Archive of Our Own

Colt hasn’t been this restless on set since the Tom Ryder fiasco. When he had to jump into that car and force a confession out of the guy who literally framed him for murder.

And, compared to that whole shit-show, the stakes this time are incredibly low. Pretty much nonexistent. In fact, there is literally absolutely nothing to be so worked up about.

Colt knows that. He can acknowledge that he’s overreacting or perhaps overcompensating emotions-wise. But it’s not like he can control it, and he has even less luck convincing himself to chill the heck out.

Despite his best efforts to calm down, Colt can barely stay still for longer than ten seconds at a time before his body demands movement, heart thudding fast and hard and sending his blood pounding through his veins. 

Colt’s got so much restless energy he doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels like he needs to run until he collapses. Which, for a guy with stamina like his, would be very long and very far.

Fucking hell.

Colt drops his forehead onto his palm. He’s currently camped out in Jody’s trailer, borrowing it between takes where he isn’t needed because it’s bigger than his own mini one. He’s hunched over his phone on the edge of the couch, occasionally twitching with excess energy he’s refusing to give in to. 

His knee has been bouncing since he sat down, the rapid tap tap tap of his heel battering against the flooring. Jody had caught him pacing earlier when she came in to grab a copy of the script and gave him a half-sympathetic, half-exasperated look before gently ushering him to the couch instead.

“Just sit,” she had said, tone reminiscent of someone training a stubborn puppy. “Sit and breathe, Colt.”

That was twenty minutes ago. Colt feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin, but he doesn’t want to go back to pacing. He wants to listen to Jody and her infinite patience for his Ryland-typical neuroticism.

Oh. Right, the entire reason Colt’s wound up tighter than a rubber band about to snap in the first place:

Ryland’s showing up to set at lunch. 1:00.

It’ll be the first time he’s ever met the rest of the crew, except for Jody. 

Colt’s so freaking excited that it’s circled to anxiety and then back to excitement.

His body doesn’t seem to know what to do with that mess, so it just translates it all into the same restlessness that’s making his spine crawl with the need to move. If only to expel it.

On his phone screen, Colt has his and Ryland’s messages open. At the bottom sits Ryland’s text that makes Colt’s heart jolt in his chest every time he rereads it:

ETA 1 hour! Sent forty-five minutes ago.

Colt had pretended desperately to be normal about that information, and sent a single thumbs up emoji in response. Smooth, casual.

The interaction had ended there, and ever since, Colt’s been in Jody’s trailer, having some sort of not-really-nervous-but-kind-of-nervous breakdown.

It’s not that he thinks Ryland won’t get along with the crew, or that they won’t immediately love him within five minutes of being in his presence. Colt isn’t worried about that.

He’s just… he’s excited! He’s excited. He wants to see Ryland as soon as possible. 

Colt’s also pretty sure everyone knows he’s head over heels for Ryland, considering the way he talks about him to them. He’s been told to his face that he is “incapable of subtlety”, but Colt’s not sure he trusts them to be subtle about it either. 

They want the best for him, but Colt’s gotta do that on his own time, nevermind that it’s already been his entire lifetime and he has yet to do or say anything. He’s not scared of Ryland finding out, he just… wants to be delicate about it. If he can.

Colt digresses. What it boils down to is that he misses his brother, and he wants everyone to finally really know how cool and smart and funny he is.

This particular movie they’re working on has had the entire crew flying from location to location, each one outside of the U.S. So it’s been way too long since they’ve seen each other. Sixty minutes is too long to wait.

It was too long to wait when it was forty-eight hours, then twenty-four, then twelve, and by the time it officially became minutes instead of hours, Colt was realizing it was too short and that he wasn’t prepared in the slightest despite having spent the last week preparing himself.

He’s been keeping it a secret. Nobody else except Jody knows that Ryland’s coming, because Colt wants it to be a surprise.

It helps that Jody knows intimately and extensively about the capital f Feelings Colt has for his brother, even more so than the rest of Colt’s friends.

Maybe that’s why the restlessness is so bad. Colt has never held back from talking about Ryland whenever the opportunity presents itself, in fact he loves to talk about him. But this time, he’s had to keep a firm lid on it. 

It’s been torture. He feels like he’s going to explode. 

Oh, god. This is real, it’s really happening. Everyone’ll finally meet the man Colt loves. They’re probably going to tease him about his crush in front of Ryland.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Colt whispers to himself, then shakes his head firmly. His phone case creaks beneath his white-knuckled grip. “No. Get it together. It’s fine.”

Breathe. Jody said to breathe. Circulate your oxygen, give your brain something to work with. Let it calm you down.

Colt forces his body into compliance, stilling his leg and leaning back into the couch to take deep, calming breaths. He keeps at it for what feels like minutes, but when he checks his phone for the time, it’s barely even been one.

It’s 12:51. Nine minutes, assuming Ryland is exactly on time, which is unlikely. But it’s basically nine minutes. Maybe ten or eleven, if Colt is generous. Fifteen if he stretches it out. That’s too nebulous. Too soon.

A text comes through. I hope I’m in the right place, Ryland jokes. See you soon :)

Colt jolts up off the couch. He tosses his phone on the adjacent cushion and power-walks to the bathroom.

He barely spares his reflection a glance before he’s wrenching the faucet on and splashing cold water on his face until he’s soggy and gasping. 

Gripping the edges of the sink, he drags in deep, slow breaths through his nose and out his mouth. Blinks the water rapidly out of his eyes and slicks his bangs to the side. Water swirls down the drain, and he’s left panting in the silence.

Colt stares down his reflection and says, “It is just Ryland. Calm down, pull yourself together, then you get out there and you show him off to the world.” He nods firmly to himself and reaches for a towel.

There’s a knock on the trailer door, three quick raps, before someone enters. Colt immediately recognizes it as Jody by sound alone. 

He steps out of the bathroom as she’s closing the door behind her with a teasing, “You haven’t had a complete nervous meltdown, have you?”

She’s looking at the couch while she climbs the steps, frowning at the empty space where the man she left sitting there twenty-five minutes ago should be.

“Depends on your definition,” Colt says from behind her, scooting around her to reach his phone while drying his dripping face.

Jody doesn’t startle, just raises her brows at his bedraggled appearance. “What happened to you?” 

Colt squeezes the water from his bangs. “Nervous meltdown.” 

Jody makes one of her stilted amused sounds. “No kidding,” she says. 

Colt can feel her watching as he slings the towel over his shoulder and stares down at his phone like it’ll come alive and bite him.

12:54. It’s time. It’s time.

Surprisingly, the improvised waterboarding did help, if only by shocking Colt’s nervous system back into obeying him. But that restlessness, that freaking nail-biting energy, still threads through his muscles, tightens his shoulders. Colt swallows back his racing heart and pockets his phone. 

It’s unlikely that Ryland would be let onto set without prior permission or direct clearance, matching stuntman face notwithstanding. So, they agreed that Colt would intercept him at the drop-off point and personally escort him in.

Him and Ryland. Just them.

Colt’s skin buzzes thinking about walking in and everyone seeing them side by side. He wonders what they’d think, if they’d see how perfect a pair they are. If they’d be able to tell just by looking how far gone Colt is.

Colt clenches and unclenches his fists, nails digging into his palms.

“I could come with you,” comes Jody’s voice, dragging Colt from his thoughts. He blinks back into focus to see her directing a worried look his way. 

It’s the same offer she’s given five times already. Each time, Colt’s answer has been the same:

“No,” he says, “I want it to just be us two.” His heart picks up speed just saying it, just thinking about it again.

Jody nods, just like she did the past five times. Like she expected the answer, but wanted to ask anyway. She’s good like that.

Colt sucks in a breath. Says, raspy with the force of holding back the intensity of the emotion, “I’m so fucking excited.”

Jody snorts at him. She walks up and tosses the damp towel out of the way, straightening out his jacket collar. “Alright, loverboy, you’ve got somewhere to be.”

Oh god. Wait. Colt looks down at himself. His shirt’s wet. From the collar to nearly halfway down his chest. Fuck.

“Should I change my shirt?” Colt frets, cursing his two-minute-ago self who decided splashing water all over himself right before he had to leave was a good idea. “How do I look?” 

Jody smacks his hands away from his collar. “Stop that. You look fine.” 

She says that, but she reaches up and ruffles his bangs, artfully arranging the strands into something resembling purposeful disarray instead of completely panicked disarray.

Colt’s thigh vibrates. He doesn’t even have to pull out his phone to check what the text says. I’m here.

Oh my god, it’s happening. 

“Jody,” Colt says, strained. His fingers start shaking. 

Jody gives him an unimpressed look. “Your shirt is black, Colt,” she reminds him, stepping back. “Nobody can see the water. It’ll air-dry.”

Oh. Right. “Oh yeah.”

Colt wiggles his fingers, starts shaking out his limbs to see if he can redirect the energy to somewhere useful. Or maybe direct it out.

He hops a little, like he’s getting ready to sprint-jump off a building. “Okay okay,” he huffs. Shakes himself out again. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay!” Jody echoes with a supportive smile. “I came here to retrieve you, so…” She pat-slaps his arm and walks back to the door, Colt dogging on her heels. 

The air is warm as they step out of the trailer. Colt takes a deep lungful of it, the scent of spring on the breeze. There’s crew members dotted around, lively sounds of conversation drifting in and out.

Soon, they’ll be meeting Ryland Grace, Colt’s beloved twin brother. 

Ryland, Ryland, Ryland. The gravel crunches under Colt’s shifting weight, and his limbs start to build kinetic energy that just multiplies the longer he stands still. It’s a kind of energy that demands immediate and extensive release. His heart races in preparation for it. 

He feels like… like a firework in the couple seconds before it launches. He might start making the same noise, if he’s honest.

Jody gives his back a supportive pat and bright smile. If Colt were any less keyed up, he’d hug her. 

Unfortunately, he feels like the second he moves any muscle whatsoever, his nervous system will rip from his body and run away from him. He’s an idling race car, power charging up, his quickened heartbeat the rumble of the engine.

