Archive of Our Own

It was for publicity. Of course it was. All eyes would be on them that evening, and that meant it was a perfect chance to promote their newest endeavors. Anyone with half a brain would realize that it was purely business.

And yet, Pac was nervous.

“We’re almost there,” Fit assured him. He reached over and patted Pac’s shoulder. The limousine felt awfully small when they were sitting next to each other. “Breathe, man. You look like you’re going to pass out. Can’t accept any awards while unconscious, can you?”

Pac gave the other man a tight smile, pretending like the slightest touch didn’t make the situation infinitely worse. “You’re right. We have to be at the top of our game, don’t we?”

The Quesadilla Awards was a televised event hosted once a year to pay homage to the best of the best – the greatest films, the most talented actors, the directors with the keenest eyes for details, and so forth. Every name in the industry gathered together under the same roof to get drunk and celebrate a job well done.

Pac had attended the last seven shows, ever since his spur-of-the-moment decision to audition landed him a leading role in that year’s fan-favorite film. After that, he found himself cast again and again in the biggest movies, alongside some of the most famous actors in the world. 

He wanted to say that years of experience would’ve been able to prepare him for the night ahead, but his eighth award show was different from all that came before it in one key way.

This time around, Pac had a date.

Technically, Fit wasn’t actually his date, just his plus one. But, the promotion team for their TV show, ‘Hideaway,’ was determined to make sure that little fact remained completely unknown to their audience. It was ideal for them to seem as close as possible tonight.

Pac met Fit about a year and a half ago, when the filming of their series had just begun. He never imagined they’d be in this position by the time the annual award show rolled around. 

They were co-stars, both playing leading characters that spent a lot of time on screen together. Fit was a war veteran relearning how to function in society and Pac was an ex-convict turned chemical engineer with too much knowledge about life on the streets. The plot followed their journey to friendship and normalcy amidst the chaos of the world around them. 

The actors had both been a little skeptical of the direction of the show getting into it, but as they fell into their roles, they realized their characters’ growing relationship was the most natural thing in the world. And if their personal relationship outside of work had a similar arc, Pac wasn’t going to complain. 

Although, such a simplistic overview didn’t really explain why Fit was attending as his date for the evening, nor why it sent a shiver down his spine whenever he thought about it. That detail had originally started as an amateur slip-up on Pac’s end. 

Because Pac was a popular actor these days, there were often more than a few casting directors clamoring to put his face on the big screen. Due to this, he tended to have a bit of overlap between filming dates for certain things, which had been the case here too. 

At the same time as Pac was working on his TV show, he was also starring in a romantic comedy movie on the side – a completely different vibe from his other role. More often than not, he’d bounce between sets as needed, and would have to switch rapidly to the respective characters on short notice. He felt like a pendulum swinging at full speed with very little reprieve. 

This had the unintended effect of making his scientist character come off as a bit flirtier than the script had originally written. Suddenly, instead of having just a regular friendship development with Fit’s character, there was tangible chemistry. The director, surprisingly, loved it and it was kept in. 

Even more surprising than the director’s support, though, was the overwhelming reactions of the public. By the time the first season had finished airing, fans were raving over it, practically screaming for their characters to get together. There was art being drawn, interviewers calling at all hours of the day for the two of them, and Pac and Fit had been dubbed as ‘hideduo’ in accordance with the show’s title. The feedback was so positive that the director was currently making plans to update the script for the later seasons to continue the development. 

And, hey! What better way to promote future romance than having the two leads act as each other’s date to the most documented event of the year! Surely there were absolutely no problems with that! None at all!

“So,” Fit started, clearing his throat and looking out the window. His hand had drifted off Pac’s shoulder, but still remained relatively close on the seat beside them. “When we get there, I’ll get out first and open the door for you. Do you think that’d make the director happy?”

“Nah, it’s not enough for Bagi.” 

Pac huffed, remembering how excited their director was for this idea. She was so thrilled that she nearly forgot she would also be attending that evening. The two actors spent the last few days sharing laughs about it, which had helped quell Pac’s nerves. 

While no amount of joking around could save him tonight, he threw another comment out anyway, “She’ll only be satisfied if we kiss in front of the first press camera we see.”

Fit’s head whipped around at his comment, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was used to their joking, already had a response brewing if the shine in his eyes could be trusted. “I’m not opposed–”

“No, Fit,” Pac snorted. Playfully, he shoved at his friend. “I know it’s hard, but you have to control yourself. Who’s gonna pay to watch the show if we give them everything now?”

“Woah,” Fit tutted. He leaned closer, their shoulders bumping. “Pac! Not separating the actors from the characters? A little parasocial, don’t you think?”

Pac held his breath, narrowing his eyes. He tried not to think about how his gut twisted even more from their proximity alone. 

They were joking around, always joking around. He knew that. He even initiated it this time. As an actor, he should be able to regulate the beat of his heart by now. But Fit was his weakness, had been for a while. 

Pac never thought he’d be the type of celebrity to fall for his co-star — always said it was ridiculous that other actors couldn’t separate on-set moments from real life like that. 

And yet, there he was. Hypocritically head-over-heels.

He didn’t know when it started, didn’t know why this man was different from every other person he’d ever encountered. Pac had acted in dozens of romance oriented stories prior to theirs, but only this one had ruined him off the screen. 

