Work Text:
The coffee machine had been broken for three days. No one had fixed it because no one had time to call a repairman, and no one had called a repairman because they were all trapped in a windowless editing suite on the fifth floor of a building that smelled like takeout containers and desperation.
"Who put the sugar in the fridge again?"
Carlos looked up from his monitor. His neck made a sound that concerned him. "That was me. I was holding too many things."
"You were holding coffee, a notebook, and your phone," Pierre said from across the room. "That is not too many things."
"It was a difficult morning."
"It is always a difficult morning with you."
Carlos rubbed his eyes and returned to the timeline. They were cutting episode four of Monaco Rising, a reality show following seven young entrepreneurs competing for investment money. The concept was simple. The execution was killing them slowly.
The door swung open. Charles walked in carrying two paper cups of coffee from the café downstairs. He set one on Carlos's desk without looking at him.
"You look terrible," Charles said.
"I have not left this room in fourteen hours."
"That explains the smell."
Pierre snorted from his corner. "He has been complaining about the smell for three days. It is his own smell. He is the smell."
Charles sat down at the desk beside Carlos. Their chairs were close enough that their elbows almost touched when they worked. Carlos noticed this every single time. He tried not to notice it right now.
"The B-roll from the yacht challenge is unusable," Charles said, opening his laptop. "Camera two got salt water in the lens. Half the footage is blurry."
"We can work with blurry."
"We cannot work with blurry. It looks like someone filmed it through a fish tank."
"Then we use camera one's footage and cut around it."
"We do not have enough coverage if we only use camera one."
Carlos took a sip of his coffee. It was exactly how he liked it. He did not say anything about this. He had never told Charles how he liked his coffee. Charles just knew. This had been happening for months now. Carlos had stopped trying to understand it.
"Then we reshoot," Carlos said.
"We cannot reshoot. The yacht left port yesterday. It is in Spain now."
"Then we get creative."
Charles turned to look at him fully. His eyes were tired but focused. There was a small crease between his eyebrows that appeared when he was stressed. Carlos had memorized the shape of that crease.
"Creative how?" Charles asked.
"We use the interview footage as voiceover. We build the sequence around what the contestants said about the challenge instead of showing the challenge itself."
"That is a lot of talking heads for one segment."
"The audience likes drama more than they like boats anyway."
Charles considered this. The crease between his eyebrows softened slightly. "Fine. But if the network complains about pacing, I am blaming you."
"You blame me for everything anyway."
"Because you deserve it."
Pierre made a gagging sound from his corner. "Can you two flirt somewhere else? Some of us are trying to work."
"We are not flirting," Carlos and Charles said at the same time.
They looked at each other. Carlos felt his face get warm. Charles looked away first.
"Sure you are not," Pierre said. "That is why you brought him coffee. That is why you know exactly how he takes it. That is why you two have been dancing around each other for six months like it is some kind of sport."
"Pierre," Yuki said without looking up from his monitor. "Leave them alone."
"Why should I? It is entertaining."
"Because if you keep bothering them, they will make us work late again."
"We are already working late. We are always working late."
"Then let them be miserable in peace."
Carlos appreciated Yuki. Yuki was the only person in this room who understood the value of silence. He was also the only person who could make Pierre shut up, which was a skill Carlos deeply respected.
"How is the rough cut coming?" Carlos asked, turning back to his screen.
"Episode three needs another pass," Charles said. "The edit feels flat in the middle. We need more tension before the elimination."
"What if we move the argument scene earlier?"
"Which argument scene?"
"The one between Luca and Matteo. About the funding."
Charles pulled up the footage. He played the clip. On screen, two contestants were shouting at each other in a kitchen. One of them threw a napkin. It was not dramatic television. It was exhausting television.
"This is not good enough," Charles said.
"It is what we have."
"Then we need to find something better."
"There is nothing better. These people are boring. They are rich kids playing pretend. They do not actually need the money."
"That is the whole problem with the show."
Carlos sighed. He had been saying this since day one. The network wanted glamour and drama. What they got was seven privileged twenty-somethings who had never faced a real consequence in their lives. Making compelling television out of that was like trying to squeeze water from a stone.
"We make it work," Carlos said. "We always make it work."
"Do we?"
"Yes. Because we have no choice."
Charles leaned back in his chair. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he turned to Carlos with an expression that Carlos could not quite read.
"What if we change the format?" Charles said.
"What do you mean?"
"What if we stop pretending these people are interesting and start focusing on the production itself? Behind the scenes. The chaos. The crew."
"That is a different show."
"It is the show we are actually living."
