Archive of Our Own

Chris would usually call himself someone with a good worth ethic.

Usually.

Recently, he felt as though he might’ve been lacking in that department.

You see, one of the main things that came with show making was that the shows didn’t just appear out of thin air. When you’re a celebrity, of the things that you’d always be hearing others say to you is how, ‘You should have your own show!’ And as great as that sounds, actually getting to that part is rather difficult.

It’s not just a case of ringing up your local network and asking, ‘Hey, Dudes! Can I have millions to host my own show?’ That’s not something you could just ask for. You couldn’t just have twenty or so episodes, the challenges weren’t already thought up for you, no there was so much that went into it! It involved planning, lots of it.

There was the script writing. You could have it authentic as you wanted it to be, but you still needed a script. Something for the Host, the showrunner to say to greet the fans, for the people to get hooked and want to return for more! This is why they’d been given so many seasons, because if you did it right, you did it well.

Hiring people was a big one, too. Before it was just him and Chef, and maybe a few interns. But now? With how many eager fans there were and the fact this was a privately owned island, it wasn’t somewhere that had 24/7 protection. People with their own boats ready to snoop around to leak to the press whatever information they could find out.

It was stressful, also a little intimidating, the fact that they could possibly have paparazzi, or even someone who wanted to do harm show up. Hell! It had happened before when filming the horror movie episode, Hook Line and Screamer. That was when the show was new and wasn’t massive yet.

When they’d had that girl, Dekota or something… She’d barely been there ten minutes and there was already paparazzi all over the place! So yeah, they needed protection.

The rest of the things were stupid but necessary upgrades, like better cameras. More cameras, actually, for even cooler shots. Not to mention props! They couldn’t miss out on props, something to give this season a little more punch. To make it seem even cooler than the actual place was. One of them he was most excited about was the spinning wheel of doom.

Granted that wasn’t one her purse ordered , more like made at three AM with some hot glue and a rainbow pack of card-paper. What was the point in buying overly-expensive things that was only going to be used in the show once? 

But with all of this noted, it didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of things he needed to get done. Sure he might’ve gotten most of all those other things done, but there was the biggest one, the biggest pain in the ass . Paperwork, that shit literally never stopped.

It was the most draining part of all of this. You’d be busy one moment with answering three unexpected calls your producers suddenly sprung on you, and you’d need to describe in great detail with proof on how you’d already booked out the top tier quality equipment so they’d have it ready for even months in advance. But then to suddenly get sprung on how you’d need to sign a couple of contracts for the protection of property,

Which just put another piece to the pile.

The pile which was getting overwhelmingly high.

He didn’t get overwhelmed by shit like this, but there were limits. Usually all of this was manageable, but God he’d been lacking. He cursed whatever impulsiveness in his head that liked to try sabotage him constantly, he’d be trying to focus one minute, and then the next he was re-planning a challenge because it didn’t feel great enough.

He had ways to manage it, though.

One of those ways was getting your interns to bring you a nice cup of coffee every few hours to try snap out of the distractions, and attempting not to get mad when they gently suggested on how maybe coffee wasn’t the only liquid that existed, and how some could see four cups beginning to be a bit- Excessive.

But you know what else was excessive?

This damn paperwork. And it sure as Hell wasn’t going to sign itself.

Deadlines… Weren’t fun. The whole show- The idea of the show had honestly been so exciting, honestly. But God- All of this just- Wasn’t. Sighing, Chris let his head hit the table with a loud thump as he laid on the unsigned papers. His hand was smudged black with the ink he’d ran it over without realizing it hadn’t dried yet, and the room was starting to feel a bit stuffy, but that could be blamed on the drawn curtains despite it being early in the afternoon. 

God his head hurt. 

Hearing a faint buzzing, he’d assumed a fly had gotten in somehow. But cracking his eye open he was quickly blinded by his phones screen blasting light at him. Ah, a message. He silently prayed it wasn’t the producers as he lifted it up.

On the screen was a message from Chef, it simply said ‘U Ok?’

Simple question, simple answer, ‘yea’. Clicking the phone off, he got ready to put his head back on his desk to decide to continue stressing on the work in five minutes.