Maybe it was because they’d become close friends, maybe it was because Fit was even more charming than his character, maybe it was something Pac would never understand, but Fit was different. Attractive and talented and charismatic and funny and intelligent and different.

And Pac was hopelessly in love with him.

Which made the whole ‘pretend to be romantic’ business significantly more difficult. Still, he’d already agreed to this, and Bagi was not going to let him live it down if he backed out now. Pac would have to suck it up and deal with the cruel reality that he’d be spending the evening fake-dating his crush.

Fit leaned forward to look out the window over Pac’s shoulder, breaking their proximity and giving him a second to collect himself. “I think we’re pulling up in just a minute. You ready?”

“Probably,” Pac grumbled. He reached up to his head and frowned. “Is my hair okay? I feel like something’s wrong.”

Fit turned his attention to the hair in question and pursed his lips. They were close enough that Pac could smell his cologne. 

“It looks fine. Just a few strands out of place,” he responded. Fit’s hands were moving before Pac could do anything. Gently, so as not to disturb the rest of the carefully-crafted look, Fit brushed his hair back and tucked it neatly behind his ear. His eyes flicked down to Pac’s once more, full to bursting with something unreadable. “There. Perfect.”

Pac’s cheeks warmed. He gave a curt not and forced himself to lean as far against the seat behind him as possible. He needed distance, needed to be allowed to breathe air that Fit didn’t also share. It was already unbearable enough that the guy had chosen to sit directly next to him in a limousine. Pac’s heart was going to give out before the real festivities even began. 

The car pulled up to the curb and Fit readied himself to jump out. Pac adjusted his tie and willed his blush away. They had mere moments to prepare. The red carpet was a fast moving ordeal. Cameras would be on them the moment they left the safety of their tinted windows, and the limousines had to drive off quickly to keep the celebrity traffic to a minimum. 

They got the go-ahead from the driver, and Fit slid out. Just as he’d promised to do, he rounded the car to open the door for Pac, and the second actor stepped onto the plush sidewalk, guided by Fit’s hand. 

Instantly, flashes of white light blinded the both of them. Voices called out to them, screaming their names, begging for them to assume certain poses or answer questions. Through experience alone, Pac was able to block out the unimportant noise and focus on moving forward. Fit had significantly less knowledge of how these events typically went, so he held tightly to Pac’s hand and allowed himself to be guided.

Eventually, they were away from the worst of it, and nearing the point where most interviews were done. In a perfect world, Pac would skip this part of the award show every time. He thought the whole idea of news broadcasters pulling them aside was boring and shallow, just meant to flaunt one’s looks rather than have any meaningful conversations. 

Unfortunately, an interview was a perfect opportunity to promote their show. Given that was the main reason he and Fit had made an appearance together, it would be dumb to let it pass by. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate. 

“Hey, cheer up,” Fit whispered. He dropped Pac’s hand in favor of looping their arms together, and leaned closer to add, “We can make this quick. Bagi’s probably already inside saving our seats.”

Pac smiled, and pretended not to hear the way camera flashes increased with their position. He could tell there would be plenty of articles about them tomorrow. Hopefully, should these damned interviews go well, the photographs wouldn’t be the only thing catching people’s attention. 

It took no time at all for them to be flagged down by a reporter — a shorter man dressed in a blue suit, sporting a beanie and sunglasses that felt out of place at such a fancy event. He was grinning widely, practically bursting with anticipation. Clearly, he had quite a few questions for them. Pac was already tired.

“Hello, you two,” the reporter started. The lanyard around his neck said his name was Quackity. “How interesting to see you showing up together! Would you mind a quick interview?”

Judging by the fact that a camera was already pointing at them, it was a rhetorical question. Fit nodded for the two of them, and Quackity jumped straight into it.

“I’m sure you’ve already been complimented plenty, but you guys are absolutely stunning,” he said. “And do my eyes deceive me? Are you two matching tonight?”

“We are,” Pac answered. He gestured down at their outfits with pride. His was a simple black tux, besides the embedded pattern of green gems along the edges. Fit’s was exactly like his, with the exception of the gems being blue instead. Both of them also had a golden brooch pinned above their hearts in the shape of a singular, blooming rose. “Nothing too complex.”

And he wasn’t lying. Perhaps the most expensive part of their two outfits combined was Pac’s specially-made and bedazzled prosthetic, meant to draw the eye and catch in the light. Given the nature of some of his nominations that evening, his metal leg would be front and center – as much of an indirect promotion as the man on his arm.

Quackity’s eyes were indeed drawn to Pac, but not because of his special prosthetic. The reporter could probably sense how many views his interview would be getting as the questions got juicier. 

Casually, so as not to draw attention to his intentions, Quackity proceeded, “And is there any particular reason you’ve decided to match?”

“Because we’re attending together,” Pac replied instantly, not quite as specific as he probably should’ve been. 

Luckily, Fit was there to pick up the pieces before anything could go too wrong. He squeezed Pac’s arm, leaning into the outstretched mic. “Plus, you’re supposed to match with your date at events like these, aren’t you?” 

Quackity froze, mouth opening slowly. Obviously whatever he’d been expecting to gain from their interview, it wasn’t nearly as blatant as what Fit had just announced. “With your… date?”

“Yeah. With my date,” Fit reiterated. Pac stole a glance up at him, and felt his cheeks warm at the self-satisfied grin his friend was wearing – like he was proud of himself for successfully planting that ‘seed.’ It was stupid, but unbelievably endearing. Pac really wanted to kiss him.