Another breath. Colt nods to Jody. In his head there’s a countdown that sounds a lot like the kind before a cannon roll.

“Be back soon.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he promptly takes off at a full sprint.

His body sings at the movement, at finally having a release for all that stacked up energy. Heartbeat thrumming through his entire body, Colt uses it to its full capacity, legs pumping at twice the speed of his lungs. It flows through his limbs, blood and oxygen and power. 

His entire body is one well-oiled machine, one organism comprised of thousands of systems all working in exact, perfect sync.

Colt weaves and dodges between trailers and tents and props alike, occasionally darting around a person or two. He’s going so fast he can’t make out their expressions, but people start to see him coming and frantically scurry out of the way. 

He feels like the male love interest in a rom-com running to reunite with his lover, or maybe the hero going to rescue the girl from imminent death.

Who, in this case, would actually be a guy. It probably looks more like he’s in an action-thriller, with the way he’s running at full tilt.

By the time Colt’s properly off set and beginning to reach the public streets, he’s breathing hard and heavy, chest burning, slowed down to something closer to a jog than a hell-itself-is-on-my-heels sprint. But it finally worked off that relentless energy. Thank God.

He tracks the buildings and street signs with his eyes, darting back and forth, reciting the meeting point over and over in his head. It’s not a big deal if he runs past it, he’ll just double back, but that would be really embarrassing and create too much lost time.

He wants to see Ryland now.

Luckily, it all works out. Colt is soon taking another swift right, and then he sees him. He sees Ryland flipping Grace.

He’s on the sidewalk carefully out of the way of pedestrians, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized cardigan. He’s a beacon in Colt’s sights, a brilliant, beautiful light shining brighter than any star could ever hope to. 

The surrounding crowd falls away. They’re faceless compared to the sight Colt’s focused on. He nearly goes (even more) breathless.

Ryland keeps looking to his left, then his right, sweeping turns of his head surveying the crowd.

Scanning for me, Colt realizes, and feels his face twist into a grin completely against his will.

He tries his best to slow down, to take the excited jog to a normal walk with a normal pace that a normal person would have in public. He’s super cool and casual. He’s a totally normal amount of excited at seeing his beloved twin brother and he will approach said brother at a respectable speed.

It all goes to shit when Ryland spots him and brightens, grinning and waving in his direction.

The cardigan is unbuttoned, white under the stripes to match his white shirt. He’s wearing jeans, because he always wears jeans. He looks extremely huggable.

Colt’s entire body jumpstarts like it never even stalled in the first place. Screw the jog, the walk. He has a straight shot; Colt is running. The people will clear a path.

Ryland’s grin freezes on his face, his arm lowering. His expression melts into something like resigned fear as he comes to the realization that Colt is going to collide with him and there is nothing he can do but accept it.

It’s the kind of expression a character in a movie has when they realize they don’t have time to dodge the speeding train.

It’s two breaths, and then Colt has Ryland wrapped up tight in his arms, wheezing from the impact of their bodies. Or rather, from the force of Colt’s 185lbs worth of muscle slamming into him. 

Colt doesn’t let them topple, though. Doesn’t let Ryland think for a second that he’d ever let him fall. 

He spins them around to redirect the momentum, and then Ryland is letting out a helpless laugh as they teeter to a stop. He hugs back fiercely, squeezing around Colt’s middle. 

Colt’s heaving for air from his impromptu workout and he’s probably definitely sweating under his clothes, but he still tilts his head to take a deep breath of Ryland’s fresh-laundry and all-things-good-in-the-world scent. He pants into the collar of his brother’s cardigan, nosing at the soft material.

Ryland pats his back a few times. Colt can feel the hands rising and falling along with his laborious attempts to catch his breath. He can also feel the exact moment Ryland clocks what that means.

“Did you run all the way here?” Ryland laughs, bright and disbelieving. 

Colt soaks the sound in like water to a sponge, like a plant to sunlight. He wants to bottle it and keep it forever. 

“Yes,” Colt pants, feeling like he’s on fire. He then adds, “I’m the rom-com lead.”

Ryland goes hah! “You almost killed me just now, that is not rom-com lead behavior.”

Colt laughs with his entire body, fizzy and tingly all over. He relishes the feeling of Ryland’s chest pressed against his own, his strong and steady heartbeat, and then pulls back with one last squeeze. Just enough to get a look at Ryland’s face. 

Colt finds relaxed, happy eyes, a wide smile, and hair adorably messy, ruffling in the breeze.

Something in Colt’s chest settles, right alongside his pounding heartbeat. Ryland looks fine. Tired, but fine. Great, even.

Incredibly handsome, if you ask Colt, but people often do not. He tells them anyways.

Colt wants to grab Ryland by both sides of his beautiful face and kiss him right there in the open, in the middle of this sidewalk, where everyone can see.

No, he doesn’t just want to, he needs to. The force of it hits him like a car to the chest. But there’s no camera rolling, he’s not doing a stunt.

It’s just him, Colton “Colt Seavers” Grace holding his twin brother in his arms after a million years (seven months) of not seeing him.

Ryland’s grin has softened into a small but happy smile. It creases the corners of his eyes, bright behind his glasses. His lips are as pink as his cheeks.

Holy fudging hell.

“Everyone is gonna love you,” Colt says, absolute surety in his voice. Stating an irrefutable fact.

What Colt doesn’t say is, If they don’t, I will personally rain hellfire down upon them. 

And also, But nobody could ever love you like I do. More than I do.

They separate at the same time, and Colt’s hand falls instinctually to Ryland’s wrist in a light hold, not wanting to break the contact just yet. His brother doesn’t even seem to notice, it’s so second-nature.

Ryland’s smiling sheepishly, a little nervous. “I hope so.”

Colt looks him right in the eye. “They will.”

Ryland holds the gaze for a suspended moment, and then looks away when Colt squeezes his wrist. “I’m excited, then,” he says to the sidewalk. 

He sounds a bit awkward, but pleased. People are definitely staring at them by now. Colt doesn’t care one bit.

He resists the urge to link their fingers together and settles for tossing an arm around Ryland’s shoulders instead, pulling him in. Ryland doesn’t try to duck away from it, just huffs at the increased weight.

Colt uses it to steer him while they walk back to set. Back to everyone else.

Barely a minute of silence passes before Ryland says, “I’d ask how you’re still standing after all that running, but I’m pretty sure the laws of physical constraints don’t apply to you.”

Was that a compliment? It sounded like a compliment.

Colt shrugs. “To be fair, I was kinda manic. Had a lot of energy. Jody had to slap some sense into me.”

Ryland turns his head, looking like he can’t decide between frowning and smiling. “That seems extreme.”

“Well, you know Jody.”

“Hm.” Ryland puts his hands back in his pockets, relaxed under Colt’s arm. His tone is perfectly curious when he asks, “Why were you manic?” 

Like he doesn’t know the exact reason, the cheeky bastard.

Colt smiles and answers anyway, because he’s nice like that. And he’s just so happy to be talking like this with Ryland again.

“Too excited to see you and introduce you to everyone,” he says, “Had me freaking out.”

Ryland’s head ducks with his resulting smile, the kind of smile he gets when a thought he had was proven correct. Colt wants to lean in and kiss his cheek, right over the mole.

The warmth of Ryland tucked under his arm and against his side is slightly driving him crazy. 

Some of that restless energy comes back, manifests in his fingers tapping against Ryland’s arm. Colt reaches for his favorite distraction.

“Talk to me, Ry. What’s been going on?”

That’s all it takes for Ryland to happily launch into a recounting of all the recent happenings since the last time they caught up, taking his hands out of his pockets again to gesture with them.

He’s always so animated when he talks, even more so when it’s about his kids. His eyes get this gleam to them, a fond tilt to his head.

He laughs and pushes his glasses up his nose from where they had slid. Colt had been about to reach up and do it for him.

Ryland talks and talks until they reach the blocked off street that essentially serves as the entrance to set. And beyond that, beyond the fake city street with all the fake debris, is the expanse of gravel and dirt and grass that the crew trailers are parked at.

They cross the empty street and Colt tightens his arm as they approach. Ryland’s words slow to a stop as Colt’s feet do.

It’s just a few seconds of a pause, but it’s all it takes for Colt to notice his pounding heart and the tingling in his fingertips. He clenches and unclenches his fists a few times to expel the energy.

The couple people stationed nearby nod to Colt, even though their eyes flick repeatedly to Ryland. He nods back.

This is it. Colt takes a deep breath.

“Here we are,” he announces unnecessarily, and marches them past the barriers.

He’s seen this set a thousand and one times by now, so he doesn’t need to look around. Instead, Colt looks at Ryland.

He watches his eyes as they take everything in, from the handmade buildings to the props to the tech packed away in shaded corners.

There’s not many people milling about, most of them headed to the tables to eat, but the few who are pay them no mind. Ryland’s looking around in awe, lips parted.

Colt expertly weaves through the buildings and boxes and wires— “I got thrown out of that window the other day. Right through there”— heart beating faster and faster the closer they get to where the sounds of overlapping conversation get louder. 

The asphalt transforms into gravel, crunching beneath their shoes. With one hand, Colt pulls out his phone and fires off a simple “Here” to Jody.

He isn’t even done putting his phone back in his pocket before Jody emerges from the pathway, big smile on her face like she was ready for them. She probably, most definitely, was.

“Ryland! Long time no see,” she greets, and pulls Ry from under Colt’s arm into a hug.

Colt tries not to look so sour about that and knows he fails, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets with a frown. 

He feels… bereft. Without Ryland pressed against him. Incomplete.

“Oh! Hi,” says Ryland, politely hugging back.

Colt wants to grab his brother by the back of his cardigan and tug him back to his side. Jody raises a knowing, amused brow at him over Ryland’s shoulder.

The expression is gone when she pulls back, arranged neatly into a friendly smile. Colt reclaims his rightful place at Ryland’s side and fights the urge to wrap a possessive arm around his waist.

