Chapter Text
“He’s not coming today?”
Greg raises his eyebrows in surprise.
It is highly unusual for Alex to stay home because of illness. It is unusual that he is ill at all.
Nothing ever seems to affect this man.
While Greg spends winters in meetings with a blocked nose and a sore throat, Alex always sits beside him fresh and lively, as though even a storm could not shake him. A part of Greg has always envied that a little.
He cannot remember Alex ever missing a meeting since they started working together.
“He really didn’t sound well on the phone,” says Andy. “He told us to go ahead without him. He’ll call you later to set up a new date for your meeting.”
Greg shakes his head, amused. Of course Alex is still managing appointments, even while sick. Not even the flu seems able to stop him.
He pats Andy’s shoulder with his large hand.
“Right, let’s get started then.”
Since some points cannot be fully discussed without Alex, the meeting is short.
Greg keeps glancing at his phone, expecting Alex to call, though he knows very well Alex would never interrupt a meeting.
That’s just how he is: reliable, structured, always considerate of everyone.
Afterwards, Greg stays seated, leafing absent-mindedly through his notes, his thoughts restless and circling around Alex.
The others pack their things and draw him into conversation. They have not seen each other for a while and share holiday stories. Greg smiles, nods, occasionally makes a remark, but inside he feels unsettled.
He looks at his phone.
Still no message, no call.
When Alex says he will be in touch, he always is. Alex is utterly dependable.
Greg sighs and finally opens the chat.
“Still alive, or should I order flowers?”
Greg says goodbye, gathers his things and steps outside.
The evening air is already cooler, the streetlamps casting long shadows across the asphalt.
He gets behind the wheel and glances at his phone. Still no call. The message has been delivered, but not read.
The uneasy feeling in his gut intensifies.
He hesitates briefly, then dials Alex’s number.
It rings.
And rings…
Voicemail.
Greg hangs up.
He’s probably asleep, he tells himself.
And yet, the thought does not ease him.
He starts the engine and drives. On the way home, his eyes keep flicking to his phone on the passenger seat, to make sure he won’t miss Alex’s call.
When he reaches his flat, he remains seated in the car.
It is unusual for Alex not to get back to him, especially after saying he would. Then again, he is ill, most likely sleeping. Hopefully.
Greg exhales in frustration and restarts the engine.
It will give him no peace otherwise.
“Fuck it,” he mutters and pulls away.
…
Minutes later, he stands at Alex’s front door. He rings quickly, as if not giving himself time to reconsider.
Silence.
Greg listens for any sound from inside.
Nothing.
Maybe Alex will be annoyed at being dragged from much-needed rest.
After a few minutes he rings again.
Still nothing.
“Alex, it’s me. Just checking everything’s alright,” he calls towards the door.
The silence pressing back is so heavy that he lowers the handle.
He pauses, surprised.
Of course the door is unlocked.
Alex has such a fundamental trust in the goodness of people.
Greg shakes his head and steps cautiously inside.
“Alex?” he calls into the quiet.
He shuts the door and looks around.
“I’m not a burglar, just a concerned citizen,” he says with a nervous smile, hoping he won’t scare Alex.
He glances into the living room - and sees him.
Greg freezes.
Alex lies on the sofa in his colourful jumper and jeans, as though he simply collapsed there.
“Bloody hell, Alex…”
Greg rushes to the sofa, careful not to make a racket.
Sweat beads glisten on Alex’s forehead, his breathing shallow and fast. Greg sinks down beside the sofa and, almost automatically, lays a hand on Alex’s forehead.
Hot.
At the touch, Alex flinches and half-opens feverish eyes. He blinks in confusion until his gaze finds Greg.
“Greg?” he croaks, voice hoarse.
Greg forces a smile.
“Good, your brain still works,” he jokes, his voice softer than he intends.
“What… are you doing here?”
Greg sighs.
“I was worried about you, you idiot.”
Alex looks at him, surprised, a faint smile flickering over his lips before he winces, clutching his head.
Greg scans the room.
“Have you had anything to drink? You’re losing more water lying there than it rains on a bad day..”
Alex shakes his head.
“Of course not,” Greg mutters, striding into the kitchen.
When he returns with a glass of water, Alex is struggling to sit up.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Greg quickly sets the glass down and helps him up.
“Need… different… position. Everything hurts,” Alex grits out, eyes clenched shut.
Greg sits beside him, not letting go, steadying him. He doubts Alex could sit upright unaided.
“Now you know what it’s like having flu,” Greg scolds, though the sharpness in his voice has long gone.
