aback by Alex’s tone and clear frustration. Of course, given his own frustration at the past few weeks, he felt like it seemed more than a little unfair. “Why are you getting cross with me?” he asked.
Alex threw his hands up. “Because I love you and instead of just communicating with me, you decided a better route was to just bottle it all up and hope for the best, consequences be damned! Because if it hadn’t been Rhod, who knows what could have happened!”
Greg’s mouth opened and closed again, and the only thing he could manage was, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you shout like this before.”
Because he hadn’t, because Alex was quite renowned for his inability to do so, but he’d somehow managed it now. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a reason to shout like this before!” Alex shot back, his face red, and not in the sweet, funny way it normally was around Greg. “Do you have any idea what it was like to get a call from Rhod that there was an accident and he’s in hospital and you’re God knows where, assumedly as a bear, and you won’t let down whatever you’ve put up in your head so that I can reach you through this stupid anchor bond even though that’s the one thing I’m supposed to be able to do, and of course you weren’t answering your mobile because you were a fucking bear?”
First shouting, now swearing– part of Greg wanted to feel proud, but the bigger part of him was drowning in renewed guilt at apparently pushing Alex to this point. And, as he frequently did when he felt guilty, he lashed out. “Well, do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like we finally made some strides forward only for you to pull back and then leave the fucking country and leave me wondering if things were ok?”
“No, because you refused to tell me!”
Greg rolled his eyes. “You said you needed radio silence!”
Alex glared at him. “Except when you needed me!”
“You idiot, I always need you!” Greg shouted back at him. “Because I love you, too, you fucking prick!”
For one long moment, they both just glared at each other before Alex huffed a sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face, looking pointedly away as he asked, “Are you ever going to put your clothes back on?”
Greg glanced down at himself, realising for the first time that he was in fact completely naked. “Oh, fuck, sorry, I—”
Alex covered his face with both hands, honking that laugh that Greg loved so much, and for the first time, Greg allowed himself to smile as he hurried to fetch his clothes from where he’d chucked them the day before. When he was finally decent, he returned, only this time he crossed all the way to Alex. “C’mere,” he said, pulling him into a hug, gathering him in close and holding him as if he might never let him go. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, low in Alex’s ear.
“I am, too,” Alex said softly. “Turns out I’m shit at communicating in multiple areas of my life, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised this is one of them.”
Greg pulled back far enough to frown down at him. “Who told you that?”
“Therapist,” Alex said. “Rachel and I have been doing couples’ counselling via Zoom the past few weeks.” He pulled a face and shrugged. “Obviously we can’t get into all of the details with our therapist but we’re approaching it as if we’re considering opening our marriage or exploring polyamory, however you want to put it, and it’s been working well enough.”
Greg nodded slowly. “What does your therapist think?”
Alex took a deep breath. “That Rachel and I love and respect each other enough to find a way to make it work, provided we’re able to communicate properly.” He gave Greg a pointed look at that before continuing, “Now it’s just a matter of hammering out the details, figuring out how and what to prioritise.”
“Sounds difficult.”
Alex nodded. “I apparently overcomplicate matters.”
Greg snorted a laugh. “You? Perish the thought.”
Alex gave him a small smile before adding, “Plus I have issues communicating my needs,” and that was definitely pointed.
“That sounds familiar,” Greg muttered.
“Thought it might.” Alex sighed and looked up at him. “If this is going to work, you can’t be afraid of needing me. I can’t promise that I will always be able to prioritise you, or us, but I can’t make an informed decision about my priorities if I don’t know what you need.”
Greg winced. “I know.”
Alex cocked his head, just slightly. “Do you?”
“On some level, at least,” Greg told him. “Just maybe not on the level that wants above everything else in the world not to complicate your life more than I already have.”
“Complications aren’t always a bad thing,” Alex told him. “And figuring this out so that all three of us are happy is worth every complication.” He gave Greg a look. “But mauling your friend and then fleeing the scene is pushing the limit.”
“I know,” Greg repeated, and he reached out to pull Alex to him once more, resting his cheek against the top of his head. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you that I love you.”
Alex laughed lightly. “What, starkers and shouting at me?”
Despite himself, Greg managed a smile. “Something like that.”
Alex looked up at him, his face flushed pink. “Good thing I already knew, then, I suppose.”
“Yeah, but it’s a bit different hearing it aloud.”
Alex considered it and nodded. “Well, I’m sorry for shouting it at you as well, then.”
Greg grinned. “That’s all right, I deserved it.”
“Mm,” Alex hummed.