“Alright,” Jody says to both of them. And then to Ryland, “Ready?”

What Ryland then does is something Colt immediately knows he’ll be laughing himself to tears over during their wedding, because there’s no way he isn’t going to bring this up specifically to mess with Jody.

Ryland gives a thumbs up. “As I’ll ever be.”

The smile gets wiped clean off Jody’s face. Immediately, she’s turning to glare at Colt. She looks scandalized, like Colt corrupted Ryland somehow.  

Look at what you’ve done to him! 

Colt is busy desperately pressing his lips together to prevent the howling laughter from escaping him. A sound not dissimilar to a balloon leaking air leaves him.

Ryland looks confused and slightly alarmed. “What?” He looks at Colt, then Jody, then back to Colt. “What did I do?”

“Nothing at all,” Colt says with barely contained laughter, chest tight. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ryland makes a sound of pure bewilderment.

Jody makes her patented Oh god, there’s two of them face. Colt has had the pleasure of seeing it many times since she and Ryland met.

Ryland knows about the thumbs up thing, Colt knows he does, but he doesn’t know just how much of a thing it is between Colt and Jody. It’s become their most infamous inside joke. Jody hates it.

Jody sighs, gathers herself, and turns around with a tight smile. “This way, gentlemen,” she says, like Colt couldn’t navigate this place blindfolded.

Ryland hangs back with Colt, leaning in to whisper, “Did I do something wrong? Was it the thumbs up?”

Colt grins smugly. “You’re perfect, Ry,” he says, spying the little lift to Jody’s shoulders that means she’s rolling her eyes.

Ryland makes an unimpressed face that Colt doesn't have to turn to see. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m pretty sure it did.”

Ryland’s gearing himself up to respond, probably to argue and call Colt a special kind of socially impossible— directly quoted— but then there’s grass rustling under their footsteps and they’ve arrived at their destination.

Dan’s the first to spot them. Or rather, he spots Jody, waves her over, spots Colt, then does a double-take when he no doubt spots Ryland right next to him.

Colt hears Ryland swallow heavily. He presses a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. Just a reminder, an I’m here. It’s okay.

Dan stands, stepping over the table bench and meeting them halfway. “Jody,” he greets, with a tip of an imaginary hat. Jody returns the gesture and then turns to the twins.

“I’ll be in my trailer. Busy day.” She gives Colt a long, lingering look. To Ryland, a smile. “Nice to have you here.”

The three men watch as she walks away, and then Dan’s turning to Colt with an expectant smile. They wordlessly clasp hands and pull each other into a one-armed hug at the same time. 

Dan pats his back and pulls away with a, “Colt! My brother! Nice of you to join us.”

Their hands drop, and then Colt’s stepping back next to Ryland’s side, slotting into place like he never even left. Puzzle pieces. A fuzzy contentment fills Colt’s chest as Dan looks between the two of them.

“Sorry, I had somewhere to be,” he says happily.

People are seeing us, something in him purrs. Me and Ryland, side by side, close enough to brush shoulders. 

Good.

“Um,” Ryland says, eyes sliding from Colt to Dan. He holds out a hand. “I’m—”

“Ryland, right?” Dan clasps Ryland’s hand and gives it a firm shake. “I’m Dan.” He looks to Colt. “This your guy?”

Colt can’t help his proud grin. “The one and only.”

Dan whistles, stoking the possessive, smug fire in Colt’s chest. He wants to reach over and drape his arm around Ryland’s shoulders again. Your guy, Dan said. Yes, that’s right. Ryland is his.

Ryland clears his throat and nods. “Dan. Nice to meet you.” Then, “How did you, uh… know that?” 

Dan gives Colt a mischievous side-eye as he says, “We’ve heard many, many things about you.”

Ryland looks a little put-off by that, smiling nervously. “Good things, I hope?”

Dan laughs. He claps Colt’s shoulder with a not-insignificant amount of strength and ignores the way Colt jolts and locks up his muscles to pretend it didn’t hurt.

“Only good things,” he says with unnecessary emphasis. Ryland’s looking between Dan and Colt like he’s making a mental note of their dynamic. Colt rubs his shoulder.

Sabrina, one of their makeup artists— Colt is quite familiar with her penchant for gossip— is walking by when she notices their conversation and redirects to join. Oh boy.

“Seriously,” she inserts, and Ryland startles very cutely at her sudden appearance. “Too many good things.”

She sends a meaningful look to Colt, who swallows nervously. Not too obvious now, guys… Remember the subtlety you’ve always teased me about?

Ryland looks over at him, slightly wide-eyed. “You talk that much about me?”

Sabrina groans good-naturedly. “Can’t get him to shut up about you, more like.”

Colt feels offended. “Hey! That’s—” He pauses. Thinks about it. Sighs. “...True,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” Ryland says, a pleased little smile ticking his lips up. He looks less nervous, all of a sudden. 

Everything inside of Colt melts at the sight. He has to lock his knees so he doesn’t sink to the ground in a puddle of goo.

Sabrina laughs at him, then turns to his brother. “I’m Sabrina, by the way. Nice to finally meet you, Ryland.” And then she continues on her way. 

As she’s passing behind Colt, she whispers approvingly, “He’s a cutie,” winks, and is gone before Colt can process that. So he simply doesn’t.

Ryland gives her a half-hearted wave, busy directing a soft look at Colt that’s making his venture to stay standing very difficult. Colt always feels gently dissected under Ry’s eyes. It drives him crazy.

Eventually, Ryland looks away, and Colt feels like he can breathe normally again, heart settling back into place.

“So, do I…” Ryland tilts his body to survey the rest of the crew sat at the tables and dotted about the trailers. More than half of them are staring. “Do I need a formal introduction, or does everyone know who I am?”

Colt’s neck feels hot. “I don’t think—”

“Everyone knows,” Dan interrupts. “Or almost everyone.” To Colt, he smirks and asks, “You wanna introduce him anyways?”

Having a best friend who knows how in love you are with someone is annoying. Dan knows exactly what questions to ask. Of course Colt wants to introduce Ryland anyways! 

But still… 

“I’m not showing off a trophy,” Colt says with a frown. He may be possessive, but not in that way; his brother isn’t an object. He turns to Ryland, expression immediately softening. “Up to you, Ry.”

“Oh.” Ryland’s cheeks look a bit red. “Uh, yeah. It’s not like they know my face, right? I’m still meeting them for the first time.” He smiles awkwardly.

Colt wants to kiss him so bad. “Yeah,” he rasps. Clears his throat. “How ‘bout this: we get food, we sit down at a table, and we let people come up to us. You hungry?”

Besides, word spreads quick here. Colt’s sure that by the time lunch is over, everyone will be able to put a face to the name Ryland. Especially since he’s so infamous due to previously mentioned too much talking. 

Maybe Colt’s biased, but he feels like there’ll be a buzz. A new person, especially a family member, suddenly showing up who’s so obviously close to Colt? That’s premium gossip material.

Ryland nods, looking relieved about having a set plan. “Yeah, actually. That sounds good.”

Dan pats Colt’s shoulder, gently this time. “I’ll excuse myself, then. Have fun, play safe.” He nods to Ryland, then turns and walks back to his table.

The feeling of eyes on Colt and his twin multiply. Luckily they’re both used to it, though in different ways. Colt nudges Ryland with his elbow, gesturing with his head towards the food table, displaying a small but sufficient range of available foods and drinks. Hopefully something Ryland likes.

It turns out sandwiches are the way to everyone’s heart; they get their food and find a seat within a couple minutes.

As they’re walking to an empty table, Ryland leans in and mutters, “It’s kinda weird to hear people call me ‘Ryland’ so much. I’m so used to ‘Grace’.”

Oh, that’s a good point. 

Colt frowns thoughtfully. “Does it bother you?”

“Not really,” Ryland says. They sit side by side, and Colt, already staring, immediately meets Ryland’s gaze when he looks over. He smiles. “Besides, there’s two ‘Grace’s now, isn’t there?”

Colt’s still staring when Ryland turns back and starts unwrapping his sandwich. The only coherent thought in his head is: Holy shit, we already have the same last name. What’ll we do when we get married?

Wait, would that make us technically already married? Just without the paperwork? And no rings…

Huh. Colt takes a pensive bite of his sandwich. Lots to think about.

It’s peaceful for about forty more seconds before someone’s sliding onto the bench directly opposite of Colt. Colt looks up mid-bite, recognizing who he is pretty sure is… Lloyd? He’s a boom mic operator. On the younger side.

Colt takes a purposefully big bite and nods in greeting. Lloyd’s sipping gatorade through a straw, for… some reason. 

Why gatorade? At least Gail had the decency to sip soda from cans and cups, not gatorade from bottles.

Lloyd doesn’t bombard them with questions straight away like Colt suspects he wants to, so he and Ryland settle into the ambiance of a busy day on set. Shining sun, hungry crew members, and the faint idling of nearby engines. 

Ryland looks less nervous now that they aren’t such a spectacle. Colt scoots an inch closer to him and bumps their ankles together under the table. Ryland gives a small private smile, focusing cutely on his food even as he bumps Colt back.

Colt wants to kiss the bridge of his nose.

Lloyd makes an obnoxiously loud sipping noise across from them. Both Colt and Ryland look up at the same time.

Once he has their attention, Lloyd lowers the gatorade. “So, is this a ‘white gays in a relationship’ type situation, or…?”

Colt stops chewing. Swallows. Says, very slowly, “A what?”

Next to him, Ryland chokes. Colt immediately rubs his back while he takes hurried gulps of his water. His ears are rapidly turning red. Colt watches it happen in real time and desperately wants to kiss them, feel the heat beneath his lips.

Lloyd looks at Colt like he’s dumb. “You haven’t seen that meme?”

Ryland hunches his shoulders like he wants to shrink into himself. Colt anchors his palm, a comforting weight, and starts rubbing Ryland’s back with just his thumb. 

“No, and I don’t think I want to,” he says plainly.

