“Tour videos”
☆dad!joe keery x mom!reader ☆
hi !! english isn’t my first language, so please be nice if there are any mistakes or weird sentences <3 requests are open btw !!
summary: joe brings a camera to argentina with every intention of documenting the tour. instead, he accidentally spends most of the trip filming reader, luke and all the little moments in between.
word count: 3.8k
warnings: fluff, family dynamics, established relationship, luke being chaotic, food mention, concerts, no use of y/n
The camera turns on before anybody is ready for it.
For a few seconds all it captures is the inside of a backpack, a tangled phone charger, half of a sweatshirt and Joe quietly swearing because he can’t find the lens cap he had less than ten minutes ago.
“Language.”
Your voice comes from somewhere nearby.
The camera finally emerges into daylight.
Mountains immediately fill the frame.
Huge mountains.
The kind that make people stop talking halfway through a sentence because suddenly nothing they were saying feels important anymore.
Joe slowly pans across the landscape.
The snow.
The trails.
The sky.
The endless stretch of Patagonia.
Then he turns around.
Immediately.
The mountains disappear.
You are standing a few yards away with Luke balanced on your hip while you adjust the zipper of his jacket. He looks exhausted, his head resting against your shoulder, one hand curled around the sleeve of your sweatshirt while he slowly wakes up.
“There they are.”
You don’t even look surprised anymore.
“Joe.”
“What?”
“The mountains are over there.”
“I know.”
The camera doesn’t move.
You finally glance toward him.
The smile arrives before you can stop it.
“You carried that camera all the way here to film me.”
“Not true.”
The camera immediately zooms in.
“You and him.”
Luke notices his name.
Or at least notices that somebody is talking about him.
He lifts his head.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
The camera zooms closer.
“What do you think of Patagonia so far?”
Luke looks around.
Considers the question carefully.
Then points toward a random mountain.
“It’s big.”
Joe starts laughing.
The image shakes.
“A true poet.”
—
The hike itself takes approximately three times longer than it should because Luke treats every ten feet of trail like a separate adventure.
The camera captures all of it.
The first stop happens because of a stick.
Not a special stick.
Just a stick.
Luke decides he needs it.
Then decides he needs a second one.
Then decides the two sticks are brothers and can’t be separated.
You immediately accept this information as fact.
Joe, unfortunately, encourages it.
Within ten minutes the sticks have names.
Within fifteen minutes they have personalities.
By the time the group reaches the next viewpoint, everybody is somehow involved in a conversation about stick custody.
—
A little farther up the trail, Luke decides he’s no longer interested in walking normally and starts climbing every rock he can find, which means the pace somehow gets even slower than before. Joe keeps filming while you follow a few steps behind, both of you already aware that he’s about to learn a lesson the hard way.
“Careful.”
“I am being careful.”
The confidence in his voice makes you laugh immediately.
Luke successfully climbs one rock.
Then another.
Then a third.
By the fourth one, he’s clearly feeling invincible.
The fall isn’t dramatic. In fact, it’s barely even a fall.
One second he’s climbing.
The next his boot catches on the edge of a rock and he lands on his hands and knees with a surprised little noise.
The camera dips slightly.
Not because Joe is worried.
Mostly because he’s already laughing.
Luke remains frozen for a moment, looking down at the ground like he’s personally offended by what just happened.
You walk over.
“You okay?”
He thinks about it.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
You brush some dirt off his sleeve.
Joe zooms in.
“That was a close one.”
“I survived.”
“So brave.”
Luke immediately starts smiling because he realizes nobody is taking it seriously.
Then he points at the rock.
“That one pushed me.”
You nod without missing a beat.
“I knew I didn’t trust that rock.”
“Me neither.”
The camera shakes with laughter while Luke continues the hike as though absolutely nothing happened.
The camera records none of the mountains.
Only the argument.
“This is ridiculous.”
You are laughing too hard to sound convincing.
Joe zooms in on Luke.
“No, explain it again.”
Luke immediately launches into another explanation.
The sticks are apparently travelling together.
One of them is the older brother.
The other one is irresponsible.
Nobody knows how the story got here.
The camera keeps recording anyway.
—
Several hours later they’re sitting near one of the viewpoints eating snacks while the wind blows across the trail hard enough to steal half the conversation.