He didn’t though. They weren’t actually dating. Pac needed to remember that. Fit was just a good actor. The adoring smiles and constant touches were part of their ruse. Nothing more. 

He cleared his throat, hoping he wasn’t blushing too terribly, and regained his composure. Quackity was still stuck in a state of shock, so Pac stepped in to advance the conversation, “We’re both very excited to be here, especially since our show was nominated for Best Ongoing Series.”

“Oh, uh,” Quackity stammered, snapping out of it a little. “Yes! It’s a much-deserved nomination too! Your performances were both amazing, and your show has a grip on pretty much everyone nowadays!”

His delivery was slightly robotic, almost rehearsed. Quackity had obviously reverted to his autopilot settings with their interview because of his surprise. Pac was secretly glad they’d caught the guy this off-guard. It meant they could drop hints without having to veer anywhere unwanted. 

“It’s nice to hear you like our show,” Fit said. He bumped his shoulder into Pac’s fondly. “The nomination and the upcoming seasons are definitely really exciting.”

“Right, yes, the seasons,” Quackity echoed. “What are you looking forward to most?”

Fit pretended to think about it, then replied, “Probably getting to spend more time with Pac. Our characters will be a lot closer, and that means we get to be too!”

“Oh? Is that a bit of a spoiler of what to expect soon?” Quackity raised a brow, intrigued by the idea of getting ahead of the game. Fit just shrugged, feigning a guilty look as though he’d actually spilled some important secret. Pac mentally rolled his eyes. 

Quackity continued on with the questions, just the usual small talk about other celebrities that were present, clothing choices, favorite films, and the like. Pac could feel his willpower draining by the second. His least favorite part about being famous was the interviews, and they took so fucking long. 

Pac was about to just call it quits on being nice and disappear down the carpet when he felt Fit’s grip on his arm tighten slightly. He glanced up, and noticed his friend’s gaze brimming with a quiet question — not obvious enough that the camera might notice, but enough that Pac knew what he was asking. Subtly, he offered a slight nod. 

“Well, that’s all the time we have! Enjoy the show!” Fit declared suddenly. Quackity straightened, not having expected to be cut off so abruptly, but he wasn’t given a chance to argue. Without another word, Fit stepped back and guided Pac through to the next section of the event, where the press couldn’t reach them. 

Pac gaped at the bold decision. One interview was usually the minimum that a celebrity on the red carpet had to put up with. To abandon it there with just that? Pac wouldn’t have had the courage to do it alone. And yet, Fit didn’t hesitate for a second. He found himself asking, “Why did you just—? Why did we leave?”

“Because you were bored,” Fit replied, as if it were that easy. “Why would we sit through more interviews if you’re bored?”

Pac sputtered, “What? Uh, because we have to? We’re supposed to be promoting our show.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Fit sighed. He shrugged. “But you were bored, and I’m your date before I’m your co-star. Who cares about the show if you’re not having fun, y’know?”

Pac’s jaw clamped shut and his cheeks started to heat before he could even fully process the sentiment. He averted his eyes, staring holes into the ground at his feet. “Oh,” he muttered. “That’s very nice of you, Fit.”

Around them, more celebrities began to trickle through. This section of the venue was reserved for the talent, a lobby-lounge of sorts right inside the doors, with a buffet, benches, bathrooms, and employees to direct people to their seats in the main auditorium. The program broadcasting the Quesadilla Awards provided it so they could have more in-between time for commercials — inconvenient for the viewers, but relaxing for those in attendance. 

And there were many in attendance. The biggest faces in the media filtered around them as they stood safely out of reach of the press. Most people kept up appearances, but there was a general consensus amongst the majority that this space was a liminal zone. Nothing there mattered. Women stuffed their faces, men reapplied makeup, directors pre-gamed the festivities, and no one would hear a word about any of it in the interviews to come.

“We can relax here, at least,” Pac sighed, patting Fit’s arm. The man raised an eyebrow, a bit confused by his friend’s openly-deflated posture. Pac realized that Fit’s understanding of the social situation around them was far more limited, and took it upon himself to explain simplistically, “No one is gonna tell anyone if we stop pretending to be in love for a few minutes.”

Fit stopped walking forward, and turned to stare at Pac. There was an odd look in his eyes, something complex and unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by another voice chiming, “Pac! There you are!”

Pac moved his gaze away from Fit in time to see Felps trotting up to them. Felps was a renowned actor, known for his role in every form of comedy movie on the face of the planet. Pac had met him on the set of a movie they starred in together, and was in awe of his ability. Felps was almost guaranteed to win an award at any show in existence, and tonight would be no different. It wouldn’t even be a competition if he was on the roster.

Not that you could tell by his outfit. 

Felps, famously, did not dress like everyone else. There was no aura of egotistical beauty that dripped off him the way it usually did with people as popular as he was. He was distinctly his own person. Pac respected it immensely, and appreciated how easy he was to pick out of a group. 

That evening, Felps was wearing a suit reminiscent of the fur of a raccoon — striped and very strange in comparison to the other fashion styles visible in the room. The look was sure to draw smiles from the crowd whenever he accepted his award later. 