“It’s like,” Lloyd explains anyway, uncaring that Colt is focused wholly on Ryland who’s now dropped his face into his hands, “a joke about how a lot of white gay men in a relationship look the same.” He looks pointedly between Colt and Ryland. “Is that what’s going on here?”

Colt processes that for a bit. Firstly, and most importantly though it’s a fact Colt laments every day: “We’re not in a relationship.”

Yet, Colt wants to add. Aches to add.

Ryland makes a quiet nose. Half cut-off groan, half squeaky toy.

“Oh,” says Lloyd, looking genuinely surprised. He gives Colt a pitying look that unintentionally cuts painfully deep. Seriously, ouch. “Weird. So it’s a coincidence that you look exactly the same?”

Coinci— What?

“No,” Colt says slowly, like now Lloyd’s the one being dumb. Frankly, he is. “We’re twin brothers.”

Surely that was obvious. Don’t they know that already?

There’s a pause. The noise around them comes to an almost abrupt stop, a momentary lull that seems hesitant to resume. Ryland’s shoulders curl inwards.

“Oh,” Lloyd repeats. He looks like he wants to say more, mouth repeatedly opening and closing, but the words don’t come.

They don’t come for a long time. Lloyd sits there, staring at Colt, at Ryland next to him, and he says nothing else. 

Colt assumes the conversation is over. The noise resumes, conversations unpausing, hush lifting.

He takes a generous bite of his sandwich and leans his weight into Ryland’s side. He’s still hunched over like he’s despairing over something. Or like he feels sick. 

Colt presses himself against his brother. Checking in. Ryland accepts the weight, presses back. Here. I’m fine.

But he keeps his face buried in his hands, ears still adorably red. Colt props his chin on Ryland’s shoulder as he chews. 

He feels like a spoiled house cat getting to do all this physical affection around so many other people. Getting to make such an obvious declaration. A nonverbal growl of: He’s already mine. He’s been mine. Do you see it? Do you see the sheer amount of love? Good.

“Ry,” Colt murmurs once he swallows. He nudges his knee against Ryland’s, fighting the urge to pull back his collar and kiss his warm neck. “Why’re you hiding?”

Ryland drags in a slow, deep breath. Into his hands, he says, “No reason.” 

Well, actually, he says morphreafm, but Colt speaks fluent Rylandese. Especially the muffled kind. He’s had much practice over the years from half-asleep Rylands, faces mashed into a pillow or a desk.

“Mm,” Colt hums. Then, quietly, “You’re cute.”

Ryland peeks sideways through his hands at him, glasses askew. Colt smiles, fondness and adoration tangling in his chest. Cute, cute, cute. Colt wants to smother him with kisses until Ryland’s red all over.

“We’re shooting after lunch,” Colt says, still at that quiet, intimate volume. He does a dramatic pause, waiting until Ryland lowers his hands in interest. 

With a smirk, Colt reveals: “With stunts.”

The way Ryland perks, genuine excitement at the idea of watching Colt work, fills him up with a bright, buzzing sensation. 

“Another window?” Ryland teases. It’s not a surprise, but it still warms Colt head to toe that Ry remembered his comment from earlier. 

I’m so in love with you.

Colt winks. “Wait and see.”

Ryland’s shoulders finally lose their tension, and the tightness Colt didn’t realize was in his chest unravels at seeing his brother relaxed again. Like a silent sigh of relief, warmth rushing in to replace the simmering worry.

They both return to their food, and lunch passes without further incident. Nobody else comes up to the table to talk to them, but Colt’s pretty okay with that.

In fact, he’d much rather be selfish with his time with Ryland. He’s been spending almost every day with these people, but he has not been spending every day with his brother.

When Colt finally looks away from Ryland to reach for his drink, he finds the previously occupied seat across from him vacant, genuinely no idea when Lloyd even left. He didn’t hear a thing.

Conversations pick up as lunch ends, people splitting off in their own directions, to their separate stations. 

Jody meets him and Ryland halfway to set, scripts in hand. “So?” she asks, looking between them, “How did it go?”

Colt remembers the “We’re not in a relationship” and the following look of pity like a spike to the chest, and tries his best to twist his grimace into a grin. He’s great at it. Lots of practice.

Jody sees through it immediately, brow raising. Colt knew she would, but it was worth a try anyways. He drops it.

“I’m not sure,” Ryland answers, fidgeting with his hands. “We didn’t talk to many people.” 

“Many people didn’t talk to us,” Colt corrects. He shrugs. “Other than that, I think it went well. I’m not too worried.”

Ryland shoots him a look. Colt mourns not being the one that fixed his glasses for him. “You wouldn’t be. They already know you.”

As if Colt hasn’t put in a good enough word to last Ryland his entire lifetime of knowing these people.

“Well,” Jody cuts in, “whatever it was, I’m sure it’s fine. We’ve got the rest of the day for you to mingle.” She nods to Ryland. “You wanna come with me?”

Ryland straightens a bit. His hair is ruffled from his own hand running through it. Colt wishes it was his hand. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’d be nice.”

Colt inhales in preparation to say No, Ryland stays with me. 

Jody holds a hand up. “Don’t even start, Colt.”

Colt exhales. Pouts. “I wasn’t gonna.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Jody slaps his bicep with a script. “Get your butt to costumes, mister. Chop chop.”

Ryland laughs when Colt groans, catching him by the wrist as he turns to obey. His hand is warm, even through the jacket sleeve.

“I’ll be watching, Colt,” he says.

Oh, Jesus. Why’d he have to say it like that?

Colt loses the breath in his chest, swallowing roughly at the lilt to Ryland’s low voice. He’s got this fond, excited smile on his face, eyes bright behind his slightly crooked glasses.

He’s… he’s genuinely excited to watch Colt do his thing.

Colt feels like he’s on cloud nine. Holy freaking moly.

I love you! a voice in his head shouts desperately, at full volume. He feels like he has to literally choke it back to refrain from saying it.

Instead, he just grins, wide and cocky, blood buzzing with anticipation. “You’d better.”

Another second of their held gaze, and Ryland drops his wrist. Colt leaves him with Jody to go get properly outfitted, smiling to himself as he hears them immediately start up an animated conversation. 

Colt doesn’t think his chest can get any warmer, this pure joy that just keeps filling him up today. His favorite people getting along so well… It’s a dream. It still feels surreal, even after so many months of Ryland and Jody knowing each other.

The movie’s something spy-thriller adjacent this time— a love story of course, because Jody’s incredible at writing them— so Colt gets dressed up in a fancy black and white three-piece suit. The classic kind, with a white button up beneath a black vest and jacket, matching black slacks and shiny shoes. 

He feels kinda badass, like a Bond movie character.

Definitely not the kind of suit he’d wear while marrying Ryland, though. They’d have a mandatory colorful dress code. Spice it up, have fun with it.

Rolling goes off without a hitch, which is to be expected with a director like Jody at the helm.

It’s a different kind of thrill, Colt thinks, knowing that when he gives that thumbs up he can look towards the director’s chair and spot Ryland right there, watching him. Exactly like he said he would. It makes Colt want to show off, to really demonstrate to Ryland why he’s the Fall Guy.

Jumping from an exploding building? Easy work. Being helped off the crash mat and meeting eyes with his twin brother gazing at him with such open admiration and amazement? Best feeling in the world.

Colt might get a little… ambitious towards the end of his required scenes, the knowledge of Ryland’s attention bolstering his confidence. 

He adds a, very necessary if you ask him, dramatic flair to his dive-roll, and ends up rolling off the mat towards the end. 

He doesn’t miss it, because he doesn’t make mistakes like that no matter the circumstance, but he immediately knows that when his shoulder twinges following his enthusiastic ‘still alive!’ thumbs up, it’ll result in a particularly nasty bruise.

Colt accepts the hand to pull him to his feet and dusts himself off. A bruise, huh… Colt fully shudders imagining Ryland peeling his shirt carefully off of him and kissing the inflamed spot. Pain soothed, injury healed.

God, Colt thinks as he throws a smile Ryland’s way and snorts at the responding thumbs up, I’d do fucking anything.

Dan promptly and predictably beckons Colt his way, so he dutifully jogs over. They discuss the specs of that last stunt, what went wrong and why it did, because yeah, everyone saw that slip at the end there. Oops.

“I know you want to show off,” Dan says with a weird mix of amusement and reprimand, “but please don’t get yourself killed again for it.”

Colt doesn’t bother denying the whole showing off part of that. “I would never.”

Dan drawls a sarcastic, skeptical laugh. “Uh huh, sure.” He then casually steers Colt the opposite direction of Ryland where he had defaulted to walking like a moon caught in a planet’s orbit. “Nuh uh, straight to costumes with you.”

Colt tries not to look like a dog who was just told he couldn’t go for a walk and makes his way over to the makeup and costumes stand. More than a few people pause whatever they were doing to stare at him as he approaches, but quickly return to their work when he unflinchingly meets the gazes.

Weird. Colt raises his brows. “Am I in trouble?”

Their lead costumer— Adrien, Colt believes— steps up to him. Immediately, they get to fussing over the shoulders of his suitjacket, making sure the appropriate rips and burns are in the appropriate places and that Colt didn’t mess anything up.

“No,” Adrien says from their spot at Colt’s back. “We’re just all a little… thrown. About Ryland.” 

Colt perks immediately, instinctual smile lifting his lips just at his brother’s name. Then he actually registers the words, and the smile is replaced by a confused frown. “Wait, why?” 

His protective instinct rears its head, awakening from its slumber inside his chest. He can feel himself bristling, ready to defend his brother to his dying breath should anyone say a single bad word about him.

Adrien flaps a hand in Colt’s periphery. “Nothing like that,” they say. “He seems great. Real sweetheart. We just, uh…” 

When they return to Colt’s front, messing with the waist of the jacket, they look like they’re fighting themself on how to word the rest of their sentence.

What could they possibly have to say about Ryland? 

Finally, Adrien sighs, letting go of Colt to instead pinch their brow. “We didn’t expect him to be your brother after all the lovesick rambling you did about him.”

Oh. 

Wait. What?