Pierre looked up from his computer. "I hate to admit it, but he has a point. Our lives are more interesting than anything these contestants have done."
"Our lives are sad," Yuki said.
"Sad is interesting. Sad is relatable."
Carlos thought about it. The idea was risky. The network had approved a specific format. Changing it mid-season would require approval from executives who did not care about creativity. They cared about ratings.
But Charles was looking at him with that expression. The one that made Carlos want to say yes to anything.
"We would need to pitch it properly," Carlos said slowly. "Show them a proof of concept. A short segment that demonstrates the potential."
"I can edit something tonight," Charles said.
"You have been awake for eighteen hours."
"So have you."
"I am used to it."
"Then I am used to it too."
Carlos wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Charles to go home and sleep. He wanted to say that he could handle this himself. But he knew Charles would not listen. Charles never listened when it came to work. Or when it came to anything, really.
"Fine," Carlos said. "But if you fall asleep on your keyboard, I am drawing on your face."
"I would expect nothing less."
Pierre groaned. "Here we go again."
"Shut up, Pierre," Yuki said.
"Make me."
"I will delete your footage."
"You would not dare."
"Try me."
Carlos tuned them out. He was watching Charles scroll through clips, his fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. There was something hypnotic about watching Charles work. The way he focused. The way he muttered to himself when he found a good shot. The way he smiled when something worked.
Carlos had been watching Charles for six months now. Since the day they met at the pre-production meeting. Charles had walked in late, carrying too many notebooks, arguing with someone on the phone. He had hung up, looked around the room, and locked eyes with Carlos.
"You must be the new producer," Charles had said.
"I must be."
"I am Charles. I am your co-producer. I hope you are good at your job because I do not have time to carry dead weight."
Carlos had laughed. He had not expected to laugh. Something about Charles's directness was refreshing after years of corporate politeness.
"I am very good at my job," Carlos had said.
"We will see."
They had been seeing ever since. Seeing each other across the editing bay. Seeing each other at late night meetings. Seeing each other in ways that Carlos was too afraid to name.
The door opened again. Carlos looked up expecting another intern or maybe a delivery person. Instead, he saw Max Verstappen standing in the doorway.
Max was not part of their production team. He was a producer on another show filming in the same building. His show was about competitive gaming. It was apparently doing very well. Max had no reason to visit their floor.
Except he kept visiting.
"Charles," Max said. "I was in the area."
"You are never in this area," Charles said without looking up. "Your studio is on the second floor."
"I needed a break."
"From what?"
"From my own editors. They are driving me insane."
"Welcome to the club."
Max walked into the room. He stood behind Charles's chair, looking at his screen. His hand rested on the back of the chair. Close to Charles's shoulder. Not touching. Almost touching.
Carlos felt something twist in his chest.
"This looks rough," Max said, nodding at the footage.
"It is rough. That is why we are fixing it."
"Need help?"
"No."
"Are you sure? I have experience with post-production."
"I am sure."
Max smiled. It was not a friendly smile. It was the smile of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
"Alright. But the offer stands."
"It does not stand. It is declined."
Max shrugged. He looked at Carlos for the first time. His gaze was steady. Assessing.
"You must be Carlos."
"I must be."
"I have heard a lot about you."
"All bad, I hope."
"Some bad. Mostly confusing."
"Confusing how?"
Max glanced at Charles. Then back at Carlos. "You figure it out."
He left without saying goodbye. The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence filled the room.
Pierre broke it first. "What the hell was that?"
"Nothing," Charles said.
"That was not nothing. That was something."
"It was Max being Max. He does this."
"He comes to your editing bay uninvited and acts territorial?"
"He is not territorial."
"Charles. He stood behind your chair like he was claiming you."
"He was just standing."
"He was marking territory. Like a dog."
Yuki laughed. It was a rare sound. "Pierre is right. That man has a crush on you."
"He does not have a crush on me."
"He absolutely has a crush on you."
Charles looked at Carlos. His expression was unreadable. "Carlos. Tell them they are wrong."
Carlos wanted to tell them they were wrong. He wanted to believe they were wrong. But he had seen the way Max looked at Charles. He had seen it before, during the few times their paths crossed in the building. Max always found a reason to talk to Charles. Always found a reason to stand close.
"I think they might be right," Carlos said quietly.
Charles stared at him. "You too?"
"I am just observing."
"You are supposed to be on my side."
"I am on the side of truth."
"The truth is that Max is annoying and I wish he would stop visiting."
"Then tell him to stop."
"I have told him."
"Tell him again. More firmly."
Charles looked away. "It is complicated."