Greg’s eyes narrowed. “You’re supposed to tell me I didn’t.”
“Am I.”
He didn’t pitch it as a question, his voice mild, and Greg scowled. “So you think I did deserve it?”
Alex shrugged unconcernedly. “I think there were some things you needed to hear, and if shouting at you got the job done, then I’m not one to second guess my methods.”
“Smug little prick,” Greg muttered, but with obvious affection.
Alex just hummed again. “Not so little. On either count.”
Greg laughed once more before telling Alex softly, genuinely, the way he should have said it the first time, “I love you.”
“I know,” Alex said, grinning at him. “I love you, too.”
Greg kissed the top of his head before asking, “Now what?”
“Now you get me for…” Alex checked his watch. “18 hours before I have to get back on a plane and go back to Northern Ireland.” He paused, patting the pockets of his jeans before digging out a folded piece of paper. “Oh, and Rachel told me to give this to you.”
Greg frowned down at it. “What is it?”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t read it.”
“Really?” Greg asked, sceptical, because his own self-control wouldn’t have lasted five minutes.
“Really,” Alex confirmed. “She told me not to.”
Greg raised his eyebrows but chose not to comment on that, too curious to read whatever Rachel had sent. He unfolded the piece of paper, and read: Greg – Kiss him properly, you idiot. Anything above the clothes that he’s comfortable with is fine. We’ll discuss more when we’re all back. xx
He couldn’t stop his grin as he casually handed the note to Alex, who scanned it quickly. “You really do have the most unbelievable wife,” he said, his voice low, and Alex matched his grin with one of his own.
“I’ll be sure to let her know you said as much,” he said. “Though, er, I should warn you that she doesn’t much like it when someone disobeys a direct order.”
He said it innocently, but with that slight teasing lilt that warmed Greg to his core. “Is that so?” he murmured. “Well, I don’t want to make your wife cross with me as well. So in that case – can I kiss you?”
Alex’s grin was bright enough to almost make everything that had preceded it over the past few weeks worth it. “If you don’t, I think I might actually combust.”
“Come here,” Greg said, reaching for him once more. Alex took a step closer to him, something tentative in the movement that was echoed in the way he reached up to cup Greg’s cheek. His long, slender fingers brushed lightly over Greg’s flushed skin, and his eyes were even more impossibly blue up close.
Only when that little crease between Alex’s brows smoothed did Greg finally close the space between them, ducking his head and hesitating for just one beat longer, just enough that he could feel Alex’s breath ghosting over his lips.
Then he finally kissed him, and Greg wasn’t sure anything had ever felt this perfect.
He wanted to stay in this moment forever, his hands finding their place on Alex’s hips, his mouth opening against his as he drank Alex in like something he was determined to savour. They melted into each other, the kiss, unhurried and sure, a perfect culmination of everything that had brought them to this moment.
For several long seconds, the rest of the world fell away. The events of the previous day, the last three weeks, the last ten years, the mistakes and missteps and miscommunication, it all fell by the wayside. There was only the two of them, in one perfect moment.
It was Alex who broke the kiss, when it finally did end. It had to be, because Greg didn’t think he’d ever find a way to pull himself away from the lips he had spent a decade longing to kiss.
Alex looked up at him, those blue eyes bright, and grinned that gap-toothed smile that just made Greg want to kiss him again. “That was…”
Greg nodded, grinning as well. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It was.” He smoothed his thumb over the collar of Alex’s jumper. “So, we have 18 hours, yeah?”
“Er,” Alex said, glancing down at his watch. “17 hours, 53 minutes.”
Greg huffed a laugh. “Jesus Christ,” he said, kissing Alex’s temple. “If you’re going to keep an eye on the clock the entire time, I’ll have to find some way to distract you.”
Alex tilted his head up again, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
“No idea,” Greg murmured, bending down to kiss him once again. “Thankfully, I have 17 hours and I assume 52 minutes now to figure something out.”
They had more to discuss, of course, and Greg had any number of apologies he needed to make to Rhod and his agent and the studio and whomever else. But he also had Alex here, and permission to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him, to tell him that he loved him as many times as he could over the next 17 hours and however many minutes.
And that alone made all the rest of it seem entirely bearable.
Oh, Alex had to be back in his head if he had thought of a pun like that, and he glanced down at him, torn between amusement and his usual faux irritation. “Bearable, really?”
Alex grinned. “I’m pawsitive I can think of some better ones,” he said solemnly, and Greg sighed, even as he felt like his chest might burst from how full it felt.
“Shut up and kiss me,” he said.
And Alex did.