A/N: so previously, as you might have noticed, I tried to do really deep one-word chapter titles - but from now on, since that proved way too hard (and probably kind of meaningless to  you guys), I'm going to stick with longer less serious ones that help summarise the chapter a little better. Enjoy.

Also, for you Smith fangirls, there's a bit of a you/Smith element.

Four hours of sleep that night.

As planned, you pick up both Duncan and Lewis and drive them over to the office.

"Thanks for this, (Y/N)," Duncan says.

"Yeah, thanks," Lewis says.

"No problem. Sleep okay?"

"No," both of them say at the same time.

"Neither. Looking forward to it."

"Yes," they say.

"Jesus, you could sound more enthusiastic about it."

"Yes," Lewis sighs.

"It's going to be great guys!"

"We know. We're just too tired to talk," Duncan protests.

"Okay."

______________________________________________________

You manage to get a window seat in front of Hat Films just like last time, and Lewis sets across from you; you both have a silent mutual agreement now to not get too close with each other when in front of everyone else, just to avoid circulating rumours or embarrassing yourselves.

"Too fucking early," you hear Smith moan from behind you.

"True that," you say, turning round. "You looking forward to it?"

"Yeah. I would be a little more enthusiastic, but we're just all too fucking tired to talk."

You grin, remembering Duncan's answer earlier. "The party's going to be great."

"Whoa, did someone say party?" Ross grins, leaning in to peek at you through the gap in the seats in front of him. 

"Yeah, second night."

"Shit, we're going to be tearing up the place, aren't we, lads?" Ross says enthusiastically, shaking Smith's shoulder beside him.

"Fuck off, mate," Smith mutters. "Too fucking early." He looks up at you and rolls his eyes; you grin back.

"Sleep, mate," you say. "We've got hours ahead."

"What, and have Trott take a million mugs of me lying in my seat snoring? I don't think so."

"Don't worry. If he tries anything..." You punch your hand and look down at Trott menacingly. "I'll punch his dick."

"I like the way you talk," Smith grins, fixing your eyes with his hypnotically intense blue ones. "Sounds like I'm rubbing off on you. Trott, you hear her?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, dejected, looking up at you with a mix of fear and annoyance and sarcasm. 

"By the way," Smith adds, leaning forwards, voice lowering to a whisper, "don't actually punch him in the dick. It really hurts."

"Jesus, you think I'm that harsh? No, I'm not going to."

"Good." He leans back in his chair.

You hesitate. "How do you know, anyway?"

He shrugged, face splitting into a mischievous grin. "Might tell you another time. You going to watch me sleep, or turn away?"

"Fuck you," you say, swivelling back to face the empty seat in front of you.

"Wake me up when we get there, because these pricks sitting next to me probably won't bother."

You grin, even though you're not facing him. "Okay." 

You feel someone staring at the back of your head after you've turned away - most definitely Smith. You're determined to not turn around, but after a while, the sensation gets so annoying that you cave, and turn again.

You were right - Smith had been staring at you.

He's leaning back in his chair, eyes fixed on that gap between the seats you'd been looking at him through. As soon as you turn round, his gaze slides over to yours, daring you to talk. You open your mouth, and then find yourself unable to talk, because then Smith's lips curl upwards into a soft smile - not completely mad, like the one he reserves for his IRL videos, but not his usual smirk either - just a slightly cocky but kind smile, that you've never before seen on him.

You feel a strange tingling feeling in your stomach, and suppress a shiver.

You open your mouth again. "Just get to sleep, Alex," you mutter, turning around again; and this time, the sensation on the back of your head disappears. 

You look over at Lewis, who's smirking - he was most likely listening into the whole conversation - and roll your eyes at him.

"Alright?" he asks.

"Yeah. Why?"

He shrugs. "I'm a nice guy, I was just asking." He smiles a little weakly, and turns away.

And then you're left to wonder why you feel guilty all of a sudden.

