Hey, can you resend me an invite to the discord? my old phone broke a couple weeks ago and haven't been able to get back into my discord acct as its being a complete asshole re-asking me to confirm if I'm human and glitched out. So making a new one. 🤣 lol
OH NO BABES!! I am sending you a link now in your dm's!!!!!
Does anyone know if Nathan Fielder and Alex Horne have ever been in the same room?
If not, I think they should have lunch together and also invite me, 'cause I wanna see that.
a:n/ ello! this fic is really just to test the waters! it's not my best or worst, but im eager to write more for nathan so feel free to send in requests!
plot: you land your dream job, there is just one problem. your dream man is running the whole damn show.
warnings: lots of tension/pinning, mentions of sex but no intense descriptions (saving the real smut for when I get better ideas lol)
///
Since moving into the heart of Hollywood, your career had been on a slow yet steady incline. After a year in the commercial scripting business, you'd been able to increase your credits to television. You became the head writer for a limited drama special and met some of the most interesting people in the industry. But the new pilot you'd been chipping away at, had freshly been booted. And now you were completely out of work.
It helped that the reputable connections you'd made over the years could sometimes double as friends. Tonight, one of them had called to invite you for drinks. The usually lively bar was packed, sweaty bodies and booming voices crowding every corner. Sam was waiting for you near the bar, a glowing cocktail in hand. He was a tall lanky fellow, sandy blonde curls always falling near his eyes. You were glad to know the cancelation of the last show you worked on together, hadn't meant the end of your friendship.
While you ordered your drink, and Sam downed his, you both gossiped about old stories and laughed over new realizations.
"Okay... I'm glad you came out for drinks because I have a new project I'm helping on and I think you'd be an asset to get this thing off the ground. I don't mean to be all business minded on a Friday at midnight but," Sam bared his teeth as he shot a nervous and hopeful grin your way, silently asking to proceed his rambling. You let out a small breath of a chuckle as you brought your drink to your lips and nodded.
"But," Sam continued with a more genuine smile beginning to reach his eyes. "The creator of this new project I'm helping on is here tonight; and I think it would be great to introduce you two sooner than later. This guy, he really never stops working. I'd like you to land this spot before he sniffs someone else out."
"Okay, okay! Is that why you were here so much earlier than me?" You agreed, "I can tell you're not gonna shut up about this and I do need another job soon."
Sam was glad to hear it, easing from his high-top bar seat and tugging at your arm to follow. He mentioned something about being hopeful to work with you again as he shouldered through the crowd a few steps ahead of you. Maybe you should have asked more details. But it wasn't like you had to say yes or no tonight in this crowded bar, right? This was just a friend being kind enough to make a connection on your behalf.
Sam had made contact with the mystery creator in question, you heard them greet as you struggled to squeeze past the last few bodies in your way.
"Listen I want you to meet a friend of mine, she's a brilliant writer and I think she'd be a great addition to this new thing-" You could hear Sam clearer as you shuffled closer, noticing him turn to point your way. And when your eye left your friends gesture, your gaze landed on the man who you were meant to meet. Trouble was, you already knew him.
"Hi, I'm Nathan. Sam says you two have worked together before?"
It took every effort in your system to remain nonchalant. During the next nanosecond that felt like an hour, you fought to keep from making an absolute fool of yourself. Nathan Fielder was recognizable from his work, his television shows of the past, his own writing credits. But more than that, he was the one celebrity you'd never been able to shake some school girl crush over. While your friends traded screenshots of people like Pedro or Keanu, you'd always been irrevocably entranced by Nathan's unique charm.
"Uh, yeah- yes." You shot Sam a grin, praying to a higher power that you weren't blushing. Sam wouldn't have known the position he'd just thrown you into the deep end of. And you never could have predicted this meeting to come to pass. You were completely unprepared and a little annoyed (more at yourself than anything) but you more importantly did need a job. "I've been writing for years but Sam and I only just met on a pilot over spring."
"Oh, cool." Nathan let his head bob in a small nod as he kept a blank eye on you. God, you couldn't believe you were standing face to face with the comedian you'd seen so many TikTok edits of. Maybe this could all have been a dream. A terrible horrible dream. "Well he's spoken very highly of you and we need help scripting some pretty broad ideas. I can set up a meeting if you're interested?"
"A meeting would be aweso- great. I would be interested." You couldn't manage a stutter out of this equation, because you were looking right at Nathan as he was looking right at you. His hair had become a little shaggy and its usual darkness highlighted with bits of grey. He was wearing a jacket of his own design. And he was looking right at you. You initially weren't going to have more than a couple drinks tonight. But now you'd never been more desperate for a shot in your life.
"Yeah, it's too loud in here. I'll have Sam work out all the details." Nathan turned to your mutual friend and offered him an expression before parting ways from the pair of you with a little awkward wave. You watched the guy you'd long been stupidly infatuated with walk away, and hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath until his figure disappeared into the red lit sea of patrons.
"I know you get worried about making a good first impression, but I've never seen you stop breathing before." Sam cocked a brow and offered you a curious smirk.
"You're buying me a drink now." You wasted no time pushing your friend toward the bar top, stomping behind him with your hand to his back.
"Two Johnny Walkers, both doubles." Sam waved the bartender over and managed to secure the pair of you a small enough space to take up at the end of the counter.
"I'll tell you this but you cannot bring it up ever after tonight and I mean ever." You pointed to Sam, watching his eyes grow deviously curious as you shot the meanest most aggressive glare you could muster. Your friend kept his lips pressed together and waited.
"I've been in love with him since the first season of Nathan For You. In love. I never thought I'd meet him and I certainly never thought you'd drag me over to my number one celebrity crush for a job offer." As you confessed, the bar tender was sliding glasses toward you and your friend. You wasted no time tossing back the alcohol as Sam let out a hearty chuckle of realization.
"Well this is going to be fun!"
///
That night you crashed into bed with a million nerves pilling up. There were so many reasons you didn't want to fuck up this potential meeting. And there were so many reasons you were going to have to put your dumb little crush aside.
You'd opened TikTok, eager to scroll your mind numb. But immediately upon bringing the app to life, an edit of Nathan flashed before your eyes. forcing a groan from the pit of you. This wasn't just going to be hard to forget. It was a crush you'd have to rid yourself of entirely should work happen to collide your worlds.
///
Sam had indeed set up a proper meeting to make this new writing opportunity more official just days later. And the fact it was all happening so fast added to your list of nerves. There was a lot at stake here, not like you couldn't land another job eventually. But you were really afraid how bad you wanted this one.
On your way into the studio that bright and sunny morning, you pretended you didn't care about anything. Not the job, not the man, not the way your outfit flitted against the shape of you, nothing. It was the only way to cope short term. As you glided up a set of wide stairs and turned a few posters covered corners, you tried not to get any of your hopes up in any kind of way. This was no big deal, it couldn't be. It was just a job offer. You'd either land it or you wouldn't.
To your surprise, Sam was lingering outside the office you were instructed via email to find, dressed sharply in an ironed shirt and tie. He mentioned he'd be joining the meeting. That was both a relief and an odd distress. The two cups of coffee in his hands were a nice distraction for a fleeting second...
"From the cafe on the lot," He extended the kind offer, and you accepted the drink with courtesy. "It'll be us three today, no one else has been pulled in yet, beyond his usual team. Nathan will explain everything but you should know he'll be very much steering the writing process himself, he's got all these ideas."
"Okay." You breathed, watching Sam step forward to guide you through an already opened door. Inside were tall windows and a long wooden desk. Several chairs filled up the bright space, and Nathan lingered near the head of the table, laying folders in front of just three seats. This was just a job interview. But you couldn't help but let your eyes fall across the comedian's figure. He was even more intriguing in real life, even more distinctive.
"Thanks for being here. I see Sam has already buttered you up." Nathan was cheery, a small grin ever present on his face as he stepped closer toward you. His eye's were easy to watch, and you wanted to figure out what thought laid beyond them. Oh God, maybe this was a bad idea.
"Well I feel bad I didn't bring any bribes of my own." You smiled, watching Nathans expression widen at your remark. Sam gestured for you to sit at one of the three pulled out chairs, as he sat next to you. And while Nathan eased into the seat at the head of the table, he spoke up again.
"I'll be honest with you. Sam has already shown me your credits, your history. I really don't need any convincing to ask you to join us. This meeting is really to get you on board with what we're doing, convince you to join."
You watched the comedian speak at an even pace and use his hands to express his meaning. You thought back to every bit you'd seen the man at the head of this table achieve; and you realized that no matter how much you admired him for pulling certain stunts, you'd be surely signing up for absurdity on some level. And for a fleeting moment you worried and wondered if you had the kind of abilities he'd want to work with. Or if you'd ever feel capable in any real way.
Nathan asked you to open the folder before you, while he and Sam followed suit with their own. The first page looked to you like a title card.
"The Rehearsal."
Nathan went on to explain his orignial show, and how in the past he'd practiced for some of the more intense or awkward scenarios he'd put himself in. He explained that while comedy would still be the roots of this new project, he was more interested in intertwining introspection.
"This is going to ideally be like a mix of reality television, documentary, sketch comedy. And while we will be rehearsing or planning through endless plots, I want as many organic scenarios to be allowed to play out as possible."
"We know this sounds kind of intense, or maybe like a tangled web." Sam spoke up on the other side of you. "But Nathan has drafted for months," He thumbed through the folder, pointing out paragraphs for you to find and consider. The three of you sat in there for a while longer, flipping through pages, laughing at ideas, asking each other questions. Could this work? If it did, would any audience connect with it? And how could that goal be shaped to achieve?
"This will obviously be a massive undertaking, and everyone will have to follow a strict NDA. That includes never disclosing where you travel for a while, or the fact that you'll be working with me. Because, ya know, I want those involved to feel disconnected from the show of it all and really into the experiment." Nathan spoke, his total transparency about this offer was something you admired.
"I understand. You can be viewed as more of a... looming public figure, than a creator, sometimes." You remarked, watching Nathan offer you a keen smirk from the head of the table. God, you could look at him all day.
"Well, that's generous, giving me a little too much credit. Once again, I'm pitching to you. What do... what do you think?" He quirked a quizzical brow and leaned a little closer.
"How many more writers are you looking to add?"
"I was considering a few, but I don't like the idea of too many perspectives. I think you and Sam as my team could be strong enough. I hope that isn't too much pressure." Nathan retorted.
"Oh, damn. What do you think about that, Sammy boy?" You turned in your chair a bit to find your friend shrugging your way. You trusted him and his skill at this point, but would you be able to render respect at such close proximity? Would you not drive each other crazy?
"I know it'll be a lot of work, and different kind of work, but we've done that well enough together before. I can't find a reason to be weary." Sam seemed at total ease. So if this team was already reared, why stall?
This was crazy. You never thought an opportunity so vast and expansive and creative was in this near of a future for you. You thought Netflix specials and crime documentaries were as far as you could see. And then add your biggest celebrity crush into the mix, whose creativity you'd been so deeply enamored by. You'd be crazy to turn this down. You'd just have to be sure your infatuation didn't cloud your focus.
"Okay. When do we start?"
"You'll do it?" Nathans grin stretched into a real smile for the first time all afternoon.
"Yeah, I think I can. I think I should." You smiled back for a beat before you let your nerves get the best of you, turning your face away from Nathan's.
"You won't regret this," Sam gleamed. You knew he was congratulating you for being accepted in, thanking you for letting him talk you into it, and apologizing for putting you into such close proximity to Nathan Fielder; all in one broad sentence.
///
Almost every Saturday night with very few exceptions were spent with your three closest pals in the world.
Joyanne was a rising multi-talent from Japan who'd moved into town a few years back. She worked with you as the star and producer of a documentary long enough to become one of the best friends you'd ever known. Linda was a true-blue Californian, a professional background extra who picked up serving shifts on the weekend; her fast paced life meant she showed up to every dinner with a new story to tell. Then there was Mia- The midwestern girl you who owned the gym were the only work out class you'd ever joined took place; and who already miraculously knew the other girls and took it upon herself to form the group chat.
The smartly dressed women sat around your apartment, scrolling through social media and arguing over what movie to agree on streaming.
"Guys please stop arguing... because I'm leaving town for a job and I want our last Saturday to be fun." You whined, making your first official announcement that you'd be unable to keep tradition alive for a while. Your friends all sat up from their slumps and demanded to know where you were going.
You'd already singed an NDA. And you knew if you so much as let a hint slip out about where you were going or with who, that one of the three of them was bound to make a big bloody deal about it. Because they all knew exactly how you'd always felt about Nathan. And now that he was your boss, you had to keep your thoughts, feelings, and Saturday night confessions on total lock down.
"I'll be gone for a few months up north somewhere. I'm sorry to tell you all last minute like this but you all really need to agree on a movie." You chuckled, waving the remote that laid in wait in your grasp.
"What! Where are you staying?" Mia quizzed, leaning closer to you to search your gaze. She was always the most bummed when you had to cancel plans for any given reason.
"I can't exactly give too much away." You warned, dragging out your words, hoping they could tell you wanted to scream about it with them, but truly couldn't.
"You can't even say who you're writing with? This is exciting, you've been looking for a new gig!" Joyanne encouraged, Linda seconded her opinion.
"I really cannot tell you." You were struggling to keep a straight face. Struggling to stop from screaming at the top of your lungs that you were about to be stuck on a plane with the guy who stared in a few of your more vivid imaginations over the years. But eventually, one very exciting day, they'd all know.
///
You were stuck beside Sam on a jostly passenger plane, while he pestered you about what sort of dream come true this must have been for you. New York was the first stop. You hoped the hustle and bustle of the city would buzz louder than your nerves. By the time you'd relocate to Oregon, God only knew what kind of work crazy - boy obsessed lunatic you'd be fighting internal battles with.
"Please just help me write, I really can't afford you making me blush about this while we're actively in the middle of working." You reached over to flip open Sam's notebook.
"We need forty jokes, and four sides by the time this thing lands." You reminded. Nathan had emailed you each an outline for the first day. After your six-hour flight spent drafting ideas with Sam, you would unload your things at a hotel in New York and meet Nathan for dinner to go over the ideas you culminated before shooting began the next morning. "I will not show up on day one to disappoint."
"I bet I know what you'd like to show up and-" Sam began to quip, before you nudged your elbow into his ribs. He let out a huff of air while you shut him up further.
"Start. Writing."
///
New York was busy. The energy here was so vastly different. L.A. was an equally large city, but there, all the time in the world seemed to flow freely. Here, car horns blared, pedestrians jogged across the street, vendors hollered for business. It was busy. There was no time to waste. That put you in a mind set to take work even more seriously.
As you situated your suitcase into a third floor room that's bed took up most the space, your phone buzzed.
"Hi writers. My room number is 334. I ordered pizza. Meet me here in an hour to plan shit?"
Nathan had included you in a group text with Sam, and the informal nature of the invitation made you chuckle, as you hobbled into your small space. You were glad for a window of time to change and decompress after being stuck in the air so long. But as you fixed your face and wriggled into a new shirt, it was time for the biggest loudest mental pep talk you'd ever given yourself. No silly little infatuation could show. No feeling or fleeting wish could effect your paychecks, or the work you wanted to do a good job of providing.
You were confident walking into Nathans suite. You felt like you had a true hold over your emotions. Like the game plan you would navigate your time by was sure to work. Even when man himself told you and Sam to sit on the edge of his bed for lack of better chairs to offer, you didn't let your poker face budge.
"So I've already been here a week, rehearsing. We've built every set. We will start shooting my rehearsal tomorrow morning and we meet the real Kor at 3pm. We only have two weeks to make this work. So what did you guys draft so far?" Nathan spoke from the opposite end of the bed. You wouldn't let yourself look at the flex of his arms as they supported his weight.
You and Sam sat, flipping through either of your notebooks. Nathan was intrigued by a lot of the direction you each suggested and was shocked you had so much considered already.
"I don't foresee us having to figure everything out at the end of every night, so much as having you both on set to draft as things play out. But thank you both for staying up so late." Nathan remarked. He then insisted on sharing some of the pizza that waited on the desk in his much larger room.
And even as you shared a semblance of a meal and talked about your flight, you wouldn't let it matter to you. Even though the three of you stayed up talking about childhood fears and obsessions, you held fast to the promise you made yourself. And even when you got to watch Nathan's smile twist into a laugh, and the sound of it hit you right in the chest with a pang of awe, you didn't let your resolve crumble. Maybe you could really do this.
///
The first few episode was well underway, and the shows shape was starting to become evident. There was something interesting coming to the light of this project that intrigued almost everyone who worked to make it come to life. And almost everyone became fixated on Nathan's approach once they started to realize how it was all meant to work. He was a great leader, clear in his approach, assured in his decisions. Stubborn in his vision.
You and Sam were always hovering near enough set to watch things play out. Close enough to jot down notes you thought could be important or rush revisions to the crew if need be. And one evening; while Sam was distracted by the star of the show, Kor, who rambled on about the origins of trivia- Nathan made a bee line to you.
"So, I know I need a natural way for the Chinese Gunpowder answer to come up on our walk. Bikes and buildings were easy. They're just... around. I cannot for the life of me think of anything gun related that won't scare him. We can't just come up to a shootout mid stroll." Nathan was talking fast, keeping his voice low as to not draw Kor's attention. Nathan was reaching for your elbow to pull you off to the side. You were busy enough considering his work-related question that you couldn't register the feeling of his touch.
"Walk by a gun store? No, we don't have time to set that up. Wait," You waved, thinking of something more feasible.
"A cop." You pointed to Nathan with the pen kept in your grasp, like the cap was going to spark the idea into the comedians brain.
"A cop?" Nathan quirked a brow and offered you a smirk. And the moments like that were the ones you really hated. When his expression would widen or his eyes would look too long into yours and any kind of silence followed. Those moments, ones like now, were hard to keep from swooning. But all the while, you were on the clock, so you started to explain.
"Turn a corner to a roped off road. Have a fake officer say there was an accident, tell you guys to go another way. He could be old. Like old enough to know this fact and be bittered by it. He could say like, 'I wish China never invited gunpowder.'"
"That's actually good. Sam legitimately suggested the shootout idea. Thank you for not being Sam." Nathan let out a chuckle that bled into a sigh, eye's staying locked on yours. You wondered if Nathan was waiting for more of your input. Or if he had more work to suggest you mockup. But the silence between the two of you lingered as the workers around you buzzed about. Just as you were about to shy away from his dark eyed stare, Nathan murmured something about finding the casting director to make it happen, turning off in a hurry.
///
The fake Alligator Lounge had become real enough to serve beer and pizza, and be rebranded with Nathans name at the helm. When the pub closed off to the public, you and the rest of the crew were invited to celebrate the end of shooting in New York. All kinds of drinks were being served around and all kinds of pizza seemed in never ending supply.
The night went on forever, some of the production team started a karaoke battle, and others tried their luck with a small round of trivia. When most of those who participated failed most answers, Sam was aghast. "All the answers were from the show! You people need to lock in!" He shouted from his vinyl stool. You calmed him down with a pat to the shoulder, saying he should be in better spirits, he won the game after all. Nathan sat across for the pair of you, gebuinly delighted by Sam's apparent frustration.
"But to be fair," They man with the greying hair spoke, "I failed that TikTok question same as everyone else. I've never been able to figure that app out. Nothing funny comes up ever." Nathan complained, reaching his hand to the middle of the table where his drink rested. The dark-eye'd comedian had done a decent job of working the room, shaking the hands of his team, and giving trivia a halfhearted effort. But when he ended up settling before you and Sam, he sat and stayed a while.