Colt feels like he’s buffering. His heart starts to pick up speed. “...What?” 

“Yeah,” someone else pipes in. Colt… doesn’t remember her name. Definitely from makeup, though, judging by the brush in her hands. Her bangs are dyed a vibrant pink. “That was a crazy fuckin’ reveal you dropped.”

Several people nod emphatically.

Sabrina’s head pokes around a mirror. “I still think it’s sweet, personally. In a… messed up kind of way.”

Messed up? 

Colt’s mouth opens. Closes. They didn’t know?

How the hell wouldn’t they… Oh no.

Colt frowns, deep and genuinely perplexed, getting increasingly worried. “Did I really never… say that Ryland was my brother?”

Never once? In all the times he’s talked about him?

“No!” Adrien stresses. They look incredibly distraught. “We all thought he was just this guy you had a massive crush on! We were making bets on when you’d finally ask him out!”

“Okay, well.” Colt blinks, shakes his head. One thing at a time. “First of all, he isn’t ‘just this guy.’ Secondly, I do have a massive crush on him. And third…”

Colt smiles, slow and smug. He can’t help it. “You were making bets? You think I have a chance?”

Several people stare at Colt like he’s the most disturbing circus act they’ve ever seen. Sabrina nods to herself like that makes sense and disappears back behind the mirror.

“You’re kidding me,” says the woman with the pink bangs who Colt is feeling increasingly guilty over not knowing the name of. Maybe… Holly? Hannah?

“I’m not.” Colt stares intently at Adrien, who is struggling to meet his eyes. He repeats, “You think I have a chance?”

Adrien looks up to the sky like they’re lamenting the fact they were born.

After a moment, they drop their head, put their hands on their hips, and sigh. “You’re free to go, Seavers. I’m not talking to you about this anymore.” They turn around, conversation officially ended.

Colt feels dismissed more than anything, but the feeling doesn’t linger long. He has much to think about, and it takes immediate precedence over finding out nobody knew Ryland was his brother. He can freak out later.

Like, just how many people were betting on him? Everyone? What did they wager? Do they all think he has a chance?

Wait. Colt whips around and scans the crowd until he finds Dan. Without a word, he marches right up to his best friend. He doesn’t really pay attention to any of the people standing around and near him that he’s talking to.

“Dude,” Colt says by way of greeting, because he’s had a revelation and is on a mission. “Did you bet on me and Ryland?”

Surely not…

Dan freezes mid-word. He looks somewhere behind Colt, then clicks his tongue. “Adrien told you, huh.”

Colt gasps, betrayed. “You did?!”

Dan holds his hands up in an okay, look motion. “To be clear, I voted in your favor.”

Colt pauses. He realizes there’s a floaty, elated feeling slowly filling his veins. People think he can get with Ryland. They believed he had such a good chance that they bet on it.

“You think I have a chance?” Colt once again repeats, this time with a significant amount of hopefulness. His chest feels full of it, airy yet suffocating, ballooning beneath his lungs.

“I…” Dan looks conflicted. “He… Is he seriously your twin brother?”

Colt just nods. His very beloved twin brother, in fact. 

Dan stares at him for a moment. The sounds of voices and footsteps and prop resetting fade into the background. 

All except for one. 

Colt picks out Ryland’s dearly familiar voice easily above all the hum. He can’t tell what Ryland’s saying, but he sounds enthusiastic about it.

Colt turns and searches for him, gaze immediately zeroing in on where he stands next to Jody in her director’s chair. She’s pointing to something on the screens in front of her. Ryland looks captivated by it, leaning in, glasses sliding halfway down his nose before he pushes them back up.

Colt’s breath gets stuck in his chest. Are they looking at me?

“To be clear,” Dan starts slowly to the back of Colt’s head, “you’re asking me if I think you have a chance… with your twin brother?”

Colt doesn’t look away for a second. Doesn’t even blink. 

“Yeah.” That’s exactly what he’s asking. Obviously.

A long pause. Across the way, Ryland straightens back up and follows Jody’s hand to a separate screen. He raises a hand to his chin, biting his lip against a smile. Jody turns, says something, and the smile breaks free as Ryland laughs.

The sound carries like it never even had to travel, sinking past Colt’s skin straight into his blood stream. 

He’s always thought Ryland’s laugh sounded like sunlight. Like climbing trees and chalk-covered hands and stargazing and every memory Colt holds close to his heart.

To him, Ryland is the sun. To think he, just a guy who falls for a living, could have a chance with someone like his brother…

Well, Colt’s not gonna stop thinking about it. Probably ever.

Finally, Dan speaks again. Colt had forgotten they were even talking about something.

“You know what?” he says, and lays a heavy hand over Colt’s shoulder. He sounds genuine. “I think you should go for it.”

Colt has to rewind his thoughts to remember what Dan is replying to. When he does, he whips around so fast Dan has to step back to not collide with him. 

“Really? You actually think I…” He looks back over his shoulder, heart skipping a beat when he finds Ryland already watching him. 

Ry seems to startle at the unexpected meeting of their gazes, but then he smiles and gives a little wave. It’s so goddamn cute. Colt’s nails dig grooves into his palms, suffocating on the affection filling his lungs.

Dan clears his throat pointedly. 

Dragging his eyes away from his brother feels like a herculean task, but somehow, Colt manages. He feels Ryland’s eyes on his back when he turns away.

“You guys… clearly have something between you.” Dan makes a face. “I really don’t wanna know. Like, at all. But, you know.” He gestures awkwardly. “You’re happy. I want you to be happy, Colt.”

That’s. So sweet. Colt lays both his hands on Dan’s shoulders. He has to step closer, because this guy dared to be taller than him.

“You are my best friend,” Colt tells him. “I’m inviting you to the wedding.”

“Love you too,” Dan says with a constipated yet sincere-looking smile. 

Colt steps back and scratches the back of his neck. He feels all warm, pleased yet uncertain. “You know, I really want to. Go for it, I mean, and ask Ryland out and… confess to him. I really want to. I just…” 

It’s easier said than done. It’s complicated. It’s terrifying. 

Pick and choose, they all apply.

Colt grimaces. “It’s risky, you know? I don’t know how Ry will react. It’s kinda… a lot. My feelings. I don’t know if it’s the kind of a lot that he can handle.”

Someone behind Dan says “Jesus Christ,” and is promptly shushed by multiple other people.

A techie walking by heaves a sigh and mutters under their breath, “Just fuck.”

Colt blinks a couple times at that. His hand falls slowly from his head as he watches the guy walk away with a… He really can’t tell what the emotion in his chest is, actually. Some unholy mixture of about fifteen different states of being. 

Colt’s mouth opens soundlessly. He shuts it. 

Then, a sudden voice pipes up. “Listen.” 

Colt actually jumps as Venti somehow materializes right next to him. He yelps and everything, clutching his already-racing heart. 

“Jesus! How do you do that?” He didn’t even hear her footsteps.

“Take it from me,” Venti continues as if Colt didn’t speak, “if he’s really the…” A pause. “…Guy of your dreams, yes? It might be worth the risk.” 

Colt lets that sink in. Turns it over in his head.

Ryland isn’t just “the guy of his dreams,” he… is the dreams. He’s everything. 

Colt flattens the hand clutching the fabric over his heart to simply press down into it. Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump. 

Worth the risk…

“I guess you… you have a point,” he mumbles distractedly.

Venti seems satisfied that her words got through to him. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? You are twins, no? The love runs deeper than that.” 

She gives Colt a long, meaningful look, and then walks away without another word. Colt feels like he’s just been bestowed wisdom upon by an ancient, infinitely knowledgeable master. Like in a ninja movie.

Colt stares after her, then turns back to Dan. “Did that just happen?”

“She’s right,” he says after a moment. Colt doesn’t know why everyone’s been ignoring his questions lately. “Well, I support it, at least. And, bud to bud…” 

He beckons Colt closer, hand cupped to the side of his mouth to lean in and stage-whisper, “He totally wants you too. I’ve never seen anyone look at anyone the way he looks at you.” 

Dan pulls back with a smirk like he didn’t just flip Colt’s entire world upside down and inside out. He feels dizzy. Is he breathing? Uh oh. He should be doing that. Right? He should?

Ryland wants him? He looks at Colt like… like what? 

Has Colt… never noticed? Surely not. He spends so much time staring at Ryland he doesn’t think he could miss something like that.

Colt looks over his shoulder again. Someone gave Ryland coffee, probably Nigel, and he’s currently holding it between his palms like it’s a precious gift.

When he takes a sip from the lid, his smile is barely-there, just a soft uptick to his lips, but it burns like fire in Colt’s chest. 

Ryland looks happy in an uncomplicated way Colt doesn’t think he’s seen in a long while, at least not outside of their apartments with just the two of them. He looks perfectly at ease in this chaotic environment, like he belongs here. 

Here in Colt’s environment. The stuff he lives and breathes and works. His dream job, this passion he loves sharing with his brother.

Colt imagines marching across this fake street. He imagines ignoring all the eyes watching and tugging Ryland in by his nape into a searing kiss. He would make a soft, surprised sound against Colt’s lips. Maybe it’d be a high-pitched one, one of the really cute noises he probably doesn’t know he makes. He’d go all stiff from shock, or maybe he’d melt.

Colt would press his entire body against Ryland’s, chest-first. His other arm would drop to Ryland’s waist, tugging him in by his lower back to mold their fronts together. Ryland would drop that coffee cup and neither of them would hear the splash of it spilling onto the sidewalk, because Ry would be tangling his fingers in Colt’s hair and kissing back.

And Colt would shiver as tingles cascade down his spine, both from Ryland’s touch and the way his lips would part against his own, warm and soft and wet. And he’d taste like the coffee, bitter but sweet, and smell like his laundry detergent. Or maybe he’d smell like the warm breeze ruffling his hair, something soaked in sunshine.

He’d be soft. So soft. And real. Colt would slip his hand beneath Ryland’s shirt just to feel the gentle heat of his skin, would slide his other hand to Ryland’s cheek and nudge his glasses out of the way. They’d kiss like that, like nothing and nobody else exists except the two of them. 