"What is complicated about it?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
Carlos did not forget it. He filed it away in the growing collection of things about Charles that he did not understand. The collection was very large by now.
------
Three hours later, the rough cut was still not finished. Pierre had fallen asleep on the couch. Yuki was editing with his eyes half closed. Charles had not moved from his chair except to get more coffee.
Carlos was reviewing the footage from the latest challenge. The contestants had been asked to create a business plan in twenty-four hours. Most of them had hired consultants. One of them had cried. Another had accused someone of cheating.
Standard reality TV fare.
"This is boring," Carlos said.
"Everything is boring," Charles replied.
"We need a hook. Something that makes people care."
"What if we focus on the friendship between Luca and Andrea?"
"They are not friends. They are competitors who tolerate each other."
"Close enough."
Carlos shook his head. "The audience can tell when something is fake. If we manufacture a friendship, they will see through it."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"I suggest we lean into the competition. Make it clear that these people are here for money, not friendship. The audience respects honesty."
"The network wants heartwarming."
"The network wants ratings. Heartwarming gets ratings sometimes. Drama gets ratings always."
Charles considered this. "You might be right."
"I am usually right."
"Do not let it go to your head."
"Too late."
Charles almost smiled. It was not quite a smile. It was the ghost of a smile. Carlos had learned to recognize these ghosts. They were rare and precious.
"Let us take a break," Charles said.
"We do not have time for a break."
"We will make time. Fifteen minutes. Fresh air."
Carlos looked at the clock on his screen. He looked at the unfinished edit. He looked at Charles's tired face.
"Fifteen minutes," he agreed.
They left the editing bay together. The hallway was empty. Most of the building had gone home hours ago. The lights were dimmed to save energy.
They walked to the fire escape. Charles pushed open the door and stepped onto the landing. The night air was cool. The city hummed below them.
"I needed this," Charles said.
"You need sleep more."
"I know."
"But you will not get it."
"Probably not."
Carlos leaned against the railing. He could see Charles in his peripheral vision. The way his shoulders relaxed slightly. The way he breathed deeper out here.
"Can I ask you something?" Carlos said.
"You can ask. I might not answer."
"What is going on with you and Max?"
Charles was quiet for a long moment. "Nothing is going on."
"That is not what it looks like."
"Then what does it look like?"
"It looks like he is pursuing you."
"And what does it look like I am doing?"
Carlos hesitated. "It looks like you are letting him."
Charles turned to face him. His expression was hard to read in the dim light. "Why does it matter to you?"
"Because we work together. Because I see him come to our floor multiple times a week. Because it affects the team dynamic."
"Is that the only reason?"
Carlos felt his heart beat faster. "What other reason would there be?"
"I do not know. You tell me."
They looked at each other. The air between them felt charged. Carlos wanted to say something. He wanted to say everything. But the words would not come.
"I just want to understand," Carlos finally said.
"There is nothing to understand. Max is persistent. I am not interested."
"Then why do you let him visit?"
"Because saying no to him takes more energy than tolerating him."
"That does not sound healthy."
"It is not. But it is honest."
Carlos nodded slowly. He believed Charles. He wanted to believe Charles.
"Okay," Carlos said.
"Okay?"
"Okay. I believe you."
Charles's expression softened. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For caring enough to ask."
Carlos did not know what to say to that. So he said nothing. They stood in silence, watching the city lights. The fifteen minutes passed too quickly.
------
Back in the editing bay, Pierre was awake again. He was sitting upright, staring at his screen with an intensity that worried Carlos.
"What happened?" Carlos asked.
"Yuki found something."
Yuki turned around. His face was pale. "I was going through the raw footage from the welcome party. The first night."
"And?"
"And I found this."
He played the clip. On screen, two contestants were talking in a corner. Their voices were low. The audio was barely audible.
"...if anyone finds out about us..."
"...they cannot find out. The contract forbids fraternization..."
"...then we need to be more careful..."
"...I do not care about the contract. I care about you..."
The clip ended. Carlos stared at the frozen frame.
"Who is that?" he asked.
"Luca and Matteo," Yuki said.
"The ones who argued in the kitchen?"
"The same ones."
Carlos looked at Charles. Charles was already thinking. Carlos could see it in his eyes.
"If they are secretly together," Charles said slowly, "and the contract forbids it..."
"Then we have a storyline," Carlos finished.
"A real one. Not manufactured."
"This changes everything."
Pierre grinned. "This is gold. Pure gold."
"We need to be careful," Yuki said. "If we expose them, it could ruin their chances in the competition. It could also get us sued."