"You gotta look stuff up you like first. Like, just for a day. Then its the best app ever." You explained, pointing your half empty beer toward the guy as if to get his attention, as if he wasn't already looking at you with furrowed brows.
"What do you mean I thought it was supposed to know what I liked automatically? There's an algorithm?" Nathan wondered.
"No, look." Sam sighed, pulling his phone out and laying it on the middle of table for everyone to see. He explained how to search special interests, certain topics, and how after a couple scrolls the fyp would adapt. Nathan seemed to understand and was eager to pull his phone out to follow along. But just then your tall blonde coworker was called over to collect his trivia prize. And Nathan was asking you if he was using the search bar right. You leaned in closer and laughed at his misguided use of this application.
"You were so funny on Twitter. You can't be defeated by TikTok." You remarked.
"I was stupid on Twitter." Nathan let a breathy laugh escape, his eye fixed blankly on the phone in the middle of the table, his jaw clenching when you realized you'd been staring at him a bit too acutely.
"And that's funny." You chuckled too, breathing away a rush of nerves and thanking the alcohol you imbibed for the way it dulled your usual more frantic heartbeat.
After a few more instructions Nathan was understanding how to like videos and save them if he wanted his fyp to become more curated. You were appalled to scroll through his home page and find dud after dud.
"Well, yours can't be so much better." Nathan defended, as if he wasn't just asking for advice on how to get his to be less depressing. You feigned shock and got your phone out to prove him wrong. Someone in the pub had changed the pop music to something more grunge based. Some people were singing along. Some were yelling for more beers. Some were leaving. All the while you sat and unlocked your phone, finding TikTok. You opened a folder of videos you saved to laugh at when you needed them most. Not before, of course, scrambling to scroll, vetting that no video of Nathan had been saved to this specific collection. Your dirty secret was not one worth reveling yet. You weren't that drunk.
Nathan scrolled through one of your saved files on his own volition, your phone steady on the table, you each leaned in. He started laughing harder than you at some of the clips, calling them dumb, letting them play on loop. You explained this could be the future of his own fyp.
"I can add you and send these. If you like them from your account, you'll start getting better videos yourself."
Nathan wasted no time typing in his covert handle for you to follow. You almost forgot to hide your blush when he insisted you send him every video that ever made you laugh, because he thought he could trust your taste.
And when you looked up from your phone again, and dared to look beyond Nathan, a dream like torment faced you. Everyone had left. The music still played on loop, but not a single coworker occupied a corner booth or stool. Sam never came back to the table for a goodbye or anything. You'd been abandoned all alone with Nathan Fielder.
"Shit, we should go. We do have a flight in the morning." Nathan realized what you'd been staring into the horror of. But he didn't seem as petrified. When you realized you'd perhaps let your mask slip too suddenly, you scrambled to think of anything to say that would ground you back to feeling normal, like nothing was really wrong.
"What's gonna happen to this place?" You wondered mournfully, sudden and real emotion stalling your leave. You looked around, amazed that this pub was born of execution. Amazed the place had turned into something more. Something it was meant to be anyway. And that you had a small part in it.
"I have some ideas." Nathan seemed to hint, not daring to give too much away, though. Before you knew it he was standing before where you sat, a hand held out. Despite everything, you'd be a fool not to take it; as you stepped down from the raised ripped vinyl seat onto the sticky floor. No expense spared.
For a very fleeting moment, as your feet met the floor and your eyes met Nathans, you let your hand stay attached to his. You no longer needed the balance. You no longer needed the chivalry. And you swore it was like he was letting you just... hold on. But you had to lock in. You had a job to do. You had to take your hand away, and rip your eyes from his. You had to get some sleep.
Nathan didn't seem in a terrible hurry, however, as he locked up the business. He asked if you were looking forward to filming in Oregon, mentioning he'd never been there. You walked step for step at his side, away from the set and through the chilly quiet night. No cars were zooming by. No people loitered. It was almost as if this was all a set in its own way.
You answered Nathan's question as he shared your walk back to the hotel. You talked about all the places you'd traveled or wished you could have. You told another story about a terrible vacation with an even worse boyfriend.
"That guy wasn't cut out to be any kind of partner. Romantic or road trip wise." You chuckled, keeping your hands buried deep in the pockets of your jacket, matching Nathans body language.
"Maybe he needed a rehearsal." Nathan remarked, quirking his brow your way. You wished you could've let yourself stare at the shapes of his features all night.
"Yeah," You breathed the last of your humor away. "I think there are somethings practice unfortunately doesn't make perfect, however. Maybe, I think people practice with the wrong people, though, a lot."
"I dunno like... Before my divorce I thought I had the whole marriage figured out. But then I realized I didn't have her figured out. Or maybe she didn't get me. But you know what I'm saying?" Nathan remarked how relationships were easy to map on paper. You leave for work, you come home. Or you went on vacation. And made dinner. But sometimes it didn't matter the plan if the person was wrong- just like you'd said.
"But like... all our crew, right? They have their wives and boyfriends visiting the set or sharing a hotel room. And they're all so different and it all... just works. Maybe people like me can't make it work. Maybe I don't even know what I'm rambling about." Nathan let out a dry chuckle as his feet turned a corner.
The sidewalk ahead would end at your hotel's entrance. But you were desperately trying to slow your stroll in hopes you could walk and talk with Nathan like this for a few more measly moments.
"Do you ever wish... that was different? For you?"
"I dunno. I've kind of put off that lifestyle since it didn't work out the first time. I really shut that part of myself off. But, I dunno. It's been a long while now."
"Well maybe you just need practice." You bit your lip into a smile, hoping your sentence came off as more of a call back to a joke from before and not some hopeless, feckless ,plea. You turned your head then, realizing you'd let your guard down way too far down. You had a job to do, damn it. You heard Nathan hum something of an understanding before he reached to open the hotel doors for you. When you stepped inside you no longer let yourself be so disillusioned. The plan was to show no resolve. You couldn't have any further slips like this.
///
On the jet to Oregon, Nathan demanded to be sent more TikTok's. And who were you to deny your boss his demands? But when the plane landed, you hurried to lock yourself into the hotel suite allotted to you. No. More. Indulging. Your. Crush. You said it in the mirror a dozen times. And then you had all the more clarity to look around and notice how much nicer this room was than the last.
You had a golden decorated living area, a small kitchen, a big white bed in a room with its own paneled door. It was a space you'd be glad to occupy for the next couple months- to hide away in. And at that your resolve was stronger than ever.
For the next three weeks you holed up in that suite on weekends, watching movie marathons or having tea on the balcony that overlooked a swath of stunning trees.
Sam got you to go out once or twice, to a few local pubs and one surprisingly upscale French restaurant where you left work behind and laughed about old jokes. Those nights were the highlights of your free time since working up north. You'd spent enough time admiring the landscape that you sent a picture in the group chat of your best girls to gush over the beauty of your location. That, at the very least, they could know.
Nathan was still always around. But he was always working. So that made things easy for you to compartmentalize. If he ever complimented your work, you told yourself it was because other people were around, just being kind. If he ever sat next to you at the hotel breakfast lounge, you told yourself it was because all the other seats were taken. If he ever made you laugh, you told yourself you'd simply done your job, and he was simply doing his.
If Nathan was ever up at 5am to meet you on set, with a styrofoam cup of coffee in either hand, and traded one off to you before asking to go over notes in his trailer on set- you told yourself he was sleep deprived.
And the time Nathan fell asleep in a hastily shared uber back to the hotel, letting his head lulling toward your shoulder, you told yourself not to move because that was as good as things were ever gonna get for you.
The shoot in Oregon was more intense. Days and nights blurred together. The challenge of feigning a family for a one woman was a massive multi person undertaking. There were kids and parents and cast and crew constantly flitting about the break tent. And then there was Angela, the subject. She really grated on your nerves. Sam had to become the liaison from the writers to the woman raising a faux baby, because nothing you ever tried to explain to Angela ever seemed to get through to her. There was fake snow being sent in. There was fake gold being buried. And you were going a bit stir crazy not being able to talk to your friends about how insane your life had become in a very short time span.
Mid shoot, you were sat across from Nathan and Sam at a picnic table. At the edge of the fake homes property, the crew had set up tents and tables and trailers to break during. And while you still couldn't get enough of the view, you dreamed of the hustle and bustle of L.A. again. You couldn't wait for a never ending night out in clothes that hurt to wear but made you feel hot as hell. You needed to let loose. And the never ending supply of coffee you lived off of here in Oregon was probably not helping your nerves; you thought, sipping an iced americano all the while.
Nathan was debating how to navigate the issue of Angela's date leaving. Sam was scrambling through his notes when he got a notification the door dash he ordered was at the property gates. Up and away went the lanky blonde. You were trying to stop your mind from whirring with ideas and exhausted energy when Nathan went quiet. He was still sat across from you, hands folded together, eye's peering up into yours like a kid in school with a question he was too nervous to ask.
"I think... I think I'm gonna pitch myself." He spoke up when he realized you noticed his stalling.
"Oh." You realized. "With Angela?" You were shocked, mostly because she didn't seem like his, or most anyone's type.
"Not with Angela." Nathan gave you a look to assure he hoped you knew how much he meant not with Angela. "But, okay listen. I kind of have been thinking a lot about our conversation that last night in New York, about family and stuff. And I think I could really learn from this, if I'm ready or if I could be. I want to be ready to know, ya know?"
"Yeah, I... I think so?" You nodded. "So you want me to write a-"
"Er... Honestly I was just asking if you think this is a dumb idea or not, first."
"Oh," You let out a halting laugh, searching Nathans brilliant dark gaze. He was already boring his eyes into yours, like he'd find his answer there. "As your writer, I think it would make great tv."
"As... a friend?" Nathan asked no louder than a whisper. Not like a secret. More like a confession.
"If I was your friend... I would say..." You breathed, sort of flustered for a second. But when you realized you indeed had a somewhat formed opinion you spoke up again. "I would urge you to be sure you weren't just considering this for views. Because you are still the host of this... thing. That could seem indulgent in a bad way. But I would also say not to consider it just for yourself. Because you seemed kind of... vulnerable to this topic before... when we talked."
Nathan held your gaze, letting his eyes go back and forth between your own for a beat, as he registered your words.
"And then I would say thank you." Nathan let a smile grow in his expression. "So... thank you."
Thank God Sam jogged back into the picture then. Because your coffee induced heart rate was rapidly increasing the longer Nathan kept his pursed smirk directed your way.
///
Sam set you up for ultimate failure on the following night. He knocked on your suite, notebook in hand. He explained than Nathan was stuck on a certain story line progression and asked for his help. But Sam had already promised some lighting department friends to make dinner reservations. You tried to argue that you were tired, but Sam practically shoved his notebook in your grasp before heading toward the elevators any way.
And when you begrudgingly put a sweater on over your night shirt and stomped down the hall, you reminded yourself this was all just work. Just for writing credits. It was to come to an end soon enough.
But just your luck, Nathan was really stuck. He had you each slumped over spread out papers and prints in this suite's living room, debating the outcome of five different courses of action. After a few hours you had the options narrowed down to three.
"Okay, I'm sorry. Let's take a break. I'm gonna go... scream in the bathroom or something." Nathan deadpanned, stretching to stand and mill around the coffee station his room came complimentary with, like he wasn't sure where to go. As you sat back against the couch cushions, Nathan found his way down the hall. There was so much more work left to consider. But it was beginning to fry your brain. When your eyes tore from the mess of papers on the table before you, you looked up to find Jeopardy playing. The question on the screen had something to do with a rock band. A middle aged woman got the answer right. Her score board said she was winning. And the next couple questions were a great distraction from your evening, the prompts sending your mind to focus on anything beyond your work, or being trapped in a room with your dream man.
But then Nathan was padding back into the room. He must've noticed your fixation on the tv. Because he hadn't started stressing over the spread out papers right away. Instead, he sat at your side with his arms crossed around his middle. And he watched the game show with you.
Somehow, when you spoke one answer aloud, and Nathan the next, you were playing Jepordy as the show went on. Between the two of you, answers shot out like arrows to toward the screen. You faced Nathan to argue during commercial breaks. He pointed to threaten google before Trebek grabbed you attention again. When it ended, you'd won and to stop from arguing further. Nathan begrudgingly congratulated you before preening over how smart you were, insisting you help finish the ideas spread across the coffee table before you.
And because you couldn't roll your eyes, or shiver in the wake of his compliment, you shrugged in agreement. For another long stretch, you worked and worked.
Upon sitting up and feeling an ache in your shoulders, you glanced to the clock. You were really pushing your luck here, so late.
"Ten? I should probably go." You stretched, "You're surly full of my input by now."
"What, afraid to have another go at Jeopardy? I hear the next episode theme. " Nathan surprised you by bargaining for your company, as he collected papers in no particular order, cleaning up the mess of spread out ideas.
"I already won." You spoke trying to distance yourself, but cringed at how cold the words came out. You just couldn't let your resolve crack, you meant it this time. You had a deal with yourself. You couldn't look to see if your icy dismissal put Nathan off, or if he simply didn't care. Either reaction would have solicited a stirring havoc in your heart. And as you heard him realse a sigh, you still kept your gaze unfocused as he spoke up...
"This is going to sound lame but you're one of the only people I feel comfortable around all the way out here. I hoped I'd be having a chill night at this point, because this has all been more stressful than I was prepared for, funnily enough. I'm sorry for putting you in a-"
"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I just, I can't. It wouldn't- I'm too-" You floundered, waving your words away when you couldn't decide on a lie that sounded good enough.
"You're too what?" Nathan quizzed, his dull tone peppered with what you might call a slight worry, if you heard right. You were looking right at him now, like if you squinted just right he would see the secret code you spoke in, see you were really truly at a loss.
"I just... should go to bed. But you can meet me for breakfast downstairs if you want. We can write more."
"Yeah, we can write." Nathan seemed to accept some kind of defeat, setting the newly revised papers aside, and walking you toward his exit to wish you an easy nights rest.
///
By some act of God, Nathan left for L.A. to uphold his end of some obligatory revision to the script. But by some equal curse, he took Sam with him, leaving you stuck with Angela and a cast of kid boys. When your fellow writer called to check in after a while, you couldn't help but vent your pent up frustrations.
"I'm sad you've abandoned me. Thank God Nathan is gone though. He's, unfortunately, even better of a person in real life. I hope I never see him again after this because it's honestly agonizing Sam."
"Well if you're not careful he's gonna ask you to keep working with him. He was just praising me for bringing you on. For like five whole minutes." Your cowoeker buzzed across the line. It sounded busy wherever he was.
"Don't tell me that. I need to pretend this is all a crazy dream and wake up back in L.A. safe and sound."
"Well its crazy that's for sure. Anyway, did you get the email about the Fielder Method thing? He's asking for your ideas even though I'm the one he brought."
"Maybe." You chuckled, scolding Sam for being bitter about failing to land the 'favorite' title. But the Angela was whining about something to do with Etsy and asking for help watching the child she was solely meant to be caring for. You let a few whispered cursed cross over the phone line and begged Sam to get back ASAP.
///
That week you kept to yourself, stalling away in makeup trailers and the beloved balcony of your room. It was nice to have Nathan gone, to have the pressure of his presence paused for a bit. But damn, if you hadn't missed letting your stare linger when he turned away. If you didn't miss the times his hand would brush your knuckles when you handed him a revision. This was all just a job. But he was still a crush you'd never known the likes of before. And that was okay to remember now that he was gone, right?
When your phone rang to interrupt your wandering mind, you were delighted to see Joyanne's contact photo light up your screen.
"How's the North, babe?" Your friend cooed into the speaker after saying how much the group was missing you.
"Oh, you know, cold." You shrugged; glad no one could see you reaching for a response. You were several crumpled sticky notes deep and unprepared to get a call from any friends at this hour.
"I heard, tonight, by a very reputable Hollywood source that a certain weird comedian was seen filming near where you are."
"Oh?" You were still only half listening to your dear darling friend, scratching out a note that you didn't like the pacing of.
"Bitch are you listening? I'm trying to warn you! You could be in dangerously close proximity to Nathan Fielder!" Joyanne gushed on the other side of the phone.
"OH," You blanched, "Oh, yeah that would probably be crazy." You feigned a laugh and hoped it didn't sound as nervous as you felt. "Thank God I'm so busy up here, I might not even notice if he walked right past me..."
"Well then you must be drowning in work." You friend retorted- and luckily changed the subject to ask if you were really doing okay and yap about the recent gossip at Mia's gym. Apparently, some of her family from Ohio came in and wrecked the place and never even paid.
The gossip was enough to pause your work and give you a break from the world you'd trapped yourself in. You missed the girls more than anything, after all this strange time. You missed not feeling so nervous around your boss. Missed being able to go out on weekends. But you were living a few variants of your dreams. And somehow you remembered to try not to take anything for granted.
Nights later, you were finally feeling a healthy balance. The stress of work had kept your mind focused on the tasks at hand. And with Nathan away, you were relived for the space from your suffocating crush. And able to appreciate the fact you were ever near him at all.
But that's when something truly terrible happened. That's when your phone buzzed from the night stand. And the name at the top of the notification bar, was Nathan's.
"I'm trying to send you funny tiktoks. please let me know if its working or if I'm an old man who is hopeless to operating this app."
This was worst case scenario. You had to respond. You had to see what he sent. You were helpless to the power this comedian held over your persuasion. And you could already tell, when he got back to Oregon, you'd be worse off than ever before.
///
The day Nathan’s parent showed up on set kind of took you by surprise. You overheard the comedian mention something about their visit, but though he would treat them to some nice dinners, not put them through this grueling experiment. They seemed none the wiser to things, even though the set and the cameras and the bevy of children around suggested anarchy of their son’s doing was afoot.
The older couple were kind to you near the craft table, where you were waiting for Sam to join you. Nathan’s mother asked your name and how you’d been finding the experience so far, and toggled over the endless choice of snacks at the table you all stood before. She wondered where to find drinks and because Sam was taking impossibly long, and you were basically powered by nervous energy as of late, you were on it.
As you found the drinks Mrs. Fielder asked about, Nathan came hurrying around the corner, asking if you’d seen Sam.
“I’ve been waiting for him in here. It’s been decades. Killed time, met your parents. I even got them tea.” You half way joked, glancing to the cups in your hands. Nathan let out a chuckle as you were quick to mention how kind and genuine they seemed. They were no nepo parents by any means.
“Are we… do they…”
“No, don’t write anything. I’ll explain it to them in post, it’s better if for just right now they aren’t in on it.” Nathan waved, keeping his voice low, and taking the cups of tea from your hands with an increasingly furrowed brow. “And thank you for this but you are not an assistant, you are a writer, why are you doing assistant things?”
“Your mom asked.” You shrugged.
“Good God. I promise it’s okay if you would like to take a break from being a good person. Go find Sam, maybe he’ll be a nefarious influence.” Nathan extended a foot to shoo you way, kick you out of the area to assure you weren’t needed.
You decided to do just that, tired of waiting for whatever held your fellow writer up. He wasn’t in the trailer. He wasn’t with the outside crew. But you heard him inside somewhere, as you lingered on the fake porch of the fake home. The patio door was slightly ajar, and Sam was yammering from just beyond it. You decidedly slid in, and found your friend arguing with the star of the production.
“I just feel I am being undermined.” Angela spoke in that disarmingly calm tone of hers, her back to you, her palms face up as Sam was leaned in trying to understand her. You could tell by the look on his face that she’d let her point of view go further beyond the rails than he had the capacity to reel back in today.
“Angela, that isn’t what’s happening.” Sam spoke plainly, as you walked closer, wanting to make your presence known to both parties. Maybe she would see he was needed.
