Chapter Text
Well, that was weird.
Grace had a second meeting with mega-star Tom Ryder, and he wasn't sure if it was better or worse than the first one.
It was… odd. Ryder was leaving him alone now, which is what he wanted, but he couldn't help but feel… he wasn't sure. Pity? The man wasn't allowed to drink water. Grace knew that celebrities’ lives were somewhat controlled, but that seemed kind of extreme.
Then there was the guy himself. He was as self-obsessed as he possibly could be, and he didn’t take no for an answer. When Grace turned him down, he looked really angry there for a second, and Grace was trying to find the best retreat to dash away. Then, Ryder seemed to get surprised by something and scared? Maybe? Then Ryder ran away before Grace could, and it was over as soon as it started. It wasn’t much to make a judgement on, but Grace wasn’t a Ryder fan.
Grace shook his head. It didn’t matter. Ryder still didn't know who he was and that was fine by him.
It was late, hopefully Colt was done being put in mortal danger, and they could go out to eat. Onion rings were calling to him.
“Hey, Colt! Are you done?” Grace found his brother loitering near where he left him, in his ‘civilian’ clothes. Thank goodness.
Colt shot him a thumbs up. “Yup. Ready to head out?”
“Jody coming?”
“Nah, she wants to go over some stuff with the sound team before tomorrow. She promised to come tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” They fell silent, the gravel under their shoes crunching in the dim night air.
“Did your stalker find you?” Colt nudged Ryland with his shoulder. Ryland sighed.
“Yeah… It was interesting.” Ryland nudged Colt back. “He kept asking for my number. I kept telling him no.”
“Uh oh.” Colt glanced at him, sidelong. “Did your famous temper rear its ugly head, Dr. Grace? Did you call Tom Ryder mean names?”
“I did not. I don’t call people names anymore. I don’t even get angry that often anymore!” Not since Copenhagen had he had a blowup in public.
“Last night you said you thought the proteins that made up my brain were desaturating.”
“Denaturing.” Ryland corrected. “And that hardly counts, you’re my brother. And you were about to put aluminum foil in the microwave.”
“All I’m saying is you are not one to back down from an asshole. Just don’t get me fired.”
“No promises. You’d be safer if I got you fired. Hey, that’s a good idea actually.”
“No, we’re so close to wrapping. Three more days! Then, we party and you can get me fired after.” Right. The wrap party. Ryland wasn’t the biggest fan of parties anymore. He had his full of them in graduate school, but Colt was excited, and so Ryland would follow him. Reluctantly.
“Hey, if Ryder’s really bothering you, we can figure out something. You don’t have to come to the set.” Ryland waved him off.
“This is important to you. I want to support you.” Even though it makes me feel like I’m dying every time you put yourself into danger.
“Aw, you sap.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re paying for dinner.”
Another day on set, another day of watching Colt do increasingly stupid things with increasingly dubious safety measures.
Grace was currently watching Colt drive a car through various explosions, and it was nauseating. Cars were some of the most dangerous vehicles out there, and his brother was currently flinging one around like he was invincible.
Grace had to bite his lips hard enough to taste blood to keep from screeching every tight turn.
“Holy —” Grace couldn’t help it, that explosion was very close to Colt’s back wheel. He had to turn away and bite his knuckle.
It was fine. It was fine. Colt was a professional, he knew what he was doing. He did this everyday.
That did not make him feel better. He needed to take a walk. Just until Colt was done with the car stuff.
Walking away, Grace shook his head, trying to clear the lingering anxiety. He knew that Colt loved his job, loved the adrenaline, loved being on a set, but Grace really didn’t. He would be happy never having to see his brother get set on fire or thrown from a helicopter or riding a motorcycle way too fast, or, or, or!
Grace meandered over to the catering. Maybe he could get some coffee really slowly, and then Colt would be done for the day
“Hey there!” Aw man. He’d been spotted.
“Hello, Tom Ryder.” It comes out in a single breath. Here we go.
“I actually wanted to talk to you!” Ryder swung around, leaning against a nearby wall. “Man, we sure are lucky, huh?”
“Yeah. Lucky.” Grace continued to pour coffee into a paper cup that he wished was about thrice its size. Maybe he could just take three cups? Maybe tomorrow he can bring his own mug.
“Yeah, yeah, uh… hold on.” Ryder dug around his pockets. “I know I put it here somewhere…”
“Uh…?” Grace turned to face Ryder fully.
It seemed that Ryder found what he was looking for, as he straightened up and cleared his throat.
“I am very, oh shit, one sec —” Ryder quickly moved his sunglasses to the top of his head, he gave Grace a dazzling smile. “Ahem. I am very, very sorry for… what I did.” Ryder squinted down at a sticky note in his hand in a way Grace presumed Ryder thought was sneaky. “I don't… shit… I don’t expect forgiveness or anything in return.” Ryder read in a stilted voice.
Wasn't this guy supposed to be an actor? He didn't even memorize the lines to his apology! Grace was concentrating very hard on his “disappointed teacher face.” It was difficult when Ryder was making such a pathetic picture.
Tom Ryder pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to Grace. It had a sad puppy and ‘Condolences’ written in a flowery font on the front. Opening it revealed a blank inside except for Tom Ryder, which Grace could guess was exactly like any other of his autographs.
He couldn't take it. Grace burst out laughing. “You… you…” he tried between gasps. He held up a finger and gathered himself.
“I'm sorry for laughing, I can tell you're trying very hard.” Grace managed between giggles. “I appreciate the apology. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too. For ignoring you. I can get kind of in my head.” He was expecting Ryder to be furious with him and avoid him all day. Not… whatever this was.
“So… about that number.” Ryder valiantly charged forwards, stuffing the apology post-it into his pocket.