Joe originally means to record the scenery.
The scenery really is beautiful.
The problem is that Luke has discovered echoes.
The camera captures exactly three seconds of mountains before Luke starts shouting random words into the distance.
“HELLO!”
The sound bounces back.
His eyes widen.
“Oh.”
Then louder.
“HELLO!”
The echo returns.
You immediately start laughing.
Joe follows.
Luke looks completely amazed.
For the next ten minutes the mountains become secondary to his ongoing conversation with nature.
The camera catches you sitting beside him with your knees pulled to your chest while he repeatedly tests increasingly ridiculous phrases.
At one point he yells:
“I LIKE CHICKEN NUGGETS.”
The mountains answer.
You nearly fall over laughing.
For the next few minutes, the two of you become equally annoying.
Every time Luke yells something into the mountains, you immediately yell something even worse.
“HELLO!”
The echo returns.
“I LIKE ICE CREAM!”
The echo returns again.
Luke starts laughing.
Then decides this has become a competition.
Soon both of you are taking turns shouting increasingly ridiculous things into the distance while Joe stands there filming the entire disaster.
At one point a group of hikers passes by and gives all three of you a very confused look.
You wave.
Luke waves.
Joe keeps recording.
“These are the people I chose to spend my life with.”
Joe can barely hold the camera straight.
“Argentina needed to hear that.”
“I think they already knew.”
—
The next morning begins inside the hotel.
The footage starts blurry.
Dark.
Quiet.
Joe has clearly just woken up.
The camera finds the window first.
Then the mountains.
Then you.
You are standing in front of the glass with Luke asleep against your shoulder, gently swaying while watching the sunrise spread across the landscape outside.
Neither of you realize you’re being filmed.
Joe doesn’t say anything.
For once there isn’t a joke.
No commentary.
No attempt at narration.
The room is so quiet the microphone picks up Luke’s breathing.
The camera remains there.
Watching.
Thirty seconds pass.
Then forty.
Then almost a full minute.
Eventually you notice him.
Instead of telling him to stop, you simply smile.
A small one.
Sleepy.
Private.
The kind that probably would’ve disappeared if he’d pointed it out.
The camera stays exactly where it is.
“You’re being weird.”
Joe laughs softly.
“I know.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“A while.”
“You’ve literally just been filming us?”
“Maybe.”
You shake your head.
The smile never disappears.
—
The camera is pointed out the window at first, recording endless stretches of road disappearing into the distance until Joe glances up and notices Luke asleep beside you.
Half his body is falling sideways.
His neck is bent at an angle that looks deeply uncomfortable.
Without even looking away from your phone, you reach over and gently pull him closer.
The movement barely wakes him.
He immediately curls against your side.
Joe ends up filming that instead.
—
Buenos Aires feels completely different.
The first clips from the city are messy.
Loud.
Fast.
The camera catches buildings, cafés, buses, random dogs, musicians, bookstores and approximately twenty seconds dedicated entirely to a pastry display because Joe becomes distracted halfway through filming something else.
Luke loves the city immediately.
Mostly because there are people everywhere.
And because every new location presents fresh opportunities to ask questions.
The footage from Puerto Madero contains at least seven separate conversations that begin with:
“Why?”
And end with:
“I don’t know.”
At one point Luke spends nearly ten minutes convinced he could drive a boat.
The camera records the entire discussion.
“You can’t drive.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re five.”
“I could learn.”
Joe zooms in on you.
You’re trying not to laugh.
Failing.
The second you notice the camera, you point at him.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You always do this.”
“What?”
“You wait until I’m trying not to laugh.”
The camera shakes.
Joe is already laughing.
“Can I film?”
The question comes completely out of nowhere.
Joe lowers the camera.
“You wanna film?”
Luke nods enthusiastically.
The next thirty seconds are completely unusable.
First the camera captures his forehead.
Then the sky.
Then part of a boat.
Then his forehead again.
Then one of his eyes.
Then a seagull.
Then absolutely nothing.
You are laughing so hard you’re struggling to stand upright.
Joe isn’t helping.
“Great shot.”
“Thank you.”
“Very artistic.”
“I know.”
The camera suddenly swings toward you.
Only half your face makes it into frame.
Then it swings toward Joe.
