Work Text:
"Okay. One more set. Thame, can you lift your head up a bit?"
Thame tilted his chin up, leaving his fingers artfully splayed across his face.
"Perfect. Now slowly look toward me with only your eyes."
Three camera flashes as Thame followed instructions.
"Okay. Let's take a look at the shots. Thame, you can take a break if you'd like."
Thame let his hand drop as he watched the photographer—Po—head toward a computer set up where all the shots he took with his camera would appear. Thame's manager, Baifern, ushered him over to the refreshment table for water, and Thame let her, but half of his attention was back with Po at the computer.
There was a single curl of black hair hanging in Po's face. Not artfully so, as with Thame's hair. Not on purpose. It was natural and it made him that much more attractive. Only recently did Thame realize that such thoughts were not normal, that not everyone looked at Po and thought he was beautiful.
Thame had scrolled through Po's Instagram last week while his friend Pepper had been visiting. He'd told Pepper about Po's work ethic, and what he looked like when he was behind the camera. He'd complimented Po's appearance and his kind heart toward the staff. Which led to Pepper telling Thame that he had a crush on Po.
According to Pepper, the way to test if he had a crush on Po—and a way to test if Po had a crush on him in return—was through physical contact. If his pulse raced when he touched Po, he had a crush. Physical touch wasn't even needed though. The next time Thame saw Po's name on the agenda for the day, his heart jumped with excitement. But he could still test if Po was interested by touching him, right?
After he finished his cup of water and Baifern had taken it away, Thame made his way over to the computer set up as nonchalantly as he could. It wouldn't be the first time Thame had come over to look at the shots, but it would be the first time Thame purposefully touched Po while there.
How should he do it? Some of the staff would throw their arms across Po's shoulders. Some would poke him in the side. Thame wanted to hold his hand, to wrap his arms around Po in a warm embrace. He couldn't do those things. What if he just touched Po's shoulder or grabbed him lightly by the arm as he walked up. Yeah. Casual. Thame could do casual.
One step away, Thame lifted his hand just as Po nodded and said, "Looks good. We can—" as he turned around. Both of their eyes widened just before they collided. Thame reached out to steady Po at the same time Po reached out to steady Thame, ending with them both jerking to a stop, their hands on each other's arms like they were in the world's most awkward dance.
As the shock of the collision died away, Thame's heart didn't slow down, because Po's hands were still on his arms. His own fingers were slipping up under Po's t-shirt sleeves. He'd never had Po's eyes on him—directly, not through a camera—for this long before. Were those wide eyes because Po was still in shock, or because he was still overcome by their contact like Thame was?
Baifern let out a short, but high-pitched, scream and Thame and Po startled apart. When Thame turned to look back at his manager, she had her hands up over her mouth, her mouth open in a too-big smile, her eyes blown wide.
"P'Fern?" Thame questioned. Was she okay?
Baifern blinked several times, seeming to come back to herself more with each one. She cleared her throat, then patted her hair and straightened her shirt as she stood tall, her expression all business.
"Do we need any more pictures, Po?" she asked, her voice squeaking on the photographer's name.
Thame narrowed his eyes. Did…Did his manager also have a crush on Po? Thame's stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought.
Shaking his head, Po said, "No. The ones we have are great. We'll do some touch ups and send you the files soon."
Po reached out, hesitated, then placed a hand on Thame's arm. And he smiled at Thame. Thame's heart was only beating a mile a minute. He was fine.
"Get some rest, Thame."
Thame merely hummed in response, hoping his own smile was open and warm and inviting.
…
…
"I don't know what you want from me," Dylan complained when Thame called him about his crush. "You have a nice voice. Sing him a song or something, I guess? Just don't try and rap. You'll scare him off."
"Asshole," Thame said fondly and heard his friend laugh down the line.
The problem with singing Po a song was that he didn't know what song to sing. Did Po like older music or modern pop? Did he like rock or folk? Could Thame even sing folk or would it sound horrific?
"If you don't stop frowning, you'll get wrinkles on your face. And if you get wrinkles on your face, I'm the one who has to find a way to either cover them up or get them removed. So for my sake, at least, stop frowning," Baifern said, even as she took his empty cup and replaced it with another ultra-hydrating beverage.
She also took his phone and set it aside to hand him some vitamins that were meant to help keep him looking bright and youthful. Thame didn't complain, even though he'd been researching songs to sing for Po.