He feels the heat radiating off Alex, senses his trembling.
He hands him the glass.
“Here, drink.”
Alex obediently takes small sips, his hand shaking.
Greg takes the glass back and sets it down.
He watches as Alex breathes deeply, trying to steady himself.
“I’m fine, you don’t need to… I can manage.”
Greg barks a laugh.
“Oh, shut up. You’re not fine. But you’ll feel a damn sight better in bed and in something comfortable.”
Alex looks uncertain.
Greg swallows. He has never seen him so vulnerable.
“Come on, I’ll help you,” Greg says firmly, standing and holding out his hand.
Alex hesitates, then shakes his head, which only makes him wince harder.
“That… Greg, you don’t have to…”
“I know I don’t. But I want to. End of discussion,” Greg cuts him off.
Alex looks as though he might argue, but doesn’t. He has no strength left.
He takes Greg’s hand and is pulled to his feet.
The world tilts, his legs weak, but Greg is solid, steady.
“Alright?” Greg asks when Alex seems steadier.
Alex gives a faint nod. Greg loops Alex’s arm over his shoulder and they move slowly towards the bedroom.
The corridor feels endless. Alex leans heavily against him, eyes shut, head bowed. Sweat trickles down his temple, his body trembling feverishly.
Halfway down the hall, Alex murmurs something.
Greg leans closer.
“What did you say?”
“I think… I might… pass out…”
Greg’s heart pounds but he reacts swiftly, easing Alex down to sit against the wall.
Alex leans back, breath ragged, eyes still closed.
Greg crouches beside him, hand firm on his shoulder, thumb rubbing reassurance.
“Breathe easy, Alex.”
“I… I’m trying,” Alex gasps.
“I know. We’ve got time.”
They sit like that until Alex’s breathing steadies. He opens his eyes.
“I think I’m okay now,” he whispers.
Greg nods.
“Think you can stand?”
Alex nods faintly. With Greg’s support, he rises again.
But as soon as they reach the door, Greg notices how all the strength drains from Alex and his face turns pale as chalk. His knees buckle and he collapses. Greg catches him and holds him tight before he can hit the floor. He lowers him gently against the wall again.
“S-sorry,” Alex stammers.
Greg shakes his head fiercely. Even now, Alex worries about being a burden.
“It’s okay,” Greg says softly. “I’ve got you.”
He studies Alex’s pale face.
“Maybe I should call an ambulance,” he mutters to himself.
Alex’s eyes fly open in panic.
“N-no, please. That’s not…”
His breathing quickens, hand clutching weakly at Greg’s arm.
“Alright, alright,” Greg soothes quickly. “No ambulance. It’s fine.”
Alex seems stable enough leaning against the wall.
“Stay put,” Greg says, attempting a joking tone that falls flat.
Still, Alex chuckles weakly.
“I’m not a rabbit.”
“What?” Greg stares.
“I can’t disappear. I’m not a rabbit and you’ve no top hat.”
Greg snorts.
“Save your jokes for our banter on the show.”
“Okay,” Alex murmurs, eyes slipping shut again.
Greg hurries to the kitchen, returns with a cool damp cloth, and presses it gently to Alex’s forehead.
Alex sighs, leaning into it.
They stay like that for minutes, maybe longer. Greg’s muscles ache from crouching, but he doesn’t move, holding the cloth, wiping sweat away.
Eventually the trembling eases, Alex’s breathing evens out.
“Shall we try again?”
Alex nods faintly. Greg helps him to his feet once more.
They pause for a moment and Greg watches Alex closely until he gives him a slight nod.
Greg puts his arm under Alex's shoulder and slowly walks him through the door to the bedroom.
Greg helps him take off his jumper and jeans, helps him into bed, and pulls the blanket over him.
Greg notices with concern that Alex is still trembling. He looks so weak.
He sits down on the edge of the bed and runs the cool cloth over Alex's forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat.
“Thank you… Greg. That… I…”
Alex's voice is quiet and it seems as if sleep has already half overcome him.
Greg brushes hair back from his damp forehead without thinking.
“Don’t think about it. I’m here.”
And as if he had uttered a magic word, Alex relaxes and falls into an exhausted sleep.
Greg remains seated for a while, watching him silently. It hurts to see him like this. the man who is always in control, always there for everyone else.
He sets a glass of water on the bedside table, lays a fresh cool cloth across Alex’s brow. This time Alex doesn’t stir.
Greg leaves the door ajar and kicks off his shoes in the living room, collapsing on the sofa.
The decision to stay the night costs him no thought. He wouldn’t sleep a wink anywhere else.