Work Text:
Sam liked to think he was a progressive employer. He offered flexible hours, he made sure his workers had plenty of annual and sick leave, he allowed people to work remotely: prioritising their mental and physical wellbeing was incredibly important to him, and he knew that it had a hugely positive effect on the work they produced for him. Despite that, Sam could be terrible at leading by example. He knew he could take his own advice sometimes, but when it was crunch-time he found himself working increasingly long hours with little regard for his own health.
Leaving to film a season of Jet Lag meant he was away from his usual work for at least a week, and he liked to make sure that he was ahead in his work before he left. Whether it was researching, writing scripts, or recording voice over, he needed to stay ahead. Normally he was better at preparing, but he’d been behind already. Going from a week behind schedule to two weeks ahead of schedule was always going to be tricky, but with an impending deadline ticking ever closer it was almost impossible.
Sam didn’t like the word impossible. Nothing was impossible for him. It never had been, and it never would be. He wasn’t going to push his employees to make up for his mistakes, which meant he was on his own for this. He worked late into the night, and as soon as he awoke in the morning he’d resume. Instead of his usual pre-work runs, he went on quick jogs during the lunch break that he felt forced to take (if he didn’t, someone would notice, and he’d be lectured about not looking after himself). It meant he retained some kind of balance - sort of - and he could keep pushing himself further and further. He was gaslighting himself in a way, pretending that he still had a work-life balance even though he was spending upwards of fourteen hours a day at his desk with his eyes glued to his screen.
It wasn’t a problem, until of course it was.
The problem emerged - as problems often did - when other people got involved. Sam was coping just fine, he’d found a rhythm that suited him and he was getting things ticked off his to-do list at a satisfactory rate. Scotty visiting hadn’t been part of the plan, but he was in Aspen for a few days and Sam was more than happy to lend his friend his spare room. He’d just seen it as a favour, but in retrospect it seemed like Scotty might’ve been hoping for a more social visit.
“You know you can take a break, Sam,” he said, standing in the open doorway to his bedroom. Sam was sitting at his desk in the corner of the room, engrossed in the script in front of him: it still needed refining before he could be ready to record the voice over and send the files across to the various teams that would work on the post-production aspects of the video.
“I know,” Sam replied, not bothering to look around at Scotty. If he did, he might’ve seen the look of concern on his face.
“It’s late,” Scotty continued, and Sam nodded.
“I know.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“Yes.”
That was a lie. He’d had a smoothie when he’d woken up, but he had a feeling that consuming a liquid wouldn’t be the same as eating in Scotty’s eyes. Even if it had nutritional value, and had been made out of real ingredients, he knew Scotty would take issue with it.
“I was thinking of ordering some takeout. Maybe sushi? Kind of a throwback meal - I promise I don’t have any pickled plum with me.”
“If you want,” Sam shrugged. “I’m not hungry. I’ve got to finish this script anyway.”
There was a moment of quiet, the silence broken by the sound of Sam’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard. He had to admit, the idea of food was nice - the idea of sushi with a friend was even better - but he really didn’t have the time. No matter how run down or exhausted he was feeling, if he didn’t get this done he’d be in an even worse position when he returned from filming. There was no option to stop, no possible scenario in which he could pause even for the amount of time it’d take to have a sit down meal, and he was okay with that. He’d worked harder when he’d first started Wendover, when he was juggling attending university and running a brand new business. If he could cope then, he could cope now.
Creaking floorboards indicated that Scotty was walking away, and Sam felt his body relax. He hadn’t realised that he was so on edge, knowing that he was being watched so intensely, but now that he was alone again he felt… Bad. It was almost as if someone being present to witness him overworking himself had given his body the opportunity to demonstrate to him just how much he needed a break. Even as his mind tried to convince him to carry on he could feel lethargy in his veins. His body felt heavy, his eyes felt dry, and his head felt pained.
He allowed himself to stand up and stretch, raising his arms above his head as his spine cracked and he let out a groan. Sam moved away from his desk and into the ensuite bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet to find a half used packet of tylenol. He took two pills and swallowed them without any water, before returning back to work.