“I hear what you’re saying Sam, but I’m seeing a lot of Nathan’s own design starting to seep in.” She eased every word out of her mouth like a school teacher trying to get a toddler to comprehend algebra.
“Well, Angela, for one thing, this is Nathan’s show. That has always been true and you have always known that. And for another, I don’t know what this is all about, but we built this house for you. We got these kids for you. We got fake snow, for you. So however you may be feeling undermined, we’re on a deadline, on this show scripted around every one of your wishes. And as a writer in charge of making your wishes our command, I need Sam now, okay?”
Angela lamented with a tight smile and a roll of her eyes, while Sam took his escape, leaning close into you on the way out the door.
“She’s really pissed this time like, she won’t say that, but she isn’t letting me talk her back into anything at all.” Sam worried. “She agreed to having a discussion of faith but I could see the look in her eye, man like we might push her over the edge.”
“Let’s hope if we do, it makes for good tv.”
That afternoon, as the cameras rolled, you and Sam sat in the control both watching as Angela contradicted herself by swearing to remain open to a discussion with the mentor Nathan hired. But Angela wouldn’t budge in her conversation, confusing faith with stubbornness. And then she stood on her feet and blamed it all on Nathan. She said,
“Nathan has a problem with lying. He lies a lot.”
And you felt like how some people must’ve when they watched a ball game, gesturing wildly at the screen and yelling so loud the players might hear.
“Are you fucking serious?” You spat out loud, shooting a look to Sam who was equally as wide eyed. You noticed Nathan took it on like a champ, because this was just a show, a script to navigate, for him, right now. It was also a test in human connection and condition. But this couldn’t rock Nathan. He was never rocked by Angela. Unlike her, who seemingly understood nothing. She knew this was a show, she agreed to Nathan’s direction. But then she washed her hands clean of conflict and placed every blame on the man who’d established this entire scenario for her.
And you could act all day long like you never gave a fuck about that man, too. But when she had the gall to disrespect him like that in front of someone else, you couldn’t keep your shit together at all.
“This fucking-“ You stuttered, heart rate elevating. “I cannot believe her Sam.”
He insisted you calm down, agreeing with your outburst all the while. Everyone had nearly had their fill of Angela.
And it was two night later, a miracle occurred. You were sitting in those same seats in the same control booth and watch the woman of the house sit on the opposite end of the sofa from Nathan. They began what felt like the most honest conversation they’d had, when she said “I just can’t see an end in sight.”
And you sat up straight. “Sam…”
“Wait, wait.” He leaned closer to watch.
“And… yeah thank you for all the work you put in to tailor this to my experience.” Angela nodded with genuine gratitude.
“Thank you for being apart of it,” Nathan said. And from the control you, it was hard to read his expression through the screen. And then she got up. And the cameras stopped rolling. But the ones set up through the house found Angela starting to find her suitcase, and packing it.
“Sam, she fucking quit.” You were smiling shock, bug eye’d in terror, looking back to the screens in utter stupefaction. It was your cowriter who shot up first and made a bee line towards the house. You followed close behind.
///
Despite your worries about maintaining your dwindling composure, Nathans newly solo experience was followed by a strange set of days of set; distracting everyone from any issues or interests of the past. The last few weeks of shooting had crept upon you all, and one problem no one had foreseen had shifted the focus of the show. When one child hadn't stopped calling Nathan his father, the event halted the comedian from shooting for one whole day. When both you and Sam knocked on his trailer door to ask how to move on Nathan only called back that he had no idea yet and needed more time to think.
Eventually, the shoot proceeded as planned, and a time was set up to make sure the boy who had been aged out, would be checked on. Nathan apologized to everyone for stopping things for 24 hours too long and assured the shoot would continue in the proper time frame. He made a great show of seemingly handling things. But somehow you could tell the stress was still gnawing at him somewhere inside, over the coming days.
There were two weeks left on set as of this night. And stressed seemed the norm.
"The new kid got held over at soccer practice. Let's all take a long dinner." Nathan called out, waving everyone to go off into the purple sunset and come back in an hour and a half. Nathan had already been aggravated that he'd cost the production time. And now the longer the kid took to arrive, the less you could shoot before the night got too late.
You and Sam joined Nathan in his trailer, pouring over possible revisions and sitting in uncertain silence. When your boss seemed satisfied enough with the spare ideas, he instructed Sam to share the possible revisions with the crew to consider.
And when Sam slithered out of the heavy trailer door, something in you forced your feet to linger. Forced a question out of your mouth.
"Is there... anything I can do for you?" You asked Nathan, watching him slump onto the little sofa provided.
"No, no you and Sam have been my lifelines already. I couldn't possibly ask more of you. I wouldn't even know what, if-" Nathan watched you watching him. You weren't too keen on the way his answer wasn't really an answer at all. So, you made a decision.
"Well, here." You said, turning to open his mini fridge, finding a bottle of water. You poured it into the little Keurig on the counter to make some tea. The very drink had gotten you through a handful of balcony breakdowns. Maybe it's warmth would sooth Nathan all the while. He watched in silence as you waited for a paper mug to fill. The quiet lingered as you took the drink toward the man. Only when he accepted the offer, and you began to sit on the sofa at his side, did Nathan speak up.
"I really feel like I fucked something up. And I don't wanna fix it. I mean I do, I just don't know if I know how. And I had a whole different ending already thought out. And we don't have a lot of time left to film." After realizing the drink was too hot, Nathan set his tea on the little table in front of him and is putting his head in his hands.
"Yeah, I'm so sorry. I know you want all of this to work out for everyone." You commiserated, watching the comedian lean into his fold.
"Yeah." Nathan sighed, still buried. You couldn't help but reach out to place a hand on his back. He seemed to breath in a little deeper and tension eased between his shoulders as you let your hand draw circles there.
"Thank you for being here. Like now. And before. Sam was right to campaign for you."
"I've been really glad for this opportunity."
"You've been really good at putting up with my absurdity. I feel like everyone is exhausted with this by now." Nathan began to sit up, his eyes finding yours. Your hand fell away from his shoulder, and you took recoiled your hold back into your lap, unmentioned.
"They're not. I mean... Angela might've left. And Patrick may not have shown back up. But..." You paused for a brief moment, deciding exactly how to pose your encouragement. "This has never been about complete success, right? Or complete failure. It's only ever been about the rehearsal. The practice. That's all you can do. Go with it as it happens. Over and over again."
Nathan was silent, his teeth were digging into his lip. His beautiful dark eyes were searching your features. He was just considering what you said, you told yourself.
"Yeah. Right as always." Nathan eventually breathed, letting his gaze land fully on yours once more. And it felt like there was so much more trying to be communicated in that silence than there ever had been with words, between the two of you. Too bad there was a sharp knock on the door.
Behind the wall a muffled voice called "Nathan, the kid is here!"
He let out a staggered sigh as his eyes drifted toward the commotion of the announcement.
"Just think. We can finish this tonight, and have two whole days off starting tomorrow." You eased, watching the guy you'd always admired move to stand. He nodded silently and opened the door, gesturing for you to go first. Shuffling back a few steps, he grabbed the tea to bring along.
///
Seeing as to how this would be your last set of days off before shooting was scheduled to wrap, you decided to make a big dinner and invite whoever cared to stop by for a plate. You shopped enough for everyone, and found peace in the stirring together of ingredients. A table spoon of pepper, a cup of sauce, these were sure instructions. There was nothing to question. No scene to watch play out. No eye contact to time the hold of.
But sure enough, Sam dragged Nathan into your room, the first guests of many to join your lax dinner party.
"There was a deal, buy five get two..." Sam gleamed at you, reaching into a mystery grocery bag, a gracious guest. One at a time he lifted a different bottle of wine onto the counter. And after the seventh, you asked what more he could be reaching for. Sam said "What if someone doesn't like wine?" followed by reveal a bottle of whiskey and vodka to top everything off.
"I... guess we do have tomorrow off as well." You laughed, turning back to the oven to turn the heat down.
And the evening kicked off. Nathan helped stack plates for everyone to claim, and lined glasses in a row for everyone to choose from. Sam played some music from the television, and greeted everyone as they streamed into your suite. They were slow to arrive, but eventually your room was full. Even though everyone ended up in usual groups (The lighting crew, the sound people, you Nathan and Sam...) There was still a nice wave of small conversation flowing along each guest. The people who ate thanked you for cooking and asked where you learned to make every thing. Those who drank lauded Sam and asked to turn up the music.
And all through dinner and each passive shot of whiskey and sip of wine, Nathan talked about work. About the ending, and the rest of the shoot, and how grateful he was to everyone for caring enough to make this crazy project come to life. "I'm sorry I talk about work even when I'm wasted, like a fuckin' nerd." Nathan waved.
"Who cares we don't care. You could talk about taxes for the rest of the night. She'd listen." Sam, tipsy, pointed in your direction knowingly, balancing a conversation between you two and the people in lighting he'd come to grow close to.
"Yeah he's our boss I'd be polite." You shrugged coldly, shrinking a bit in your perch at the island, while Nathan stood on the other side, seemingly none the wiser.
Sam let out a scoff and sipped more from his glass. You shot him a harsh glare.
"Why are you guys being weird?" Nathan pipped up, much to your chagrin.
"Sam is just being a little bitch like always, don't acknowledge him, you'll make it worse." You spat, more so in the direction of the friend you'd sworn to secrecy months ago. And he slinked off for a while, hurrying over to demand back control of the music from the television.
But you and Nathan stayed put, you perched on the island chair, him leaned against the other side of the counter. Taking turns sipping from respective glasses and choking on laughs over dumb jokes and work related nightmares. About childhood pets. About college. About death.
The evening was so nice. And you could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Not the light that shone over the ending of The Rehearsal. But a light that promised you might actually be able to survive getting through this thing with Nathan, despite his knowledge, despite yours.
You found solace in the chatter around you, in the plates in everyones hands, the food you made with care, atop them. The conversation you'd been sharing with Nathan paused in silence as he poured himself a glass of wine he swore would be his last. You nursed your fifth (or was it sixth?) with ease. And then you heard your name, a good deal across the way. It seemed to come from Sam. He was gesturing right in your direction.
"...those two. Her and Nathan." You perked up, watching Sam lean into Carol, the lighting director, his closest friend in the room beyond you. "She's had a stupid fucking crush on him for years."
Oh fuck this.
Your chest fluttered with nerves because you'd heard that. And if you'd been close and quiet enough, so had Nathan. You prayed as you turned your face his way, hoping he seemed oblivious.
Unfortunately, Nathan was looking right at you. And you could see all over his face that he'd heard. You could see in his dark gaze that he was looking into yours differently. And the fluttering in your chest turned to a plummeting down your stomach. But calmly, as to not make a scene, or embarrass yourself any further, you set your glass of wine down. You tore your eyes away from Nathans. And you swallowed the lump of fear in your throat as you got up and made a beeline for your bedroom.
Your suite was still bursting with chatter from every group of guests. You'd hope they just thought you were using the restroom. You hoped they didn't wonder why your bedroom door was locked, if they tried it. You hoped no one else heard Sam's dumb drunk ass. And you hoped Nathan hadn't thought too much less of you by morning so that you could finish the next couple weeks from the shadows and land a decent writing credit.
You listened to the party die down and you even heard Sam knock on your door to ask if you'd fallen asleep. Was he really so drunk he didn't piece together that you were beyond pissed? Or was he hoping you were passed out and wouldn't come hurling through the door to kill him?
"Go away Sam. I'm too upset to talk now and we're both too drunk." You called passed the door. And after a couple minutes or so had passed, you hoped that meant he'd slinked of to his own room. You sat at the desk chair, sadly swiveling. Now the fairy tale was over. You were no longer the writer Nathan consulted his every move with. But the writer who'd failed to disclose her infatuation with her boss and would now be humiliated to work alongside him because he found out.
Then another knock on the door interrupted yourself pity, anger bubbling up in it's place.
"Sam, I'm not opening this door. Please go away." You called, burying your head in your knees you'd tucked close to your chest.
"Sam left. Everyone left. I'm still here though. Can I come in?"
You weren't expecting to hear your favorite voice from the other side of the door. You weren't expecting nerves to rush so quickly to the forefront of your system.
"It's too embarrassing." You called back, drunk enough to be unashamed by an admission of that sort.
"No it's not. Is it true?" Nathan spoke. It was quiet enough to recognize his voice was low. Everyone must've really left. It must've been late. He must've been just as drunk as you. And with all that considered, waiting until the sober bright morning might be worse.
"I just wanna know if it's true. Please, open." He called again.
With a churning in your stomach you slinked to a stand. In the stillness of the dark room, you unlocked the latch and slowly turned the handle. Nathan didn't wait long to slip past the opening, creeping in from the yellow lit main area and settling into your dim space.
But you wasted no time slinking off to the swivel chair again- too embarrassed to look at him, apologizing with your head in your hands. Nathan eased futher in, like a handler nervous in a tiger cage, like you’re liable to pounce instead of crumble to pieces.
“I’m really sorry I never told you, maybe I should have- so unprofessional-“ You grumbled into your hands, tears threatening to sting your eyes, but you wouldn’t dare embarrass yourself further.
“I think it’s endearing.” Nathan called, the inflection in his tone begging you to take back your apology. He was slow to stall, and even slower to lean his weight against the foot of your bed, a few paces from where you sat.
“I never wanted you to think I took this job because I was like, in love, with you or something,” You sighed a heavy repulsed groan. Your hands slip away from your eyes as you sniffed back the emotion that threaten to erupt from your humiliation. You weren’t drunk enough to have a total meltdown. But you couldn’t even look at him, still. You kept your face turned away and your arms tucked in as you swiveled toward the windows.
“I hired you because you’re a good writer. The kind of writer I wanted the support of. If I thought you were stunning that was beside the point. And just because you evidently feel some kind of way about me doesn’t mean I think your work has less or different value.”
“Stop being so nice.” You bite, keeping your gaze fiercely held away from his. You could feel him staring right at you.
“No, I like you. I have for a while now.”
“Nathan, don’t pity me.” You were filled with enough annoyance at the suggestion of his words that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes to glare into his finally, shooting a sharp look right at him.
“I am not doing that.” Nathan let out a huff of a humorless laugh. “I’m trying to get you to see that we’ve been on the same page, even though I think it’s been kind of obvious.” The man stated this with such banality, like it was something known and exhausted. Your icy glare warmed into confusion as Nathan stood leaned against your bed, arms crossed, teeth pressed fiercely into his bottom lip. “Have our awkwardly long glances and dances around flirting not been obscenely obviously shared? It’s not been just you.”
“What are you trying to say?” You held a fast breath, the dam you’d built around your heart threatening to crack and burst and unhinge, weak under the weight and meaning of Nathan’s words.
“I already said it. I like you. More than I probably should.”
“Isn’t that kind of fucked up? You’re my boss, ya know?”
“Maybe, but I’m not really trying to coerce you, over here. I’m just trying to tell you there isn’t any reason for you to lock yourself up and feel bad.”
“This is so fucked up. This is like a nightmare version of my stupid girlish dream come true. You know exactly how I feel about you and you’re standing against my fuckin’ bed, telling me you feel the same, but in the morning you’ll be the guy I have to turn my work into and everyone will be staring at me because I’m sure Sam’s loud drunk ass has spread the word by now.” The realization of the pace at which this evening had unraveled was too much to sit with any longer. You were charged to stand, the slink away from the swivel chair and hold your posture nearer the window. Looking into the dark night for some kind of hopeful escape from this reality, from this embarrassment, from this blatant desire for Nathan in every way you just still couldn’t shed.
“This isn’t high school. There isn’t gossip. There are two adults who work together on a show that’s almost wrapped.” He spoke from somewhere behind where you stood, trying and failing to calm the waves in your chest.
“It’s not seeming as simple to me as you’re trying putting it.” You said.
“Then I’ll stop talking.” Nathan’s following silence was loaded. You could tell there was more he would’ve tried to say. More he was waiting for. A conclusion of some kind.
“Well, I don’t really want you to stop talking.” You turned to face him with a shrug. “I don’t want you to leave this room, because I cannot comprehend what this will all be like when you leave. And not like I think we’re getting anywhere now,” You swept a grand gesture between the pair of you, the tension palpable.
“Then I’ll stay.” Nathan shrugged, his arms tightening around his middle, his eyes daring to flick across your form. “Till you can tell me what it is you do want.”
“I know what I want. And apparently, it’s been obvious for a while now.”
“Then come here.”
His assuredness, his stillness, the smile you couldn't see but could tell he wanted to bloom. It was all the final straw. Your will to be a good person, or make a decision you thought everyone else may redeem as 'good' didn't matter after what Nathan just said, and how he said it.
It wasn't like you were being tricked or told. It was more like you finally had permission. from yourself. You were wordless, and you dared not blink as you took three strides to land a breath away from the man of your dreams. He kept his gaze steady as ever right on yours, until he blinked. Nathan let the flutter of his stare land on your lips, as his fingers dared to ghost across your forearm. When his mouth met yours, the collision was slow and skittish, like you were both still worried about how the other may react. But then you pressed your lips a little closer, and that was that. Somehow, the curse was broken. Or the spell was cast. When you kissed him, nothing ever felt more sure.
And after a moment, when you broke away, there was nothing to say. So you leaned in once more. The second kiss happened with a great deal of force from both ends. Somehow, the harder Nathan kissed you, the more lost in all of time and space you became. Somehow nothing and everything was real. Somehow the way his hands danced below your shirt felt familiar. And his teeth along your neck felt piercing. And your fingers curled perfectly around the waist band of his pants. Somehow-
///
Your eyes ached to flicker open, the morning sun stinging your vision through the curtains. Your head heavy from drinking. Your legs tangled with Nathan's. Your heart plummeting from great heights when you realized that last fact. He was soundly sleeping at your side, face shrouded by sheets, hand posed as if he may have been reaching out to you before passing out. It was all there in black and white, the evidence. But you remembered almost next to nothing about ending up here.
You remembered he kissed you once. Maybe twice. You remember him saying it was all okay. But everything else was a blur. Hazy images of hands and sighs. Distant echoes of his words in your ear, against the sheets. You must have been too drunk. Too in shock. Too overwhelmed. That same feeling flooded your system now, as you scrambled to leave the bed as silently as possible.
When you were free, and Nathan remained still, you were quick to scoop up some clothes from the floor before booking it out of the room. This was all too crazy. This should have been the best moment of your life. So why were you fighting not to cry?
As your hotel coffee machine croaked to a start, you paced from the balcony to the kitchen and back until your drink was finally made. A couple sips in and the warmth was doing nothing to calm your nerves. A couple more spins about the living room and your mind was even more jumbled with worry. You couldn't help but sniff back a couple of frustrated tears from falling, before falling to sit in defeat on the soda.
"Whoa, what's wrong..."
Nathan had awoken and was lingering in your bedroom door way, sporting nothing more than boxers and a grey teeshirt. And you hadn't expected him to find you like this, somehow. And you hadn't realized you had the words ready to go, but still they spilled forth...
"I don't want things to go this way! Everyone's gonna see you leave my room and think the worst, think I did this with you for the job or something." You exasperated, bringing your hands to your temples.
"Hey, no one is gonna-" He started to move closer, holding out his hands to offer up the words he spoke.
"You don't know that Nathan." You cut him off with a weak whine, watching as he eased to sit next to you.
"Okay, you're right. I don't know. I'm sorry I put you in this position-" The way he responded so levelly made you gain the smallest shred of composure.