It’s not like he was going to go to sleep, God he knows he couldn’t do that. It was more so a, ‘I am going to sit here until I can motivate myself enough to force myself to do this’ type thing.

But before he got the chance to do that, his phone dinged again. Chris slipped the device into silent mode as he unlocked his phone again. ‘Meet me at the dock’. Why? That’s exactly what he texted back.

‘ y’

‘Just do it.’

So he did.

Groaning as he got up from his desk, he stretched. Giving a visible grimace at the multiple clicks his back made as he bent backwards. Christ, that was going to hurt in the morning.

The time was four-thirty, unfortunately too early to claim tiredness or some other excuse to get out of this.

His eyes still burned as he walked out of the trailer. If his head hurt before, this certainly made the sting behind his eyes just a little worse.

It took a few moments to adjust, but it was pretty outside. A little cold, but nice.

He began walking his way to the dock. He hadn’t actually brought his phone with him, which he now realizes he probably should’ve incase the producers or any of the people he was working with tried to contact him- But this was fine. He’d see what Chef wanted, and then he’d come back and get more stuff done.

He saw his husband in the distance, he was sitting on the dock, or better to word it, on the ledge. Looking out at the sea. As he walked closer, he waved to Chef as the other turned to face him. Getting closer.

“Hey, man.” Chef smiled, hitting the wood besides him as a gesture for Chris to join him, he obliged.

“Hey dude, what’s up?” Chris grinned. The two sat on the dock looking out. Chef liked to do this a lot, Chris never really understood the point of it, but it was nice.

“Didn’t hear from you much today, just making sure you’re not dead.”

“Can’t kill me that easily.” He snorted, he had a slight feeling a lot of this conversation was going to be followed by silences. 

“You wanna do something?” Chef suggested, and it felt bad that Chris actually had to think it over.

“I’ve- Got a lot of stuff to catch up on, maybe later?” He felt bad at the way the other visually deflated at his answer. 

Chris and Chef soon moved to stand, it was nice out here on the dock, and don’t get him wrong he absolutely adored spending time with the other, just not when there was so much to do. 

“Okay, but we’re doing something tonight, no working all night.” Chris could agree to that. Sure, he said. Chef still didn’t seem convinced with him.

“Are you.. Sure that you’re gonna be alright?” Chef spoke concerned.

Chris just didn’t like that, it was a weird thing to think, but he’d always found it unsettling when people worried other him. He didn’t need to be worried over.  Like, obviously the situation wasn’t the greatest, but he was alright.. Chris just opted on giving the other a half-full shrug.

“Aren’t I usually?” He hummed.

Chef turned away from him, thinking it over as if he was analyzing every one of Chris’s words. It was dumb, of course he was going to be fine.

“Yeah, yeah… I guess so. Just let me know if you need a break or something, I’m down to help you out. ”

Chris sighed in relief, okay. Wasn’t as deep as he thought it was going to go. He shot a smile at his partner, “Sure thing, dude.”

Something wasn’t right with Chris, whether the bastard was too dense to realize it or not was unknown, but something was up with him. Chef hadn’t ignored the way the man looked absolutely wiped when he arrived. It had only been four! And he looked like he’d just got out of bed.

Chris very much hadn’t just got out of bed. If he was being fully honest with himself, he couldn’t actually remember all too well when he’d last properly slept. He knew two days ago he’d woken up, but last night felt a little fuzzy. He rested his head on his desk, but he didn’t recall falling asleep.

It was seven now, and he felt like Chef was going to be coming soon, he said he’d do something with the other, and Chef wasn’t one to forget things. Neither was he, but right now he felt a little bit like he was jetlagged, which was weird because the closest thing he’d done to that was get on a boat. And last time he recalled, besides getting slightly seasick, that’s the only thing that happened.

As he winced at the way his right arm was steadily beginning to ache he just hummed, as he continued sighing. He wondered what was causing all of this. Glancing down at the mountain of paper, he wordlessly added a new pile to infront of him.

He’ll get it done.

Chef had told him that they’d do something later, and the other agreed. So when Chris hadn’t shown up after the first fifteen minutes of him waiting, Chef thought that he was just being fashionably late, but it was only when those minutes went from fifteen to thirty, he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not to feel concerned, or upset.

