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Tom Ryder talks in his sleep.
Colt finds out the first time they sleep together. It’s a stupid little quirk, incredibly fitting for the guy who runs his mouth non stop. Even in his sleep apparently.
It’s a Friday (or technically a Saturday) after a wrap party for the crew and cast, an event that normally ended up being solely for the crew, but this specific time, for whatever unknown reason, the little asshole actually cared to show up. They’ve been drinking and laughing and messing around and one thing leads to another and soon enough Tom’s fingers are tangled in his hair, his alcohol breath clouding Colts better judgment as he leads them blindly toward the bed in the hotel.
Is not a romantic moment. Not even close. It’s more like a ‘ fuck it’ moment, the kind that happens only in a specific level of alcohol poisoning, when adrenaline runs too high and common sense is shut off. A mistake. That's what they’ll call it.
it’s over pretty fast, too. The younger man’s nails dig painfully into his back at the same time that his legs intertwine at his waist, back arching painfully off the bed. His eyes squeeze shut and the panted staccato breaths out of his lips that sounded like ~Colt~ and ~right there~ start to sound more like ~ah~ ~cummin~
He's fast asleep not even three minutes after that, leaving the stuntman to deal with their combined mess on their stomachs and his inner thoughts on Tom…and how for all his effortless charm, he’s kind of an asshole. The kind that makes talking shit a personality, that makes directors want to quit projects and studios dread his name on the call sheet, yet he somehow always gets away with it. He's got that look too, the one that makes people laugh at things they shouldn't, makes them forget he's being a dick to them.
Colt usually isn't fooled by it.
Which is why he's pissed when despite promising himself he’d leave and just forget about the night; he wakes up a few hours later, still wrapped lazily around Tom Ryder, who has the audacity to look peaceful. Soft .
The usual smirk is gone. His features, normally twisted with the characteristic disgusted boredom, are relaxed. He looks... normal . Human. He barely recognizes him.
Then, as if destiny hadn’t been enough of a bitch to the stuntman already, Tom, the usual asshole who right now looks innocent and young and effectively not corrupted by whatever Hollywood does to guys like him, murmurs something.
Colt blinks dumbfounded, silently watching as the curly haired man shifts under the sheets, voice barely above a whisper.
"…'M tired..." he breathes.
He glances at the clock, then back at Tom. It's late, around 2:30 am, a very ungodly hour where exhaustion keeps most people unconscious. Not him, though. Even in sleep, his mind keeps running, words slipping out in pieces like fragments of a dream he can't hold onto.
”What the hell are you talking about Ryder?” Colt mumbles, tempted to shove the younger man awake, just as dumbfounded as before when, still completely asleep, Tom answers
"...don't wanna run anymore ."
it takes the stuntman a second to realize
it 's his lines.
From the final scene of the movie he just finished filming, where his heroic character dies. His fingers curl and stretch on the fabric of the pillow like they’re reaching for something (someone) and the blond man chuckles silently, intertwining his fingers with Tom’s like his co-star had done earlier in the scene because it’s hilarious. Because Tom Ryder never stops being Tom Ryder even when he’s asleep.
The younger man takes a predictably long amount of time to even be able to wake up the next morning, he stretches lazily and rubs his eyes, a little hazy he looks around like he’s trying to figure out where or who he is with. When Colt comes into the room, already showered and drinking a crappy cup of coffee, looking for the keys (bullshit) he forgot, their eyes meet for a second and then the smug little smirk that says he knew colt was into him all along appears, like he’s won yet another “ everybody wants me ” trophy .
Colt is tempted to tell him then, that he cums too fast, that he's a sleep talker, that not only does he sleep talk but he repeats his own lines, that he looks adorable when he's not acting like an asshole.
He doesn't
It happens a second time that same year
The stuntman imagines it's a daily occurrence but of course he can´t be sure of it, until he is.
It's been a little over six months after that wrap party, when for reasons beyond his control (Dan dragged him) Colt ended up back at the kid's house, nursing a warm beer, waiting for the moment to slip out. Tom had found him sulking by himself in the corner, smiled and slurred a half-charming, half-asshole
"Why do you always look like you wanna fight someone?" and before Colt could respond with anything either nice or mean, a glass of whiskey had ended up in his hand, it was the same formula as before but this time they weren't blackout drunk; reckless drunk. They were just loose-limbed, laughing-too-loud, unable(unwilling)-to-keep-their-hands-to-themselves drunk.
Now, hours later, they're inside Ryder´s room and he mumbles again, face half-buried in a pillow "…should get a dog"
Colt is still awake, exhausted (as it happens, that one night when the movie star came absolutely too fast had been a one time thing) and half-annoyed when he sighs. "What?"
“little. Fits in bag" Tom’s hand does a weird movement on top of Colt´s chest (like explaining the size of the dog) and the blond catches it before he slaps himself in the face
It takes everything in him not to laugh out loud then, instead he hums a sort of approval for the dog, covers them both up with the blanket and goes to sleep.
It keeps going and going over the years. Bits and pieces. Fragments of who Tom really is, slipping out in the dead of night. Sometimes it’s nothing, just half-finished sentences, things that don’t make sense. like “ pickle war” or “ My fuckin’… face ’S everywhere. " or whatever “ Can’t marry umbrella” means. Other times, it’s fragments of lines from whatever movie he’s working on and the stuntman gets accustomed to it, of course he does.
How could he not?
They’re dating now. Actually dating. Not just fucking, not just circling endlessly, its official (or as much as it can be given Tom’s media presence).