"It's not like I didn't do this to myself either. Please don't claim all blame, okay? I fucked this all up. I should never have even said yes to this job. I've just made a mess."
"You haven't made a mess. I can recognize this is tricky but it's nothing that can't be worked out." Nathan spoke softly, and scooted closer. He let his hand sooth circles across your back. Mirroring the time you'd done this for him.
You buried your head in your hands, and let the moment matter. You let this comfort he offered you seep into your system. And then you thought of everything that could possibly happen after this. Every outcome youd be faced with. You felt another stubborn tear seep through your resolve that a sniffle couldn't save. And you made your decision.
"I have to quit."
"No, you don't."
"I'm quitting Nathan. This isn't fair to either of us. It's a conflict of interest." You explained, sitting up to face him.
"I didn't hire you because Sam told me to. I didn't hire you because I thought you were beautiful. I hired you after weeks of combing through a billion writers. Because I knew you'd be perfect for this job. I liked you more the more I got to know you, sure, but my interest has never been compromised. And neither has anyone else's. I never applied your input or ideas more heavily than Sam's or my own. I have stacks of notes to prove that. You can't quit."
You sat, teeth digging into your downturned lip. Eyes searching Nathan's as he rambled. Struggling to keep from falling into his touch when he reached a hand to brush across your cheek.
"What can I say to stop you?"
"I don't regret what happened last night. I just regret how we ended up there. And when. So I'm gonna go. Tonight. I will leave my notebook with you, my drafts and suggestions are all there. My strongest being that you make sure that boy knows you're not his father. And that you don't try to stop me from leaving."
You watched Nathan watch you, emotion playing out in his face in a way you weren't prepared for. And even though it looked like he was about to cry, he just gave a small nod and said "Okay."
You got up and found your notebook. Nathan found his pants. There was shuffling. There was a heavy silence. There was both of you trying to stall, but there was your mind already made up.
"I finally land my celebrity crush and I can't even spread the good news. When my NDA is up my friends are gonna lose their minds." You joked, tying to lighten the mood. Your bags were hastily packed, and Nathan lingered with crossed arms, pacing as he waited. He smiled at your statement, and shrugged to stand right before you.
"I finally raise a son but I have to tell him it's not real, tonight. I finally tell you how I feel, and you're leaving... Funny how life works." Nathan lamented. You could tell he was trying to relate. To get you to feel less horribly. But it was only hurting your heart more.
When it came time for you to linger near the door with all your bags in hand, Nathan kissed your cheek and said he wish he didn't have to see you go; but respected your decision. He even paid for a flight, saying something about feeling bad. Or being a good boss. He said something about seeing you back in the city, not like he was asking but hoping you'd give him a shot. Or maybe that was just your own hope mingling in your interpretation.
Nathan made sure the hall was quiet before he slipped out without a sound. You made sure to listen for the sound of his door shutting down the hall before you reached to make your own escape. You managed to sneak out of the hotel without running into anyone at all.
When the hotel doors fluttered closed behind you, your heart ached like you'd been struck by a steak right through the chest. As you waited in a coffee shop down the road for an uber, you failed at trying not to let your lip quiver.
When you made it to the airport, you were barely registering what you'd done or how you'd ended up here. You were too busy running off, slinging your bags through security and finding your window seat with your hood pulled over your eye's, like you were still on the verge of being found out. You couldn't help but give in to the flight attendants offer, ordering one mimosa after the next, and saying "fuck it" to the turbulence because if it was your time to die what better than now.
When you land in L.A your phone exploded with notifications- phone constant with vibration you worried would fry the batteries inside.
There are like... twenty texts from Sam. Most are voice notes. One read, "I'm so so sorry. Nathan told me you left. I seriously didn't know anybody but Carol heard me. And she never told anyone else either. No one knows or cares. Please just come back. Nathan doesn't even seem upset that you like him or whatever but he seems upset that you're gone. Please-"
You locked your phone screen and felt a new rush of anger. It seemed like Sam really didn't know the upset he'd caused. And it seemed like he didn't mean it. But that didn't change that fact that it happened and everything had changed, because he'd said something you begged him never to.
Your ride home was quick. Your apartment was steeped in silence you swam through like a punishment. You ended up in this dense fog of setback quiet all of your own accord. The dim light and the dark hour was all you could be sure of. You had no plans for tomorrow or for the day after that. You had only a long hot shower, and a cup of tea on your beloved patio, familiarities to dull the ache.
When you final gained the gall to go through all of Sam's texts, there were a couple more waiting for replies that caught your attention, one only just sent mere minutes ago.
"Safe flight?"
"Yes. Thanks again for buying it."
"Everyone missed you on set. Even the kids."
You stared at Nathan's name in the corner of your screen before turned your eyes back to the conversation going through the satellites that connected you and him in real time. You saw three tiny bubbles pop up and disappear, like he was going to say something but had changed his mind. But you'd just thought of something necessary to add...
"Please don't give me writing credit for the last couple episodes."
"Please stop being so hard on yourself."
With a heavy sigh that you hoped would lighten the anvil in your chest, you locked your screen again and decidedly went to bed- alone.
///
Your friends were delighted to see you. And they were a delight to see. The three girls you'd grown closer to than family had always taken your mind off things, turned your dull days into dizzy nights of laughter and shared stories. It was you who made reservations for such an evening after announcing your homecoming.
An exclusive dinner was just what you needed. An excuse to be in a cute little dress with no time limit and no manners to worry over. Maybe you'd stay out till dawn looking for distraction. Maybe you'd meet a newer cuter guy to take your mind off of the one you'd always been a little fixated on.
"We didn't know you'd be back yet! It's so nice to see you babe!" Joyanne was the first to arrive, dressed in cheetah print like the star she was. Hugging you too tightly like always. Linda and Mia were surprisingly right on her tail, are waiting their turn. You all sat around a cloth covered table, ordering drinks.
"So how was it, you were gone so long, it sounded like a big job." Mia remarked, her jeweled hands reaching for the martini she always asked for. Your friends knew there would still be a lot you couldn't say too loudly, or on social media. But you could spread some fun details every now and again to pal you knew would keep things quiet; depending on the legalities of your disclosure. These friends had always been privy to the details they shouldn't have been. And you had usual been excited to spare no particular. Till now.
"It was good. A bit stressful. I'm pretty glad to be home, I needed this night out like you wouldn't believe." You feigned a laugh, hoping the air of exhaustion you put forth would keep their minds from wondering why you weren't spilling more beans. They all seemed to understand and didn't press on too much more beyond the weather and the hours you kept.
You shifted gears, begging to know how they'd been, dying to get back to normalcy and out of this nightmare you'd spun yourself into. But your phone kept buzzing over appetizers. So when Joyanne got up for more drinks and Mia was checking Lindas teeth, you got out your phone. There were three texts from Nathan.
"Remy called me Nathan today."
"Carol from lighting wanted me to tell you she never told anyone what Sam said."
"Should I go with the introspective ending or the cliffhanger?"
You breathed a chuckled of disbelief from your nose as you considered how to text back.
"I'm not your writer anymore, remember?"
"But you're still my friend, right?"
Your mind whirred blankly. Your chest whirred with emotion.
"Who are you chattering with over there? When is you NDA up?" Mia laughed, the kind of giggle that would usually coax you into whispering in her ear.
"Oh, just a producer. Edits, you know." You waved. Glancing back down at your phone screen, you kept the texters name hidden from view as Joyanne skipped back to the chair at your side.
"Introspective."
///
Before you knew it, months had passed by. Which was crazy to realize, because every day you seemed to watch the hours tick by with an agonizing crawl. You still hadn't text Sam back. Not for a lack of trying. You'd spend some morning drafting paragraph after paragraph of sorry's and explanations. But you couldn't bring yourself to send them.
You'd hear from Nathan every now and then. You'd send dumb TikToks to each other. And you'd scroll past the edits of him you used to watch on repeat. Some how they just hurt your feelings. Or maybe you were hurting your own.
When you finally got another gig writing for a mini series, it was a joyous escape. Work timed your days, and clouded your worries with new notes and plots and revisions. And sometimes you'd even started to forget why the ever present pang in your chest had made a home there. But then you'd get a new text...
"Your name is going on every episode. No one knows anything more than us. And Sam is very sad he hasn't heard from you."
You were milling about your kitchen, debating on dinner. Nothing struck you, till your phone buzzed. You weren't even hungry anymore when you read Nathan's message. You weren't even thinking when you tapped his name on the screen, and the little green button next to it.
"Hello stranger."
"Hi Nathan."
"To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I just... wanted to say sorry for how everything ended. But I'm sure the show turned out exactly how it needed to. You had a great vision." If you were ever truly going to move on from your own personal self destruction, you'd have to rebuild. And you weren't expecting anything out of this reconciliation. You were simply ready to release it all.
"Well, if you are sorry, how about you make it up to me by going out sometime soon? Really talk." Nathan eased every word into your ear like a spell. And you were sucked right back into his charm.
"Yeah. I'd like that." You breathed, knowing any hesitation would send you right back into the purgatory of feeling you'd been ready to escape.
"I am sorry too, though." Nathan rang. "More so. I shouldn't have done... all of that. As the person in a position of power."
"Right, but it wasn't to persuade me. And I left. So we're both sorry. And it's all fine. Right?"
"Right. Okay. I'll text you a plan. I'll see you soon."
The ache in your chest you'd nursed like a sickness lied dormant, for now. A pang of just as painful hope dared to pierce through. It was time to make one last phone call.
///
He didn't answer for weeks. But you persisted... until the line buzzed with a click that meant Sam answered. Before he could hang up you were quick to spout off a plea...
"Im really sorry for dipping. And really sorry for not texting back. It was just all so overwhelming. I'm so sorry Sam."
You heard your friend sigh from the other line, and you breathed in that air and held it until he eventually spoke up.
"I really do understand that." He spoke. "I know I fucked up. I said something I promised you I'd never say."
"And I reacted really really poorly." You nodded in solace.
"Yeah, shit got messed up." Sam seemed to lament, from the tone in his voice you could read. "Though I hear it's maybe not... all the way messed up?"
"Explain yourself." You demanded.
"Went out for drinks with Fielder the other night and he told me a lot more of what happened the night before you left. And that theres a date this weekend?"
Well damn.
"Yeeeeah." You pursed your lips and shook your head, not fully prepared to own up to this but ready to all the same knowing your friend had become privy to all the info, and that the show was long over. "I left because I was sure everyone was going to find out. I didn't want a certain association linked to my reputation or the show."
"Well... thats remarkably noble of you." Sam said.
"If you can forgive me for ghosting you I'd love to put this all behind me."
"I can forgive you if you can forgive me. I know know I fucked up bad."
"I forgive you Sam. I will see you at the premier. I'd ask you to be my date but I'd like to hope I'd already be taken."
"Oh, you'll be booked and busy and banging, babe."
You laughed hard and told Sam you were glad you didn't have to miss him anymore.
///
Back to your usual tradition, Joyanne came over. The other girls couldn't make it and that was a shame because your credits had just been added to IMDb. And your friend group always snooped movies credits to gossip about old coworkers and friends who were feature on new productions.
"Mia said she could probably escape her mom's dinner early. But Linda is way sick."
"Poor thing. Always something with her."
You offered your dearest pal a soda and asked how her week had gone. She crashed at the stool in your kitchen to unload days worth of gossip. The premier of Nathan's new show was in three nights from now. But more importantly your date was in 24 hours. You knew you couldn't wait much longer to share your own news. But to your surprise, she was the one who broke the ice you hadn't even eluded to yet.
"Oh, I saw the trailer for your man crush's new show. How much can you hardly stand it, babe?"
"Oh, yeah it comes out soon, I think." Your heart was hammering. You brought up IMDb as a tool.It was now or never. And you'd kept her waiting long enough. "Yeah, this weekend." You pointed to the date on the page near his headshot.
"Oh the credits are out." Joyanne gave an evil laugh and leaned closer to look at the list of cast a crew.
"Writer, producer, editor Nathan Fielder. Writer, consultant Sam Temperton. Writer-" Joyanne was struck silent as you pressed your lips together tight between your teeth, suppressing a scream so her reaction could shine. She said your full name as listed on the credit page. And then she said it again like maybe she'd gotten it wrong the first time. And then she yelled your full name at you like question.
"I know! I know! I don't know how it all happened, Joyanne." You were both screaming and flitting about your tiled floors like a couple of loons. She pulled out her phone and rang Mia with great urgency. Decidedly, she had to be hurried along.
"Bitch you need to get over here NOW."
"Okay oh my God I'm coming, is everything okay?" Mia's voice crackled through the phone.
"Just hurry!" Your other friend implored.
"Should I start now, or should I save everything for when Mia gets here?"
"Everything?" Joyanna rose a brow, picking up some of what your implication must've meant. "Oh my God, please tell me you have more than soda here." Joyanne got up and started rummaging through your cabinets. You got up to help her choose between liquors, and poured three glasses.
Mia came in just in time to find three drinks lining the counter and you and Joyanne cackling in the kitchen.
"Jesus Christ you guys made me think something was wrong."
"It's so much better than wrong." Joyanne instructed your friend in her sequined dress to sit, and decidedly handed her the drink.
"I think first, you should watch this." You pulled up the minute long trailer.
"Did you call screaming over boys? You were really stuck in the woods too long, up there." Mia remarked in her gravel tone, shifting her big eyes to the screen. As it played you watched Joyanne hold back burst of excitement. When it ended Mia said,
"Hey this looks different. I may be starting to see the appeal of your man!"
"Well, wait till you see this." Joyanne held the opened IMDB page up in front of your friend as she registered what she was looking at.
"Oh, the credits. They must be juicy, that's gotta be why you called- OH MY GOD."
Now everyone was freaking out, until Joyanne became a shocking voice of reason,
"Okay shut up, she wouldn't tell me a thing until you got here here."
You decided to move both your friends to the living area. They sat in perfect attendance on the love seat, drinks in hand.
"This was all Sam's credit. Remember him? The runner of the pilot before I didn't have work?"
"Oh yeah the guy you brought bowling when Linda couldn't come. He was fun."
"Well he hyped me up for this show, unbeknownced to me I swear to God. Sam just liked working with me so much, my name came up." Then you went into how petrified you were meeting Nathan out of the blue.
"Why didn't you call us that very night?" Joyanne hollered.
"I didn't want to jeopardize a real job opportunity by focusing on my crush. I really couldn't think about it. I would have called you all if I turned it down. But I didn't."
"So tell us about the show! Tell us about him! How did you not loose your mind every day. This is like if Glenn Powell took my pilates class every day. I would have fainted every morning." mia
"There were definitely moments where I was ten hundred percent uncool. But I just had to remind myself it was work. It did get pretty stressful, it was just me and Sam and Nathan and every day was like starting from scratch. Totally different than any other job I've had." .
"I am intrigued by the shows premise. But I'm dying to know if Nathan ever found out about your infatuation." Joyanne.
"Well..."
"Well?" both of your friends sat on the edge of the love seat with bated breath.
"Sam kind of spilled the beans. And I was pissed. But everyone was so drunk that night. I don't remember most of what happened. Besides the fact that Nathan made the first move."
Your friends are were in shambles.
"You didn't pull Nathan Fielder? He pulled you?" Joyanne was fanning herself as if she was mere moments from fainting.
"But I felt really weird about it all, so I left two weeks early. I actually asked for my credits to be redacted because I was so afraid of anyone finding out I slept with my boss."
"That's why you came home. And you sat there at dinner knowing you couldn't tell us a damn thing." Joyanne spoke, amazed. Both of them with wide jaws and bugged eyes
"Girl... I almost feel like this is too good to be true." Mia gave you a sidelong glance, her jaw in a constant state of slack.
"Well, we have a date tomorrow." You pulled your phone out to flash them confirmation.
"I am not calling you a liar I'm just in shock! Honestly!"
"Call him." Joyanne pressed, excitedly.
"No! Don't make her do that!" Mia swatted.
But eager to show off you grinned and pressed call. "What are you gonna say?" Mia squeaked ina whisper."
"I don't even know." You confessed, voice just as quiet as the dial tone sounded. It rang twice.
"Oh, well hello." Nathan mused from the other line, voice instantly recognizable. Your friends sat covering their faces in different states of amazement.
"Hi..." You scrunched your brow, thinking quick, needing an excuse. "What's our dress code for tomorrow night?" Was the best you could come up with.
"Before or after dinner?" Nathan responded. You could hear the smirk in his voice. You watched your friends struggle to contain their reactions and had to swallow away a giggle yourself. You turned your face away from your friends as you tried to wrap up this call as naturally as possible.
"You know what I mean, come on." You prompted.
"Something kinda nice, I guess."
"Okay, I guess I'm just nervous."
"Well it's not like we haven't-"
"Yeah, I know." You couldn't help but let out an anxious laugh at that point, hoping the small trills coming from your friends muffled faces couldn't be heard. "This will just be different, a little bit. But it's good."
"Yeah it's good. I will see you tomorrow in whatever you wear."
"Okay, I will see you too. Okay bye." You hurried to hang up and watched your friends slump over in a mess of screaming laughter.
"Linda always misses the craziest shit." Mia hummed, laid back in her state of laughing shock.
"I am so happy for you." Joyanne smiled.
///
Nathan was waiting for you at a tiny table in the restaurant of a very fancy hotel. The place was packed with families and business men and producers. The air was thick with chatter and clinking glasses and jazz from the bar speakers. But Nathan sat steady and still, smiling when he saw you appear.
And when you joined him, there was suddenly too much to say. So much you didn't know where to start.
"So..."
"So..."
"I don't wanna do small talk." Nathan decided. As he shock his head, you were presented with a glass of wine he'd already ordered for you. "I just wanna skip to the part where I remind you how much I like you and how much I want to be something with you. And how genuinely cool I think you are."
"Well, you really don't think it's weird? I mean, I was a pretty big fan before I became a writer." You sat back, nervous to unpack the meaning of everything, but somehow sure it would all spin itself into something okay. Better than okay. Beautiful, maybe.
"Yeah well, I didn't meet you as a fan. I didn't sign anything or pose for a selfie. I met you as a worker who I had a lot of respect for. And then the nature of our working together felt much more like a friendship being formed than anything. And I fell for that person I came to know. The companion. But I do recognize you being someone who worked for me was a small blip in the story."
"Okay well, I obviously like you too. And would be okay to make this work if you would be." You realized that it could be that simple. You wanted it to be.
"Yeah I can't have you go again. It actually hurt." Nathan offered a hint of grimace as he sipped his own drink, looking to you with the hurt you recognized building, that morning in the hotel up North.
"Well I'm sorry but it was the right thing to do." You spoke slow, deliberate with your words.
"I know that. It also made me like you more."
And it was just that easy. As it had always been, with Nathan. You spoke without regard, though nerves stood on end at the mention of certain things, you weren't afraid to talk about them with him, anymore.
"Will you be my official date to the premiere? We don't have to make a great big deal out of it to everyone. But I-"
"Yes. I'd be glad."
"You know, HBO is already offering the green light for a second season."
You told Nathan you were proud of him. You mentioned how fascinating it was to watch him work through every hurdle and maneuver every word of the script into a meaningful story. How HBO would be foolish to not take this new show of his and run with it.
Nathan flashed you a flustered grin and shrugged when he mentioned not being sure exactly what to do next.
"Well, the sky is your limit"
"Yeah..." Nathan grinned, giving you a look, already scheming, you could tell. And you smiled at the fact that you could tell. That you knew him, and he let you. That you'd get to know him better. That you were having dinner now.