Concerned because he knew that something was going on with his partner, because something seemed off with him. But more upset at the fact he knew that if something was going on, that Chris was more than capable to handle himself. And as much as an idiot as the other was, Chris wasn’t one to forget things. You couldn’t do that when you’re a celebrity.

… Which meant that the other was probably ignoring him, great. Like, he was more than able to do the same back, and avoid Chris twice as hard, but there was just this unsettling feeling. That something had happened.

As Chef knocked on the door, he couldn’t help but frown. Honestly, was the other just avoiding him at this point or had he genuinely forgot? Was this a mix of the two? If it was, Chef sure as Hell didn’t mind leaving Chris alone. But something felt off.

His husband had seemed off.

Yeah, he was going to do this. Knocking on the door once more he sighed. “You ignoring me?” He hummed. Giving a few seconds for the other to reply, he sighed. Trying to push on the door, it was locked. Which was kind of what he’d expected.

As he was about to move away, thinking of crying again later, he heard the sound of something crashing on the floor, followed by a muffled noise through the door. The fact it was silent after that wasn’t any more reassuring.  “I’m coming in, man.” 

And… As expected, the door was locked. And what was worse was Chef was pretty sure that Chris wouldn’t be opening it for him. “You know I’m gonna kick the door down if you don’t open it.” He warned. Mentally, he already knew the answer. On the plus side, it wasn’t one of those strong locks that was built into the door.

It was one where you screwed it on yourself, the actual door had no locks on it. It was only added because it’d be pretty useful from keeping out the future teenagers that were no doubt going to try to break into everywhere they shouldn’t be.

After waiting a few doubtful seconds he decided on just going for it, kicking at the door with as much strength as he needed for a shitty cabin door.

Unsurprisingly, it broke pretty easily. But what was surprising was the sight that was in front of him. There at the desk with his head laid down was Chris. The room felt ridiculously hot for late in the afternoon, there were no doubt multiple heaters on. The room was so dark , with all the curtains closed and God... How he had managed to sleep through that was beyond him.

“You okay?” He frowned, as he stared. He wasn’t asleep, by the looks of it. He wasn’t on the floor either, which was reassuring. Especially after that crash. Looking down Chef saw the real culprit. A binder stacked with paper had fallen. Thankfully not going everywhere. “Ah.” He frowned.

Chris… Didn’t look like he was sleeping, quite the opposite really. His eyes were shut yes, but they were more clenched if anything. Almost like it hurt to close them. He- He didn’t look good.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, he gently shook him awake. Or had attempted too. Chris giving a sudden gasp, sitting up far too quickly for Chef’s liking. “Oh- Didn’t mean to scare you, man.”

Chris scrubbed a hand  at his eyes, attempting to look more awake than the passed out state Chef had seen him in a moment ago. “Sorry, sorry- I was awake, just focused.”

“So you still didn’t answer the door when I asked you multiple times?” Ah, that’d worked. Chris now looked away guilty, he looked embarrassed .

“Ah- Didn’t hear you.” That sounded like a lie, but now that Chef was looking closer he honestly didn’t doubt it. He’d actually thought Chris had been crying or something, but as the light from the doorway shone in, he could see the details of his partners face better.

His features looked doused in sweat , his eye bags were sure as shit not designer and in better words, he looked like he’d been hit by a truck.

“God, you look like a train wreck.” After seeing the shooting glare he got sent, he quickly backtracked. “Sorry! Sorry.” As the room was quiet, he continued once more. “Late night?” He frowned.

“Late week , you mean.” Sitting back up, his back cracked loudly again, with the sounds that could only come from someone who’d been slouched over for many hours. “Yeah- Didn’t mean to do the whole falling asleep thing. I don’t think I fell asleep.”

“Your eyes were closed and you looked dead.” At no response, Chef walked over and easily slapped a hand over the others forehead, startling Chris a bit.

“Wha-” He moved to push the offending hand off of him, but a look from Chef let him know he knew better than to even try.

“Chris, you’re burning. ”

And somehow, after learning this fact, he actually looked embarrassed. As if it was shameful for the Host to not look or feel great. “God, I’m turning off these heaters.” Chef frowned.