“Pac, I was trying to find you for, like, ever, man,” Felps exclaimed. With zero warning, he reached forward and yanked Pac into a hug. The dark-haired man shrieked at the sudden movement, but sunk into it quickly once he realized what was happening. 

“I’m sorry, man,” he laughed, patting his friend’s back. “I had to arrive strategically this time.” 

Felps backed off at that, furrowing his brows. “What? Why?”

For the first time, the comedian realized there was someone else standing there. Fit was regarding him with a rigid politeness, and Pac assumed he was a little upset at being blatantly ignored. Felps didn’t do it out of malice, of course. As soon as he noticed Fit, he gasped and gripped Pac’s shoulders tighter. 

“Hello,” he said. “Are you the reason Pac is late?”

Fit tilted his head and opened his mouth to answer, but he was too slow for Felps’ attention span. Pac was shook back and forth by the man, who was frantically speaking yet again.

“Pac! I can’t believe you came with someone else,” Felps cried, devastated. “You’re my partner for stuff like this! Who am I supposed to cry with during the clips they play for the ‘best animal actor’ award?”

“Uh,” Fit started. Pac didn’t have to look at him to hear his confusion. “What?”

Felps sniffled. “They’re so talented and so fluffy.”

Pac patted his shoulder sympathetically, stifling his laughter with the knowledge that this meant quite a lot to his friend. “I know, Felps. I’m sorry.”

“Felps?”

Pac perked up at Fit’s questioning tone. Though it was a bit strange, he supposed it was possible his co-star had never heard of Felps’ niche fame. He gestured to the man currently holding him by his shoulders and gave a late introduction, “This is my friend, Felps! We worked on a rom-com together a few years ago, and we’ve been friends ever since. I think it was one of my first big films too.”

“Oh, yes,” Felps agreed vehemently. “I remember it clear as day. Pac was my favorite love interest. Romance with him was so easy!”

Pac laughed, blushing a little at the compliment. He missed the way Fit straightened — only alerted of a change in his friend when a new arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close, forcing Felps to drop his hold. Pac froze, and glanced up at Fit, whose smile was even more chilling than before. 

“It’s so funny you mention that! Pac is actually my love interest now, and I have to agree,” Fit chimed, voice cheery despite the subtle drop in temperature around them. Pac sucked in a breath as hazel eyes met his, all-encompassing and far too close. “Romance with him is very easy.”

Pac felt his knees go weak, and surely would’ve toppled if not for Fit’s arm acting as an anchor. He knew it meant nothing, knew it was just Fit finding common ground with Felps, but he wanted so desperately to believe there was more to it. 

He wasn’t given a chance to delve too deep though. As soon as the words left his mouth and established crackling electricity in the air between them, Fit’s composed façade cracked. He was stiffening and taking a step back before Pac could speak, frantically rubbing at his cheeks — a nervous movement which was probably the cause of the overwhelming red hue to his face. 

Poor guy was really out of his element at the award show. Pac offered him what he hoped was a bit of reassurance in the form of a small smile, and returned his attention to Felps. 

The curly-haired actor had narrowed his eyes. He looked almost conspiratorial. When he spoke, his words were clearly directed towards Fit, “That was a really bad line, man. No one should ever let you write a script.”

Felps sent a look in Pac’s direction like ‘get a load of this guy,’ which he didn’t understand. But a lot of Felps’ more confusing bits went over his head, so Pac didn’t give it much thought; He was a very complicated person after all. 

“Well,” Pac started. “It was nice to see you, Felps.”

“Yes, yes!” Felps nodded. “Very nice to see you! I will leave you alone now! I need to raid the buffet before they run out of goodies.”

Never one to leave an interaction the socially acceptable way, Felps leaned forward and smacked a kiss onto both of Pac’s cheeks. The dark-haired actor rolled his eyes, already accustomed to his friend’s antics, and watched as Felps disappeared into the crowd. 

“What, uh,” Fit stammered. Pac saw that his jaw was dropped, and his brows drawn together. “What was that all about?”

“That was Felps,” Pac explained, because that was really the best possible way to elaborate on that particular human being. It didn’t seem like enough for Fit, so he reiterated an earlier point, “We’re good friends. He usually keeps me company during events like these. Makes them less unbearable.”

“Right, um, friends,” Fit struggled. “So, what was the last… thing about?”

“Oh, the kisses,” Pac hummed, shrugging. “Just a farewell. It’s not romantic or anything.”

Fit hesitantly nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. That much was obvious by his tight facial expression. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that Felps’ blatant show of intimacy had bothered Fit. But that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Fit hadn’t made a single comment about the countless other couples making out around them, so why would this mess with him?

“Yeah, but,” Fit said, sighing. “He got to kiss you before I did, and you’re my date.”

Pac froze. “Oh?”

He stared at Fit, stunned to silence for the millionth time that evening. Heat pooled in his cheeks and static rushed through his mind. His co-star did not give him the pleasure of eye contact — gaze askance and a hand propped over his mouth, blocking it from sight as though he was… embarrassed. 

But that couldn’t be the case, because Fit was unshakable. He could make it through the most unbelievable scripts without so much as stuttering, could wave off countless comments on his social media pages like it was nothing, could put everyone around him at ease with his naturally calm aura. No, it wasn’t possible that a man like that was embarrassed by his own words. 