Everything fell into a perfect circle of events, no matter how painful or messy. You couldn't be mad having ended up where you were, sitting across from your dream man as he smiled at you and asked if you wanted to go back to his place. He laughed when you told him he had no idea how long you'd been hoping he might ask.
a:n/ ello! this fic is really just to test the waters! it's not my best or worst, but im eager to write more for nathan so feel free to send in requests!
plot: you land your dream job, there is just one problem. your dream man is running the whole damn show.
warnings: lots of tension/pinning, mentions of sex but no intense descriptions (saving the real smut for when I get better ideas lol)
///
Since moving into the heart of Hollywood, your career had been on a slow yet steady incline. After a year in the commercial scripting business, you'd been able to increase your credits to television. You became the head writer for a limited drama special and met some of the most interesting people in the industry. But the new pilot you'd been chipping away at, had freshly been booted. And now you were completely out of work.
It helped that the reputable connections you'd made over the years could sometimes double as friends. Tonight, one of them had called to invite you for drinks. The usually lively bar was packed, sweaty bodies and booming voices crowding every corner. Sam was waiting for you near the bar, a glowing cocktail in hand. He was a tall lanky fellow, sandy blonde curls always falling near his eyes. You were glad to know the cancelation of the last show you worked on together, hadn't meant the end of your friendship.
While you ordered your drink, and Sam downed his, you both gossiped about old stories and laughed over new realizations.
"Okay... I'm glad you came out for drinks because I have a new project I'm helping on and I think you'd be an asset to get this thing off the ground. I don't mean to be all business minded on a Friday at midnight but," Sam bared his teeth as he shot a nervous and hopeful grin your way, silently asking to proceed his rambling. You let out a small breath of a chuckle as you brought your drink to your lips and nodded.
"But," Sam continued with a more genuine smile beginning to reach his eyes. "The creator of this new project I'm helping on is here tonight; and I think it would be great to introduce you two sooner than later. This guy, he really never stops working. I'd like you to land this spot before he sniffs someone else out."
"Okay, okay! Is that why you were here so much earlier than me?" You agreed, "I can tell you're not gonna shut up about this and I do need another job soon."
Sam was glad to hear it, easing from his high-top bar seat and tugging at your arm to follow. He mentioned something about being hopeful to work with you again as he shouldered through the crowd a few steps ahead of you. Maybe you should have asked more details. But it wasn't like you had to say yes or no tonight in this crowded bar, right? This was just a friend being kind enough to make a connection on your behalf.
Sam had made contact with the mystery creator in question, you heard them greet as you struggled to squeeze past the last few bodies in your way.
"Listen I want you to meet a friend of mine, she's a brilliant writer and I think she'd be a great addition to this new thing-" You could hear Sam clearer as you shuffled closer, noticing him turn to point your way. And when your eye left your friends gesture, your gaze landed on the man who you were meant to meet. Trouble was, you already knew him.
"Hi, I'm Nathan. Sam says you two have worked together before?"
It took every effort in your system to remain nonchalant. During the next nanosecond that felt like an hour, you fought to keep from making an absolute fool of yourself. Nathan Fielder was recognizable from his work, his television shows of the past, his own writing credits. But more than that, he was the one celebrity you'd never been able to shake some school girl crush over. While your friends traded screenshots of people like Pedro or Keanu, you'd always been irrevocably entranced by Nathan's unique charm.
"Uh, yeah- yes." You shot Sam a grin, praying to a higher power that you weren't blushing. Sam wouldn't have known the position he'd just thrown you into the deep end of. And you never could have predicted this meeting to come to pass. You were completely unprepared and a little annoyed (more at yourself than anything) but you more importantly did need a job. "I've been writing for years but Sam and I only just met on a pilot over spring."
"Oh, cool." Nathan let his head bob in a small nod as he kept a blank eye on you. God, you couldn't believe you were standing face to face with the comedian you'd seen so many TikTok edits of. Maybe this could all have been a dream. A terrible horrible dream. "Well he's spoken very highly of you and we need help scripting some pretty broad ideas. I can set up a meeting if you're interested?"
"A meeting would be aweso- great. I would be interested." You couldn't manage a stutter out of this equation, because you were looking right at Nathan as he was looking right at you. His hair had become a little shaggy and its usual darkness highlighted with bits of grey. He was wearing a jacket of his own design. And he was looking right at you. You initially weren't going to have more than a couple drinks tonight. But now you'd never been more desperate for a shot in your life.
"Yeah, it's too loud in here. I'll have Sam work out all the details." Nathan turned to your mutual friend and offered him an expression before parting ways from the pair of you with a little awkward wave. You watched the guy you'd long been stupidly infatuated with walk away, and hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath until his figure disappeared into the red lit sea of patrons.
"I know you get worried about making a good first impression, but I've never seen you stop breathing before." Sam cocked a brow and offered you a curious smirk.
"You're buying me a drink now." You wasted no time pushing your friend toward the bar top, stomping behind him with your hand to his back.
"Two Johnny Walkers, both doubles." Sam waved the bartender over and managed to secure the pair of you a small enough space to take up at the end of the counter.
"I'll tell you this but you cannot bring it up ever after tonight and I mean ever." You pointed to Sam, watching his eyes grow deviously curious as you shot the meanest most aggressive glare you could muster. Your friend kept his lips pressed together and waited.
"I've been in love with him since the first season of Nathan For You. In love. I never thought I'd meet him and I certainly never thought you'd drag me over to my number one celebrity crush for a job offer." As you confessed, the bar tender was sliding glasses toward you and your friend. You wasted no time tossing back the alcohol as Sam let out a hearty chuckle of realization.
"Well this is going to be fun!"
///
That night you crashed into bed with a million nerves pilling up. There were so many reasons you didn't want to fuck up this potential meeting. And there were so many reasons you were going to have to put your dumb little crush aside.
You'd opened TikTok, eager to scroll your mind numb. But immediately upon bringing the app to life, an edit of Nathan flashed before your eyes. forcing a groan from the pit of you. This wasn't just going to be hard to forget. It was a crush you'd have to rid yourself of entirely should work happen to collide your worlds.
///
Sam had indeed set up a proper meeting to make this new writing opportunity more official just days later. And the fact it was all happening so fast added to your list of nerves. There was a lot at stake here, not like you couldn't land another job eventually. But you were really afraid how bad you wanted this one.
On your way into the studio that bright and sunny morning, you pretended you didn't care about anything. Not the job, not the man, not the way your outfit flitted against the shape of you, nothing. It was the only way to cope short term. As you glided up a set of wide stairs and turned a few posters covered corners, you tried not to get any of your hopes up in any kind of way. This was no big deal, it couldn't be. It was just a job offer. You'd either land it or you wouldn't.
To your surprise, Sam was lingering outside the office you were instructed via email to find, dressed sharply in an ironed shirt and tie. He mentioned he'd be joining the meeting. That was both a relief and an odd distress. The two cups of coffee in his hands were a nice distraction for a fleeting second...
"From the cafe on the lot," He extended the kind offer, and you accepted the drink with courtesy. "It'll be us three today, no one else has been pulled in yet, beyond his usual team. Nathan will explain everything but you should know he'll be very much steering the writing process himself, he's got all these ideas."
"Okay." You breathed, watching Sam step forward to guide you through an already opened door. Inside were tall windows and a long wooden desk. Several chairs filled up the bright space, and Nathan lingered near the head of the table, laying folders in front of just three seats. This was just a job interview. But you couldn't help but let your eyes fall across the comedian's figure. He was even more intriguing in real life, even more distinctive.
"Thanks for being here. I see Sam has already buttered you up." Nathan was cheery, a small grin ever present on his face as he stepped closer toward you. His eye's were easy to watch, and you wanted to figure out what thought laid beyond them. Oh God, maybe this was a bad idea.
"Well I feel bad I didn't bring any bribes of my own." You smiled, watching Nathans expression widen at your remark. Sam gestured for you to sit at one of the three pulled out chairs, as he sat next to you. And while Nathan eased into the seat at the head of the table, he spoke up again.
"I'll be honest with you. Sam has already shown me your credits, your history. I really don't need any convincing to ask you to join us. This meeting is really to get you on board with what we're doing, convince you to join."
You watched the comedian speak at an even pace and use his hands to express his meaning. You thought back to every bit you'd seen the man at the head of this table achieve; and you realized that no matter how much you admired him for pulling certain stunts, you'd be surely signing up for absurdity on some level. And for a fleeting moment you worried and wondered if you had the kind of abilities he'd want to work with. Or if you'd ever feel capable in any real way.
Nathan asked you to open the folder before you, while he and Sam followed suit with their own. The first page looked to you like a title card.
"The Rehearsal."
Nathan went on to explain his orignial show, and how in the past he'd practiced for some of the more intense or awkward scenarios he'd put himself in. He explained that while comedy would still be the roots of this new project, he was more interested in intertwining introspection.
"This is going to ideally be like a mix of reality television, documentary, sketch comedy. And while we will be rehearsing or planning through endless plots, I want as many organic scenarios to be allowed to play out as possible."
"We know this sounds kind of intense, or maybe like a tangled web." Sam spoke up on the other side of you. "But Nathan has drafted for months," He thumbed through the folder, pointing out paragraphs for you to find and consider. The three of you sat in there for a while longer, flipping through pages, laughing at ideas, asking each other questions. Could this work? If it did, would any audience connect with it? And how could that goal be shaped to achieve?
"This will obviously be a massive undertaking, and everyone will have to follow a strict NDA. That includes never disclosing where you travel for a while, or the fact that you'll be working with me. Because, ya know, I want those involved to feel disconnected from the show of it all and really into the experiment." Nathan spoke, his total transparency about this offer was something you admired.
"I understand. You can be viewed as more of a... looming public figure, than a creator, sometimes." You remarked, watching Nathan offer you a keen smirk from the head of the table. God, you could look at him all day.
"Well, that's generous, giving me a little too much credit. Once again, I'm pitching to you. What do... what do you think?" He quirked a quizzical brow and leaned a little closer.
"How many more writers are you looking to add?"
"I was considering a few, but I don't like the idea of too many perspectives. I think you and Sam as my team could be strong enough. I hope that isn't too much pressure." Nathan retorted.
"Oh, damn. What do you think about that, Sammy boy?" You turned in your chair a bit to find your friend shrugging your way. You trusted him and his skill at this point, but would you be able to render respect at such close proximity? Would you not drive each other crazy?
"I know it'll be a lot of work, and different kind of work, but we've done that well enough together before. I can't find a reason to be weary." Sam seemed at total ease. So if this team was already reared, why stall?
This was crazy. You never thought an opportunity so vast and expansive and creative was in this near of a future for you. You thought Netflix specials and crime documentaries were as far as you could see. And then add your biggest celebrity crush into the mix, whose creativity you'd been so deeply enamored by. You'd be crazy to turn this down. You'd just have to be sure your infatuation didn't cloud your focus.
"Okay. When do we start?"
"You'll do it?" Nathans grin stretched into a real smile for the first time all afternoon.
"Yeah, I think I can. I think I should." You smiled back for a beat before you let your nerves get the best of you, turning your face away from Nathan's.
"You won't regret this," Sam gleamed. You knew he was congratulating you for being accepted in, thanking you for letting him talk you into it, and apologizing for putting you into such close proximity to Nathan Fielder; all in one broad sentence.
///
Almost every Saturday night with very few exceptions were spent with your three closest pals in the world.
Joyanne was a rising multi-talent from Japan who'd moved into town a few years back. She worked with you as the star and producer of a documentary long enough to become one of the best friends you'd ever known. Linda was a true-blue Californian, a professional background extra who picked up serving shifts on the weekend; her fast paced life meant she showed up to every dinner with a new story to tell. Then there was Mia- The midwestern girl you who owned the gym were the only work out class you'd ever joined took place; and who already miraculously knew the other girls and took it upon herself to form the group chat.
The smartly dressed women sat around your apartment, scrolling through social media and arguing over what movie to agree on streaming.
"Guys please stop arguing... because I'm leaving town for a job and I want our last Saturday to be fun." You whined, making your first official announcement that you'd be unable to keep tradition alive for a while. Your friends all sat up from their slumps and demanded to know where you were going.
You'd already singed an NDA. And you knew if you so much as let a hint slip out about where you were going or with who, that one of the three of them was bound to make a big bloody deal about it. Because they all knew exactly how you'd always felt about Nathan. And now that he was your boss, you had to keep your thoughts, feelings, and Saturday night confessions on total lock down.
"I'll be gone for a few months up north somewhere. I'm sorry to tell you all last minute like this but you all really need to agree on a movie." You chuckled, waving the remote that laid in wait in your grasp.
"What! Where are you staying?" Mia quizzed, leaning closer to you to search your gaze. She was always the most bummed when you had to cancel plans for any given reason.
"I can't exactly give too much away." You warned, dragging out your words, hoping they could tell you wanted to scream about it with them, but truly couldn't.
"You can't even say who you're writing with? This is exciting, you've been looking for a new gig!" Joyanne encouraged, Linda seconded her opinion.
"I really cannot tell you." You were struggling to keep a straight face. Struggling to stop from screaming at the top of your lungs that you were about to be stuck on a plane with the guy who stared in a few of your more vivid imaginations over the years. But eventually, one very exciting day, they'd all know.
///
You were stuck beside Sam on a jostly passenger plane, while he pestered you about what sort of dream come true this must have been for you. New York was the first stop. You hoped the hustle and bustle of the city would buzz louder than your nerves. By the time you'd relocate to Oregon, God only knew what kind of work crazy - boy obsessed lunatic you'd be fighting internal battles with.
"Please just help me write, I really can't afford you making me blush about this while we're actively in the middle of working." You reached over to flip open Sam's notebook.
"We need forty jokes, and four sides by the time this thing lands." You reminded. Nathan had emailed you each an outline for the first day. After your six-hour flight spent drafting ideas with Sam, you would unload your things at a hotel in New York and meet Nathan for dinner to go over the ideas you culminated before shooting began the next morning. "I will not show up on day one to disappoint."
"I bet I know what you'd like to show up and-" Sam began to quip, before you nudged your elbow into his ribs. He let out a huff of air while you shut him up further.
"Start. Writing."
///
New York was busy. The energy here was so vastly different. L.A. was an equally large city, but there, all the time in the world seemed to flow freely. Here, car horns blared, pedestrians jogged across the street, vendors hollered for business. It was busy. There was no time to waste. That put you in a mind set to take work even more seriously.
As you situated your suitcase into a third floor room that's bed took up most the space, your phone buzzed.
"Hi writers. My room number is 334. I ordered pizza. Meet me here in an hour to plan shit?"
Nathan had included you in a group text with Sam, and the informal nature of the invitation made you chuckle, as you hobbled into your small space. You were glad for a window of time to change and decompress after being stuck in the air so long. But as you fixed your face and wriggled into a new shirt, it was time for the biggest loudest mental pep talk you'd ever given yourself. No silly little infatuation could show. No feeling or fleeting wish could effect your paychecks, or the work you wanted to do a good job of providing.
You were confident walking into Nathans suite. You felt like you had a true hold over your emotions. Like the game plan you would navigate your time by was sure to work. Even when man himself told you and Sam to sit on the edge of his bed for lack of better chairs to offer, you didn't let your poker face budge.
"So I've already been here a week, rehearsing. We've built every set. We will start shooting my rehearsal tomorrow morning and we meet the real Kor at 3pm. We only have two weeks to make this work. So what did you guys draft so far?" Nathan spoke from the opposite end of the bed. You wouldn't let yourself look at the flex of his arms as they supported his weight.
You and Sam sat, flipping through either of your notebooks. Nathan was intrigued by a lot of the direction you each suggested and was shocked you had so much considered already.
"I don't foresee us having to figure everything out at the end of every night, so much as having you both on set to draft as things play out. But thank you both for staying up so late." Nathan remarked. He then insisted on sharing some of the pizza that waited on the desk in his much larger room.
And even as you shared a semblance of a meal and talked about your flight, you wouldn't let it matter to you. Even though the three of you stayed up talking about childhood fears and obsessions, you held fast to the promise you made yourself. And even when you got to watch Nathan's smile twist into a laugh, and the sound of it hit you right in the chest with a pang of awe, you didn't let your resolve crumble. Maybe you could really do this.
///
The first few episode was well underway, and the shows shape was starting to become evident. There was something interesting coming to the light of this project that intrigued almost everyone who worked to make it come to life. And almost everyone became fixated on Nathan's approach once they started to realize how it was all meant to work. He was a great leader, clear in his approach, assured in his decisions. Stubborn in his vision.
You and Sam were always hovering near enough set to watch things play out. Close enough to jot down notes you thought could be important or rush revisions to the crew if need be. And one evening; while Sam was distracted by the star of the show, Kor, who rambled on about the origins of trivia- Nathan made a bee line to you.
"So, I know I need a natural way for the Chinese Gunpowder answer to come up on our walk. Bikes and buildings were easy. They're just... around. I cannot for the life of me think of anything gun related that won't scare him. We can't just come up to a shootout mid stroll." Nathan was talking fast, keeping his voice low as to not draw Kor's attention. Nathan was reaching for your elbow to pull you off to the side. You were busy enough considering his work-related question that you couldn't register the feeling of his touch.
"Walk by a gun store? No, we don't have time to set that up. Wait," You waved, thinking of something more feasible.
"A cop." You pointed to Nathan with the pen kept in your grasp, like the cap was going to spark the idea into the comedians brain.
"A cop?" Nathan quirked a brow and offered you a smirk. And the moments like that were the ones you really hated. When his expression would widen or his eyes would look too long into yours and any kind of silence followed. Those moments, ones like now, were hard to keep from swooning. But all the while, you were on the clock, so you started to explain.
"Turn a corner to a roped off road. Have a fake officer say there was an accident, tell you guys to go another way. He could be old. Like old enough to know this fact and be bittered by it. He could say like, 'I wish China never invited gunpowder.'"
"That's actually good. Sam legitimately suggested the shootout idea. Thank you for not being Sam." Nathan let out a chuckle that bled into a sigh, eye's staying locked on yours. You wondered if Nathan was waiting for more of your input. Or if he had more work to suggest you mockup. But the silence between the two of you lingered as the workers around you buzzed about. Just as you were about to shy away from his dark eyed stare, Nathan murmured something about finding the casting director to make it happen, turning off in a hurry.
///
The fake Alligator Lounge had become real enough to serve beer and pizza, and be rebranded with Nathans name at the helm. When the pub closed off to the public, you and the rest of the crew were invited to celebrate the end of shooting in New York. All kinds of drinks were being served around and all kinds of pizza seemed in never ending supply.
The night went on forever, some of the production team started a karaoke battle, and others tried their luck with a small round of trivia. When most of those who participated failed most answers, Sam was aghast. "All the answers were from the show! You people need to lock in!" He shouted from his vinyl stool. You calmed him down with a pat to the shoulder, saying he should be in better spirits, he won the game after all. Nathan sat across for the pair of you, gebuinly delighted by Sam's apparent frustration.
"But to be fair," They man with the greying hair spoke, "I failed that TikTok question same as everyone else. I've never been able to figure that app out. Nothing funny comes up ever." Nathan complained, reaching his hand to the middle of the table where his drink rested. The dark-eye'd comedian had done a decent job of working the room, shaking the hands of his team, and giving trivia a halfhearted effort. But when he ended up settling before you and Sam, he sat and stayed a while.
"You gotta look stuff up you like first. Like, just for a day. Then its the best app ever." You explained, pointing your half empty beer toward the guy as if to get his attention, as if he wasn't already looking at you with furrowed brows.
"What do you mean I thought it was supposed to know what I liked automatically? There's an algorithm?" Nathan wondered.