Like there isn’t a single thing that could get between their love.

Colt wants with such a fierce longing that it feels like something reaches inside his chest and pries apart his ribs. Like it grabs his heart and squeezes. 

It’s a familiar longing, a yearning he’s used to, but he’s never felt it so acutely before. 

Never looked down and expected his white dress shirt to be stained crimson from the gaping hole in his chest.

It’s the hope nestled beside it, the hope whispering that he could have that, if only he took the chance.

Because everything’s been tilted in Colt’s view now. It might be possible.

Colt swallows rough. “Oh,” he whispers to himself, barely audible.

Across the way, Jody shouts, “Let’s wrap it up!” through her megaphone.

Colt stares at the asphalt. At the bits of debris artfully scattered around. People sidestep him as they pass, all packing up their designated equipment for the day. Someone, probably Dan, pats his back. He feels both hollowed out and filled to the brim, his friends’ words swimming around in his head and making him dizzy. 

Colt wonders if it’s healthy that so much of him exists for Ryland Grace.

He decides the answer doesn’t matter. It never did.

Colt looks up. He knows before they even meet eyes that Ryland was already watching him. His brother’s head is tilted, a furrow to his brow like he’s puzzling something out and is concerned by the answers.

He’s so goddamn handsome.

Colt sighs an exhale that sounds like a confession in and of itself.

Helplessly, endlessly, he smiles.

Ryland blinks. His face twists in a genuine flash of bewildered confusion, like Colt smiling just then threw him for a loop he didn’t expect. There and gone again.

Colt follows the gravitational pull of their souls across the street and casually steps up in front of him like there isn’t a tectonic shift happening inside of him.

Jody, chatting to the side with Nigel, notices his approach and with what looks like actual physical pain, gives him a thumbs up.

“Nice work today, Colt,” she adds, and that at least sounds genuine. 

Colt is saved from having to think of a response that contains coherent, applicable words by Jody turning back to her conversation. He belatedly remembers his body can move of its own volition, so he nods, though Jody of course doesn’t see it.

Ryland does. Colt spots the amused glint to his eyes as he takes another sip. Colt shoves his hands in the pockets of his (artfully and purposely) dirty slacks and sucks in a breath.

“I, uh,” he immediately stutters, mercilessly and brutally distracted by Ryland’s tongue swiping over his lips to clean the coffee from them. 

I have never wanted anything more than I want to kiss this gorgeous man right fucking now.

Colt starts over. Falters. “We—” 

His head is spinning, oscillating between speaking up now and confessing everything to Ryland, high on that growing hope, and saying nothing. Staying safe, regardless of what his friends think he should do or the chances he has.

He can’t stop hearing Dan’s “I’ve never seen anyone look at anyone the way he looks at you.” Can’t stop hearing Venti’s “It might be worth the risk.”

And the loudest: “The love runs deeper than that.”

There’s hope, but there’s hesitance. Colt yearns so deeply he doesn’t know how to part with it. He doesn’t know if he can. If it’s possible to let go and say it when he’s spent so long doing anything but.

Ryland’s hiding his smile behind the cardboard cup now, apparently finding Colt’s graceless floundering funny. Which is embarrassing and actually pretty ironic, considering their last name. 

Deep breaths, Colt, he tells himself, gathering his scattered wits and scrambled emotions. At least wait until you’re in private. Until then, deliberate. Sort through the feelings. Plan your words.

Thinking it through more will help. He’s also not sure how well he’d handle a public rejection, so… waiting until they’re alone sounds like a good idea.

Colt sighs out the frustration, the heaviness. He squares his shoulders, looks Ryland right in his beautiful eyes, and says, “We’re going.” 

He pivots on his heel, decides, fuck it, actually, and reaches over to snatch Ryland’s free hand in his own. He laces their fingers together and squeezes tight. Not painfully tight, just… comfortably tight. Assuredly tight. 

Don’t-you-dare-let-go tight.

Ryland hesitates for only half a second before he’s squeezing back, adjusting until their palms slot perfectly together. It’s pure and utter relief. Warmth blooms from their connection and travels up Colt’s arm all the way to his chest, where it spreads and settles like sediment.

That’s better. Look how easy that was, huh?

Colt starts walking. Everyone else is already filtering off set, excited to eat and rest up. It’s nice that they let Ryland and Colt stay behind without bothering them. Colt wonders if Jody had anything to do with that. Maybe Dan?

Colt takes a deep breath and forcibly relaxes all the parts of him that are tensed up, which is very confusingly not just his muscles. It’s his insides too.

He feels tethered by Ryland’s hand in his own, like the longer they maintain touch the more stable he becomes. The easier it is to remind himself to calm down. Take it step by step.

It’s just them. 

Ryland’s a steady, quiet presence at his side despite looking like he has a million things to say. Waiting for Colt. Colt’s racing heart calms, soothed just by proximity.

And then, because they’re twins and their love runs deeper than that, Ryland starts talking without having to be prompted.

Because of course he knows it’s Colt’s favorite distraction.

Both his hands are occupied, and yet he still uses them to gesture. It’s a good thing that coffee cup has a lid. Colt on his part is perfectly content with Ryland tugging their joined hands this way and that so long as he doesn’t let go.

“The roll, though,” Ryland is saying, because he’s been going on about Colt for the past few minutes. 

At one point he had said “You looked great, by the way,” stuttering on the “looked” like he wanted to say “look” but corrected himself mid-sentence. Colt wasn’t sure if Ryland had meant he objectively looked great, if the stunts he did looked great, or if he looked great as in attractive great. 

Colt dared to ponder the possibility that it was all of the above, and then had to remind himself that breathing is required for human existence, and would probably help him not feel like he’s boiling from the inside out.

Now Colt’s just trying not to smile too hard, because he’s pretty sure the kind of happiness building in his chest does not make for normal human facial expressions. 

“Hm?” Colt prompts, not paying attention at all to where he’s walking. He’s too busy staring lovingly at his brother, where he hasn’t looked away a single time since he started talking.

Ryland is gorgeous in the evening sunlight, the way it casts onto him, dyes him gold. He is golden hour; golden hair, golden glasses… He’s a walking piece of art. As beautiful as the horizon.

There’s poeticism in that, probably. Colt’s just pretty sure his brain is melting into soup because he’s so in love it’s consuming his entire being.

“At the end,” Ryland clarifies, “when you fell off.”

It takes a couple seconds for Colt to catch back up, to actually pay attention instead of just make heart eyes at his incredibly captivating brother. 

“Oh, right.” The throbbing of his shoulder completely faded into the background of his awareness considering… everything that followed immediately after receiving it. “Just, uh… went a little off script. It didn’t account for my improvisation.”

Ryland frowns and goes huh? His profile is so, so pretty. “What does that even…” He shakes his head. “Don’t answer that. Why would you go off script during a stunt?”

Oh, well that’s easy. 

Colt’s answer is immediate. “I was showing off for you.”

At that, Ryland turns his head to look at him. He doesn’t give any indication that he’s at all surprised or bothered by the fact that Colt’s been staring unblinking at him the entire time. Colt imagines Ryland could probably feel the stare like a physical touch, with how damn hard he was looking.

Ryland does however seem surprised by the candidness of the response. Or maybe not surprised, but… Amused for sure. Flattered in the exasperated way he often is with Colt. 

Colt watches Ryland’s cheeks flush red the longer they maintain eye contact. He has no idea what’s showing through his eyes right now, but it’s probably every sappy thought he’s ever had. He’s really an open book at the moment.

Colt decided he’s taking the risk. He might as well go all in with the expressions. Let Ryland see.

“Of course you were,” Ryland says, soft and tender in a way that does not match his words at all. His eyes crease in that way that makes Colt’s heart pick up speed. “I’d prefer you didn’t get hurt again just to impress me, though.”

Ryland squeezes their joined hands, and the softness in his eyes sucks the breath right from Colt’s lungs. Pools of blue turned molten gold with the setting sun. He’s glowing. God, he’s gorgeous. 

“You already have all of my attention.”

Colt’s entire everything screeches to a halt. His heart stutters in its quickened beat and plummets into his stomach.

That’s…

Well.

It’s… What?

It’s not even the sweetest thing Ryland has said to Colt, which is hard to believe, but he remembers every one of the instances. So he knows. It might also be hard to objectively measure when many of the sweet things Ryland says become the sweetest thing he’s ever said to Colt.

But this is different. It feels different. So much different.

It hits harder than Colt remembers anything ever hitting, words or otherwise. Harder than any physical blow, which is saying a fucking lot coming from the guy who literally gets hit for a living.

But it’s true. It’s… something in the way Ryland says it. Paired with that gentle smile and… and adoring eyes.

He’s looking at Colt like there isn’t anything he’d rather see. Like they’re twin stars, and they’ve been sharing in the sunshine all along. It was never just Ryland who was made of light.

Ryland says, “You already have all of my attention,” like he’s saying, “I’ve loved you all along.”

Or maybe Colt’s too much of a hopeless romantic. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, the yearning influencing his thoughts like it so often does, and he’s seeing a whole lot of something in a whole lot of nothing. Maybe his shift in perspective is making him read into things way too much.

But maybe it’s not. Maybe Dan, and Venti, were right. Maybe the hope steadily blooming to life in Colt’s chest isn’t a false one, and he can let it grow.

Colt likes to think he knows his twin— his thoughts and his emotions— pretty well. What about with this? With his love?

Risky is right. But Colt’s thought of a better word:

Dangerous.

The possibility of Ryland loving him the same way for just as long is, pretty honestly, absolutely devastating. He’s never let himself really consider it.

Colt’s voice scrapes from his throat, low and utterly wrecked. “Oh.”

He looks down. There’s grass beneath his shoes, even though he doesn’t remember when the sound of asphalt and gravel stopped. His heart’s tangled up somewhere between his throat and his stomach, pulse thundering in his ears. He looks up. The glow of the makeup and costumes trailer shines ahead. He looks at Ryland.