Fit had to be stifling a laugh behind his palm, or a sly smile. His comment was just like so many of their previous jokes, nearly identical to the one they made in the limousine a few minutes prior. Teasing flirtation was part of their banter. Had been for the entire duration of their friendship. Surely this was no different, and it was only Pac’s constant overthinking, as usual, that put meaning where there wasn’t any.

“Right,” Pac forced out, hoping he sounded upbeat enough to willingly play along with a joke of this manner. He rocked back and forth on his heels, nervously clenching his fists. If he was right — and he had to be — there was really only one direction this genre of banter would ultimately take them. 

Pac knew that he would just keep feigning being upset until this perceived petty slight was resolved, so he would end it quickly. Besides, it was bound to happen at some point that evening, whether by the request of their director or the flashes of thousands of cameras. Better to get the initial nerves out of the way while they were in relative privacy.

“We can fix that then. You are my date, after all.” Pac swayed forward and tipped up, a single hand on Fit’s shoulder to balance him as he pressed his lips against the other man’s cheek. Brief as it was, the contact sent sparks to the tips of his fingers. Fit’s eyes widened and his head jerked to face the dark-haired man, surprised like he hadn’t expected it. 

Pac pulled away and stepped back. Fit stayed in place, unmoving and unblinking. He wasn’t even sure the guy was breathing anymore. 

Before he could analyze it further, they were once again approached by a familiar face. This time, it was one they both recognized. Their director, Bagi, had finally made an appearance. 

She was wearing a stylish suit that evening, elegant and commanding, complete with a pink handkerchief tucked in her pocket to no-doubt match her wife’s outfit. The famous model and better-half to their director, Tina, was not by her side as she stepped over to the two actors, but she probably wasn’t far. The two were rarely apart when they could avoid it. 

“Bagi,” Pac started, noticing that Fit still had yet to recover enough to move. “It’s good to see you!”

The director gave him a wide smile. “There you two are! I could tell you arrived because everyone started asking about your vibrant chemistry. I take it our little plot has gone off without a hitch?”

Fit nodded rigidly, his eyes a little unfocused. Pac was starting to worry about him, but didn’t want to bring it up in front of Bagi. 

“Perfect!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Then there’s no time to waste! You two have seats next to each other inside. Go find them now before it gets too crowded!”

She grabbed both their wrists and dragged them towards the doors to the auditorium. Before it had even truly begun, their moment of reprieve away from the cameras and prying eyes was called to an end. Pac never expected it to last a long time, but was a little nervous for what came next. There would be a lot of excitement surrounding the two of them, and they would no doubt be sitting front and center by Bagi’s request. 

“What—? Uh,” Fit stammered as soon as his mind was able to catch up with their situation. “Already? We didn’t even get food!”

“I’ll buy you ten pizzas if this goes well,” Bagi hissed. “Your limo was late enough, hurry!”

She escorted them to their seats and fixed their suits almost obsessively, despite neither having a thing out of place. Pac pretended not to notice when she grabbed his chair and scooted it three inches closer to Fit’s, causing their knees to bump together. Bagi claimed it would be a perfect frame, so perfect that the cameras would stay focused on them all evening. 

Eventually, after several minutes of fussing over them, she declared them safe to be seen by the public. People had filtered into the room around them, and it was almost completely packed. Their table consisted of a couple of equally talented actors, likely to win awards — a strategic choice by their director to get them in the background of a couple of extra shots. Everything about their night had been planned to the letter.

Bagi offered them one last suggestion as she parted to go find her wife, “Act like you’re in love! Like, really in love!” 

When she spoke, she used a tone both were very familiar with — one she used primarily as she gave directions to the characters in a scene. It reminded Pac momentarily that this was supposed to be easy for him. Just another acting role, smaller even than some he’d held in the past. He should be able to make that distinction as simply as their director did.

Pac tried for a second to imagine that he was a character acting out a script, playing the part of a man in love with his co-star. Nothing too complex or tricky for him. And Fit was acting as his other half, the most natural thing in the world. He and Fit always meshed well together in emotional scenes. This job should be simple, over quickly, done in a single shot. 

While repeating this mindset over and over again, Pac risked a glance over at Fit. His friend was staring straight ahead, unreadable as ever. He seemed more composed now, having been given several minutes to process whatever was going through his head. With his sharp features and eyes shining in the careful stage lighting, he was an enchanting view. His gaze shifted onto Pac after a moment, as if searching for the dark-haired actor was second nature to him. 

“Is something wrong, Pac?”

Though Pac never expected it to work in the first place, his proximity to Fit spoiled any chance of his acting exercise going smoothly. He felt it all melt away in a matter of seconds. The mere idea of being in love with his co-star was just too close to reality. He could invent a thousand characters in his head through which to disassociate, but at the end of the day, in this role, he was still playing the part of himself. 

“No, nothing.” Pac shook his head. 

It was a bit overwhelming how quickly the urge to lean in and kiss Fit’s cheek again came to him. The sensation felt good the first time – natural. As natural as their acting. As natural as their friendship. As natural as the adoration that bubbled constantly in Pac’s lungs. 

He wanted to experience it once more. Twice more. As many times more as Fit would allow him. And a small voice accompanied his thoughts now — a familiar voice, one he loved dearly — that told him it might not be the most unbelievable progression.

The lights in the auditorium began to flash, and then dim. Conversations tapered off around them, and Pac noticed how full the room had gotten while he was stuck in his head. The show would start any moment, the majority of the talent having successfully been corralled. It was time for the main act.