Only his shoulder appears.
Then Luke accidentally records his own shoe for nearly ten seconds.
When Joe finally takes the camera back, he’s still laughing.
“I think we’ve got a future filmmaker.”
“I’m already one.”
“Clearly.”
—
The restaurant videos become their own category by the middle of the trip.
Most of them begin normally.
None of them stay normal.
One recording starts with everybody eating dinner while conversations bounce around the table.
The camera sits beside Joe’s plate.
Luke notices it first.
Which immediately becomes a problem.
He straightens in his seat.
Looks directly into the lens.
Then clears his throat.
You recognize the expression instantly.
“Oh no.”
Jake starts laughing.
“What?”
“I know that look.”
Luke straightens in his chair and looks directly into the camera.
“I have a joke.”
The entire table groans immediately.
Joe zooms in.
“Let’s hear it.”
For a second, Luke looks completely confident.
Then he forgets the joke.
Everybody watches him think.
And think.
And think.
You can practically see him trying to remember it.
Finally his face lights up.
“Oh.”
He points dramatically across the table.
“What do you call a dinosaur who likes chicken nuggets?”
Nobody has an answer.
Luke starts smiling before he’s even reached the punchline.
The smile gets bigger.
Then bigger.
Then suddenly he’s laughing so hard he can barely speak.
“What?”
You start laughing too.
“Tell us.”
Luke tries again.
Fails.
Starts laughing harder.
By now everybody else is laughing and nobody even knows the joke yet.
“What do you call him?” Joe asks.
Luke takes a deep breath.
“A chicken nugget dinosaur.”
The second he says it, he completely loses it.
You don’t even know why it’s funny.
It objectively isn’t.
But Luke is bent over laughing at his own joke like he’s just delivered the greatest piece of comedy in human history.
The table falls apart.
Jake is laughing.
You are laughing.
Joe can barely keep the camera steady.
And Luke keeps repeating it between laughs.
“A chicken nugget dinosaur.”
As though saying it multiple times somehow improves it.
You reach over and pull him closer.
He immediately curls against your side.
Then starts giggling again when you poke his stomach.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Mama.”
You do it again.
Luke practically folds in half laughing.
Joe spends the next minute recording both of you while pretending he’s filming the restaurant.
Nobody believes him.
—
The Bombonera footage starts with Luke saying the only phrase he has apparently decided matters.
“Vamos Boca.”
Joe laughs so hard the camera drops toward the pavement for a second.
“Again.”
“Vamos Boca!”
You are standing slightly ahead of them with one hand on Luke’s shoulder, trying very hard to look like you are not amused by the fact that Joe has managed to teach your child a football chant after one interview and approximately five minutes of context.
“You taught him that.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Luke says it again, louder this time, and Joe repeats it with him while the camera catches the blue and yellow around them, the murals, the stadium, the movement of people passing nearby and your face as you finally give up pretending you are annoyed and start laughing along with them.
Later, the footage from C Art Media and the podcast is less glamorous than anyone would expect, mostly because half of it is just waiting in hallways, sitting on couches, stealing snacks from catering tables and watching Luke discover that spinning in an office chair feels incredible until it suddenly does not. Joe means to record the studio, the microphones and the people setting everything up, but the camera keeps drifting toward you instead, catching you fixing Luke’s hair, telling him to stop touching things that are definitely expensive, and then immediately letting him take another cookie because he asks you with the most dramatic little face in the world.
“You’re weak,” Joe says from behind the camera.
“I’m kind.”
“You’re weak.”
“I’m kind.”
Luke looks up with cookie crumbs on his mouth.
“She’s kind.”
You point at him like that settles the argument.
“See?”
Joe zooms in on Luke.
“He’s only saying that because you gave him sugar.”
“Still counts.”
—
The camera is in your hands again after the C Art Media show, and the footage is shaky from the start because everybody is moving at once.
People are clapping, someone from the band is laughing somewhere nearby, a few people are trying to get through the hallway at the same time, and Luke is standing beside you with both hands pressed against the small barrier separating the side area from where Joe is stepping offstage.
The second he sees him, he forgets everything else.
“Daddy!”
Joe barely has time to look up before Luke is already running.
“Luke, don’t run too fast.”