Ryland’s looking back, because of course he is, but Colt doesn’t meet his eyes just yet. Maybe can’t. He feels like he’s falling apart at the seams, unraveling in the sweetest torture he’s ever known. 

Colt swallows roughly. “Would you, uh… excuse me for a moment.”

He painstakingly releases Ryland’s hand finger by finger. Ryland makes an aborted movement to chase the contact, just a twitch forward, halted halfway. Fuck. 

Colt clenches his now-empty hand into a fist, trying to linger with that feeling of weight and warmth for as long as possible. It’s clammy from his own sweat.

With a deep, steadying breath that steadies absolutely nothing, Colt turns fully to face Ryland. Meeting his eyes with all the unsteady confidence he can muster at the moment.

Ryland’s expression is complicated. He looks concerned, endeared, confused, happy… 

Colt has no idea what his face is doing. He can barely feel his limbs.

Backlit by the setting sun, Ryland’s a blaze of orange-golds, angelic in a distinctly human way. Colt cannot fathom a reality where Ryland isn’t the center of his entire universe.

His eternal sunshine. A touchable, reachable forever.

It all boils over. Something in him splits apart. He gives in.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Colt rasps. He cups Ryland’s face in his palms, leans in, and slots their lips together. 

He doesn’t even think about it. 

Ryland’s lips are soft. Chapped. The sensation sends a bolt of pure electricity running through Colt’s entire body. He feels it like he touched a livewire; from the tips of his fingers to his toes.

Ryland sucks in a sharp breath at the exact same time Colt makes a low, devastated sound in the back of his throat.

He’s warm. And not pulling away. Not kissing back either, but that’s fine. It’s short and sweet, but it destroys Colt all the same.

When Colt pulls back and blinks his eyes open, Ryland’s are wide open, big and luminescent behind his glasses. His lips are parted softly, and his exhale is quiet and shaky. 

Colt presses their foreheads together. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” he murmurs, not recognizing his own voice.

Ryland nods, slow. It moves both their heads.

Colt hums. Whispers, “Okay.” 

He pulls back with extreme reluctance, brushing his thumbs along the texture of Ryland’s skin. The softness that gives way to prickly stubble, the swelling warmth beneath his cheeks that’s no doubt already spread to his ears.

The enormity of Colt’s love doesn’t have a quantifiable measurement. It just is. All-consuming and calamitous. It’s a beautiful ruin, though.

I need sleep, Colt muses. I’m getting nihilistic.  

He steps out of Ryland’s space before he grows roots and is never able to move again. He doesn’t even hear a breath when he turns and starts making his way to the costumes trailer, hoping it’s at least the positive type of breathless.

He goes through the motions feeling like a ghost, floating an inch above the floor even as he responds to the prompts and questions. Yes, he’s sorry he gave Adrien an extra couple gray hairs with his improvisation. No, he didn’t rip anything between then and now, he isn’t that careless. 

Colt leaves in the clothes he walked onto set with. The ones he ran to Ryland in. He scans the grounds and with a flood of endearment finds Ryland exactly where he left him, standing out in the open a step or two off the main path. He’s still as a statue. 

Something in Colt un-tenses, relief unspooling in his chest. He hadn’t exactly expected Ryland to be gone, but he wasn’t sure if asking him to stay after being kissed by his twin brother with no explanation was a reasonable request.

Colt’s already smiling before he’s taken three steps in his direction.

“I didn’t mean to literally not go anywhere,” he teases once he’s close enough to reach out and touch. He holds back for now, just in case.

Ryland’s somehow even more gorgeous backdropped by deep reds and stretching purples, the dark blue overcast of a nighttime sky. The only light is the nearby trailers, uneven patches of yellow-white casting half of him in deep shadow.

Despite it all, he still looks soft. Standing out amidst all the dark with his bright white palette and gentle aura.

Like a star. Exactly like a star.

“Uh.” Ryland’s voice cracks when he speaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “I can’t… move. I th— I don’t think.”

Colt’s feeling a distinct lack of panic or regret. There’s just an aching tenderness. But not the aching tenderness of a bruise, of a wound.

More like… something left out in the sun long enough that the light’s rays softened it. The aching tenderness of yearning. Of love.

He’s pretty sure that’s all thanks to Ryland, who doesn’t look freaked out or disgusted or disturbed. He just looks… flustered. Uncomprehending. Like Colt kissing him broke him, and now he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re cute,” Colt tells him for the second time today. He reaches out and clasps Ryland’s palm to his own. It’s clammy. Warm and utterly human.

Motioning to the cup in Ryland’s dangerously slack grip, Colt then says, “I’d be careful with that.”

Ryland stares at him for a second, processing. He looks down at his hand like he forgot he had one. Colt needs to smother him ASAP. Cuteness aggression reaching critical levels.

“Oh,” says Ryland, barely above a whisper. The grip tightens back to a proper hold. “Right.” He looks back up at Colt, eyes wide. “Am I dreaming?”

Cute, cute, cute.

Colt’s smile widens. “As far as I’m aware, no.” He tugs Ry into his side. “This is real. Unless we’re both dreaming.”

Ryland doesn’t go smoothly with the tug. He stumbles over his own feet, crashing gracelessly into Colt’s chest. It’s without thought that Colt’s other arm comes up to Ryland’s shoulders to catch and hold him up. 

He doesn’t even budge; Ryland’s weight has always been Colt’s favorite to shoulder.

“I could carry you…” he muses aloud, only half serious.

The thought’s pretty nice. He’d prefer bridal, but any way is fine, really. He doubts the minor ache in his shoulder would stop him.

Ryland makes a strangled noise. “I’m— That’s okay. It’s…” He shakes his head, realizes their position, and proceeds to bury his face in Colt’s shoulder. He turns his head so the jacket hides him, like he’s burrowing in for safety.

Colt drops his hand and shifts them to properly hug Ryland to his chest, both arms over his shoulders. He opens his jacket further, nudges Ryland in close, slotting their bodies together. Providing a proper hiding place and grounding touch, because clearly Ryland is trying to process a couple things.

Ryland’s definitely not small enough for this to really work, but he doesn’t seem to mind forcing it to; he whispers a tiny, quiet sorry under his breath and drops the coffee cup so he can clutch at Colt’s back under the jacket, tucking his shoulders in to make himself more compact. It’s very close to being skin on skin.

Colt closes his eyes, head tipping back, warm all over. He might be ascending into the heavens. Or maybe he already has, and he’s reached a blissful paradise like no other. This is probably better than heaven, but Colt wouldn’t really know. He’s also pretty biased.

They stand like that, Ryland tucked into Colt’s chest and holding each other, for long enough that it starts to get cold. Long enough that Colt’s legs remind him that he has been doing a lot of running and standing and stunting and that he needs to rest within the next ten minutes or they will clock out and let him suffer.

“Ry,” Colt whispers, jostling him carefully. “Don’t fall asleep. I got promoted to right hand man, so I have my own trailer.” 

Ryland buries deeper, closer to the middle of Colt’s chest, ear pressed to his sternum like he wants to feel the vibration of his voice. Colt gets suffocated by the weight of his own love for his brother again. It takes every fiber of his being to not squeeze Ry until he pops.

He clears his throat, nudges Ryland’s knee with his own. “It’s smaller and not super fancy or decorated like Jody’s, but it’s got a bed big enough for both of us.” 

Ryland squeezes extra tight, until Colt wheezes theatrically, then he pulls back. “Okay.” 

His glasses are crooked from smushing his face into Colt’s chest. Colt reaches up and fixes them, finally. He leaves the rumpled hair though. That’s too adorable to fix.

The way Ryland blinks, slow and doe-eyed, when Colt’s hand lowers feels like a direct arrow to the heart. God, this man is dangerous to his health.

Colt takes a deep breath in through his nose, silently praying for his fraying sanity and poor, battered insides.

“When we get to the trailer, I’d like to kiss you,” Colt says. He wets his lips, already vibrating just thinking about it. “A lot.”

Ryland’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. His neck looks extremely kissable, and very bare. If Colt just leaned down…

“Okay,” Ryland repeats, quiet.

Colt’s body lights up at the tiny tremor in Ryland’s voice. Nerves, or maybe excitement. He goes to speak, then blinks. Pauses.

“Wait, no. Hold on.” Colt shakes his head to knock his thoughts back into order. “I want to do this right.” 

He can’t just go straight to kissing with no confession. He needs Ryland to know. To understand the magnitude of his feelings, that it means so much more than a couple kisses. That it runs far deeper than that.

Ryland briefly rolls his lip between his teeth as he nods, like he’s trying to test Colt’s self-control. Which is typically pretty good, but today has been a fucking lot. Emotionally, physically, and mentally.

Colt wants to start kissing Ry and never stop, but that’s gotta wait.

“Uh…” Colt freezes a bit, realizing that despite telling himself to, he actually did not plan his words. Ryland’s staring very intently at him, and his lashes are very pretty and it’s very distracting. “I didn’t prepare what to say.”

Ryland presses his lips together to stifle what is clearly a laugh, but he stays quiet, letting Colt gather himself. 

Colt clears his throat and backs up a step, taking both of Ryland’s hands in his own like they’re being wed. Ryland deserves more than just Colt’s nervous rambling, so he pauses, lets the silence settle. The chirping of crickets come alive around them, distant honks echoing. Every now and then, a trailer door opens or shuts.

In the dying light of day, it’s just Colt and Ryland, huddled together as darkness descends.

It’s… Well, Colt won’t lie and say it’s the most romantic scenario he’s thought about confessing to Ryland in, but… he can adapt. Improvise. The fact that he’s getting to confess in the first place is enough for him.

Colt takes a deep breath.

“This is probably going to sound like a proposal, but I’m pretty sure I remember proposing to you when we were five years old, so, uh. I guess it won’t be that weird.” Colt swallows. “Not the point. I wanted to say… This isn’t exactly one of the scenarios I imagined when I thought about all the ways I could confess to you, but… I think there’s charm to it.”