Tom is suddenly everywhere. Not only outside in every single bench and bus with a poster for upcoming movies but his toothbrush in Colt’s bathroom. His scripts on the kitchen counter. His stupid post-it notes on the fridge. His body sprawled over the couch, even when the blond isn’t home. His shoes next to Colt’s in the entrance
At some point, the brunet’s crowding presence in Colts space became ’normal’ and with the new normalcy came more of the sleeptalk.
"Love you" Tom mumbles one December night, rolling closer to the blond, his face pressing into the stuntman’s shoulder.
His eyes snap open, he wasn't really sleepy before, now he's just too stunned to even breathe properly. His heartbeat kicks up, but he doesn’t move, half expecting Tom to be sleep-confessing to something stupid like a burger or his car or…
"…tell me you didn't hear that" Comes a small, whispered voice
Colt finally glances down to see him. Tom’s awake. Barely, but awake. A smirk tugs at his lips when he sees the panicked face he has, like his own words woke him up just in time. " You love me?"
The younger man groans, shoving his face back into the pillow and away from. "No, I was dreaming."
"Sure, Ryder."
Of course, tho. It's not always sweet or funny like that. Sometimes , it’s personal, heart wrenching, dark and far too much information, at least more than Tom is willing to give awake “ dont mommy please ” “ don’t hit me ” and “i'll go...I promise” he talks softly against the pillow, tears trailing down his face. Colt wants to say something, wants to ask or at least acknowledge he knows and that Tom can trust him, he promises he'll do it later but of course later never does come because the next day he acts like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just let Colt know a secret without meaning to.
The disasterous control starts not long after that, at first is unnoticeable or at least the stuntman pretends it is unnoticeable because he doesn't want to admit they're already doomed.
The little things come first, showing up unannounced like expecting Colt to be with someone, the constant -unsolicited- checking in “where are you right now?” “Send a photo” “what are you doing?” “With who?”. It gets bigger after that, the jealousy, the micromanaging, the fights, the fact he fucks every single person who even shows him some attention while simultaneously telling colt he shouldn’t talk to Jodi at all, that she’s trouble and that they are way too close for what Tom finds comfortable, that he needs to stay close to him. And then when it gets to be too much, whatever mock relationship they had is over, no big scene, just silent tears and Colt slamming the door behind him.
Of course, it is not REALLY over
They’re sadly bound by contract so they have to see each other again and as much as Colt tries to avoid it, he’s back at work the next year. Tom is unbearable (worse than ever anyway). He screws around, picks fights, plays the asshole role to perfection. And maybe it’s on purpose, maybe he’s pissed that Colt had the audacity to leave him. Maybe it’s just Tom being Tom.
It doesn’t really matter what the problem is because in a split second, one tiny moment of distraction Colt falls twelve stories down a shaft.
The impact shatters his back. Ends his career. Everything.
It’s less than three months after the accident, when Tom shows up at his house again, his blue eyes red rimmed and puffy like he’s been crying for days on end, alcohol breath and bruised knuckles, he begs Colt to let him back into his life, he promises to do better, to keep to himself, to not hurt him.
He should slam the door in his face, should hate him but he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter that he’s the one who lost his job, his life, it doesn't matter that he had to get surgery and go to rehab, that he has titanium screws going up his spine and post traumatic stress because under the rain with dishevelled hair and puke stained shirt, Tom looks small and scared and he asks him to take him back.
He can't close the door on him now… maybe ever.
And so they’re back together. Tom never talks in his sleep again after that. Instead, he fidgets. He tosses and he turns. Stares at the ceiling for hours, barely blinking. Some nights, he doesn’t even try to sleep, just curls in on himself like he’s holding something in, like if he lets his guard down, something might slip.
Years pass like that. and well, what can Colt do other than let the other man stay, let him take up space in his bed, in his life. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that whatever Tom’s hiding isn’t his burden to bear anymore because at least he's kept his promise not to hurt him.
Until the night one of those secrets finally claws its way out.
" Shouldn’t have” He mutters one night, frowning in his sleep. “ touched it"
The stun…ex- stuntman, already teetering on the edge of sleep, barely acknowledges it. "Huh?"
Tom’s breathing shifts. He twitches like he's dreaming too hard. " button ."
It takes a second for it to register and then he snaps his eyes open again. Whatever was left of his calm, sedated state is gone as cold, slow realization creeps up his spine.
The button .
The one that sent him flying down before the mark, bones snapping and future shattering
For years , he didn’t know. For years , he’d convinced himself it was bad luck, a mistake, a freak accident.
Tom shifts beside him, brows furrowing deeper. " ´m sorry Colt" His breath catches, like he's choking on whatever's next. His fingers flex, then go slack.
Colt stares at him. Feels the weight of it pressing down, heavy and suffocating.
He should wake him up.
Should demand answers.
Instead, he just watches as Tom sighs in his sleep, body going slack again, peaceful as ever.
The blond exhales sharply, staring at the ceiling.
"You’re so selfish," he says quietly. Tears already forming in his eyes, falling silently down his cheeks
Tom shifts but doesn’t wake.
"You’re the most awful person I know," Colt continues, voice barely above a whisper. Saying all the things he never dared when they fought “You have no care for anybody but yourself, Tom."
The younger man hums in sleepy agreement, shifting in the bed so his face is on top of Colts chest. A soft, sleepy sound.
"You’re despicable," he whispers. Tom´s tears feel hot against Colt´s T-shirt, the same ones from his other dreams. The blond tightens his grip on his shoulder, maybe he's awake maybe he isn't, he doesn't care “you are insane and cruel, Tom Ryder.. and still, here I am."
Tom sighs in his sleep after that, shifting closer, head resting heavy against the hammering in his stuntmans chest. Fingers twitching against his ribs.
Like he knows , even unconscious, that Colt isn’t leaving.
And fuck.
Fuck, he isn’t.