___________________________________________________

The first day is relatively uneventful; during the signings, you make a point to not sit directly next to Lewis again - he doesn't seem bothered; he knows the reason for it - so instead, you end up between Smith and Sjin. 

"We meet again," Smith says hoarsely, looking up, tossing his Sharpie up in the air.

"How'd you sleep?"

He shrugs. "Okay, I guess. Thanks."

You grin. "Aw, is little ol' Smiffy getting all awkward now in front of the fans?"

In truth, he doesn't look bothered - he's chewing gum, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. Of the three of Hat Films, Smith's known as the cool one - the tallest, the most laid back, the saltiest, the most abusive to Trott and the most attractive.

You can see why. He's got a huge, muscly frame that his shirt helps show off, the smoothest-looking ginger hair, sky-coloured eyes and a devilishly quick sense of humour. 

In another universe, you might have fallen for him instead of Lewis.

He looks up at you, slightly amused. "Are you checking me out?" he says incredulously, tapping his pen on the table. 

"No!"

"Well, I'm insulted you don't find me as incredibly hot as everyone else does." He smirks at you, and you roll your eyes - something you seem to be doing more and more these days.

"No denying you're hot," you reply, voice low - there's fans approaching now, and the last thing you want is to be heard. "Just not hot enough for me, that's all."

"Oh yeah? Well, why were you staring at me then?"

You knew the answer of 'I was just thinking!' wouldn't be enough, so instead, you say, completely straight-faced, "Sorry. It's just that forklift nips are my Kryptonite."

It takes a few seconds for it to sink in - Smith just stares at you, mouth slightly parted in shock - and then you both burst out laughing, Smith's hand slapping the table. You quickly regain your composure, still grinning madly, and so does Smith.

"Don't judge," he says, offended, covering his chest with his hands. "I'm a big man, that's all. Everywhere. Like, everywhere, mate, if you get what I'm saying."

You turn away, grossed out. "TMI, mate. TMI."

"Aw, you knew it already," Smith grins; and then the floodgates open, and you don't get much time to talk to Smith for the rest of the session - he's too busy talking to his fellow Hats.

The rest of the day passes by in what feels like a minute - and then you've got the after hours show; by the end, your team has lost - Hannah, Martyn, Duncan and Trott - Lewis' by a margin you're pretty sure, even with your limited maths ability, is definitely not right.

And you protest this while you're on the stage.

"Oh, someone's getting salty," Turps teases you, grinning at the audience.

"I'll do the maths for you, guys," you grin, because you're just having a joke around - you don't really care about the outcome. "My team won the Pokemon round, the Dota 2 round, three charades rounds and the board games round with about five points each - that's about thirty points already. There aren't even enough points left for Lewis' team to get seventy-five."

"Ooh," the audience whisper. 

"I know," you grin. "Conspiracies. It's been rigged, I swear!"

"Hush, hush," Turps stage-whispers. "Lewis' team is always meant to win, (Y/N) - you know that. It's scripted like that." He turns to the audience. "Don't listen in, guys - so rude!"

"Well, you heard it, everyone," you grin. "Rigged."

"Lewis, control your employee," Ross shouts from behind you, to roars of laughter.

And then Lewis is up on his feet, beside you, at the front of the stage. He makes eye contact with you briefly - something you've got used to doing during live-action skits or shows like this one: it's the signal to play along with whatever the other is going to do, because that way, it makes it even funnier. Both you and Lewis know you're not fussed about the result, and you're not just rambling drunkenly - this is for the audience.

"Look, (Y/N)," he says, hands moving up to brush your shoulders. "The audience probably wants to go home now, and you're keeping them here. We'll debate the score later. Tell you what, I'll give you a tenner."

The audience's laughter becomes white noise to you now - because you certainly weren't expecting Lewis to be this gentle or seemingly sincere about the whole thing.

Or attractive.

But for the first time, looking into his eyes, ever so conscious of his hands still planted firmly but gently on your arms, you see a hint of uncertainty. And you realise that you've seen this uncertainty before in yourself - but you can't quite put your finger on it - what is Lewis thinking to make him like this?