Ryland’s eyes are wide and sparkling, faint stars reflected in his pupils, growing brighter every second. Colt’s heart starts beating up into his throat. 

He feels like he’s choking on it when he finally confesses, “I love you. I love you.” It feels incredible to say. “I have loved you. Probably since I knew what love was, and before that, too, because I was born alongside you. How could I not?” 

God, this really does sound like a proposal. Should Colt be memorizing this so he can recite it on their actual wedding day?

“I…” Colt pulls in a slow, deep breath. “It… took me a long time to confess because, I… Well. I was scared. Obviously, of course. But more than that, I’ve just been so in love with you our whole lives that I didn’t… know any other state of being. I guess I got used to it. Got used to knowing this was how I felt and it- it didn’t matter if you felt the same or not, because it was my truth, and, uh…”

Colt trails off, throat clicking when he swallows. Ryland’s gone and linked their fingers together, and his smile is the kind that transforms his entire face. He looks so happy. Colt’s knees go weak.

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” he breathes. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are? Ryland. God, holy shit, I love you.”

Ryland ducks his head and laughs. It’s soft and breathy, elated. Colt’s heart starts thudding furiously behind his ribcage, up into his ears, a helpless call and response.

Ryland’s grinning when he lifts his head again. He looks like he’s glowing from the inside out. 

“Can I talk now?” he asks tenderly.

Colt might cry at Ry’s voice alone. He can only nod.

Ryland squeezes their joined hands. “I accepted your proposal when we were five, and I accept it now. I love you too, Colt.” 

Colt’s breath stalls in his chest. His throat goes tight. Oh, god, he’s really gonna cry. Ryland’s not done, though. Of course he isn’t.

He continues, “I think you were so focused on your own feelings that… you forgot we’re identical twins, Colt. We share the same last name, the same eyes, the same face…” Colt bites back an honest-to-god whimper. “Of course we- we share the same love. It was never a one-way street. Not with us.” 

Ryland leans in until their breaths intermingle, both shaky with emotion. Colt’s lips part automatically, his eyes dropping to watch the way Ry’s lips form the words as he speaks.

“It was always going to be… us.” Ryland says it with such unshaking certainty that Colt believes it too. Inherently. He’ll follow Ryland to the ends of the Earth and into space if he has to. “I-I never had a doubt. Colt, I love you.” 

Colt has to manually make his lungs work. It takes a bit, and the silence has settled into something almost physical between them when he can breathe normally again.

Colt, I love you, Colt, I love you, Colt, I love you. That’ll be looping in his head for the rest of time. 

Oh my god, Colt thinks, as it really starts to sink in. Ryland loves me too. 

He’s pretty sure he’s never been happier than in this moment.

“Marry me,” he blurts out, completely bulldozing through the very romantic moment he was enjoying. 

Ryland just chuckles and kisses the corner of Colt’s mouth like that doesn’t completely rewire his entire brain. “I already said yes.”

To minimize the chance of him continuing to say stupid shit and ruining the moment, Colt dips his head the miniscule amount of distance left to press his lips to Ryland’s. His hands fall to Ryland’s waist at the same time Ryland’s settle over his shoulders. Always in sync.

It’s just as devastating the second time. Just as warm, too.

Colt’s chest feels cracked open, like all of the love he’s kept bottled up his entire life is spilling out. Out of his chest, out of his eyes, out of his mouth, pouring into his brother with no end in sight.

Ryland takes it all like it’s nothing. Like it was a given that he could hold the enormity of Colt’s devotion.

Their lips slide together, puzzle pieces finally connecting, souls finally made whole. The yearning in Colt’s chest for once feels light.

It’s only when Colt sniffles that he realizes he started crying. Parting from Ryland’s warm, soft, kind lips only makes the tears fall faster.

“Goddamnit,” Colt croaks, voice breaking in his throat.

Ryland reaches up to cup his face and swipe away the tears. Colt presses his face forward into the contact unthinkingly, immediately. 

“Why do you get to have a really cool, romantic speech and I just stumbled over my words and then started fucking crying?” Colt complains, gripping Ryland’s waist. “Did you practice all that?”

“Honestly?” Ryland tilts his head sheepishly. “I, uh, was responding to you in my head as you spoke. So I was kinda prepared.” His smile is uneven. Were it still day, Colt’s sure he’d be able to see the bright red flush to his cheeks. “But, you know, maybe it’s because I’m a teacher? I’m good at words. I say what I mean to say.”

Colt whines. He tries to bury the sound back where it came from, but it bubbles up in his throat against his will. “Don’t teacher-voice me. I’m begging. I can only handle so much.”

Ryland kisses Colt quiet. Colt’s blood sings thinking about that becoming a normal thing. Will Ryland do that every time Colt runs his mouth? Does it only apply to dumb things, or can Colt say good things and be kissed quiet?

He supposes they’ll have time to figure it out. The thought is like a shot of straight adrenaline.

They kiss until Colt’s tear tracks dry up, until they settle into a rhythm. Until their breath goes heavy. Colt keeps making quiet little unintentional noises, echoed each time by Ryland. 

Call and response. Over and over, they choose each other.

Colt grips Ryland’s wrists, still cupping his face. He gently lowers them to his neck, not breaking the connection of their lips for a second. Ryland follows the movement, lacing his fingers at Colt’s nape, implicit trust in whatever Colt’s doing. 

Fuck. That’s… God. Colt feels a shiver travel down his spine. 

Against Ryland’s lips, he mutters, “Hold on.”

Ryland makes a questioning noise, but isn’t able to part long enough to speak before Colt’s dropping his hands, gripping the backs of Ryland’s thighs, and hoisting him up into the air.

Ryland makes a shocked mm?! sound, legs wrapping instinctively around Colt’s waist. His fingers tangle in the hair at the base of Colt’s skull and unintentionally tug. Colt nearly stumbles at the zap of electricity the sensation sends through his nervous system.

“Colt,” Ryland breathes. He looks sweetly shocked, lips parted and eyes wide.

Colt grins up at his brother, adjusting his grip to hold Ryland more securely against him. “Always wanted to do that.”

“Oh my god,” Ryland rasps, and crashes their lips back together.

Huh. Okay, so Ryland liked that. Noted.

Actually, not just noted, that has now been carved into Colt’s temporal lobe and will remain there as a Ryland Tidbit forever.

Colt makes… sort of an attempt to walk and kiss at the same time, but it’s pretty pathetic. He doesn’t get very far.

He devotes himself way too wholly to Ryland to do something like devote any brain power towards walking. He doesn’t want to split his attention. He probably can’t.

Ryland is warm and heavy in his arms, pressed up tight to his front as close as they can get. He’s got his fingers in Colt’s hair, kissing him like he’s never cared much for oxygen anyway.

Colt groans into the kiss, muffled and ruined.

In the distance, a door opens.

And then, a voice: “Oh thank fucking god!”

Colt and Ryland break apart and turn their heads in sync to the direction of it, panting. 

It’s Jody, because of course it is. When she sees them looking her way, she gives an enthusiastic, extremely supportive double thumbs up. 

Ryland buries his laughter into Colt’s neck. Colt would be laughing right along, but he’s having a hard time catching his breath from the combination of, well… 

Actually, it’s just about everything Ryland Grace.

He cracks a lopsided grin instead, momentarily shifting Ryland’s weight to one arm so he can give a thumbs up back. Jody disappears back into her trailer with a laugh that’s closer to a cackle, and Colt shakes his head fondly.

Ryland’s laugh peters off into something low and breathy, right next to Colt’s ear, sending goosebumps blooming all along his arms. When he pulls back, he looks ruffled and happy, glowing like he’s got the sun for a heart. 

That wouldn’t surprise Colt. It would explain the gravitational pull; Ryland is the sun, and Colt is the Earth whose life is sustained by its brilliance. The one and only star he orbits.

Ryland’s giving him a fond, knowing look. A smile and a raised brow. “What are you thinking about now?” he teases, combing his fingers through Colt’s hair.

Colt’s resulting hum is more purr than actual human sound. “You.”

Obviously, Ryland knew exactly what Colt was going to say. And yet, his eyes still shine at the response, glittering star gems of gentle happiness.

Colt feels dizzy with the knowledge that he has the power to cause that. That it’s love Ryland has for Colt that causes that.

Colt’s body is gonna start shutting down on him if he keeps thinking about it. And also because he needed to sit down ASAP about ten minutes ago.

And so, without another word, Colt starts for his personal mini trailer parked towards the edge of the grounds. He liked the quietness and the open view.

He hopes Ryland will too.

He thinks that, and he says it to Ryland as well, but once they’re safely inside and the door is shut and locked behind them, Colt is laying Ryland across the bed only to be pulled on top of him. Then they’re kissing a little too much to pay any attention to the view.

It’s absolute bliss.

Colt loses himself in it all. The heat, the taste, the soft sounds. He dedicates himself to exploring this new facet of his brother, every little thing that makes him tick.

There’s a great tangle of deep, unfettered love that’s unspooling in his chest as he realizes this is the rest of their lives now, together.

Into Ryland’s skin, Colt presses over and over: I love you. One for every time he’s thought it but not said it. For every time he’s ever yearned to hold Ryland but had to hold back. Every kiss he’s fantasized about, all the dreams he’s had over the years.

Ryland holds him close and whispers, “We have time, Colt.” A kiss to Colt’s upper lip. “We have all the time in the world.”

Colt wants to tell him that he’d gather all the time in their world and the worlds beyond, if only to spend another eternity together. 

He kisses Ryland instead.

For now, this is enough. It’s more than enough.

In fact, it’s everything.

Colt’s pretty sure it always will be.

Everything. 

“So…?”

Jody holds out a hand palm up, smug smile slowly and disturbingly blooming on her face.

“No,” someone utters in despair.

“You’re kidding me!”

The smile becomes a grin.

Dollar bills are slapped into Jody’s palm.

“Goddamnit, Seavers!”

“Isn’t it actually ‘Grace’?”

A thoughtful pause. 

“Goddamnit, Grace!”