“Here we go,” Fit whispered to him, tone full to bursting with pent-up excitement. 

Pac smiled too fondly, and nodded. “Here we go.”

The Quesadilla Awards began when a man waddled onto the stage, dressed in a bright yellow, feathery suit. There was neon orange lipstick smeared across his face, and as he started speaking, his voice was loud and kind of annoying. He was the show’s host for the evening, known in the business as ‘the Manager,’ and he reminded Pac of a duck. 

The first few awards were for major motion pictures, box office best sellers, and animated films. Pac enjoyed watching clips from each, clapping along with the audience throughout it. The winners gave beautiful speeches, and left those whose categories had not yet been presented buzzing with energy.

Pac was mainly there as a representative for Bagi’s show. It was certainly his most recent and iconic work, and he was accompanied by his co-star, so his anticipation was focused on that. But, it wasn’t his only nomination. 

In fact, the first time he saw himself reflected back at the audience was as a main character in a prison-break film. He knew it was nominated as part of the thriller/horror genre, had gone so far as to decorate his prosthetic in its honor, and yet it was nerve-wracking now that it came down to it. 

Pac obviously wanted his film to win, but the competition was rough. Fuga Impossível was up against Ordem Paranormal, both movies featuring Cellbit, a known star for this particular niche of media. Working with him was a dream, but it meant that he knew first-hand how unbeatable the other actor was in his field.

Pac waited with bated breath, and was unfortunately disappointed as a third movie was announced as the winner. A young, up-and-coming director dressed in black and white made their way to the podium and graciously accepted the award. It was hard to be truly saddened when they sounded so excited in their speech.

Over the heads of the audience, he caught Cellbit’s eyes, and they shared a sympathetic acceptance between them. It was a good year for cinema, which meant not everything would go their way. At the very least, he got a nice, new, designer leg out of it. Wasn’t every day that he got to treat himself to stuff like that.

“What a shame,” Fit sighed. Pac shrugged, ignoring how their shoulders bumped together. “If it helps at all, I think your movie was the best. I’ve never seen a film factor in your prosthetic as part of the plot before. The cannibalism made it so freaky. It was perfect.”

“Thank you, thank you, Fit. They had to do an insane amount of CGI to make it look like I had a leg for the first half,” Pac laughed quietly. “I enjoyed it a lot.”

“We should watch it together sometime,” Fit suggested quietly. Pac raised a curious eyebrow, and his friend looked askance. “Just while we have a second in between scenes. You can tell me all the fun stuff you did on the set of that movie.”

“Why are you suddenly curious?” Pac couldn’t make himself pay attention to the active speech happening in front of him. Not when he was already busy watching Fit’s cheeks flare red and his hands begin to fidget with the hem of his suit. 

“I’m always curious about you,” the other admitted sheepishly. A small smile pulled at his lips. “You’ve been in a lot more stuff than I have. I know for a fact you have amazing stories that you’re always gatekeeping. About time you told me, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Pac hummed, enchanted by the way the stage’s spotlights shone in Fit’s eyes. “But you are right that I have a lot. It would take me so long to tell you everything, y’know?”

“I have time.” Pac snorted in disbelief, and Fit shook his head, grinning. It was a ridiculous statement for a famous actor. They were nothing if not fully-booked when it came to their schedules. “I mean, I could make time. I could try.”

The audience around them started to clap, but they felt muted compared to the drum beats behind his ribs. Pac wasn’t sure how many categories had passed since he’d focused fully on Fit. It could’ve been one, or twenty. The show could be over, and he’d still be focused solely on the beautiful contrast of colors woven in his irises. There were few things quite as lovely.

Fit’s eyes, the brightest stars in the room, seemed to slip for a moment. They dipped lower onto Pac’s face than they’d ever dared to go before. Gently, he whispered into the space between them, “I will always make time for you.”

And it felt like a confession. Pac couldn’t breathe. 

“Now: The nominees for this year’s Best Ongoing Series!”

A hand clapped Pac between his shoulder blades as the actors around them gathered their attention for the playing of clips for the nominees. Pac moved his gaze slowly, dizzily, up to the giant screen at the front of the room. He didn’t miss the way one of the nearby cameras pivoted to face him and Fit. 

Their show was second on the list out of the three nominees to be announced. Pac barely heard the name being spoken through the static in his mind. Had he not known it would be there, he might’ve missed it completely. The air left his lungs at the sight of their show in full view of the audience.

If seeing a clip of himself from Fuga Impossível was jarring, then watching the clip of his character interacting with Fit’s character was like witnessing his only ounce of subtlety die in front of the entire world. 

He didn’t know why they’d chosen this clip specifically – if it was just the first one they landed on, or if Bagi had sent it in upon request – but it was dangerous. 

There was a look in his eye here, one that shone brighter and brighter whenever Fit gifted him a smile in response to his lines. To any ordinary viewer, Pac was simply acting, the perfect depiction of a mad scientist falling madly in love with their friend.

To anyone who knew Pac on a deeper level, there was a clear difference here to any romantic scene he’d done on any prior set. It wasn’t a depiction of his character, or a design by the camera. This was purely him. Purely his emotion, purely his expression, purely his love shining through. 