That set Grace off again. He put his hand on Ryder's shoulder for support as his shoulders heaved with laughter.
His 12-year-old students had better apologies than this. This was remarkable.
“So is that a yes…?”
Grace straightened and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. He regarded Tom Ryder, who was the spitting image of the sad dog on the card. He sighed heavily.
“Ryder, I am very flattered,” Ryder's ears perked up, “but I just don't think we're compatible.” Ryder was back to looking like a sad puppy.
Plus, the idea of being in a relationship made Grace's stomach turn. It wasn't that he didn't want a relationship, it was just… He was comfortable with his life. He knew where he stood, what his apartment was going to look like when he got home, how to give engaging lesson plans that wouldn't put kids to sleep.
It was predictable, regimented. Adding a significant other to that dynamic, least of all a Tom Ryder, could destroy it all.
“On Friday nights, I come home, make dinner, and sit on the couch to watch nature documentaries while knitting. What do you do on Friday nights?”
“Oh yeah, me too, totally. I love knitting! It's awesome.” Ryder was a good liar, Grace could give him that. However, Grace wasn't an idiot.
“Really?” He said flatly. “Do you know the difference between a knit and a purl?”
“Sure, sure. I could text you all about it.” Ryder waggled his eyebrows. Was that supposed to be subtle? Grace needed a different approach.
“Look,” Grace rubbed his face, knocking his glasses askew, “my partying days are long behind me. I just couldn't keep up with the Tom Ryder.” He suppressed an eye roll when the other man's face lit up hearing his own name. Cheese and crackers, this guy was self-absorbed. “Besides, you could get anyone else. Why me? I'm a nobody.”
Colt gasped and laid his hand across his chest. “A nobody? No, no, no. Well, maybe. But you could be somebody. With me. Tom Ryder.”
“Wow. What an opportunity.” Grace did roll his eyes this time.
“I know, right?” Ryder pulled a sticky note from… somewhere and wrote something down on it. “How about this, I give you my number, and when you feel ready, you can text me?”
Grace could recognize an out when given one. Maybe it was a bad idea to accept it, but then this guy would leave him alone, at least for today. He looked between the proffered note and Ryder.
Grace acquiesced and took the number, stuffing it into a free pocket. “Yeah. I'll text you when I'm ready.” Which would be never. He should just throw away the number as soon as Ryder left.
Ryder, on the other hand, seemed thrilled. He laughed and gave a quick pat to Grace's cheek. “I knew you'd come around, sweetheart. I'll be waiting!” He then swaggered off to terrorize some other poor soul.
Grace had a sinking feeling that this was not over.
“No way. No fucking way.” Colt held the Condolences card in one hand, and a beer in the other. “Tom Ryder gave you this. He apologized?”
“Kind of? It was among the worst apologies I've ever seen, and then he asked for my number again!” Grace threw his hands up and leaned back. “He gave up and just gave me his number instead.”
Colt threw the card down and cackled. “Dude, Ry. You sure know how to pick ‘em. I thought that Linda was bad -”
“We do not talk about Linda!” Grace squeaked, ears turning crimson. “And it's not like I asked for super star Tom Ryder to try and get into my pants.”
“I dunno.” Jody leaned forwards and viewed the card with a critical eye. “Maybe you can fix him. You already got him to apologize, that's a big step.”
“You are really good with kids. Maybe you can be good with someone who has the brainpower of a 12 year old.” Colt continued to find enjoyment in his brother's misfortune.
“You said he eventually gave you his number?” Jody slid the note back to Grace, who glumly stared at the depressed puppy on the front. Me too, buddy.
“Yeah…” Grace dug around in his pockets, fishing the note out from the numerous receipts he should really just throw away. “I was just gonna toss it.”
“Allow me,” Colt plucked the note from Ryland's fingers and crumpled it up.
“Woah wait,” Ryland stammered, making for the note as Colt held it above his head, “I don't want to just throw it away, it's personal information. It should be shredded.” He did not want to be the reason Tom Ryder's number got leaked.
“You're right.” Colt held up the sticky. “We should post it on Craigslist. Call if you want bad sex with an even worse person.”
Jody laughed, nearly inhaling her drink. It distracted Colt enough to allow for Ryland to lunge and snatch the note back, putting it back in his messy pockets. “No, Colt. Even if he's a bad person, I'm not gonna stoop to that.”
“Psh” Colt smoothly wraps his arm around Jody's shoulders and waved the opposite hand flippantly. “It'd be fine. His number has already been leaked, like, 50 times.”
“And it won't be 51 here.” Ryland gave Colt his do-you-want-detention stare. Colt waved him off.
“Sure, sure. Now I'm tired of thinking about that douchebag. This trip is supposed to be fun for you!”
It was Ryland's spring break. He'd usually be working on the science fair projects, and he was still stuck on the potato trio. However, it was by rare coincidence that Colt would be in his last week of filming in LA, and it would have been stupid to pass it up.
“Right… ” It was great to see Colt… but it wasn't great to see Colt at work. Somewhere in the womb, Colt must have stolen all of Ryland's sense of bravery. Or Ryland stole all of Colt's motion-sickness. He feels ill in elevators that move too fast for Pete's sake!
Jody smiled at him with a sympathetic wince. “It's hard for me to watch too. But he knows what he’s doing.”
“Yeah, I get that, it’s just hard. That’s my baby brother getting thrown around!”
“Baby? You’re like 2 minutes older than me tops!”
“And that 2 minutes makes me older and wiser, obviously.”
Before they could launch into the argument (again), their waitress interrupted with their entrees.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, until Colt shattered it with, “Hey, do you think he wants to fuck you because we look like him?”
“Coltland Grace. Never speak again.”