Work Text:
You laughed as your camera guy, Mike, tossed you the crumpled cords of your lavalier microphone for your next segment. Sure, you were glad you could work from home, but there was a special something about the chemistry of everyone on your coverage team, and the thrill of being outside for what felt like the first time in months. The new flow of work was… odd, to say the least, but you wouldn’t miss it for the world.
You sighed happily as you felt the warm sand rush over your feet as you walked to your mark in front of the camera. A healthy six feet away, like your boss kept harping about on the phone as you all made your way to the beach. You knew the drill, and didn’t mind. You loved your coworkers to death, but not close enough to death that you’d be willing to risk catching anything from them, or vice versa.
Your nerves hit a peak as you stared into the shiny lens of the camera that Mike was directly behind. Every broadcast you’d taken part of (in the last, what, two months was it now?) since the world had seemingly started crashing down around you had been done from the comfort of your dining table or private office in the studio; it had been forever since you were broadcasting in front of any number of people other than your boyfriend, Gabriel, or your pup Diablo.
A little part of you felt guilty leaving Gabe at home while you “tromped around the beach” (you really only walked out of your car and right back in, but at least you were able to leave the apartment). He always loved spending entire days along the water with you, and he always teased you about the fact that he never burned; you, on the other hand, somehow always got a little too toasty on your beach days. He would give you sympathy back-rubs with plenty of lotion and aloe, though, since he felt guilty about keeping you outside too long. He knew you hated pulling him away from his favorite place.
Mike cleared his throat across from you and signaled that he would be recording in a few moments. You nodded in return, and refreshed your memory of the lines you were supposed to give once the camera started rolling. He gave you the classic nod, and you were off, your first pubic broadcast in months! You almost felt high on the thrill that your reporting work gave you. It may have just been sheer pride, but you loved your job and how well you felt you did it. And diving back in was exactly what you needed.
“…Today is the first day the beach has been open to the public since the governor called for official closures of gathering spaces last month. Many residents are worried about what this might mean for spreading the disease, but,” you gestured behind you at the surprisingly crowded shore, “the rest of them seem to have fewer worries and would rather get some sun for the day.”
You looked up to check with Mike that he was still rolling and that you hadn’t completely fucked up your speech, and you immediately started to lock up. The fucker was laughing. Were you that out of practice? You steadied yourself and continued down your train of thought, desperate to not fuck up a possible second time.
A message came over your earpiece. It was nothing short of shocking.
“And I’m getting a message that we have a special visitor here on the beach with us today. Beach-goers have spotted someone wearing a Grim Reaper costume while walking across the beach. I’ve been told they appear to be protesting the opening of these beaches and businesses today.” You couldn’t hold back your mixture of giggles and shock on the camera, and it definitely slipped through into your lines.
You gave your signature sign-off, and fell into a full guffaw once Mike cut the camera.
“You have got to be kidding me, that is the funniest fucking shit I’ve seen in a long time. Oh my God, I didn’t know how much I needed that.” You trekked back through the sand to your car, suddenly not missing how the sand laid plastered to your skin through the sandals you wore. “Alright, Mikey, I’m out for lunch! Catch you in the studio later.” You gave him a small salute and turned the engine, ready to go back home and finally eat something after your nerves disappeared.
As you pressed the door to the apartment open, it was eerily quiet. Had Gabriel left? You peeked around to the kitchen, your bedroom, the office, with no luck. You chalked it up to him leaving for the grocery store or a walk with Diablo and not telling you, since he was always cautious about interrupting you during your broadcasts. You spotted Diablo curled up on a throw pillow, so you chucked that possibility out the window. You hoped Gabriel remembered to grab some bananas while he was at the store, at least.
You toweled off your obscenely sandy feet and hopped on the couch with a sandwich so you could relax in your hour off, before you had to get dolled up and go into the studio for your afternoon cast and to supervise edits from the morning. Diablo fell asleep shortly after at your feet, snoring softly. Cute little goober.
A nap had almost overtaken you until you heard the telltale creak of the front door opening. You peeked one eye open to lazily make sure you weren’t getting burgled, and nearly launched off of the couch at what you saw. Your sleep-addled mind nearly short-circuited once you saw the figure of the Grim Reaper enter through the doorway. You didn’t remember feeling sick before you started dozing…
As if in slow motion, the Grim Reaper reached up to pull on the hood of the cloak. It fall to their back, followed by their mask.
“Mother fucker, Gabriel Reyes, you scared the shit out of me, pendejo!” He was met with a swift pillow to the face. And the fucker was laughing at you. And… he was also drenched in sweat.
When your heart rate calmed and you could breathe again, you made the connection. “So it was you!” you pointed at him.
He simply shrugged in response, setting down the scythe against the wall by the dinner table and fumbling with every piece of the costume. You snickered at his struggle. “Was it worth it?” You raised an eyebrow at him.
Gabriel was cuddled up next to you on the couch, sharing a serving of homemade queso with you while Diablo drooled on you. The nightly news was on following some of the prime-time soaps, and you caught some of the pieces you’d seen your team recording earlier when you left the studio.
When your segment at the beach came on, Gabriel nudged you. “I hear the next reporter is very sexy.” You snorted in return and clicked the volume down a couple notches. You could never get used to watching your own broadcasts or listening to yourself. You did have extreme interest in seeing how this one went, though.
You critiqued your form and expressions as TV-you began to speak, and then you subsequently started giggling like a wild woman. Before you had noticed Mike laughing, Gabriel had been there in his Grim Reaper costume, loitering behind you, and you had no idea! When TV-Gabe he crossed the frame the final time, mere feet behind you as you spoke about the message you received from the station over your earpiece, next-to-you-Gabe piped up and asked, with all seriousness, “so I’m famous now, right?”