"No, look." Sam sighed, pulling his phone out and laying it on the middle of table for everyone to see. He explained how to search special interests, certain topics, and how after a couple scrolls the fyp would adapt. Nathan seemed to understand and was eager to pull his phone out to follow along. But just then your tall blonde coworker was called over to collect his trivia prize. And Nathan was asking you if he was using the search bar right. You leaned in closer and laughed at his misguided use of this application.
"You were so funny on Twitter. You can't be defeated by TikTok." You remarked.
"I was stupid on Twitter." Nathan let a breathy laugh escape, his eye fixed blankly on the phone in the middle of the table, his jaw clenching when you realized you'd been staring at him a bit too acutely.
"And that's funny." You chuckled too, breathing away a rush of nerves and thanking the alcohol you imbibed for the way it dulled your usual more frantic heartbeat.
After a few more instructions Nathan was understanding how to like videos and save them if he wanted his fyp to become more curated. You were appalled to scroll through his home page and find dud after dud.
"Well, yours can't be so much better." Nathan defended, as if he wasn't just asking for advice on how to get his to be less depressing. You feigned shock and got your phone out to prove him wrong. Someone in the pub had changed the pop music to something more grunge based. Some people were singing along. Some were yelling for more beers. Some were leaving. All the while you sat and unlocked your phone, finding TikTok. You opened a folder of videos you saved to laugh at when you needed them most. Not before, of course, scrambling to scroll, vetting that no video of Nathan had been saved to this specific collection. Your dirty secret was not one worth reveling yet. You weren't that drunk.
Nathan scrolled through one of your saved files on his own volition, your phone steady on the table, you each leaned in. He started laughing harder than you at some of the clips, calling them dumb, letting them play on loop. You explained this could be the future of his own fyp.
"I can add you and send these. If you like them from your account, you'll start getting better videos yourself."
Nathan wasted no time typing in his covert handle for you to follow. You almost forgot to hide your blush when he insisted you send him every video that ever made you laugh, because he thought he could trust your taste.
And when you looked up from your phone again, and dared to look beyond Nathan, a dream like torment faced you. Everyone had left. The music still played on loop, but not a single coworker occupied a corner booth or stool. Sam never came back to the table for a goodbye or anything. You'd been abandoned all alone with Nathan Fielder.
"Shit, we should go. We do have a flight in the morning." Nathan realized what you'd been staring into the horror of. But he didn't seem as petrified. When you realized you'd perhaps let your mask slip too suddenly, you scrambled to think of anything to say that would ground you back to feeling normal, like nothing was really wrong.
"What's gonna happen to this place?" You wondered mournfully, sudden and real emotion stalling your leave. You looked around, amazed that this pub was born of execution. Amazed the place had turned into something more. Something it was meant to be anyway. And that you had a small part in it.
"I have some ideas." Nathan seemed to hint, not daring to give too much away, though. Before you knew it he was standing before where you sat, a hand held out. Despite everything, you'd be a fool not to take it; as you stepped down from the raised ripped vinyl seat onto the sticky floor. No expense spared.
For a very fleeting moment, as your feet met the floor and your eyes met Nathans, you let your hand stay attached to his. You no longer needed the balance. You no longer needed the chivalry. And you swore it was like he was letting you just... hold on. But you had to lock in. You had a job to do. You had to take your hand away, and rip your eyes from his. You had to get some sleep.
Nathan didn't seem in a terrible hurry, however, as he locked up the business. He asked if you were looking forward to filming in Oregon, mentioning he'd never been there. You walked step for step at his side, away from the set and through the chilly quiet night. No cars were zooming by. No people loitered. It was almost as if this was all a set in its own way.
You answered Nathan's question as he shared your walk back to the hotel. You talked about all the places you'd traveled or wished you could have. You told another story about a terrible vacation with an even worse boyfriend.
"That guy wasn't cut out to be any kind of partner. Romantic or road trip wise." You chuckled, keeping your hands buried deep in the pockets of your jacket, matching Nathans body language.
"Maybe he needed a rehearsal." Nathan remarked, quirking his brow your way. You wished you could've let yourself stare at the shapes of his features all night.
"Yeah," You breathed the last of your humor away. "I think there are somethings practice unfortunately doesn't make perfect, however. Maybe, I think people practice with the wrong people, though, a lot."
"I dunno like... Before my divorce I thought I had the whole marriage figured out. But then I realized I didn't have her figured out. Or maybe she didn't get me. But you know what I'm saying?" Nathan remarked how relationships were easy to map on paper. You leave for work, you come home. Or you went on vacation. And made dinner. But sometimes it didn't matter the plan if the person was wrong- just like you'd said.
"But like... all our crew, right? They have their wives and boyfriends visiting the set or sharing a hotel room. And they're all so different and it all... just works. Maybe people like me can't make it work. Maybe I don't even know what I'm rambling about." Nathan let out a dry chuckle as his feet turned a corner.
The sidewalk ahead would end at your hotel's entrance. But you were desperately trying to slow your stroll in hopes you could walk and talk with Nathan like this for a few more measly moments.
"Do you ever wish... that was different? For you?"
"I dunno. I've kind of put off that lifestyle since it didn't work out the first time. I really shut that part of myself off. But, I dunno. It's been a long while now."
"Well maybe you just need practice." You bit your lip into a smile, hoping your sentence came off as more of a call back to a joke from before and not some hopeless, feckless ,plea. You turned your head then, realizing you'd let your guard down way too far down. You had a job to do, damn it. You heard Nathan hum something of an understanding before he reached to open the hotel doors for you. When you stepped inside you no longer let yourself be so disillusioned. The plan was to show no resolve. You couldn't have any further slips like this.
///
On the jet to Oregon, Nathan demanded to be sent more TikTok's. And who were you to deny your boss his demands? But when the plane landed, you hurried to lock yourself into the hotel suite allotted to you. No. More. Indulging. Your. Crush. You said it in the mirror a dozen times. And then you had all the more clarity to look around and notice how much nicer this room was than the last.
You had a golden decorated living area, a small kitchen, a big white bed in a room with its own paneled door. It was a space you'd be glad to occupy for the next couple months- to hide away in. And at that your resolve was stronger than ever.
For the next three weeks you holed up in that suite on weekends, watching movie marathons or having tea on the balcony that overlooked a swath of stunning trees.
Sam got you to go out once or twice, to a few local pubs and one surprisingly upscale French restaurant where you left work behind and laughed about old jokes. Those nights were the highlights of your free time since working up north. You'd spent enough time admiring the landscape that you sent a picture in the group chat of your best girls to gush over the beauty of your location. That, at the very least, they could know.
Nathan was still always around. But he was always working. So that made things easy for you to compartmentalize. If he ever complimented your work, you told yourself it was because other people were around, just being kind. If he ever sat next to you at the hotel breakfast lounge, you told yourself it was because all the other seats were taken. If he ever made you laugh, you told yourself you'd simply done your job, and he was simply doing his.
If Nathan was ever up at 5am to meet you on set, with a styrofoam cup of coffee in either hand, and traded one off to you before asking to go over notes in his trailer on set- you told yourself he was sleep deprived.
And the time Nathan fell asleep in a hastily shared uber back to the hotel, letting his head lulling toward your shoulder, you told yourself not to move because that was as good as things were ever gonna get for you.
The shoot in Oregon was more intense. Days and nights blurred together. The challenge of feigning a family for a one woman was a massive multi person undertaking. There were kids and parents and cast and crew constantly flitting about the break tent. And then there was Angela, the subject. She really grated on your nerves. Sam had to become the liaison from the writers to the woman raising a faux baby, because nothing you ever tried to explain to Angela ever seemed to get through to her. There was fake snow being sent in. There was fake gold being buried. And you were going a bit stir crazy not being able to talk to your friends about how insane your life had become in a very short time span.
Mid shoot, you were sat across from Nathan and Sam at a picnic table. At the edge of the fake homes property, the crew had set up tents and tables and trailers to break during. And while you still couldn't get enough of the view, you dreamed of the hustle and bustle of L.A. again. You couldn't wait for a never ending night out in clothes that hurt to wear but made you feel hot as hell. You needed to let loose. And the never ending supply of coffee you lived off of here in Oregon was probably not helping your nerves; you thought, sipping an iced americano all the while.
Nathan was debating how to navigate the issue of Angela's date leaving. Sam was scrambling through his notes when he got a notification the door dash he ordered was at the property gates. Up and away went the lanky blonde. You were trying to stop your mind from whirring with ideas and exhausted energy when Nathan went quiet. He was still sat across from you, hands folded together, eye's peering up into yours like a kid in school with a question he was too nervous to ask.
"I think... I think I'm gonna pitch myself." He spoke up when he realized you noticed his stalling.
"Oh." You realized. "With Angela?" You were shocked, mostly because she didn't seem like his, or most anyone's type.
"Not with Angela." Nathan gave you a look to assure he hoped you knew how much he meant not with Angela. "But, okay listen. I kind of have been thinking a lot about our conversation that last night in New York, about family and stuff. And I think I could really learn from this, if I'm ready or if I could be. I want to be ready to know, ya know?"
"Yeah, I... I think so?" You nodded. "So you want me to write a-"
"Er... Honestly I was just asking if you think this is a dumb idea or not, first."
"Oh," You let out a halting laugh, searching Nathans brilliant dark gaze. He was already boring his eyes into yours, like he'd find his answer there. "As your writer, I think it would make great tv."
"As... a friend?" Nathan asked no louder than a whisper. Not like a secret. More like a confession.
"If I was your friend... I would say..." You breathed, sort of flustered for a second. But when you realized you indeed had a somewhat formed opinion you spoke up again. "I would urge you to be sure you weren't just considering this for views. Because you are still the host of this... thing. That could seem indulgent in a bad way. But I would also say not to consider it just for yourself. Because you seemed kind of... vulnerable to this topic before... when we talked."
Nathan held your gaze, letting his eyes go back and forth between your own for a beat, as he registered your words.
"And then I would say thank you." Nathan let a smile grow in his expression. "So... thank you."
Thank God Sam jogged back into the picture then. Because your coffee induced heart rate was rapidly increasing the longer Nathan kept his pursed smirk directed your way.
///
Sam set you up for ultimate failure on the following night. He knocked on your suite, notebook in hand. He explained than Nathan was stuck on a certain story line progression and asked for his help. But Sam had already promised some lighting department friends to make dinner reservations. You tried to argue that you were tired, but Sam practically shoved his notebook in your grasp before heading toward the elevators any way.
And when you begrudgingly put a sweater on over your night shirt and stomped down the hall, you reminded yourself this was all just work. Just for writing credits. It was to come to an end soon enough.
But just your luck, Nathan was really stuck. He had you each slumped over spread out papers and prints in this suite's living room, debating the outcome of five different courses of action. After a few hours you had the options narrowed down to three.
"Okay, I'm sorry. Let's take a break. I'm gonna go... scream in the bathroom or something." Nathan deadpanned, stretching to stand and mill around the coffee station his room came complimentary with, like he wasn't sure where to go. As you sat back against the couch cushions, Nathan found his way down the hall. There was so much more work left to consider. But it was beginning to fry your brain. When your eyes tore from the mess of papers on the table before you, you looked up to find Jeopardy playing. The question on the screen had something to do with a rock band. A middle aged woman got the answer right. Her score board said she was winning. And the next couple questions were a great distraction from your evening, the prompts sending your mind to focus on anything beyond your work, or being trapped in a room with your dream man.
But then Nathan was padding back into the room. He must've noticed your fixation on the tv. Because he hadn't started stressing over the spread out papers right away. Instead, he sat at your side with his arms crossed around his middle. And he watched the game show with you.
Somehow, when you spoke one answer aloud, and Nathan the next, you were playing Jepordy as the show went on. Between the two of you, answers shot out like arrows to toward the screen. You faced Nathan to argue during commercial breaks. He pointed to threaten google before Trebek grabbed you attention again. When it ended, you'd won and to stop from arguing further. Nathan begrudgingly congratulated you before preening over how smart you were, insisting you help finish the ideas spread across the coffee table before you.
And because you couldn't roll your eyes, or shiver in the wake of his compliment, you shrugged in agreement. For another long stretch, you worked and worked.
Upon sitting up and feeling an ache in your shoulders, you glanced to the clock. You were really pushing your luck here, so late.
"Ten? I should probably go." You stretched, "You're surly full of my input by now."
"What, afraid to have another go at Jeopardy? I hear the next episode theme. " Nathan surprised you by bargaining for your company, as he collected papers in no particular order, cleaning up the mess of spread out ideas.
"I already won." You spoke trying to distance yourself, but cringed at how cold the words came out. You just couldn't let your resolve crack, you meant it this time. You had a deal with yourself. You couldn't look to see if your icy dismissal put Nathan off, or if he simply didn't care. Either reaction would have solicited a stirring havoc in your heart. And as you heard him realse a sigh, you still kept your gaze unfocused as he spoke up...
"This is going to sound lame but you're one of the only people I feel comfortable around all the way out here. I hoped I'd be having a chill night at this point, because this has all been more stressful than I was prepared for, funnily enough. I'm sorry for putting you in a-"
"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I just, I can't. It wouldn't- I'm too-" You floundered, waving your words away when you couldn't decide on a lie that sounded good enough.
"You're too what?" Nathan quizzed, his dull tone peppered with what you might call a slight worry, if you heard right. You were looking right at him now, like if you squinted just right he would see the secret code you spoke in, see you were really truly at a loss.
"I just... should go to bed. But you can meet me for breakfast downstairs if you want. We can write more."
"Yeah, we can write." Nathan seemed to accept some kind of defeat, setting the newly revised papers aside, and walking you toward his exit to wish you an easy nights rest.
///
By some act of God, Nathan left for L.A. to uphold his end of some obligatory revision to the script. But by some equal curse, he took Sam with him, leaving you stuck with Angela and a cast of kid boys. When your fellow writer called to check in after a while, you couldn't help but vent your pent up frustrations.
"I'm sad you've abandoned me. Thank God Nathan is gone though. He's, unfortunately, even better of a person in real life. I hope I never see him again after this because it's honestly agonizing Sam."
"Well if you're not careful he's gonna ask you to keep working with him. He was just praising me for bringing you on. For like five whole minutes." Your cowoeker buzzed across the line. It sounded busy wherever he was.
"Don't tell me that. I need to pretend this is all a crazy dream and wake up back in L.A. safe and sound."
"Well its crazy that's for sure. Anyway, did you get the email about the Fielder Method thing? He's asking for your ideas even though I'm the one he brought."
"Maybe." You chuckled, scolding Sam for being bitter about failing to land the 'favorite' title. But the Angela was whining about something to do with Etsy and asking for help watching the child she was solely meant to be caring for. You let a few whispered cursed cross over the phone line and begged Sam to get back ASAP.
///
That week you kept to yourself, stalling away in makeup trailers and the beloved balcony of your room. It was nice to have Nathan gone, to have the pressure of his presence paused for a bit. But damn, if you hadn't missed letting your stare linger when he turned away. If you didn't miss the times his hand would brush your knuckles when you handed him a revision. This was all just a job. But he was still a crush you'd never known the likes of before. And that was okay to remember now that he was gone, right?
When your phone rang to interrupt your wandering mind, you were delighted to see Joyanne's contact photo light up your screen.
"How's the North, babe?" Your friend cooed into the speaker after saying how much the group was missing you.
"Oh, you know, cold." You shrugged; glad no one could see you reaching for a response. You were several crumpled sticky notes deep and unprepared to get a call from any friends at this hour.
"I heard, tonight, by a very reputable Hollywood source that a certain weird comedian was seen filming near where you are."
"Oh?" You were still only half listening to your dear darling friend, scratching out a note that you didn't like the pacing of.
"Bitch are you listening? I'm trying to warn you! You could be in dangerously close proximity to Nathan Fielder!" Joyanne gushed on the other side of the phone.
"OH," You blanched, "Oh, yeah that would probably be crazy." You feigned a laugh and hoped it didn't sound as nervous as you felt. "Thank God I'm so busy up here, I might not even notice if he walked right past me..."
"Well then you must be drowning in work." You friend retorted- and luckily changed the subject to ask if you were really doing okay and yap about the recent gossip at Mia's gym. Apparently, some of her family from Ohio came in and wrecked the place and never even paid.
The gossip was enough to pause your work and give you a break from the world you'd trapped yourself in. You missed the girls more than anything, after all this strange time. You missed not feeling so nervous around your boss. Missed being able to go out on weekends. But you were living a few variants of your dreams. And somehow you remembered to try not to take anything for granted.
Nights later, you were finally feeling a healthy balance. The stress of work had kept your mind focused on the tasks at hand. And with Nathan away, you were relived for the space from your suffocating crush. And able to appreciate the fact you were ever near him at all.
But that's when something truly terrible happened. That's when your phone buzzed from the night stand. And the name at the top of the notification bar, was Nathan's.
"I'm trying to send you funny tiktoks. please let me know if its working or if I'm an old man who is hopeless to operating this app."
This was worst case scenario. You had to respond. You had to see what he sent. You were helpless to the power this comedian held over your persuasion. And you could already tell, when he got back to Oregon, you'd be worse off than ever before.
///
The day Nathan’s parent showed up on set kind of took you by surprise. You overheard the comedian mention something about their visit, but though he would treat them to some nice dinners, not put them through this grueling experiment. They seemed none the wiser to things, even though the set and the cameras and the bevy of children around suggested anarchy of their son’s doing was afoot.
The older couple were kind to you near the craft table, where you were waiting for Sam to join you. Nathan’s mother asked your name and how you’d been finding the experience so far, and toggled over the endless choice of snacks at the table you all stood before. She wondered where to find drinks and because Sam was taking impossibly long, and you were basically powered by nervous energy as of late, you were on it.
As you found the drinks Mrs. Fielder asked about, Nathan came hurrying around the corner, asking if you’d seen Sam.
“I’ve been waiting for him in here. It’s been decades. Killed time, met your parents. I even got them tea.” You half way joked, glancing to the cups in your hands. Nathan let out a chuckle as you were quick to mention how kind and genuine they seemed. They were no nepo parents by any means.
“Are we… do they…”
“No, don’t write anything. I’ll explain it to them in post, it’s better if for just right now they aren’t in on it.” Nathan waved, keeping his voice low, and taking the cups of tea from your hands with an increasingly furrowed brow. “And thank you for this but you are not an assistant, you are a writer, why are you doing assistant things?”
“Your mom asked.” You shrugged.
“Good God. I promise it’s okay if you would like to take a break from being a good person. Go find Sam, maybe he’ll be a nefarious influence.” Nathan extended a foot to shoo you way, kick you out of the area to assure you weren’t needed.
You decided to do just that, tired of waiting for whatever held your fellow writer up. He wasn’t in the trailer. He wasn’t with the outside crew. But you heard him inside somewhere, as you lingered on the fake porch of the fake home. The patio door was slightly ajar, and Sam was yammering from just beyond it. You decidedly slid in, and found your friend arguing with the star of the production.
“I just feel I am being undermined.” Angela spoke in that disarmingly calm tone of hers, her back to you, her palms face up as Sam was leaned in trying to understand her. You could tell by the look on his face that she’d let her point of view go further beyond the rails than he had the capacity to reel back in today.
“Angela, that isn’t what’s happening.” Sam spoke plainly, as you walked closer, wanting to make your presence known to both parties. Maybe she would see he was needed.
“I hear what you’re saying Sam, but I’m seeing a lot of Nathan’s own design starting to seep in.” She eased every word out of her mouth like a school teacher trying to get a toddler to comprehend algebra.
