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If God was real, he hated Tom Ryder.
Why else would he have made Tom stay outside in 90-degree, humid weather if he didn’t hate him.
“Cut!” The directors voice boomed, the actors—not Tom, he wasn’t in this scene—all relaxed, “That’s lunch, people!”
Tom huffed, tuning back into the conversation he absolutely wasn’t listening to. He could’ve been in his airconditioned trailer already if it wasn’t for this yapping idiot in front of him. But no, here Tom was, listening to them talk about how much he inspired them. He was the nicest person on the goddamn planet, and sometimes nice people must make sacrifices.
He glances over at the actors stepping away from the set and feels sweat drip down the side of his face.
Yeah, his nice quota has been reached for the day.
“Man,” he interrupts, “So glad I was awesome. But, uh, lunch. Catch you later, Ryan.”
As he shoved past the astonishingly short man, he heard a mumbled “it’s Bryan...”
Hey, that’s pretty close to Ryan. Man, he is such a nice guy.
Tom pulled out his phone as he walked; there was no need to look at where he was going. Everyone’s going to move out of his way anyways.
Everyone except for a certain stunt man.
Yup, God hates him, he thinks as he crashes face first into one Colt Seavers.
“Fucking— Ow, man!” He snaps, glaring at the other man. “Watch where you’re going,” Tom grabs his phone off the ground.
“Ah— Shit, sorry!” Colt says, his voice a higher pitch than usual. Tom looks back at him after he picks up his phone. Sorry? “You actually ran into me, you know?” There’s that classic Colt sarcasm.
Except, it isn’t. Colt, that is.
The man staring back at him is wearing glasses. He has a noticeable lack of muscles where Colts would be. His face is almost a carbon copy, only that the nose isn’t crooked from one-to-many breaks, and the eye bags are much, much darker. It’s... uncanny.
Tom pushes down his surprise in exchange for annoyance.
“Should’ve seen me coming. Who are you, anyways? My stunt double’s stunt double?”
The man rolls his eyes with a scoff. Huh, usually people aren’t this rude to him. Usually, when they are, it pisses him off.
This is... turning out to be a pleasant surprise, actually.
“You’re incompetence is not my problem—”
“Woah-k!” A woman places a hand on the man’s shoulder, moving between him and Tom. “Let’s chill. Sorry about that, Tom. We’ll be on our way now,” she says that last sentence between her teeth, sending the other man a look.
“Jody—”
“Now, Ry.”
Tom watches them both as they walk away.
Ry, huh? He can work with that.
One text later, he’s got someone doing a deep dive on someone who looks exactly like Colt and goes by ‘Ry’.
Maybe God doesn’t hate Tom that much, actually.
~~~
The next time they meet, Tom actually knows who this man is now.
Ryland Grace, a molecular biologist, and Colt Seaver’s twin brother. He could definitely tell where the family’s good genes went. Especially the ass genes, that man was so— Focus.
Tom eyes the two brothers from his trailer, watching as the chat between takes.
Ryland—such a nice name, really rolls of the tongue well—has a hand on his hip, waving his other hand as he speaks. Colt nods along, probably not understanding whatever Ryland is talking about. Colt is stupid like that. If it were Tom there, he’d be actually listening, learning about bacteria or whatever molecular biologists talk about. Ryland seems like a good teacher, Tom could see him now with a ruler, standing over him as he— Focus, god damnit.
Tom tears his eyes away and grabs his sunglasses.
“And then, of course, I told him to fuck off—” Ryland’s beautiful rant is cut off as Tom throws his trailer door open. The two brothers turn their heads at the same time with the same confused expression on their face. Man, that’s creepy.
“Ryland!”
Their expressions grow even more confused, for much different reasons.
“What—”
“How did you—”
They speak over each other, each now fully facing Tom. They silently decide to let Colt speak first.
“When did you two meet—”
“’Meet’ is a strong word—”
Tom cuts in once he’s fully approached them, “We met yesterday. I bumped into him and Judy during lunch.”