You say it calmly, still filming, because you know him well enough to know he’s going to run anyway.
He nearly trips over his own feet halfway there, catches himself, keeps going, and Joe starts laughing before crouching down just in time for Luke to crash into him with both arms around his neck.
“Hey, buddy.”
“You were loud.”
Joe laughs harder, pulling him up against his chest.
“Thank you.”
“I saw you.”
“Yeah?”
Luke nods, extremely serious.
“I saw everything.”
The camera moves closer slowly, catching Joe still holding Luke while the noise continues around them, people walking past, cables being moved, someone calling for a photo, and Joe looking over Luke’s shoulder until he finds you behind the camera.
For a second, neither of you says anything.
The noise around you continues uninterrupted, people talking, equipment being moved, somebody laughing somewhere farther down the hallway, but none of it seems particularly important.
Still holding Luke with one arm, Joe reaches out with his free hand and gently hooks two fingers into the sleeve of your sweatshirt, pulling you closer just enough to press a quick kiss against your lips.
The camera dips slightly because you’re laughing before the kiss is even over.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Luke immediately looks between both of you.
“Ew.”
Joe laughs.
You do too.
Then Joe finally looks back toward the camera.
“You got that?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Luke leans back in Joe’s arms, looks at him for a second, then pats his cheek like he has something very important to say.
“You did good.”
Joe presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh too much.
“Thanks, man.”
The camera shakes because you’re laughing behind it, and Joe glances at you again with that little smile he gets when he knows exactly why you’re laughing but likes hearing it anyway.
“He’s my manager now.”
“He gives very honest feedback.”
Luke nods.
“I do.”
Joe adjusts him on his hip, still sweaty and out of breath from the show, while Luke immediately starts talking about something completely unrelated, already distracted by a light on the wall, and the whole thing feels so normal that you keep recording for a little longer than necessary.
—
The image is slightly shaky at first because you’ve stolen the camera without warning and Joe is still complaining about it from somewhere across the van.
“You don’t even know how to use it.”
“I know exactly how to use it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I literally watched you do it for two weeks.”
The camera finally focuses.
Most of the band is scattered throughout the seats, half of them looking exhausted after a long day in the city while the other half are talking over each other about dinner plans.
The sun is beginning to set outside, turning everything orange through the windows.
Joe is sitting a few rows ahead.
Or at least he was sitting a few rows ahead.
Now he’s trying to entertain Luke.
The camera catches the exact moment he grabs him by the ankles and lifts him upside down.
Luke immediately loses his mind.
His laugh fills the entire van.
“Again.”
“Buddy, I just did it.”
“Again.”
Joe sighs dramatically.
Then does it again.
The camera shakes because you’re laughing.
“So this is what you two do when I’m not around.”
Joe looks toward the camera.
“We’re athletes.”
“No.”
“We are.”
“You literally have him upside down.”
Luke is laughing too hard to contribute to the conversation.
His hair is hanging toward the floor.
Joe is struggling to hold him because he’s moving so much.
Somewhere behind him, Jake starts laughing.
“That kid is exactly like both of you.”
“That’s a terrifying thing to say.”
“It really is.”
Joe finally pulls Luke upright again.
The peace lasts approximately five seconds.
Then Luke throws himself across Joe’s lap and starts climbing him like a tree.
The camera stays on them.
Not because they’re doing anything particularly exciting.
Just because they’re funny together.
Joe keeps pretending to be annoyed.
Luke keeps pretending to listen.
Neither is convincing.
At one point Luke ends up sitting on Joe’s shoulders despite the fact that they’re inside a moving van and there is absolutely no reason for him to be up there.
The second he gets comfortable, he points dramatically out the window.
“Argentina.”
You laugh behind the camera.
“Yep.”
“Still Argentina.”
Joe leans his head back.
“Thank God you clarified.”
Luke ignores him.
For the next several minutes he continues providing updates whenever he sees something outside.
A building.
A car.
A tree.
Another car.
Every observation is delivered with exactly the same level of excitement.
The camera catches Joe smiling every single time.
Not because what Luke is saying is particularly interesting.
Mostly because he’s Luke.
Eventually he notices you’re still filming.
“Oh, come on.”
The camera zooms in slightly.
“What?”
“You’ve been recording us for like ten minutes.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
You look through the viewfinder.