“But It’s cold.” Chef stared at him with an eyebrow raised. “I mean- It’s gonna get cold.” He reworded, hoping that would help his case here. It did not, he was shaking.

“You’ve got a fever . God- How long have you been in here? This ain’t healthy, man.” Walking over to the curtains, he pulled them up sighing. There was no point even doing it now, because it was starting to get dark. Had he really spent all day in here?

A pang of guilt stung lightly, a feeling on how he should’ve came sooner. Of course, he didn’t know. Which was what his partner was intending, because he was trying to hide it. But the feeling still remained, how he should’ve probably noticed sooner.

As Chef was about to start his worrying interrogation, he saw the way Chris reached for a drink, sipping on it for a good few seconds, and returning back to signing the contracts, as if he wasn’t even here.

“Man- Can you stop working for a bit? You’re really worrying me.” Genuinely, this whole thing didn’t seem healthy. And out of anyone, he understood that sometimes days like these were unavoidable, but still…

Shaking his head no, the other explained. “Can’t.. Deadlines tomorrow, need to sign all these out to prove I read them, oh and so there’s no stupid rules that stop us having fun…”

“There’s time later. What time tomorrow do they need to be submitted?”

“Nine… AM”

“It’s eight fifty PM right now, you’re stopping for a bit.”

“I can’t. ”

“Yes- You can and you’re gonna.” As Chris reached out for the pen again, Chef quickly and firmly snatched it out the others hand.

“I’m not a kid.”

“Then stop acting like one!” Chef wasn’t actually mad, he didn’t know how to express enough that the other was really stressing him out.

As Chris moved to stand he walked across the small room, rummaging for something. 

“You better not be getting another pen.”

“Can I get advil?”

“... For your headache?”

“Didn’t tell you I had one, but yes. ”

“Go ahead.” Wait. “Actually- What’ve you eaten today?”

“...”

“Chris .”

Chris picked the cup back up again and took a long sip while avoiding eye contact.

“Chris!”

“I genuinely forgot, okay?” I don’t even feel hungry, honestly. ”

“Yeah, probably because you’ve been drinking all day, idiot.”

“It’s only coffee…”

For the ten thousandth time that day, Chef let out a sigh. It was like checking on an adult sized toddler. His partner was usually so good at managing things by himself, but give him too much and it leads to this. He loved him, but he was ridiculously bad at trying not to overwork himself.

As the bottom of the cup was reached, Chris pulled open the pull out bin, quickly shutting it. Which made Chef pause.

He’d been watching the other this whole time, and every move he made looked so exhausted. But the way he was so fast to quickly open the bin and close it-

“Chris, open the bin.”

“ Huh- What did I do?”

“I don’t know, which is why I’m asking you to show me, open it.”

Freezing, realizing that there was no way out of it, and saying no was pointless. Chris silently pulled open the drawer, the bin and its contents becoming visible.

“Jesus.”

The bin was filled to the brim with empty cups, ones he knew damn well had previously contained coffee. 

“How much have you had?” Unsurprisingly, there was no response to the question. Either he didn’t want to get in more trouble, or knew that Chef could clearly see the answer for himself.”

“Sorry…” Chris muttered, his tone sounded genuine. He sounded a lot quieter than usual. 

Chef reached his arm into the bin, there was nothing gross in there like food. Which now he thought, was a little concerning. But it was just- Torn up paper and coffee cups. 

Every day Chris liked to empty the shit in the trash to get it over with. There were seven empty cups in there.  

Seven.

… What was he going to do with him?

“I can’t believe this.” Chef frowned, looking at the empty containers. “Really, man? And you’ve had nothing to eat either? God , when was the last time you even ate? And don’t lie, you already told me you didn’t eat today.” The silence was beginning to piss him off a little bit. 

At heart, he was genuinely, really concerned. Honestly! But- How could he just go be so careless like that?

“And quit ignoring me. How long have you been doing this?”

At silence again, he finally snapped, turning around fast to stare at the other.

“ Hey, ” He just- had a blank expression, as if anything Chef had priorly said went in one ear and then out the other. “You know I’m talking to you right? … Are you okay?”

And then, it all began to fall.

He began to fall.

