Words: 3k. Fast paced chapter.
AN: Are you familiar with Two and a Half Men? [Uploaded the first ch on pat reon. It will take a while to stockpile. Public release will be after completing X-Force.]
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The airport was alive with the usual early-morning chaos, blurry-eyed travelers dragging their suitcases, last-minute duty-free shoppers clutching overpriced souvenirs, and the occasional lost tourist frantically flipping through their boarding pass like it held the meaning of life.
Max and Caroline stood with Alex near the check-in counter, their bags neatly stacked beside them. Well, Max's bags were less "neatly stacked" and more "haphazardly thrown into a pile of chaos that looked like it might topple over at any second." She had somehow managed to do more shopping in the last 4 hours than most people did in a year. (Hey, Sugar Daddy's money, so... why hold back, right?)
"Okay, so." Max clapped her hands together, rocking on her heels. "I guess this is the part where we get all sentimental and cry into each other's arms, huh?"
Alex raised an eyebrow, hands tucked in his pockets. "You crying? I'd actually pay to see that."
Max gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, I am a rock. An unbreakable fortress of emotional resilience." She pointed at Caroline. "Blondie's the crier here. She cried when we watched that stupid commercial about the puppy who..."
"MAX!" Caroline slapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish. "That was a private moment between me and the sad puppy! Leave it in the past!"
Alex just grinned. "You two are something else."
"Yeah, well, some of us don't just sit around being perfectly hot and sexy all day," Max huffed. Alex simply gave her a knowing look. "Ok. Fine. I'll take the compliment. But seriously, Moneybags… this trip was kind of amazing. Best food. Best hotel. Best massage..."
Caroline visibly tensed.
Max caught it. And grinned.
Alex caught it. And definitely smirked.
Caroline pretended not to notice either of them and instead focused very hard on her bag like it contained the meaning of life.
"We had the best time," Max continued, nudging Caroline with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Right, Blondie?"
Caroline, who was still trying to recover from the previous night's foot massage debacle, only managed a strangled, "Uh-huh."
Max was not letting this go. "Oh, and how's your... you know? Still feeling... relaxed?"
Caroline made a very undignified sound. "Max," she hissed, casting a frantic glance at Alex, who was still watching them with that damn smirk. "We are not talking about that."
Max grinned, waggling her eyebrows. "Oh, right. The foot massage that changed your life."
Caroline covered her face with her hands. "Why are you like this?"
Alex, who had been observing their back-and-forth like a very amused king watching his two jesters argue, finally chimed in. "You should let me know if you need another one, Caroline. I'd hate for you to suffer in silence."
Caroline peeked at him through her fingers, her entire body still very much relaxed and somewhat horny from last night's session. But she couldn't help but tense up. "I... nope, I'm good."
Alex chuckled. "Mmm, I don't know. You did seem to enjoy it quite a bit."
Max snorted. "She more than enjoyed it, Moneybags. She ascended."
Caroline lunged for Max's arm. "Do not bring up ascension, I swear to..."
"Oh, but I have to! Because it was beautiful!" Max placed a hand over her heart in mock emotion. "There I was, just minding my own business, and then suddenly, my best friend was..."
"Shut up," Caroline hissed. "Minding my own business, my ass." The last part she mumbled.
Alex smirked. "Max, let her live."
Caroline whipped toward him. "SAYS THE MAN WHO BASICALLY BET THAT HE COULD GIVE ME AN ORGASM JUST BY TOUCHING MY FEET!"
A few nearby travelers turned to stare.
Caroline went pale.
Max busted out laughing.
Alex? Oh, he was living.
Caroline quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God, I just said that out loud."
Max, gasping for air between laughs, wiped away fake tears. "Blondie, you are the gift that keeps on giving."
Caroline groaned, grabbing her suitcase and yanking it forward like it might shield her from further humiliation.
"Okay, we are leaving," she muttered.