“Well, Angela, for one thing, this is Nathan’s show. That has always been true and you have always known that. And for another, I don’t know what this is all about, but we built this house for you. We got these kids for you. We got fake snow, for you. So however you may be feeling undermined, we’re on a deadline, on this show scripted around every one of your wishes. And as a writer in charge of making your wishes our command, I need Sam now, okay?”
Angela lamented with a tight smile and a roll of her eyes, while Sam took his escape, leaning close into you on the way out the door.
“She’s really pissed this time like, she won’t say that, but she isn’t letting me talk her back into anything at all.” Sam worried. “She agreed to having a discussion of faith but I could see the look in her eye, man like we might push her over the edge.”
“Let’s hope if we do, it makes for good tv.”
That afternoon, as the cameras rolled, you and Sam sat in the control both watching as Angela contradicted herself by swearing to remain open to a discussion with the mentor Nathan hired. But Angela wouldn’t budge in her conversation, confusing faith with stubbornness. And then she stood on her feet and blamed it all on Nathan. She said,
“Nathan has a problem with lying. He lies a lot.”
And you felt like how some people must’ve when they watched a ball game, gesturing wildly at the screen and yelling so loud the players might hear.
“Are you fucking serious?” You spat out loud, shooting a look to Sam who was equally as wide eyed. You noticed Nathan took it on like a champ, because this was just a show, a script to navigate, for him, right now. It was also a test in human connection and condition. But this couldn’t rock Nathan. He was never rocked by Angela. Unlike her, who seemingly understood nothing. She knew this was a show, she agreed to Nathan’s direction. But then she washed her hands clean of conflict and placed every blame on the man who’d established this entire scenario for her.
And you could act all day long like you never gave a fuck about that man, too. But when she had the gall to disrespect him like that in front of someone else, you couldn’t keep your shit together at all.
“This fucking-“ You stuttered, heart rate elevating. “I cannot believe her Sam.”
He insisted you calm down, agreeing with your outburst all the while. Everyone had nearly had their fill of Angela.
And it was two night later, a miracle occurred. You were sitting in those same seats in the same control booth and watch the woman of the house sit on the opposite end of the sofa from Nathan. They began what felt like the most honest conversation they’d had, when she said “I just can’t see an end in sight.”
And you sat up straight. “Sam…”
“Wait, wait.” He leaned closer to watch.
“And… yeah thank you for all the work you put in to tailor this to my experience.” Angela nodded with genuine gratitude.
“Thank you for being apart of it,” Nathan said. And from the control you, it was hard to read his expression through the screen. And then she got up. And the cameras stopped rolling. But the ones set up through the house found Angela starting to find her suitcase, and packing it.
“Sam, she fucking quit.” You were smiling shock, bug eye’d in terror, looking back to the screens in utter stupefaction. It was your cowriter who shot up first and made a bee line towards the house. You followed close behind.
///
Despite your worries about maintaining your dwindling composure, Nathans newly solo experience was followed by a strange set of days of set; distracting everyone from any issues or interests of the past. The last few weeks of shooting had crept upon you all, and one problem no one had foreseen had shifted the focus of the show. When one child hadn't stopped calling Nathan his father, the event halted the comedian from shooting for one whole day. When both you and Sam knocked on his trailer door to ask how to move on Nathan only called back that he had no idea yet and needed more time to think.
Eventually, the shoot proceeded as planned, and a time was set up to make sure the boy who had been aged out, would be checked on. Nathan apologized to everyone for stopping things for 24 hours too long and assured the shoot would continue in the proper time frame. He made a great show of seemingly handling things. But somehow you could tell the stress was still gnawing at him somewhere inside, over the coming days.
There were two weeks left on set as of this night. And stressed seemed the norm.
"The new kid got held over at soccer practice. Let's all take a long dinner." Nathan called out, waving everyone to go off into the purple sunset and come back in an hour and a half. Nathan had already been aggravated that he'd cost the production time. And now the longer the kid took to arrive, the less you could shoot before the night got too late.
You and Sam joined Nathan in his trailer, pouring over possible revisions and sitting in uncertain silence. When your boss seemed satisfied enough with the spare ideas, he instructed Sam to share the possible revisions with the crew to consider.
And when Sam slithered out of the heavy trailer door, something in you forced your feet to linger. Forced a question out of your mouth.
"Is there... anything I can do for you?" You asked Nathan, watching him slump onto the little sofa provided.
"No, no you and Sam have been my lifelines already. I couldn't possibly ask more of you. I wouldn't even know what, if-" Nathan watched you watching him. You weren't too keen on the way his answer wasn't really an answer at all. So, you made a decision.
"Well, here." You said, turning to open his mini fridge, finding a bottle of water. You poured it into the little Keurig on the counter to make some tea. The very drink had gotten you through a handful of balcony breakdowns. Maybe it's warmth would sooth Nathan all the while. He watched in silence as you waited for a paper mug to fill. The quiet lingered as you took the drink toward the man. Only when he accepted the offer, and you began to sit on the sofa at his side, did Nathan speak up.
"I really feel like I fucked something up. And I don't wanna fix it. I mean I do, I just don't know if I know how. And I had a whole different ending already thought out. And we don't have a lot of time left to film." After realizing the drink was too hot, Nathan set his tea on the little table in front of him and is putting his head in his hands.
"Yeah, I'm so sorry. I know you want all of this to work out for everyone." You commiserated, watching the comedian lean into his fold.
"Yeah." Nathan sighed, still buried. You couldn't help but reach out to place a hand on his back. He seemed to breath in a little deeper and tension eased between his shoulders as you let your hand draw circles there.
"Thank you for being here. Like now. And before. Sam was right to campaign for you."
"I've been really glad for this opportunity."
"You've been really good at putting up with my absurdity. I feel like everyone is exhausted with this by now." Nathan began to sit up, his eyes finding yours. Your hand fell away from his shoulder, and you took recoiled your hold back into your lap, unmentioned.
"They're not. I mean... Angela might've left. And Patrick may not have shown back up. But..." You paused for a brief moment, deciding exactly how to pose your encouragement. "This has never been about complete success, right? Or complete failure. It's only ever been about the rehearsal. The practice. That's all you can do. Go with it as it happens. Over and over again."
Nathan was silent, his teeth were digging into his lip. His beautiful dark eyes were searching your features. He was just considering what you said, you told yourself.
"Yeah. Right as always." Nathan eventually breathed, letting his gaze land fully on yours once more. And it felt like there was so much more trying to be communicated in that silence than there ever had been with words, between the two of you. Too bad there was a sharp knock on the door.
Behind the wall a muffled voice called "Nathan, the kid is here!"
He let out a staggered sigh as his eyes drifted toward the commotion of the announcement.
"Just think. We can finish this tonight, and have two whole days off starting tomorrow." You eased, watching the guy you'd always admired move to stand. He nodded silently and opened the door, gesturing for you to go first. Shuffling back a few steps, he grabbed the tea to bring along.
///
Seeing as to how this would be your last set of days off before shooting was scheduled to wrap, you decided to make a big dinner and invite whoever cared to stop by for a plate. You shopped enough for everyone, and found peace in the stirring together of ingredients. A table spoon of pepper, a cup of sauce, these were sure instructions. There was nothing to question. No scene to watch play out. No eye contact to time the hold of.
But sure enough, Sam dragged Nathan into your room, the first guests of many to join your lax dinner party.
"There was a deal, buy five get two..." Sam gleamed at you, reaching into a mystery grocery bag, a gracious guest. One at a time he lifted a different bottle of wine onto the counter. And after the seventh, you asked what more he could be reaching for. Sam said "What if someone doesn't like wine?" followed by reveal a bottle of whiskey and vodka to top everything off.
"I... guess we do have tomorrow off as well." You laughed, turning back to the oven to turn the heat down.
And the evening kicked off. Nathan helped stack plates for everyone to claim, and lined glasses in a row for everyone to choose from. Sam played some music from the television, and greeted everyone as they streamed into your suite. They were slow to arrive, but eventually your room was full. Even though everyone ended up in usual groups (The lighting crew, the sound people, you Nathan and Sam...) There was still a nice wave of small conversation flowing along each guest. The people who ate thanked you for cooking and asked where you learned to make every thing. Those who drank lauded Sam and asked to turn up the music.
And all through dinner and each passive shot of whiskey and sip of wine, Nathan talked about work. About the ending, and the rest of the shoot, and how grateful he was to everyone for caring enough to make this crazy project come to life. "I'm sorry I talk about work even when I'm wasted, like a fuckin' nerd." Nathan waved.
"Who cares we don't care. You could talk about taxes for the rest of the night. She'd listen." Sam, tipsy, pointed in your direction knowingly, balancing a conversation between you two and the people in lighting he'd come to grow close to.
"Yeah he's our boss I'd be polite." You shrugged coldly, shrinking a bit in your perch at the island, while Nathan stood on the other side, seemingly none the wiser.
Sam let out a scoff and sipped more from his glass. You shot him a harsh glare.
"Why are you guys being weird?" Nathan pipped up, much to your chagrin.
"Sam is just being a little bitch like always, don't acknowledge him, you'll make it worse." You spat, more so in the direction of the friend you'd sworn to secrecy months ago. And he slinked off for a while, hurrying over to demand back control of the music from the television.
But you and Nathan stayed put, you perched on the island chair, him leaned against the other side of the counter. Taking turns sipping from respective glasses and choking on laughs over dumb jokes and work related nightmares. About childhood pets. About college. About death.
The evening was so nice. And you could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Not the light that shone over the ending of The Rehearsal. But a light that promised you might actually be able to survive getting through this thing with Nathan, despite his knowledge, despite yours.
You found solace in the chatter around you, in the plates in everyones hands, the food you made with care, atop them. The conversation you'd been sharing with Nathan paused in silence as he poured himself a glass of wine he swore would be his last. You nursed your fifth (or was it sixth?) with ease. And then you heard your name, a good deal across the way. It seemed to come from Sam. He was gesturing right in your direction.
"...those two. Her and Nathan." You perked up, watching Sam lean into Carol, the lighting director, his closest friend in the room beyond you. "She's had a stupid fucking crush on him for years."
Oh fuck this.
Your chest fluttered with nerves because you'd heard that. And if you'd been close and quiet enough, so had Nathan. You prayed as you turned your face his way, hoping he seemed oblivious.
Unfortunately, Nathan was looking right at you. And you could see all over his face that he'd heard. You could see in his dark gaze that he was looking into yours differently. And the fluttering in your chest turned to a plummeting down your stomach. But calmly, as to not make a scene, or embarrass yourself any further, you set your glass of wine down. You tore your eyes away from Nathans. And you swallowed the lump of fear in your throat as you got up and made a beeline for your bedroom.
Your suite was still bursting with chatter from every group of guests. You'd hope they just thought you were using the restroom. You hoped they didn't wonder why your bedroom door was locked, if they tried it. You hoped no one else heard Sam's dumb drunk ass. And you hoped Nathan hadn't thought too much less of you by morning so that you could finish the next couple weeks from the shadows and land a decent writing credit.
You listened to the party die down and you even heard Sam knock on your door to ask if you'd fallen asleep. Was he really so drunk he didn't piece together that you were beyond pissed? Or was he hoping you were passed out and wouldn't come hurling through the door to kill him?
"Go away Sam. I'm too upset to talk now and we're both too drunk." You called passed the door. And after a couple minutes or so had passed, you hoped that meant he'd slinked of to his own room. You sat at the desk chair, sadly swiveling. Now the fairy tale was over. You were no longer the writer Nathan consulted his every move with. But the writer who'd failed to disclose her infatuation with her boss and would now be humiliated to work alongside him because he found out.
Then another knock on the door interrupted yourself pity, anger bubbling up in it's place.
"Sam, I'm not opening this door. Please go away." You called, burying your head in your knees you'd tucked close to your chest.
"Sam left. Everyone left. I'm still here though. Can I come in?"
You weren't expecting to hear your favorite voice from the other side of the door. You weren't expecting nerves to rush so quickly to the forefront of your system.
"It's too embarrassing." You called back, drunk enough to be unashamed by an admission of that sort.
"No it's not. Is it true?" Nathan spoke. It was quiet enough to recognize his voice was low. Everyone must've really left. It must've been late. He must've been just as drunk as you. And with all that considered, waiting until the sober bright morning might be worse.
"I just wanna know if it's true. Please, open." He called again.
With a churning in your stomach you slinked to a stand. In the stillness of the dark room, you unlocked the latch and slowly turned the handle. Nathan didn't wait long to slip past the opening, creeping in from the yellow lit main area and settling into your dim space.
But you wasted no time slinking off to the swivel chair again- too embarrassed to look at him, apologizing with your head in your hands. Nathan eased futher in, like a handler nervous in a tiger cage, like you’re liable to pounce instead of crumble to pieces.
“I’m really sorry I never told you, maybe I should have- so unprofessional-“ You grumbled into your hands, tears threatening to sting your eyes, but you wouldn’t dare embarrass yourself further.
“I think it’s endearing.” Nathan called, the inflection in his tone begging you to take back your apology. He was slow to stall, and even slower to lean his weight against the foot of your bed, a few paces from where you sat.
“I never wanted you to think I took this job because I was like, in love, with you or something,” You sighed a heavy repulsed groan. Your hands slip away from your eyes as you sniffed back the emotion that threaten to erupt from your humiliation. You weren’t drunk enough to have a total meltdown. But you couldn’t even look at him, still. You kept your face turned away and your arms tucked in as you swiveled toward the windows.
“I hired you because you’re a good writer. The kind of writer I wanted the support of. If I thought you were stunning that was beside the point. And just because you evidently feel some kind of way about me doesn’t mean I think your work has less or different value.”
“Stop being so nice.” You bite, keeping your gaze fiercely held away from his. You could feel him staring right at you.
“No, I like you. I have for a while now.”
“Nathan, don’t pity me.” You were filled with enough annoyance at the suggestion of his words that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes to glare into his finally, shooting a sharp look right at him.
“I am not doing that.” Nathan let out a huff of a humorless laugh. “I’m trying to get you to see that we’ve been on the same page, even though I think it’s been kind of obvious.” The man stated this with such banality, like it was something known and exhausted. Your icy glare warmed into confusion as Nathan stood leaned against your bed, arms crossed, teeth pressed fiercely into his bottom lip. “Have our awkwardly long glances and dances around flirting not been obscenely obviously shared? It’s not been just you.”
“What are you trying to say?” You held a fast breath, the dam you’d built around your heart threatening to crack and burst and unhinge, weak under the weight and meaning of Nathan’s words.
“I already said it. I like you. More than I probably should.”
“Isn’t that kind of fucked up? You’re my boss, ya know?”
“Maybe, but I’m not really trying to coerce you, over here. I’m just trying to tell you there isn’t any reason for you to lock yourself up and feel bad.”
“This is so fucked up. This is like a nightmare version of my stupid girlish dream come true. You know exactly how I feel about you and you’re standing against my fuckin’ bed, telling me you feel the same, but in the morning you’ll be the guy I have to turn my work into and everyone will be staring at me because I’m sure Sam’s loud drunk ass has spread the word by now.” The realization of the pace at which this evening had unraveled was too much to sit with any longer. You were charged to stand, the slink away from the swivel chair and hold your posture nearer the window. Looking into the dark night for some kind of hopeful escape from this reality, from this embarrassment, from this blatant desire for Nathan in every way you just still couldn’t shed.
“This isn’t high school. There isn’t gossip. There are two adults who work together on a show that’s almost wrapped.” He spoke from somewhere behind where you stood, trying and failing to calm the waves in your chest.
“It’s not seeming as simple to me as you’re trying putting it.” You said.
“Then I’ll stop talking.” Nathan’s following silence was loaded. You could tell there was more he would’ve tried to say. More he was waiting for. A conclusion of some kind.
“Well, I don’t really want you to stop talking.” You turned to face him with a shrug. “I don’t want you to leave this room, because I cannot comprehend what this will all be like when you leave. And not like I think we’re getting anywhere now,” You swept a grand gesture between the pair of you, the tension palpable.
“Then I’ll stay.” Nathan shrugged, his arms tightening around his middle, his eyes daring to flick across your form. “Till you can tell me what it is you do want.”
“I know what I want. And apparently, it’s been obvious for a while now.”
“Then come here.”
His assuredness, his stillness, the smile you couldn't see but could tell he wanted to bloom. It was all the final straw. Your will to be a good person, or make a decision you thought everyone else may redeem as 'good' didn't matter after what Nathan just said, and how he said it.
It wasn't like you were being tricked or told. It was more like you finally had permission. from yourself. You were wordless, and you dared not blink as you took three strides to land a breath away from the man of your dreams. He kept his gaze steady as ever right on yours, until he blinked. Nathan let the flutter of his stare land on your lips, as his fingers dared to ghost across your forearm. When his mouth met yours, the collision was slow and skittish, like you were both still worried about how the other may react. But then you pressed your lips a little closer, and that was that. Somehow, the curse was broken. Or the spell was cast. When you kissed him, nothing ever felt more sure.
And after a moment, when you broke away, there was nothing to say. So you leaned in once more. The second kiss happened with a great deal of force from both ends. Somehow, the harder Nathan kissed you, the more lost in all of time and space you became. Somehow nothing and everything was real. Somehow the way his hands danced below your shirt felt familiar. And his teeth along your neck felt piercing. And your fingers curled perfectly around the waist band of his pants. Somehow-
///
Your eyes ached to flicker open, the morning sun stinging your vision through the curtains. Your head heavy from drinking. Your legs tangled with Nathan's. Your heart plummeting from great heights when you realized that last fact. He was soundly sleeping at your side, face shrouded by sheets, hand posed as if he may have been reaching out to you before passing out. It was all there in black and white, the evidence. But you remembered almost next to nothing about ending up here.
You remembered he kissed you once. Maybe twice. You remember him saying it was all okay. But everything else was a blur. Hazy images of hands and sighs. Distant echoes of his words in your ear, against the sheets. You must have been too drunk. Too in shock. Too overwhelmed. That same feeling flooded your system now, as you scrambled to leave the bed as silently as possible.
When you were free, and Nathan remained still, you were quick to scoop up some clothes from the floor before booking it out of the room. This was all too crazy. This should have been the best moment of your life. So why were you fighting not to cry?
As your hotel coffee machine croaked to a start, you paced from the balcony to the kitchen and back until your drink was finally made. A couple sips in and the warmth was doing nothing to calm your nerves. A couple more spins about the living room and your mind was even more jumbled with worry. You couldn't help but sniff back a couple of frustrated tears from falling, before falling to sit in defeat on the soda.
"Whoa, what's wrong..."
Nathan had awoken and was lingering in your bedroom door way, sporting nothing more than boxers and a grey teeshirt. And you hadn't expected him to find you like this, somehow. And you hadn't realized you had the words ready to go, but still they spilled forth...
"I don't want things to go this way! Everyone's gonna see you leave my room and think the worst, think I did this with you for the job or something." You exasperated, bringing your hands to your temples.
"Hey, no one is gonna-" He started to move closer, holding out his hands to offer up the words he spoke.
"You don't know that Nathan." You cut him off with a weak whine, watching as he eased to sit next to you.
"Okay, you're right. I don't know. I'm sorry I put you in this position-" The way he responded so levelly made you gain the smallest shred of composure.
"It's not like I didn't do this to myself either. Please don't claim all blame, okay? I fucked this all up. I should never have even said yes to this job. I've just made a mess."
"You haven't made a mess. I can recognize this is tricky but it's nothing that can't be worked out." Nathan spoke softly, and scooted closer. He let his hand sooth circles across your back. Mirroring the time you'd done this for him.