"P'Fern," he began, after downing the vitamins while Baifern checked something on her own phone, "what song would you sing if you wanted someone to like you?"
"Not 'Good Time' from Good Old Days," she answered distractedly, in the tone she normally reserved for people who cancelled on Thame last minute.
Thame raised an eyebrow. Baifern wasn't usually one to jump to the negative. She was full of ideas to help Thame do whatever he wanted to do in the best way possible.
His silence made Baifern look up, then it seemed to dawn on her what she'd said. "Sorry!" she apologized overdramatically, holding her hands up in a wai. Her voice was its usual tone when she continued, "My friend has been watching that show and listening to that song a lot lately, so I've been hearing it in my head constantly."
"Oh. Must be a good song," Thame said, picking his phone back up.
He was already swiping to search the song up as Baifern admitted that yeah, the song was nice, but not when the chorus and one verse played on repeat in her head all day for a week. And by the time he was done with work that evening, he'd found time to listen to the song and decide that yeah, this is what he would sing for Po. He practiced the chords on his guitar at home and sang the lyrics until the sun came up, and Baifern complained about the bags under his eyes.
"At least we have makeup," she mused, already ushering him into the van to go.
He hummed the song as the makeup team got him ready for his first shoot of the day, and sang it quietly to himself when they broke for lunch as he perused the available food.
"You know Good Time?"
Thame jumped slightly at Po's voice behind him and turned to find that yep, he wasn't hallucinating. "P'Po. Good afternoon," he greeted, his voice breathier than he intended.
Was his crush too obvious? He hadn't even begun to woo the older man. He had to do better.
The corner of Po's lips twitched up in a smile—was he laughing at Thame or shy? Thame had never been good at reading other people, but he hadn't cared until Po.
"Good afternoon, Thame," Po greeted in return, his own voice soft on Thame's name. As he moved to grab his own lunch, Po asked, "So…You like Good Time? Or the show?"
Would it be better to admit that he had never seen the show and had only started learning the song last night in order to sing it for Po or to pretend he'd watched the show and was a long-time fan? Thame wasn't good at lying. He never had been. Besides, if he wanted Po to like him, he had to be honest. Otherwise, would Po like him or a fake version of him?
They headed to the tables set up for lunch, Po with a surprisingly similar meal to Thame.
As they sat down, Thame let out a soft sigh and admitted, "I heard it for the first time yesterday."
"Really?" Po let out, pleasantly surprised. "You were singing it, uh, really well." Was he blushing? Did this count as Thame singing to Po to woo him? Po shoved a bite of food in his mouth and looked away.
"I practiced a lot," Thame said, gaining confidence. "P'Fern told me—"
"Yeah," Po said with a sigh of his own, glancing at Thame and then down at his plate, "she said someone was as obsessed with it as I am when she sent me over here. I'm sorry about her."
Thame blinked in confusion. "Hm? P'Fern? She's a great manager. Why would you be sorry about her?"
Now Po looked confused, like a puppy, his head tilted to the side and his brows furrowed. "Because Fern and I are—"
"Po!" one of the project managers called, and both Thame and Po looked in her direction. She waved at him, her eyes a little wide. "I need you. Now."
Po pressed his lips together in displeasure. He glanced between the manager and Thame twice before letting out another sigh. "I have to go."
Thame nodded. "Of course. We can talk later." Not that they usually had tons of time to talk, but there would be other chances.
After Po left, Thame was alone with his thoughts. Po and Baifern were…? Were what? Thame ran a hand roughly through his hair and only worried a little bit about what hair and makeup would think about him ruining their work.
Baifern and Po were the same age. Were they dating? Was it worthless for Thame to even try flirting with Po? With a frown—Baifern could complain about it later—Thame took his first bite of lunch.
…
…
"Ha! Your crush is straight. That sucks," Jun teased, leaning back in his chair.
Thame scowled and Pepper clapped a hand on his shoulder in commiseration. Across the table from Jun, Dylan rolled his eyes, then smiled and thanked Nano as the youngest member of their friend group portioned food onto his plate for him.
"Mmm, I don't think he is, though," Nano said, as if thinking out loud. He never stopped serving the food as he walked and talked. "The way Thame's talked about him, and what I've seen online, he seems soft spoken and reserved, polite but firm with clients, and definitely used to date that jerk in charge of EarnChop." Nano shivered.