Max turned back to Alex, her laughter dying down, and for a moment, Alex was sure he saw a hint of sadness like 'I don't want to go, but I gotta go.' "Seriously, though. Thanks for everything, Moneybags. Best trip ever. I'd hug you, but... oh wait, screw that."
Without warning, Max lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Alex's waist in a tight bear hug.
Alex hugged her back just as tightly. "Take care of yourself, Max."
Max held on a second longer than necessary, then pulled away with a wink. "You too, Moneybags. Don't miss me too much."
Then she turned toward Caroline, who was still looking like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. "Blondie, say bye to Alex before we go."
Caroline swallowed hard. She knew she'd regret it if she didn't.
Steeling herself, she turned to Alex, eyes flickering with hesitation before...
"Screw it."
She grabbed his collar, yanked him down, and kissed him.
It wasn't slow. It wasn't hesitant. It was fast, impulsive, and over in less than five seconds. Five very long seconds.
Then, just as quickly, she pulled away, eyes wide, face on fire, and turned on her heel.
"BYE ALEX GOTTA GO OKAY COOL SEE YOU LATER OR NEVER OKAY BYE!"
And with that, Caroline sprinted toward the check-in area like her life depended on it.
"Would you look at that?" Alex was surprised, but he quickly composed himself and gave a slight nod to Max.
Max, grinning like a madwoman, simply shrugged.
"She's a work in progress. Now, my turn."
Alex barely had a second to react before Max grabbed his face and pulled him down into a searing kiss. It was short, but the way her lips moved against his, teasing, demanding, left a promise lingering in the air. When she finally pulled back, her lips were curved into that signature Max smirk—playful, confident, and just a little bit dangerous.
She ran a finger down his chest, teasingly slow. "Next time," she whispered, her breath tickling his lips, "I'm giving you a massage to remember, Moneybags. And trust me… it'll be one for the record books."
Alex arched an eyebrow, his smirk mirroring hers. "That so?"
"Mhmm," Max purred. "Better make sure your schedule's clear when we get back to New York, because I'm about to rock your world." Then, with a little wink, she stood on her toes and placed one last teasing kiss on the corner of his mouth. "And just so we're clear… I meant what I said back then."
Alex's smile softened.
Max's voice dropped just a little, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through her teasing facade. "I love you, Alex. So don't go forgetting that, okay?"
'No, moneybags, but Alex, huh?' His eyes searched hers, something deeper flickering in them. He squeezed her waist, keeping her close for a heartbeat longer. "I won't," he murmured, his voice warm and steady. "I love you too, Max."
Max swallowed, suddenly feeling a whole new kind of warmth spread through her chest. She nodded, biting her lip. "Good. Just making sure."
Then, before she could get caught up in her own emotions, she pulled back, grabbed her suitcase, and practically dragged a still-reeling Caroline toward the check-in area. "C'mon, Blondie. Time to get on this flying tin can and hope we don't crash into the ocean."
"Why would you even say that?" Caroline lightly punched Max's arm.
Alex watched them go, his hands still tucked in his pockets, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. Max had said she loved him again—this time, not in the middle of post-shower delirium. And Caroline? Well, she had just kissed him like she was trying to scramble his brain on the way out.
He had his work cut out for him.
And damn it, he was looking forward to every second.
...
[Time to shoot]
The Shooting of Lost in Translation Officially Begins
The Park Hyatt Tokyo had transformed according to Alex's vision.
As the sole producer and director, Alex had poured a staggering amount of money into ensuring that everything—every scene, every shot, every lighting angle—was as perfect as it could possibly be. There were no studio executives breathing down his neck, no outside investors pressuring him for results.
And now, after weeks of pre-production, planning, and rehearsals, the shooting had officially begun.
The first scene to be filmed was Bob Harris's arrival in Tokyo—a crucial opening moment that would set the tone for the entire film. Scarlett's underwear scene was for later.
Tom Hanks, now in full character as Bob, sat inside a luxury black sedan parked just outside Narita International Airport. Cameras were rigged to the car's dashboard and along the side of the road, capturing his expression as he stared out at the unfamiliar city beyond.