Joe has one arm around Luke to stop him from falling off his shoulders.
Luke is still pointing excitedly out the window.
The sunset is pouring through the glass behind them.
The rest of the band is talking and laughing around them.
It looks nice.
“You guys look cute.”
Joe immediately groans.
Somewhere behind him, Jake starts making gagging noises.
Luke has no idea what’s happening.
“Daddy.”
“Yeah?”
“I wanna be upside down again.”
The camera shakes because everybody starts laughing at once.
—
By the time Lollapalooza comes around, the camera has basically become part of the family, passed between Joe, you, Jake and whoever happens to be standing closest. Backstage is loud and messy in a way that makes every recording feel a little chaotic, with crew members moving everywhere, instruments being checked, people calling Joe’s name from across the space and Luke pressed against your leg because the whole thing is exciting but also huge.
Then the camera is suddenly in your hands.
The image wobbles before settling on Joe near the stage, guitar in hand, hair moving slightly in the wind while the crowd roars somewhere beyond him.
“Look,” you say softly, close to the microphone, “that’s your dad.”
Luke leans into your side.
“Daddy.”
“Yeah,” you say, laughing a little because he sounds so impressed. “That’s Daddy.”
Joe turns at exactly the right second, spots both of you and smiles before lifting his hand in a quick wave. Luke waves back with his entire arm, almost hitting the camera in the process, and you laugh behind the lens while telling him to be careful even though you are laughing too hard to sound serious.
“Look how handsome he is.”
Luke giggles.
“I love Daddy.”
“I know,” you say, keeping the camera on Joe as the lights shift and the crowd gets louder. “I love him too.”
Then, because apparently he has learned timing from Joe, Luke suddenly yells, “Vamos Boca!” so loudly that the camera shakes when you burst out laughing.
Joe cannot hear what he said from the stage, but he can see you laughing, and that is enough to make him smile right before the music starts.
The actual show footage is terrible in the way home videos usually are. Sometimes the camera catches Joe. Sometimes it catches the lights. Sometimes it catches the back of someone’s head, Luke’s hands clapping off rhythm, the side of your face as you sing along quietly, or the floor because you lower the camera without realizing it when Luke says something to you. None of it is clean or professional, but it feels exactly like being there, loud and messy and warm.
After the show, the recordings become softer.
There is dinner with the band, Luke asleep across two chairs with Joe’s jacket over him, you leaning your head against Joe’s shoulder while everyone talks too loudly around you, and Joe filming under the table for three seconds by accident before lifting the camera again and finding your face.
“You’re still recording?”
“Apparently.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Probably.”
You laugh, and he leaves the camera there.
The last hotel video in Buenos Aires is quiet.
Luke is already asleep, one tiny hand curled around the stuffed dinosaur he has dragged through every city, every car ride, every hotel room and every backstage hallway. The balcony door is open just enough for the sounds of the city to come through, and Joe films the skyline for maybe five seconds before turning the camera toward you instead.
You are sitting on the edge of the bed, folding one of Luke’s sweaters into a suitcase, moving slowly because none of you really want to leave yet.
“Are you filming me packing?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s so boring.”
“It’s not.”
“It literally is.”
Joe doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment the only sound is the city outside and Luke breathing softly from the bed. Then you look up at him, tired and pretty and still wearing the same sweatshirt from earlier, and the camera stays exactly where it is.
“You really filmed the whole trip.”
“Not the whole trip.”
“Joe.”
“Most of it.”
You shake your head, smiling as you fold another shirt.
“You’re gonna have like fifty hours of nothing.”
He zooms in slightly.
“Not nothing.”
You look at him through the camera, softer now, like you understand exactly what he means even if neither of you says it out loud.
“No?”
“No.”
The recording ends a few seconds later, not with a big moment, not with some perfect ending, but with Luke stirring in his sleep and mumbling something neither of you can understand, making both of you laugh quietly before Joe finally turns the camera off.
thank you so much for reading !! ♡this one was heavily inspired by all the photos, videos and interviews from joe’s argentina trip because i became a little obsessed with the idea of him carrying a camera everywhere and accidentally recording hours of footage of reader and luke instead of the actual places he was visiting 😭likes, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated <3 requests are open !!