Thame perked up. "He did?" That meant Po was at least bisexual, right? So guys were also an option, even if he was dating Thame's manager.
Nano's smile was sly and he pointedly chose not to answer. Instead, as he placed food on Thame's plate, he said, "I think you should cook for him. The way to a man's heart is his stomach, you know."
Jun hummed. "Probably better not," he chimed in. "Don't want to send his crush to the hospital next."
Dylan threw a fried vegetable at him.
The problem was, Jun knew Thame and he knew Thame wasn't an amazing cook. He could get by, but a romantic meal? Something good enough to win someone's heart? And how would he even justify it? It would be weird to invite a photographer to his place to cook for him, right?
Thame spent three hours researching things he could make in advance and bring to Po at work, something that wouldn't be over the top and attract too much attention, but that would still show he'd put in effort for Po. In the end, Thame decided to make something simple. He'd seen Po eating BLT sandwiches at work before, so he would make Po a sandwich.
The next time Thame saw Po's name on the schedule, he bought the ingredients. At the end of three days of back-to-back shoots and shows and variety show appearances, Thame woke up early to make a scrambled egg, cheese, bacon, and tomato sandwich on fluffy white bread. He placed it in a decorative container with a sticky note on top that read 'For P'Po', put the container in a bag, and headed out to meet Baifern and the company car.
The shoot went well. Half of Thame's mind was on the sandwich with his stuff, but he knew how to put on his model face and focus when the cameras were on. Po looked extra huggable in his muted pink cardigan, his smile soft every time he peeked out from behind the camera. Maybe it was the constant go-go-go in his work schedule, but Thame wanted to curl up with Po and take a nap.
"You look exhausted even under your makeup," Baifern bemoaned after Po paused the shoot to check the photos.
No he didn't. Po wouldn't let Thame look tired in his photos. But it was true that Thame felt tired, so he didn't argue.
The older woman manhandled Thame back to his green room, talking the whole way about his fans caring about his health, not just his appearance, so he should take care of himself "for them, at the very least!" Then she left him in the room with orders to rest while she talked to the company about easing up on his schedule.
Baifern was a good manager who cared about her models. Thame wouldn't be half as successful without her. But, alone in the green room, his eyes landed on the sandwich bag and his thoughts immediately left his manager in the dust.
Taking the container out of the bag, Thame stared down at the sticky note, at Po's name. With a sigh, Thame set the sandwich aside, then crossed his arms on the makeup counter and laid his head on them, turned sideways to stare at the container. He'd felt good about it this morning, but now he wasn't sure. He probably shouldn't give it to Po after all. If he did, and Po didn't like him like that, it could make working together difficult.
But what if Po liked it? What if it made Po smile? What if Po thanked him and complimented his cooking? What if it led to more?
The door shutting woke Thame sometime later. He sat up and glanced around, but no one was in the room with him. Checking his phone showed he'd been out for almost half an hour. That was wild. How had no one come to get him in that time?
Just as Thame made to get up and go check what was happening elsewhere, something fell off his shoulders. Po's muted pink cardigan? Then his eyes caught sight of the sandwich container.
It was empty. And the sticky note. It had more writing on it than just Po's name.
'It was delicious. Thank you, Thame. - Po'
Thame exhaled loudly and slumped back in his seat. Po had eaten his food. Po had liked his food. Po had thanked him for the food.
If he smiled more the rest of the day—and people told him he was 'glowing'—no one would guess why. Except perhaps Po, wearing his cream-colored t-shirt but no cardigan, who met his gaze with a secretive smile of his own before the next shoot began.
…
…
"Look," Jun said as he and Thame played video games together a few days later. "I'm not saying you should just jump the guy already, but get on with it."
On screen, Thame's character fell to its death. "Huh?!" he let out, staring at his best friend with bafflement.
Smirking, Jun accepted his victory with a small laugh. Then he set his controller down to face Thame. "What I'm saying is, you pining after this photographer guy is getting annoying, so stop all this maybe-sort of flirting and just tell the guy you like him." He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you will get to jump him after that."
Thame rolled his eyes, hiding how much the thought had his heart racing. "Shut up and start another round. I need to beat you before you have to leave for the set."
With a guffaw, Jun turned back to the game. "Oh, we'll see about that, Mr. Pretty Face."