He moves his hands from you, turns to the crowd, and says as quietly as he can with a microphone on - which is not very quietly at all - "Well, this is awkward."

The audience is in tears by now, even though you and Lewis don't find it nearly as funny as they do - you're both just playing your roles, doing what you're so practised in doing in your content, that makes people laugh so much.

And the way that both you and Lewis understand this better than anyone else at this point in time - better even than the other content creators on the stage behind you - somehow makes you feel closer to him, as if there's a secret you both know.

It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from mouthing I love you to him in front of an audience of potentially hundreds. Because at the moment, it's all you're thinking.

________________________________________________

You wake up the next morning without a splitting headache, to your surprise - in fact, you'd go as far as to say you're refreshed. 

You get down to the hotel lobby a little early - Sjin, Lewis, Duncan, Hat Films, Kim and Kevin the bodyguard are already down there, you find.

"You strange people," you grin. "How do you get up this early?"

"We're not fucking lazy, that's why," Smith answers, a bottle in his hand. You squint at it.

"Alcohol this early?" you exclaim. "It's going to be a long day, mate, you sure about this? We've got the party later too."

He shrugs, and then holds the bottle out to you. "Want some?"

You recoil, putting on your best disgusted face; Smith grins.

"Not actually drinking it now," he explains. "It's for later."

"Thank God." 

He smirks, then moves over to talk to Trott without another word.

"I think he likes you."

You swivel round; and there's Lewis, a foot away from you. He grins.

"Don't you dare surprise me like that ever again, Brindley," you whisper, shaking your head. Your heart rate begins to slow again. Then you realise what Lewis said. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, I think he likes you," Lewis repeats. 

"Who?"

He nods over to Trott and Smith on the other side of the room. 

"What - Smith?" you whisper, not wanting to be heard. "No way."

"Sure he likes you. You just need to believe it," Lewis grins.

"Shut up," you mutter. "Anyway, I - well, even if he does, I don't like him back."

"Oh really?" Lewis raises an eyebrow. "Saving yourself for someone else, are you?"

Yes, you think. "Now, that'd be telling, wouldn't it?" you tease; and then, remembering your antics last night, you add, "And by the way, my team definitely won last night."

Lewis narrows his eyes, and plays along. "Did not."

"Did too!"

_________________________________________________

What Lewis said bugs you for the rest of the day.

Smith likes... you? No, Lewis was wrong - you've just spoken to him a couple of times in a row, no biggie. Doesn't make him your boyfriend. And you've said it yourself, not necessarily to his face, that Alex Smith is hot stuff - you just haven't fallen for him. No, there's someone else you've fallen for.

But then again - it isn't that far off. You remember earlier in the coach when you'd felt Smith staring at the back of your head long after you'd turned away. You remember him smiling when you turned around again - the same smile you usually saw on Lewis, that made you just melt: kind, knowing, soft.

No, you think. I've made it this far reinforcing my relationship with Lewis. I can't just leave him for another guy.

Except the way Lewis was talking about Smith, it seemed like he genuinely hadn't considered a chance of you and him.

Saving yourself for someone else, are you?

It certainly hadn't seemed as if he was hinting at himself. No, maybe you shouldn't feel guilty about this. Maybe Smith is the right guy after all...

You're tempted to just slam your head on the table, walk straight out, lock yourself in a room by yourself where you can just take a moment to think.

Of course I still like him, you think. But is that you liking him, or you just wanting to still like him?

You make up your mind then.

___________________________________________________

A/N: The you/Smith element will definitely play a part in future chapters. :P I know this is making out to seem a bit more focused on Smith than you'd want, but I promise, it's still just you/Lewis.

Sorry this is a little shorter than usual - I've got massive things planned for the next chapter, and didn't want to have something big happening in the middle and then caving off at the end. 

So anyway, thanks for reading this chapter. :D Feel free to message me anything you like. Bai.