“Jody. And again, we did not ‘meet’. You slammed into me, then told me to watch it, and that was it. How do you even know my name?”
“Details, details,” Tom waved his hand. Man, he and Ryland were so alike already!
“Yeah, details about me—” Ryland hissed, taking a step towards Tom.
Colt dragged him back by his shoulder, much like the woman from yesterday, “Alright, alright,” Colt turned to his brother, lowering his voice, “Let's not punch the guy who contracts me, Ry.”
Ryland huffs but settles down.
“Well, uh, this has been a great conversation, as it always is with you, Tom,” Colt continues, hand still on Ryland’s shoulder, “But I’ve got a scene coming up and we’ve gotta go. C’mon Ry, I’m getting set on fire this time,” Colt grins, stearing Ryland away.
“I still want to know how he got my name,” Ryland spits out as the two walk away.
Faintly, Tom hears Colt respond, “Chill dude.”
Looks like he’s found a feisty one. Man, God is really starting to love Tom Ryder.
~~~
The last time Tom meets Ryland on set, he has a mission.
That nerd is going home with Tom’s number whether he likes it or not.
Oh, who is Tom kidding, he’ll like it. Anyone would kill to have Tom Ryder’s number. He should know, some people have threatened it.
He spots him alone this time while Colt is doing another take. It’s just too perfect.
Tom slides over to him quietly, maneuvering around the crowds of workers standing between him and the second most gorgeous man on Earth.
As he gets closer, Ryland must spot him from the corner of his eye, because he turns his head slightly then throws his head back and lets out a groan.
Tom can just see it now, that same expression of Ryland’s face as he— Focus, Tom, jesus christ!
Shaking that very nice thought out of his head, he finally reaches Ryland’s side.
“Hey,” Great start, Tom. Just great.
“What do you want.” Ryland’s tone doesn’t pose it as a question, more of just a plead to make this interaction end.
Man, Tom is really digging this game they’ve got going on.
“Well, I saw you out here all alone and decided someone needed to save you from boredom,” he speaks lowly, keeping quite even if the cameras could not realistically pick up his voice over the chaos of the stunt. Habit, he supposes.
“I’m not bored,” Ryland says, also keeping his voice down, “I’m watching. And frankly, you are making it very hard to do so.”
Tom grins, “You’re pretty distracting, yourself.”
“Not like that,” the man hisses, “It’s because you won’t shut the hell up and leave me alone.”
God do those words go south.
“Well, maybe you’d prefer a text?” He transitions, holding out a slip of paper between his pointer and middle finger.
“In your dreams, asshole,” Ryland turns away, focusing back in on the stunt. Tom huffs—he does not pout—and turns his eyes towards the scene as well.
The pyrotechnics are about to light the fire—his character gets set on fire a lot in this movie.
“I star in this movie, ya’know?”
Ryland glances at him without turning his head and raises a brow, “I’m not stupid, I know. Kind of hard to miss.”
“I star in quite a few.”
Tom’s grin creeps back up when he sees Ryland’s mouth twitch upward for a second.
“I make a lot of money.”
This time, Ryland quietly snorts. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth and stifle the noise.
“You’re pathetic,” he says as he lowers his hand back down, turning his head back towards Tom with a smirk.
“Yup.”
Ryland huffs out another laugh, “Fine.”
“Uh—” Tom’s brain stutters for a moment, “Fine?”
The other man rolls his eyes and brings his hand up, palm out, “Fine”
Tom takes a moment to register, “O— Oh!” He scrambles to place the piece of paper in Ryland’s hand. Distantly, he hears the director shout ‘Cut!’.
“That’s your cue to leave, unless you want my brother to beat the shit out of you.”
“Mhm, yup— Yeah. Going— Uh, going now. Bye.”
The man smiles with a raised eyebrow as Tom walks away.
After a beat, Tom stops and turns around, “Call me!” he shouts, then all but runs off as Colt makes his way over.
It’s decided, God loves Tom Ryder.