If Thame could tell Po outright that he liked him, they might be dating already. Then Thame wouldn't have to worry about if it was appropriate to touch Po, or bring him food, and he would know Po's favorite songs to serenade him with. And, Jun was right, he could probably also have sex with Po—if Po was into that. God, he hoped Po was into that, because now that Jun had said it, Thame couldn't get it out of his head.
There was only one photoshoot left in the campaign with Po as the head photographer. After that, it could be weeks or months before Thame ran into Po again, since they didn't have each other's contact information.
"What's with the bag?" Baifern asked when Thame climbed into the van with a white gift bag.
Thame barely glanced at it. Just the idea that he was carrying Po's cardigan with him had his lips curling up. "I need to return something I borrowed."
His manager narrowed her eyes at him. "You didn't steal part of your outfit from the last shoot, did you? We can get in real trouble for things like that, you know. You have to tell me things like this. I'll figure it out eventually. You know I'm a great detective."
Sometimes she was, and sometimes her 'deductions' were totally left field.
Shaking his head, still smiling, Thame said, "I didn't."
After giving him a hard stare for several seconds, Baifern relented and they were off to the studio. They had barely entered the building before Thame spotted Po, already setting up the cameras while the other staff handled the set and lights and the million other details that went into a photoshoot.
People greeted Thame, and Thame gave them polite smiles and wais in return. The noise caught Po's attention, and he smiled when his eyes met Thame's. That was a good sign. Thame's smile turned genuine and he hoped Po could tell.
As soon as the others left Thame and Baifern alone, Po joined them. "Good morning, Fern," he greeted, then turned a soft look on Thame. "Good morning, Thame."
"Don't 'good morning' me," Baifern complained, crossing her arms and doing her best 'I'm upset with you' impression. "You still won't tell me who Mr. B is, even after I brought you cake last night."
Thame's smile fell. Baifern had gone to Po's place last night? His old theory that they were dating reared its ugly head.
Po looked caught out, his eyes flickering from Baifern to Thame several times, his mouth hanging open, before he managed, "Just because you're my best friend doesn't mean I have to tell you everything about my dating life."
Best friend. They were best friends. Like Thame and Jun and Dylan and Pepper and Nano. Friends. The tension bled from Thame's body like water from a spilled glass. He let out a slow, quiet breath.
Even as Baifern huffed and puffed next to him, Thame held out the white bag. "Thank you for letting me use your cardigan," he said.
Baifern went quiet.
Face flushing a pretty pink, Po accepted the bag. "Oh. It's—No problem. You looked pretty tired, so…" He shrugged.
Holding up her phone, Baifern said, "Oh. I think I—I'm getting a call. Yes. I'll just—" She pointed off to the side somewhere and then hurried in that direction. Neither Thame nor Po paid her much attention.
Just tell him how you feel. Just tell him. Thame took a deep breath.
"P'Po," he started, and Po made a questioning hum in return.
Thame wasn't wearing any fancy makeup or designer clothes. His hair hadn't been styled yet. Despite how much he'd thought of this moment, Thame hadn't practiced his words. But he wasn't about to back down—especially now that he knew Po wasn't dating his manager.
"I like you," Thame admitted.
Po jolted, visibly surprised, but didn't back away or look disgusted, so Thame marched on.
"I want to know about you. Your favorite foods and music, if you have any pets, your relationship with your family, what you do on your days off. I want to know you, P'Po. And I hope you want to know me too." He finished with a hopeful smile and held out his hand in invitation.
Po glanced down at Thame's hand. He chewed his lip. His fingers tightened on the white gift bag. Then he lifted his gaze back to Thame, and his expression was hesitant. Thame's heart was in his throat and he did his best to hide it.
"Are you sure?" Po asked. "I'm not—I'm not exciting. I'm not special."
"You're special to me, and that's all that matters," Thame assured him. "I'm not very exciting either, outside of my job. If you're okay with that, then I'm more than okay with you as you are."
Po's eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed like he was trying to hold back tears or something, and then he seemed to let it all go, his shoulders falling, his face relaxing. Then he gazed at Thame with the warmest eyes that Thame had ever seen. Reaching out, he took hold of Thame's hand and nodded. "I'm okay with that. And I like you too."
Beaming, Thame asked, "Then, can I call you my boyfriend now?"
Another nod and soft smile. "Mm." Thame's heart soared.
Somewhere, Baifern screamed.