It was the kind of intense detail that wasn’t visible on a TV screen, or packed onto the limited space of a computer for the cast to gather around and review. Only on a display this large, in front of experts in the industry, could such an exposing moment be revealed. Pac knew this scene existed, knew this amount of realness had probably bled into their on-screen relationship many times prior to this, but it was mortifying all the same. He felt seen by hundreds, if not thousands, and they hadn’t even won anything yet.

However, the only reaction that truly mattered was of the man sitting directly beside him. Pac chanced a look over at Fit, didn’t care if the cameras caught him and broadcast it to millions. Fit turned to stare down at Pac at exactly the same time, and they mutually surprised each other. A nervous smile was exchanged with a reassuring one, the lines slightly blurring as their clip ended somewhere in the background and the next nomination was announced. As soon as this video ended, the winner would be revealed.

With that revelation dawning on him, Pac barely had time to appreciate the look Fit was sending his way. This was the moment their entire night had been leading up towards. No other nominations mattered, no other promotions would be half as valuable. To mark their show as a clearly-voted ‘Best Ongoing Series’ would permanently boost their ratings for as many seasons as they dared to create. 

He began to flex his fingers, anxiety creeping up in his throat. His eyes flew all over the auditorium, unable to fully still. Were it not for the static in his ears, Pac was sure he’d be able to hear himself hyperventilating from the anticipation of it. 

Their show was good, probably leagues above their competition in popularity already, but they could always lose. A curveball was always possible, just as he’d seen earlier when neither of the films starring Cellbit had won for a genre widely considered to be owned by him. So Pac couldn’t calm down. Not even a little bit. Not when the last clip was winding to an end, people were clapping, and the host was stepping up to the podium with an envelope in hand.

Suddenly, Pac felt a warm hand gently intertwine with his beneath the cloth of the table. 

He glanced over, confused, and found Fit smiling at him. At first glance, the other man seemed calm, but Pac could see the same twinges of nerves twitching in his brows and at the edges of his smile. There was a slight shake to his hands where they connected, and Fit’s grip was strong. He was providing an anchor for Pac just the same as Pac was providing an anchor for him. This was stressful for everyone.

Pac had the passing thought that at least them holding hands while the cameras zoomed in for their reactions would be good publicity. Until he realized that Fit was holding his hand out of sight of any prying lenses. Beneath the tablecloth, their intertwined fingers were entirely private. This moment of contact and shared nerves was between them alone.

“And the award for the Best Ongoing Series goes to…”

The host held up the envelope, opening it slowly and raising the labeled card up in front of his face. With a wide grin, he opened his mouth, and his gaze scanned the audience.

“Hideaway!”

Pac’s heart dropped to his stomach. The audience erupted into cheers, hands clamoring to push at him, slap his back, scream their congratulations. A camera was shoved in his face, music blaring and overwhelming him, because they had won.

And yet, through it all, he could only feel Fit’s hand. Warm, stable, and squeezing him tightly. Joy spread first from the tips of his fingers, up through his veins and into his heart. He didn’t try to look through the crowd for Bagi, didn’t give the camera a second of eye contact. 

Rather, as soon as Pac regained the ability to move, he turned to stare at Fit. Constant as ever, Fit was staring right back. Pac knew he had to move, knew he had to do something with this welling of emotions. 

Joy spilled over the edge then, took control of his mind and body. He was leaning forward before he had a moment to think. Fit met him halfway. The crowd went wild, whistling, jeering, clapping louder than ever. Their lips pressed together in a kiss full of overbearing delight, surprise, and unbelievable affection. They had won. They had made it. They were here.  

Together.

The kiss didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. It couldn’t, not with the mass of energy buzzing around them at that moment. Pac pulled away first, a little out of breath and majorly disoriented. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about gathering his bearings. Fit was far more aware of their obligation, and helped him gently to his feet. They had an award to accept. 

This wasn’t Pac’s first time winning something at this event, but one might think so if they were to see how badly he was shaking as he climbed the steps to the stage. He felt like an amateur, a single wrong move away from toppling back into the audience face-first. 

Fortunately, Bagi met them halfway, and being sandwiched by her weight and Fit’s presence, he was able to calm slightly. They made it to the podium without anyone passing out, which was a considerable relief. 

Still, no matter how often Pac had graced that same stage on prior occasions, he was never able to prepare himself for the pressure of so many talented eyes on him at once. A sea of his peers watched him from cushioned seats, every person there having made a name for themselves in their world. It was immediately suffocating, like his every breath was being broadcasted for judgment. 

Bagi, as the director, was the one to give a speech on their behalf. She spoke on how grateful she was to her supporters, her actors, the fans, and of course, gave a special thanks to her wife. Tina cheered the loudest from her spot a few rows back from the stage. 

Pac could barely comprehend more than that. Very little made it through his senses. He only registered the screams, the eyes, and then the jarring return of reality as a shining trophy was passed into his arms. Fit and Bagi smiled at him, each with their own individual grip on their shared award. 

Cameras flashed, and like second nature, Pac posed for the pictures, even though he wasn’t really present. His free hand subconsciously sought a stable place to rest. It landed on the small of Fit’s back, and some part of Pac noted the short intake of breath from the other man, as well as the widening of his smile. 

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The host approached the microphone to present the next award and the clips. They exited the stage, applause following them back to their respective seats. Pac sat down, Bagi disappeared to find Tina, and Fit settled next to him. 