You buried your head in your hands, and let the moment matter. You let this comfort he offered you seep into your system. And then you thought of everything that could possibly happen after this. Every outcome youd be faced with. You felt another stubborn tear seep through your resolve that a sniffle couldn't save. And you made your decision.
"I have to quit."
"No, you don't."
"I'm quitting Nathan. This isn't fair to either of us. It's a conflict of interest." You explained, sitting up to face him.
"I didn't hire you because Sam told me to. I didn't hire you because I thought you were beautiful. I hired you after weeks of combing through a billion writers. Because I knew you'd be perfect for this job. I liked you more the more I got to know you, sure, but my interest has never been compromised. And neither has anyone else's. I never applied your input or ideas more heavily than Sam's or my own. I have stacks of notes to prove that. You can't quit."
You sat, teeth digging into your downturned lip. Eyes searching Nathan's as he rambled. Struggling to keep from falling into his touch when he reached a hand to brush across your cheek.
"What can I say to stop you?"
"I don't regret what happened last night. I just regret how we ended up there. And when. So I'm gonna go. Tonight. I will leave my notebook with you, my drafts and suggestions are all there. My strongest being that you make sure that boy knows you're not his father. And that you don't try to stop me from leaving."
You watched Nathan watch you, emotion playing out in his face in a way you weren't prepared for. And even though it looked like he was about to cry, he just gave a small nod and said "Okay."
You got up and found your notebook. Nathan found his pants. There was shuffling. There was a heavy silence. There was both of you trying to stall, but there was your mind already made up.
"I finally land my celebrity crush and I can't even spread the good news. When my NDA is up my friends are gonna lose their minds." You joked, tying to lighten the mood. Your bags were hastily packed, and Nathan lingered with crossed arms, pacing as he waited. He smiled at your statement, and shrugged to stand right before you.
"I finally raise a son but I have to tell him it's not real, tonight. I finally tell you how I feel, and you're leaving... Funny how life works." Nathan lamented. You could tell he was trying to relate. To get you to feel less horribly. But it was only hurting your heart more.
When it came time for you to linger near the door with all your bags in hand, Nathan kissed your cheek and said he wish he didn't have to see you go; but respected your decision. He even paid for a flight, saying something about feeling bad. Or being a good boss. He said something about seeing you back in the city, not like he was asking but hoping you'd give him a shot. Or maybe that was just your own hope mingling in your interpretation.
Nathan made sure the hall was quiet before he slipped out without a sound. You made sure to listen for the sound of his door shutting down the hall before you reached to make your own escape. You managed to sneak out of the hotel without running into anyone at all.
When the hotel doors fluttered closed behind you, your heart ached like you'd been struck by a steak right through the chest. As you waited in a coffee shop down the road for an uber, you failed at trying not to let your lip quiver.
When you made it to the airport, you were barely registering what you'd done or how you'd ended up here. You were too busy running off, slinging your bags through security and finding your window seat with your hood pulled over your eye's, like you were still on the verge of being found out. You couldn't help but give in to the flight attendants offer, ordering one mimosa after the next, and saying "fuck it" to the turbulence because if it was your time to die what better than now.
When you land in L.A your phone exploded with notifications- phone constant with vibration you worried would fry the batteries inside.
There are like... twenty texts from Sam. Most are voice notes. One read, "I'm so so sorry. Nathan told me you left. I seriously didn't know anybody but Carol heard me. And she never told anyone else either. No one knows or cares. Please just come back. Nathan doesn't even seem upset that you like him or whatever but he seems upset that you're gone. Please-"
You locked your phone screen and felt a new rush of anger. It seemed like Sam really didn't know the upset he'd caused. And it seemed like he didn't mean it. But that didn't change that fact that it happened and everything had changed, because he'd said something you begged him never to.
Your ride home was quick. Your apartment was steeped in silence you swam through like a punishment. You ended up in this dense fog of setback quiet all of your own accord. The dim light and the dark hour was all you could be sure of. You had no plans for tomorrow or for the day after that. You had only a long hot shower, and a cup of tea on your beloved patio, familiarities to dull the ache.
When you final gained the gall to go through all of Sam's texts, there were a couple more waiting for replies that caught your attention, one only just sent mere minutes ago.
"Safe flight?"
"Yes. Thanks again for buying it."
"Everyone missed you on set. Even the kids."
You stared at Nathan's name in the corner of your screen before turned your eyes back to the conversation going through the satellites that connected you and him in real time. You saw three tiny bubbles pop up and disappear, like he was going to say something but had changed his mind. But you'd just thought of something necessary to add...
"Please don't give me writing credit for the last couple episodes."
"Please stop being so hard on yourself."
With a heavy sigh that you hoped would lighten the anvil in your chest, you locked your screen again and decidedly went to bed- alone.
///
Your friends were delighted to see you. And they were a delight to see. The three girls you'd grown closer to than family had always taken your mind off things, turned your dull days into dizzy nights of laughter and shared stories. It was you who made reservations for such an evening after announcing your homecoming.
An exclusive dinner was just what you needed. An excuse to be in a cute little dress with no time limit and no manners to worry over. Maybe you'd stay out till dawn looking for distraction. Maybe you'd meet a newer cuter guy to take your mind off of the one you'd always been a little fixated on.
"We didn't know you'd be back yet! It's so nice to see you babe!" Joyanne was the first to arrive, dressed in cheetah print like the star she was. Hugging you too tightly like always. Linda and Mia were surprisingly right on her tail, are waiting their turn. You all sat around a cloth covered table, ordering drinks.
"So how was it, you were gone so long, it sounded like a big job." Mia remarked, her jeweled hands reaching for the martini she always asked for. Your friends knew there would still be a lot you couldn't say too loudly, or on social media. But you could spread some fun details every now and again to pal you knew would keep things quiet; depending on the legalities of your disclosure. These friends had always been privy to the details they shouldn't have been. And you had usual been excited to spare no particular. Till now.
"It was good. A bit stressful. I'm pretty glad to be home, I needed this night out like you wouldn't believe." You feigned a laugh, hoping the air of exhaustion you put forth would keep their minds from wondering why you weren't spilling more beans. They all seemed to understand and didn't press on too much more beyond the weather and the hours you kept.
You shifted gears, begging to know how they'd been, dying to get back to normalcy and out of this nightmare you'd spun yourself into. But your phone kept buzzing over appetizers. So when Joyanne got up for more drinks and Mia was checking Lindas teeth, you got out your phone. There were three texts from Nathan.
"Remy called me Nathan today."
"Carol from lighting wanted me to tell you she never told anyone what Sam said."
"Should I go with the introspective ending or the cliffhanger?"
You breathed a chuckled of disbelief from your nose as you considered how to text back.
"I'm not your writer anymore, remember?"
"But you're still my friend, right?"
Your mind whirred blankly. Your chest whirred with emotion.
"Who are you chattering with over there? When is you NDA up?" Mia laughed, the kind of giggle that would usually coax you into whispering in her ear.
"Oh, just a producer. Edits, you know." You waved. Glancing back down at your phone screen, you kept the texters name hidden from view as Joyanne skipped back to the chair at your side.
"Introspective."
///
Before you knew it, months had passed by. Which was crazy to realize, because every day you seemed to watch the hours tick by with an agonizing crawl. You still hadn't text Sam back. Not for a lack of trying. You'd spend some morning drafting paragraph after paragraph of sorry's and explanations. But you couldn't bring yourself to send them.
You'd hear from Nathan every now and then. You'd send dumb TikToks to each other. And you'd scroll past the edits of him you used to watch on repeat. Some how they just hurt your feelings. Or maybe you were hurting your own.
When you finally got another gig writing for a mini series, it was a joyous escape. Work timed your days, and clouded your worries with new notes and plots and revisions. And sometimes you'd even started to forget why the ever present pang in your chest had made a home there. But then you'd get a new text...
"Your name is going on every episode. No one knows anything more than us. And Sam is very sad he hasn't heard from you."
You were milling about your kitchen, debating on dinner. Nothing struck you, till your phone buzzed. You weren't even hungry anymore when you read Nathan's message. You weren't even thinking when you tapped his name on the screen, and the little green button next to it.
"Hello stranger."
"Hi Nathan."
"To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I just... wanted to say sorry for how everything ended. But I'm sure the show turned out exactly how it needed to. You had a great vision." If you were ever truly going to move on from your own personal self destruction, you'd have to rebuild. And you weren't expecting anything out of this reconciliation. You were simply ready to release it all.
"Well, if you are sorry, how about you make it up to me by going out sometime soon? Really talk." Nathan eased every word into your ear like a spell. And you were sucked right back into his charm.
"Yeah. I'd like that." You breathed, knowing any hesitation would send you right back into the purgatory of feeling you'd been ready to escape.
"I am sorry too, though." Nathan rang. "More so. I shouldn't have done... all of that. As the person in a position of power."
"Right, but it wasn't to persuade me. And I left. So we're both sorry. And it's all fine. Right?"
"Right. Okay. I'll text you a plan. I'll see you soon."
The ache in your chest you'd nursed like a sickness lied dormant, for now. A pang of just as painful hope dared to pierce through. It was time to make one last phone call.
///
He didn't answer for weeks. But you persisted... until the line buzzed with a click that meant Sam answered. Before he could hang up you were quick to spout off a plea...
"Im really sorry for dipping. And really sorry for not texting back. It was just all so overwhelming. I'm so sorry Sam."
You heard your friend sigh from the other line, and you breathed in that air and held it until he eventually spoke up.
"I really do understand that." He spoke. "I know I fucked up. I said something I promised you I'd never say."
"And I reacted really really poorly." You nodded in solace.
"Yeah, shit got messed up." Sam seemed to lament, from the tone in his voice you could read. "Though I hear it's maybe not... all the way messed up?"
"Explain yourself." You demanded.
"Went out for drinks with Fielder the other night and he told me a lot more of what happened the night before you left. And that theres a date this weekend?"
Well damn.
"Yeeeeah." You pursed your lips and shook your head, not fully prepared to own up to this but ready to all the same knowing your friend had become privy to all the info, and that the show was long over. "I left because I was sure everyone was going to find out. I didn't want a certain association linked to my reputation or the show."
"Well... thats remarkably noble of you." Sam said.
"If you can forgive me for ghosting you I'd love to put this all behind me."
"I can forgive you if you can forgive me. I know know I fucked up bad."
"I forgive you Sam. I will see you at the premier. I'd ask you to be my date but I'd like to hope I'd already be taken."
"Oh, you'll be booked and busy and banging, babe."
You laughed hard and told Sam you were glad you didn't have to miss him anymore.
///
Back to your usual tradition, Joyanne came over. The other girls couldn't make it and that was a shame because your credits had just been added to IMDb. And your friend group always snooped movies credits to gossip about old coworkers and friends who were feature on new productions.
"Mia said she could probably escape her mom's dinner early. But Linda is way sick."
"Poor thing. Always something with her."
You offered your dearest pal a soda and asked how her week had gone. She crashed at the stool in your kitchen to unload days worth of gossip. The premier of Nathan's new show was in three nights from now. But more importantly your date was in 24 hours. You knew you couldn't wait much longer to share your own news. But to your surprise, she was the one who broke the ice you hadn't even eluded to yet.
"Oh, I saw the trailer for your man crush's new show. How much can you hardly stand it, babe?"
"Oh, yeah it comes out soon, I think." Your heart was hammering. You brought up IMDb as a tool.It was now or never. And you'd kept her waiting long enough. "Yeah, this weekend." You pointed to the date on the page near his headshot.
"Oh the credits are out." Joyanne gave an evil laugh and leaned closer to look at the list of cast a crew.
"Writer, producer, editor Nathan Fielder. Writer, consultant Sam Temperton. Writer-" Joyanne was struck silent as you pressed your lips together tight between your teeth, suppressing a scream so her reaction could shine. She said your full name as listed on the credit page. And then she said it again like maybe she'd gotten it wrong the first time. And then she yelled your full name at you like question.
"I know! I know! I don't know how it all happened, Joyanne." You were both screaming and flitting about your tiled floors like a couple of loons. She pulled out her phone and rang Mia with great urgency. Decidedly, she had to be hurried along.
"Bitch you need to get over here NOW."
"Okay oh my God I'm coming, is everything okay?" Mia's voice crackled through the phone.
"Just hurry!" Your other friend implored.
"Should I start now, or should I save everything for when Mia gets here?"
"Everything?" Joyanna rose a brow, picking up some of what your implication must've meant. "Oh my God, please tell me you have more than soda here." Joyanne got up and started rummaging through your cabinets. You got up to help her choose between liquors, and poured three glasses.
Mia came in just in time to find three drinks lining the counter and you and Joyanne cackling in the kitchen.
"Jesus Christ you guys made me think something was wrong."
"It's so much better than wrong." Joyanne instructed your friend in her sequined dress to sit, and decidedly handed her the drink.
"I think first, you should watch this." You pulled up the minute long trailer.
"Did you call screaming over boys? You were really stuck in the woods too long, up there." Mia remarked in her gravel tone, shifting her big eyes to the screen. As it played you watched Joyanne hold back burst of excitement. When it ended Mia said,
"Hey this looks different. I may be starting to see the appeal of your man!"
"Well, wait till you see this." Joyanne held the opened IMDB page up in front of your friend as she registered what she was looking at.
"Oh, the credits. They must be juicy, that's gotta be why you called- OH MY GOD."
Now everyone was freaking out, until Joyanne became a shocking voice of reason,
"Okay shut up, she wouldn't tell me a thing until you got here here."
You decided to move both your friends to the living area. They sat in perfect attendance on the love seat, drinks in hand.
"This was all Sam's credit. Remember him? The runner of the pilot before I didn't have work?"
"Oh yeah the guy you brought bowling when Linda couldn't come. He was fun."
"Well he hyped me up for this show, unbeknownced to me I swear to God. Sam just liked working with me so much, my name came up." Then you went into how petrified you were meeting Nathan out of the blue.
"Why didn't you call us that very night?" Joyanne hollered.
"I didn't want to jeopardize a real job opportunity by focusing on my crush. I really couldn't think about it. I would have called you all if I turned it down. But I didn't."
"So tell us about the show! Tell us about him! How did you not loose your mind every day. This is like if Glenn Powell took my pilates class every day. I would have fainted every morning." mia
"There were definitely moments where I was ten hundred percent uncool. But I just had to remind myself it was work. It did get pretty stressful, it was just me and Sam and Nathan and every day was like starting from scratch. Totally different than any other job I've had." .
"I am intrigued by the shows premise. But I'm dying to know if Nathan ever found out about your infatuation." Joyanne.
"Well..."
"Well?" both of your friends sat on the edge of the love seat with bated breath.
"Sam kind of spilled the beans. And I was pissed. But everyone was so drunk that night. I don't remember most of what happened. Besides the fact that Nathan made the first move."
Your friends are were in shambles.
"You didn't pull Nathan Fielder? He pulled you?" Joyanne was fanning herself as if she was mere moments from fainting.
"But I felt really weird about it all, so I left two weeks early. I actually asked for my credits to be redacted because I was so afraid of anyone finding out I slept with my boss."
"That's why you came home. And you sat there at dinner knowing you couldn't tell us a damn thing." Joyanne spoke, amazed. Both of them with wide jaws and bugged eyes
"Girl... I almost feel like this is too good to be true." Mia gave you a sidelong glance, her jaw in a constant state of slack.
"Well, we have a date tomorrow." You pulled your phone out to flash them confirmation.
"I am not calling you a liar I'm just in shock! Honestly!"
"Call him." Joyanne pressed, excitedly.
"No! Don't make her do that!" Mia swatted.
But eager to show off you grinned and pressed call. "What are you gonna say?" Mia squeaked ina whisper."
"I don't even know." You confessed, voice just as quiet as the dial tone sounded. It rang twice.
"Oh, well hello." Nathan mused from the other line, voice instantly recognizable. Your friends sat covering their faces in different states of amazement.
"Hi..." You scrunched your brow, thinking quick, needing an excuse. "What's our dress code for tomorrow night?" Was the best you could come up with.
"Before or after dinner?" Nathan responded. You could hear the smirk in his voice. You watched your friends struggle to contain their reactions and had to swallow away a giggle yourself. You turned your face away from your friends as you tried to wrap up this call as naturally as possible.
"You know what I mean, come on." You prompted.
"Something kinda nice, I guess."
"Okay, I guess I'm just nervous."
"Well it's not like we haven't-"
"Yeah, I know." You couldn't help but let out an anxious laugh at that point, hoping the small trills coming from your friends muffled faces couldn't be heard. "This will just be different, a little bit. But it's good."
"Yeah it's good. I will see you tomorrow in whatever you wear."
"Okay, I will see you too. Okay bye." You hurried to hang up and watched your friends slump over in a mess of screaming laughter.
"Linda always misses the craziest shit." Mia hummed, laid back in her state of laughing shock.
"I am so happy for you." Joyanne smiled.
///
Nathan was waiting for you at a tiny table in the restaurant of a very fancy hotel. The place was packed with families and business men and producers. The air was thick with chatter and clinking glasses and jazz from the bar speakers. But Nathan sat steady and still, smiling when he saw you appear.
And when you joined him, there was suddenly too much to say. So much you didn't know where to start.
"So..."
"So..."
"I don't wanna do small talk." Nathan decided. As he shock his head, you were presented with a glass of wine he'd already ordered for you. "I just wanna skip to the part where I remind you how much I like you and how much I want to be something with you. And how genuinely cool I think you are."
"Well, you really don't think it's weird? I mean, I was a pretty big fan before I became a writer." You sat back, nervous to unpack the meaning of everything, but somehow sure it would all spin itself into something okay. Better than okay. Beautiful, maybe.
"Yeah well, I didn't meet you as a fan. I didn't sign anything or pose for a selfie. I met you as a worker who I had a lot of respect for. And then the nature of our working together felt much more like a friendship being formed than anything. And I fell for that person I came to know. The companion. But I do recognize you being someone who worked for me was a small blip in the story."
"Okay well, I obviously like you too. And would be okay to make this work if you would be." You realized that it could be that simple. You wanted it to be.
"Yeah I can't have you go again. It actually hurt." Nathan offered a hint of grimace as he sipped his own drink, looking to you with the hurt you recognized building, that morning in the hotel up North.
"Well I'm sorry but it was the right thing to do." You spoke slow, deliberate with your words.
"I know that. It also made me like you more."
And it was just that easy. As it had always been, with Nathan. You spoke without regard, though nerves stood on end at the mention of certain things, you weren't afraid to talk about them with him, anymore.
"Will you be my official date to the premiere? We don't have to make a great big deal out of it to everyone. But I-"
"Yes. I'd be glad."
"You know, HBO is already offering the green light for a second season."
You told Nathan you were proud of him. You mentioned how fascinating it was to watch him work through every hurdle and maneuver every word of the script into a meaningful story. How HBO would be foolish to not take this new show of his and run with it.
Nathan flashed you a flustered grin and shrugged when he mentioned not being sure exactly what to do next.
"Well, the sky is your limit"
"Yeah..." Nathan grinned, giving you a look, already scheming, you could tell. And you smiled at the fact that you could tell. That you knew him, and he let you. That you'd get to know him better. That you were having dinner now.
Everything fell into a perfect circle of events, no matter how painful or messy. You couldn't be mad having ended up where you were, sitting across from your dream man as he smiled at you and asked if you wanted to go back to his place. He laughed when you told him he had no idea how long you'd been hoping he might ask.
everyone talks about the drinking pee/nathan fielder breaking character part of Gas Station Rebate but nobody talks about how solving riddles all night on a mountain with him is like straight out of my most romantic fantasies
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