From his director's chair, Alex studied the monitors intently. The cinematographer had set up the shot perfectly—Tokyo's neon lights reflected off the sleek surface of the car, a soft rain drizzled over the windshield, and inside, Bob Harris looked utterly exhausted. Jet-lagged. Disconnected.
The assistant director called for quiet, the clapperboard snapped shut, and Alex's voice rang out.
"Action!"
Tom Hanks exhaled, rubbing his temple as he gazed out the window. His performance was effortless and natural.
The car pulled up to the Park Hyatt Hotel, and as Bob stepped out, he blinked against the bright lights of the entrance. Bellhops rushed forward to take his luggage, bowing politely. The doorman greeted him in fluent Japanese, and Bob gave a delayed, awkward nod in return. He was clearly out of his element.
Alex leaned forward, watching closely.
Bob entered the grand lobby, moving with the weary shuffle of a man who had been on a plane for too many hours. He didn't need to say a word. His body language said it all.
Alex let the scene play out, then...
"Cut! That was great, Tom."
Then the conversation and greetings scenes took 2 cuts to make it perfect.
[Next morning]
The filming continued inside one of the luxury suites on the top floor.
Scarlett Johansson, playing Charlotte, was ready in a loose-fitting gray t-shirt and soft pink underwear. At her request, he decided to not go with the transparent one. But it was pink. The camera would follow her as she woke up alone in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Tokyo's distant traffic below.
Alex adjusted the lighting with his cinematographer, ensuring the morning sunlight streamed in just right.
"Alright, Scar, this is all about the isolation. Take your time. Let the silence speak for you," Alex said, stepping back to let her settle into the role.
Scarlett nodded, taking a deep breath before lying back on the bed.
"Action!"
The camera rolled as she opened her eyes, blinking in the soft morning light. She turned her head to the empty side of the bed where her husband should be, then let out a quiet sigh.
She sat up slowly, pulling the blankets around her, looking small, lost, adrift. The audience needed to feel that she didn't belong here... that she was floating through a life that no longer felt like hers.
A few long, silent beats passed before she swung her legs over the bed and stood.
"Cut. Beautiful."
By the third day, things were picking up speed.
The production had moved to the New York Bar on the 52nd floor, one of the most iconic locations in the film. The warm, ambient lighting, the sleek black furniture, the grand piano in the corner... it was all cinematic gold.
In this scene, Bob and Charlotte would share their first, fleeting glance.
The bar was full of extras, dressed as wealthy businessmen, tourists, and hotel guests. The bartender polished glasses, a jazz band played softly in the background, and Tokyo's dazzling skyline stretched endlessly behind them.
Alex took his position behind the camera. "Alright, let's make this electric. It's not love at first sight. It's a connection at first sight. Remember: it's the absence of words that makes this moment powerful."
"Action!"
Bob sat at the bar, sipping his whiskey, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion.
Across the room, Charlotte entered.
The camera tracked her as she moved toward the bar, glancing at the empty seat beside Bob before looking away. She didn't sit yet. She just stood there for a moment, absorbing the energy of the room.
Then, subtly, almost imperceptibly, Bob looked up.
Their eyes met for just a second.
It was barely anything.
But it was everything.
"Cut!"
Alex clapped his hands together. "Nice."
[A Week into Filming]
The film was coming together beautifully.
Each day, Alex meticulously crafted every shot, whether it was the quiet, reflective moments in Charlotte's hotel room, Bob's hilarious yet melancholic filming of a whiskey commercial, or their late-night conversations in the hotel bar.
There were challenges, of course, some scenes needed multiple retakes, and some locations required last-minute adjustments. But with Rachel managing logistics like a superhuman, everything stayed on schedule.
One particularly hilarious day on set involved Anna Faris, playing the airheaded actress Kelly, doing a hilariously over-the-top press interview about her new action film.
Alex nearly lost it laughing behind the monitor as Anna dramatically flipped her hair for the hundredth time.
