Work Text:
The studio smells like cold coffee and warm equipment.
It’s that specific LA-studio atmosphere: cables everywhere, half-empty water bottles, someone’s hoodie thrown over the back of a chair like it’s lived here for weeks, and the constant hum of air conditioning fighting against a room packed with gear.
They’ve been here all day.
Conor is sitting on the couch with his legs pulled up, phone in hand, pretending he’s scrolling when really, he’s just… staring. His eyes are tired. His shoulders are heavy. The kind of tired you don’t fix with sleep, because it’s not just your body. It’s your brain.
Next to him Shane is sprawled out on the couch like he’s melted into it. Hair a mess. Socks on, because he’s Shane and he somehow always ends up either barefoot or wearing socks in places where socks make no sense.
Zach is at the desk with the engineer, going over the same part of a track for the fourth time.
Mason is standing with a notepad, humming something under his breath, already thinking about harmonies.
The work mode is still running. Even when the day should be done.
Conor glances out the window again.
The sky is changing.
Not fully dark yet but that soft shift is starting. The light turns warmer, richer, almost golden. Like the whole city is about to glow for a few minutes before it disappears.
He blinks, then sits up straighter.
“Wait.”
Shane doesn’t move. “Mhm?”
Conor points at the window. “It’s getting dark.”
Zach doesn’t look up. “Yeah. That happens.”
Conor ignores him, still watching the sky. “No, I mean— it’s like… sunset. We’ve been here so long we missed the whole day.”
Mason glances over. “We did, yeah.”
Conor turns his head toward Shane. “I kinda wanna see it.”
That gets Shane’s attention.
He lifts his head off the couch, squinting like he’s trying to remember what “sunset” is.
Then he sits up.
“Oh—” Shane says, suddenly awake. “Wait. I wanted to see that too.”
He looks toward the window. The light is already slipping away.
Zach shakes his head slightly. “We’re in the middle of something.”
Shane points at him dramatically. “Zach. The sun is literally setting. This is cinematic.”
Zach deadpans. “So is finishing our album.”
Mason smirks. “You two go. We’ll stay and keep working. One of us has to be responsible.”
Conor stands up immediately, like his body decided this without needing permission.
Shane slides off the couch. “You sure?”
Zach waves him off. “Go before you start crying about it.”
Shane gasps in a playful tone. “I would never.”
Conor grabs his hoodie. Shane grabs his phone. They both pause at the door like they’re waiting for someone to stop them.
No one does.
So they leave.
❥
The hallway outside the studio feels cooler, quieter.
It’s like the moment they step out, the pressure drops.
Conor exhales. Shane notices.
“Tired?” Shane asks.
Conor gives him a look. “I’ve been tired since noon.”
Shane grins. “Okay, grandpa. You starting to be a lot like Mason”
Conor bumps his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”
They make it down to the parking lot and climb into the car, since Conor has the keys, he drives.
Shane fiddles with the music. He plays a random voice note from earlier—something messy and unfinished—and Conor immediately reaches over and hits pause.
“No.”
Shane laughs. “That’s our next banger.”
“It’s terible.” Conor shakes his head.
“It’s a masterpiece,” Shane insists.
Conor starts the engine. “I will turn this car around.”
Shane puts his hands up innocently. “Okay, okay. Sunset first. Threats later.”
They drive up into the hills, following a route Conor clearly knows and Shane clearly doesn’t. The streets get quieter. The city drops away behind them until LA becomes a glittering stretch of buildings and lines.
They park near a little overlook, nothing fancy. Not touristy. Just a spot where people sometimes come to breathe.
The air is warmer up here than Conor expected.
And the sky…
The sky looks like it’s been painted.
They walk a short path up, shoes crunching lightly on dirt.
At the top, the view opens.
The entire city spreads out below them.
The sun is low, melting into the horizon, turning everything gold and orange and soft.
Conor just stands there for a second.
Shane’s voice comes quieter than usual. “Okay,” he says. “That’s… actually insane.”
Conor nods slowly. “Yeah.”
Shane looks at him confused, because normally Conor raves about things like these. “What?”
Conor doesn’t answer right away.
Because he doesn’t want to say: I needed this.
So instead he says, “It looks like a picture, not real.”
Shane laughs softly. “Like a movie scene.”
They sit down on the edge of a low wall, shoulders almost touching.
Conor pulls his hoodie tighter around himself.
Shane notices immediately. “You cold?”
“No,” Conor lies.
Shane looks at him, clearly amused. Then he shifts closer—not enough to be obvious, but enough that their arms brush.
Conor doesn’t move away.
He just stares at the city lights starting to flicker on one by one.
For a while, they don’t talk.
They don’t have to.
It’s one of those moments where silence doesn’t feel awkward—it feels shared.
Then Conor says, almost without thinking, “This is the first time today we’re not talking about work.”
Shane hums. “Feels illegal.”
Conor smirks. “Yeah.”
Shane tilts his head slightly. “We should leave the studio more often.”
Conor side-eyes him. “You say that like you won’t run straight back in there tomorrow.”
Shane grins. “Tomorrow is tomorrow.”
Conor rolls his eyes, but his mouth pulls into a smile anyway.
Shane looks out at the view again, then glances down at his phone like he’s about to film.
Conor catches it.
He doesn’t sound angry. Just… pointed.
“You said you wanted to see it.”
Shane pauses.
Then, without a word, he locks his phone and slips it back into his pocket.
Conor blinks at that.
Shane shrugs casually. “I am seeing it.”
Conor looks away quickly, like he doesn’t want Shane to notice what that did to him.
For a second, his chest feels weirdly tight.
In a good way.
Shane leans back on his hands.“This is better than the studio,” he says.
Conor lets out a quiet laugh. “Don’t let Mason hear you say that.”
Shane grins. “He’d disown me.”
The sun drops lower.
The sky deepens.
The city below them begins to glitter more clearly, the lights brightening as the day dies out.
Conor watches it like he’s trying to memorize it.
Shane glances at him. “You okay?” Shane asks, softer.
Conor answers honestly, because it’s easy right now. “Yeah,” he says. “Just… needed this.”
Shane nods like he understands.
Like he did too.
They sit there until the sun is gone.
Until the gold becomes purple.
Until the first stars show faintly above the city glow.
Then Shane stands up, stretching.
“Alright,” he says. “We should go back before Mason starts writing a bridge without us.”
Conor laughs and stands too.
They start walking back to the car.
Shane falls into step beside him, close enough that their arms brush again.
He doesn’t move away.
Neither does Conor.
When they are about to reach the car, Conor pauses and turns to Shane.
Shane looks at Conor.
Really looks.
The moment stretches quietly between them. Neither of them says anything.
Then Conor leans in first.
Just slightly.
Shane meets him halfway.
The kiss is soft, warm from the sun that’s just disappeared behind the hills.
It’s not rushed nor dramatic, it's really innocent.
Like the whole city is too far away to matter right now.
When they pull apart, Shane bumps his shoulder lightly against Conor’s
“What?”
Conor shakes his head, like he’s clearing a thought.
“Nothing,” he says.
Then, quieter—almost like a joke, almost like something else.
“…This was worth leaving the studio for.”
Shane smiles. “Yeah,” he says softly. “It was.”
And as they drive back down into the city, the studio waiting for them again, Conor realizes something:
Even in LA, even in all the chaos, even when everything is work—
Shane still finds ways to make the day feel like it belongs to them.
At least for a little while.