They’d done it. They’d won. It was over,  and all that had changed was the level of anticipation bubbling behind Pac’s ribs, and the new trophy displayed on the table in front of them. A few of the attendees near them whispered quiet congratulations, which they accepted. The next clips began, blaring through the speakers, lights dimming in the room to illuminate them.

Fit squeezed his hand, and Pac realized their fingers were intertwined again.  He had no memory of when this began, or if their prior connection had ever ended. His co-star leaned closer slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, “Y’know, we’ve done our job. We could just… leave if we wanted to.”

Pac knew it was a bad idea

But it also wasn’t the worst idea.

Everything they had prepared for with their dating ruse had been successfully achieved – subtle advertisements, an award, cameras focused solely on them. Their moment in the spotlight had ended now. There were other celebrities vying for attention, and social media was no doubt flooded with pictures of their kiss, giving them all the publicity they’d need for years to come. They could leave.

“Yeah,” Pac whispered in return. “I think I’d like that.”

Fit hummed in acknowledgment and shot a text to their limo driver. Then, carefully so as not to disturb those around them, he stood and the two of them exited the auditorium. The entire way to the pick-up point, Fit held tightly to Pac’s hand. Thankfully, the designated exit route of the event was much more private than the entrance, or else more pictures might’ve circulated. 

The door to the limo shut behind Pac, with Fit seated to his left, and they were finally alone. Exactly as their night had begun, it came to an end — both of them in a limousine, dressed in matching suits, and blushing quietly to themselves over their situation.

That situation, however, had changed from the way that it was a few hours prior.

Because Fit had kissed Pac. Pac had kissed Fit. They had kissed each other, and it was too meaningful and unplanned to be another joke they overlooked in their friendship. 

“Fit,” Pac started, aware of the thick tension in the air. His throat was tight, voice edging on hoarse. “Are we going to… talk about it?”

Fit tilted his head and echoed, “Talk about it? What do you mean?” 

Pac’s ears burned furiously. Fit had to know what he was referring to, had to just be messing with him. To make Pac repeat what he had yet to stop thinking about was a cruel punishment from the universe. He didn’t want to. He really would’ve preferred to let the earth open up under his feet and swallow him whole. It sounded far less painful.

But he had to talk about it now. Otherwise they never would. It didn’t matter that their hands were still intertwined, didn’t matter that Pac’s lips were buzzing, didn’t matter that Fit’s face was a matching shade of pink to his. If they allowed themselves to stay silent, it’d be excused as a spur of the moment publicity ploy, or a one-sided passionate act, and they’d return to being just platonic.

“You know,” Pac started, dying a little on the inside. “Our kiss. We have to talk about it.”

“Hm? The kiss?” Fit paused, chewing on his lip, though it was clear he was trying to seem nonchalant. “That didn’t count.”

Pac’s heart stopped. “What? Didn’t count? What do you mean?”

Fit shifted in his seat, moving to meet Pac’s terrified gaze. He looked hesitant, like he was thinking really hard about something. It didn’t feel positive. Pac was one wrong move away from passing out from embarrassment. 

“The kiss didn’t count,” Fit replied. “It was too public.”

Pac’s shoulders dropped, and his fear meshed into confusion. “Huh? Public?”

“If I were to actually kiss you, I’d want it to be a moment just between the two of us,” Fit said, not making eye contact anymore. He took a deep breath. “So that I could make sure you know how much I genuinely care for you. Without all the cameras telling us how to feel.”

Pac froze.

Fit glanced up, smiling sheepishly. He squeezed Pac’s hand. “Because I do care about you. A lot, Pac.”

“Fit?” Pac wasn’t sure he was actually the one speaking. His tongue had gone completely numb. There was a fire starting at his fingertips, where Fit’s skin met his. It felt dangerous, like the beginning of something he couldn’t control. “Are you messing with me?”

“No,” Fit answered. “No, Pac. I like you. So much.”

This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream, or something scripted. Any minute, the lights would come on, illuminating the set beyond their seats, and the director would shout cut. There was absolutely no world in which this was reality.

“Honestly,” Fit said, eyes dipping down and voice lowering into a hoarse whisper, “I would much rather our first kiss be here. Private, just between us.”

Pac sucked in a breath, inhaling the words and internalizing them. Their proximity burned a hole in his chest. Hands still intertwined, shoved onto the same plush bench in their limo, there were inches between them. Within moments, what little space was left was closed.

Fit pressed his lips to Pac’s gently. The urgent excitement present previously had been toned down tenfold, leaving room for genuine adoration to buzz through their contact. Pac melted into him, kissing back. 

It was over faster this time, both preferring to part and bask in the stillness for a few seconds. Something new danced in the air, something fresh and honest. Not quite raw, but certainly fragile, certainly delicate. Pac reached up and cupped Fit’s face in his hands like he might break.

He smiled, a laugh bubbling up and out of his chest. “I think I agree. This kiss was much better.”

“Yeah,” Fit said, breathless. “Can we do it again?”

Pac laughed harder, collapsing into Fit’s chest from the sheer joy overwhelming him in that instant. The other man’s arms surrounded him, as if that was where they were always supposed to be. Pac eventually calmed, and tilted his head back to stare up at him again.

“For some reason,” he sighed. “I don’t think our arc in the show is gonna be as hard to act out anymore.”

Fit rolled his eyes, and then they were kissing again.