"Okay, Anna, let's try this next take without you saying the word 'literally' five times in one sentence."
Anna grinned. "But Alex, I literally can't do that."
He groaned. "I walked right into that one."
....
[As the shooting progresses...]
Despite the long shooting hours, demanding schedules, and Alex's obsession with perfection, Scarlett Johansson found herself enjoying every moment of working on Lost in Translation. It was her first major film outside television, and she knew this was her chance to prove herself as a serious actress.
But as much as she loved the role, there were moments of doubt. Moments where she wondered if she was truly bringing Charlotte to life in the way Alex envisioned. And unlike her past projects, where she had been just another cast member following a director's orders, this felt different.
Alex wasn't just a director. He was a storyteller, someone who wanted every frame to mean something.
And so, naturally, Scarlett started coming to him for advice.
It began casually. Simple check-ins between takes.
"Was that okay?" she'd ask, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
And Alex, always brutally honest but never harsh, would give her real feedback. "Your delivery was great, but try holding the silence a beat longer before you respond. Let the loneliness linger."
She'd nod, absorb his words, and on the next take, she'd nail it.
Then, the questions became more frequent.
"Hey, Alex, do you think Charlotte is actually unhappy in her marriage, or is she just… lost?"
"Both," Alex had said, flipping through the script one evening as they sat in the hotel lounge after a long day of shooting. "She's at that point where everything feels stagnant. She's questioning everything—who she is, who she's becoming, whether she even knows the person she's with anymore."
Scarlett frowned thoughtfully, swirling her drink. "Have you ever felt that?"
Alex gave a small, knowing smile. "Everyone has, at some point."
She studied him for a moment, then grinned. "That was very cryptic of you. Very 'wise filmmaker gives mysterious response' of you."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not trying to be cryptic. I just think we all go through phases where we feel… disconnected. Like we're on autopilot, watching our own lives from the outside."
Scarlett leaned back in her chair, exhaling. "Yeah. I get that."
And just like that, something shifted.
It wasn't just director and actress anymore.
They were talking. Really talking.
As the days went on, their conversations deepened.
Scarlett started hanging around the monitor more often, watching the way Alex directed scenes, how he worked with the cinematographer, how he crafted a moment.
"Why'd you choose to frame it like that?" she asked one day as they reviewed footage of Charlotte staring out of the hotel window.
Alex, adjusting a few settings on the monitor, glanced up. "Because it isolates her. She's physically in Tokyo, but emotionally she's somewhere else. The negative space in the frame makes her seem even smaller, even more alone."
Scarlett nodded slowly, taking that in. "I never thought about framing that way."
He smirked. "Stick around long enough, and you'll start seeing movies differently."
And so she did.
Between takes, she'd sit next to him, watching the monitors, absorbing everything.
One night, after filming wrapped, she knocked on his hotel room door, script in hand.
"Can I ask you something?"
Alex arched an eyebrow. "Is this about Charlotte, or are you just here to steal my iced tea?"
She rolled her eyes but let herself in, settling onto the couch. "Charlotte. But now that you mention it…" She snatched his drink and took a sip.
Alex just shook his head, amused. "Go on."
She hesitated. "I was thinking about the scene where she calls home, and her husband barely listens. She barely reacts. I mean, she should react, right? But in the script, she just kind of… sighs."
Alex leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That's the point. She's tired. She's exhausted from feeling like she's the only one trying. It's not about a big, dramatic reaction. It's about the absence of one."
Scarlett considered that. "So it's like… she's already given up?"
"Exactly."
She let out a long breath, staring at the script. "Damn. You're good at this."
Alex smirked. "Well, I did write it."
Scarlett laughed, shaking her head. "You know what I mean. You don't just tell people how to act. You show them how to feel it."
Alex tilted his head slightly. "Is that your way of saying I'm a good director?"
She smiled. "I doubt I'm in any position to compliment you. I mean, you are you... The best... And I'm just a newbie looking for a big break. So... You know."
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