Time passed, the dull throbbing in the front of his head faded slowly away as the pain medicine kicked in, and he continued to work slowly on his script. It was getting late, and he knew he’d need to stop and sleep soon. He was aware of the sounds in his home - a knock on his door, Scotty’s voice as he thanked and tipped the delivery driver, the drawers being opened and closed as cutlery was searched for - and they served as an unwelcome distraction. When he was completely alone it was easy enough to forget about his other needs, but hearing someone talking, smelling the food that’d been delivered… It became harder to ignore the fact that he needed to eat, socialise, and slow down.
Focusing on his work was getting harder and harder, until eventually he was forced to give in. He saved the script, he turned off his monitor, and he pushed his chair out far enough to allow him to cross his arms on the desk and bury his head in them.
He wasn’t sure if he fell asleep in that position or not, but sometime later he felt a hand on his shoulder that jolted him. Sam sat upright immediately, his head spinning at the sudden movement, and the hand on his shoulder just squeezed him reassuringly.
“Get some rest, Sam,” Scotty said. “There’s sushi in the fridge if you want it - I figured you might appreciate some leftovers.”
Sam brought his hands to his face and rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake himself up as he looked back to his friend.
“Once I finish the script,” he replied quietly. “I might have some then.”
“Sam…” Scotty said slowly, and Sam just shook his head. He shrugged his shoulders to force Scotty to let go of him, returning his attention to his monitor.
“I’m fine.”
As Sam reached for the button to turn his monitor back on, he felt a hand brush against his own. Scotty’s palm was warm, the tips of his fingers calloused but his hold gentle. It was a sensation that he wasn’t used to - living alone made human touch a rarity - and it was hard to keep up his crumbling resolve in the face of the tenderness being expressed.
“Whatever you need to get done, it can wait until tomorrow. Someone can help.”
“But–”
“No buts, Sam,” Scotty said, his tone indicating that there was no room for argument. Despite that, he still sounded so kind, and Sam felt almost as if he should be leaning into him. He wanted the touch on his hand to become something more. He wanted Scotty’s arms around his torso, hugging him tightly and taking some of the stress from his shoulders away from him.
“C’mon, kid, take a break.”
Sam couldn’t fight it. Not anymore. Scotty’s words were too kind, too inviting, and he found himself following the gentle tug on his hand with ease. He got to his feet and allowed Scotty to guide him out of his bedroom and down into the living space that he’d barely seen in the last week. The feeling of a sofa and soft cushions beneath him as he was seated was like heaven, and his entire body sagged as the weight of the world slowly slipped away from him.
He wasn’t allowed to move - not that he would’ve tried. Scotty brought the leftover sushi, a glass of water and a can of diet coke to him and switched on the TV. He found a movie on Netflix to serve as background noise and a collection of blankets and cushions for the two to share.
The gestures were small and simple, but as Sam slowly ate the sushi he’d been given he found he was appreciating them more and more. To be forced to take a break, to be able to relax and enjoy things, to have good company - it was all adding up in his mind. As he finished eating and the exhaustion he’d been pushing away began to settle into his bones he shifted how he was sitting, moving to rest his head against Scotty’s shoulder.
Adam had been right when they’d discussed the kind of energy Scotty had brought to the group. He had his fair share of fun, and he did his fair share of ridiculous things, but there was something about him that was so reassuring and kind. Avuncular had been a perfect word to describe it. Sam felt safe and cared for, and any guilt he’d worried would’ve consumed him by spending some of his waking hours unproductively hadn’t come to pass.
Sleep came easily to Sam whilst he was beside Scotty. He didn’t realise it until he woke up hours later with his head on a cushion and a blanket pulled over his body. The dishes had been done, the lights had all been turned off, and Scotty was nowhere to be seen - likely fast asleep in the bed that Sam had offered him for his stay.
In the morning he’d repay the kindness and make Scotty - and himself - a proper breakfast. Maybe he’d even take some time off working and go on a hike with his friend. Maybe he’d reach out to Tristan and see if he had any capacity to help with some of the changes that needed making to the script.
Maybe he wouldn’t let his workaholic nature possess him to such a degree again.