"Then we handle it delicately," Charles said. "We do not expose them. We let the audience discover it naturally."
"How?"
"We plant clues. Small moments. Glances. Touches. Things that seem innocent until you look closer."
"The audience loves solving puzzles," Carlos added. "If we give them pieces, they will put them together themselves."
"And when the reveal happens," Pierre said, "it will feel earned."
They looked at each other. For the first time in weeks, they had something real.
"Let us rewatch the entire welcome party footage," Carlos said. "Find every interaction between them. Build a timeline."
"I will start logging," Yuki said.
"I will pull the audio and clean it up," Pierre added.
Carlos looked at Charles. Charles was already opening files on his computer.
"Together," Charles said.
"Together," Carlos agreed.
------
The next few hours passed in a blur. They watched hours of footage. They catalogued every glance between Luca and Matteo. Every accidental touch. Every moment where they stood too close.
By dawn, they had a map of a relationship.
"They are definitely together," Yuki said, rubbing his eyes. "There is too much evidence to ignore."
"The question is whether we show it or hide it," Pierre said.
"We show it," Carlos said. "But carefully. We let the audience earn the discovery."
"And we protect them," Charles added. "If the network tries to exploit them, we push back."
"You trust the network to play fair?" Pierre asked.
"I trust us to make them play fair."
Carlos felt a surge of affection for Charles. This was why he loved working with him. Charles cared about the people in his show. He cared about doing things right.
"I need more coffee," Pierre announced. "Anyone else?"
"Me," Yuki said.
"I will come with you," Charles said.
He looked at Carlos. "Do you want anything?"
"Just black coffee."
"Coming right up."
Charles left with Pierre and Yuki. The editing bay fell silent.
Carlos leaned back in his chair. His eyes were heavy. His body ached from sitting too long. But his mind was racing.
The show was finally coming together. They had a real story. Real stakes. Real emotion.
And he had Charles.
Not in the way he wanted. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But he had Charles as a partner. As a collaborator. As someone who understood the work the way Carlos understood it.
For now, that was enough.
The door opened. Carlos assumed it was Charles returning with coffee.
"Forgot something?" he asked without looking up.
"I forgot to tell you something."
The voice was not Charles. It was Max.
Carlos turned. Max was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" Carlos asked.
"I came to see Charles."
"He is not here."
"I can see that."
Max walked into the room. He stood in front of Carlos's desk. His presence felt intrusive.
"I wanted to talk to you," Max said.
"About what?"
"About Charles."
Carlos's stomach tightened. "What about him?"
"I know you have feelings for him."
Carlos said nothing.
"I also know he has feelings for you."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I watch him. The way he looks at you. The way he talks about you. He does not look at me that way."
"Then why do you keep pursuing him?"
Max shrugged. "Because I am stubborn. Because I do not like losing."
"This is not a game."
"Everything is a game."
"Not this."
Max studied him. "You really care about him."
"Yes."
"More than you care about the show?"
"Yes."
Max nodded slowly. Something shifted in his expression. "Then do something about it. Before someone else does."
He turned and walked out.
Carlos sat in stunned silence. He did not know what to make of that conversation. He did not know if Max was threatening him or helping him.
The door opened again. This time it was Charles, carrying four cups of coffee.
"Where is Max?" Charles asked.
"He was here. He left."
"What did he want?"
"To talk."
"About what?"
Carlos took the coffee from Charles. Their fingers brushed. Carlos did not pull away.
"About you," Carlos said.
Charles froze. "What did he say?"
"He said I should do something about my feelings for you."
Charles set down the coffee. His hands were shaking slightly. "And what did you say?"
"I said I care about you."
"Anything else?"
"I said I care about you more than the show."
Charles stepped closer. They were inches apart. Carlos could see the exhaustion in his eyes. And something else. Something that looked like hope.
"Carlos," Charles said.
"Charles."
"I have been waiting for you to say something."
"I have been waiting for the right moment."
"There is no right moment. There is only now."
Carlos reached out. He touched Charles's hand. Charles did not pull away.
"I want to kiss you," Carlos said.
"Then kiss me."
Carlos kissed him.
It was soft. Gentle. Tender. Everything Carlos had been imagining for six months.
When they pulled apart, Charles was smiling. A real smile. Full and bright.
"Finally," Charles said.
"Finally," Carlos agreed.
The door burst open. Pierre walked in, followed by Yuki.
"Oh thank god," Pierre said. "Finally."
"Shut up, Pierre," Yuki said.
"Make me."
"I will delete your footage."
"You keep threatening that."
"One day I will do it."