“ Chris! ” He yelled, darting forward as he watched the man he loved begin to collapse. “It’s alright.” He spoke. “It’s fine.” The words were more to convince himself if anything. He was stressing, bad. Chef let his hands slide around the others back, pulling him forward with the hand so that the other was pushed against him. Leaning up, he carefully picked his husband up. 

It was easy to do so, he’d done it a lot. But only now it was much more morbid, the way the most chatterbox of a person was silently in his arms, unmoving. At least he was breathing loudly through his mouth, so thoughts he were dead were out the question. 

Shifting his partner into more of a bridal carry, he looked upset as he looked at the others face. He did not look well, and Chef felt like a bit of a prick for not noticing even sooner, especially when Chris came to see him earlier. 

Shutting the door behind him he began to walk across the island. They were walking towards the other trailers, the one Chris had been in had been a glorified room on wheels. Not one with an actual bed, like the one the two shared.

It was a small thing, but it was cozy, and the two of them got to wake up to each other everyday. Which was a blessing and a curse. They hadn’t gotten to use it yet, since they only actually stay in it when the season is airing, so that they can get to the kids quicker and not miss out on any of the big stuff going down. 

Opening the door he genuinely wondered what he was going to do with him, his husband was an idiot.  

Carefully laying him down on the bed, he looked him over. It was then he remembered Chris had never taken the advil. But at the same time he hadn’t eaten anything either. So that was top priority, that and dealing with whatever fever all this overworking had caused.

He still looked completely out of it which wasn’t good.

But at least this gave him time to make some food for him before he woke up.

Walking over to the trailers, ‘kitchen’ he got to work.

When Chris woke up, he immediately realized that he was cold, and also shivering. Not to mention his face, arms and overall body felt wet. Well, to rephrase it, sweaty. He did not feel nice right now. There was an ice pack on his head he didn’t remember putting there, one that felt mostly liquid now.

His head felt like it was pounding with every heartbeat, his stomach felt a mix of uneasy and borderline starving. He felt like he could handle an entire drinking fountains worth of water

His head hurt, same with his stomach. He was hungry, thirsty, everything. Not a good feeling.

Apparently he’d audibly let this be known with a headache-fueled groan, which happened before he could even stop it.

“Finally back, sleeping beauty?” 

Okay, confession. Chef had actually startled him.

“How long was I out…?” He was squinting from the brightness in the room, he certainly preferred it better when all the curtains were closed and the light wasn’t burning his eyes.

“From when you passed out? Nine hours, It’s 6 AM right now. You scared the shit out of me.”

It seemed that Chris’s brain wasn’t working the best right now, like it was buffering almost, taking a few minutes to recognise what his husband had said.

“Wait- Six?! Chef the deadlines at Nine- ” He moved to get up, but found himself useless as Chef put a hand on his chest, effortlessly pushing him back into the comfort of the mattress.

“You ain’t going nowhere, I got it handled, It’s almost done. Did I mention you’re stupid?”

“You know, probably.”

“Mhm, anyway I made you some soup. Since you’re banned from eating anymore of that junk shit. By that, I mean coffee. That and energy bars, because when I tidied up in there I found way too many wrappers of those things. That aint a proper meal, man.”

“... Sorry.” 

“Listen, I know deadlines are important. The show’s important, I get it. I’m not good with all this sentimental stuff. Just ask for help, alright?”

“I can do it myself, though.”

“That’s not the point-” The point was to not be an idiot.

“I would’ve slept after I finished it…”  Yet he didn’t finish it, and he was practically passing out by the time he got there. “I can handle stuff, you know?”

“Listen, man. I know you can but-” He got cut off again.

“And it would’ve turned out fine-”

“Maybe, still-” And cut off, again.

“It’s fine. ”

“Listen, could you stop being so reckless all the time?!” He snapped. A flash of hurt panged across Chris’s face.

“No- Sorry, you’re fine. Sorry for snapping,  you just really worried me, that’s all”

“I love you too. And- Nah , It’s okay. It was my fault. I just didn’t want the producers to be on my ass again for not getting it done. You said you hadn’t finished it.” He began to grin, “You know how I love you? I could always-”

“Love you too, not a chance.”