Chapter Text
Colt meets Casey in late June, with the sun beating them both down through their stunt gear. He feels like he's drowning in the humidity before he lays his eyes on the man— then it feels like he's drowning in a whole new, entirely different way. He watches from afar, intrigued by the new face.
When Colt gets called over, he nearly skips on his way, excited to meet the stranger. The man is timidly standing behind Andrea, the stunt coordinator, and nodding silently at whatever he’s being told. “-and he can show you around.” He catches the tail end of the conversation. Andrea rest her hand on his shoulder, guiding him closer. “This is our new stunt driver,” she says motioning to the stranger with her free hand. “I need you to give him the tour, I need to meet with pyro about the next scene, so I can't do it.” And then she’s gone and it’s just Colt and the handsome stranger, who stares at him with an intensity that makes his arm hairs stand on end.
“I’m Colt, I double for the lead,” he says sticking his hand out. The stranger stares at it, seemingly blankly as if he’s never shaken anyone’s hand before and doesn't know what to do with it.
He takes it eventually with a steady hand and a warm smile. Colt’s hand engulfs the stranger’s glove covered one and he swears he can feel a jolt in his brain, some new connection forming and changing something in him. “Casey. I drive.” He’s soft spoken. Colt finds himself smiling widely, tightening his grip minutely, just to savor it, before letting go.
"How long have you been working stunts?" Colt asks leading them away from where the next scene is being set up. He wants somewhere quieter, somewhere he doesn't have to strain his ears to hear Casey. He's still technically showing the driver around. As long as they make a pit stop by where the coffee is kept, Colt considers it a proper tour of the site.
"Couple years," Casey shrugs noncommittally and Colt is so glad that they've gotten far enough away from everyone that he can hear the quiet words. Casey's got an accent that Colt can't place and it makes him want to hound the man with questions until he knows everything about him. Where he was born, his star sign, if he likes long walks on the beach with random stuntmen he had just met— y'know the average 'get to know you' things.
"It's wild that we haven't run into each other until now, then." Colt had been in stunts long enough to know most people, and the people he didn't know he had usually at least vaguely heard of from the people he did know. Maybe the driver kept to himself, there were a few stuntmen who preferred to avoid the crowd.
Casey looks at him for a second— really looks at him, enough to make him feel bare and exposed. If Colt was younger and less confident, he'd probably wilt under the gaze, but as he is now he puffs his chest out a little. He doesn't mean it aggressively, though he worries it might come off that way. He just figures, if the new guy wants to stare into his soul, why not let him? Maybe Colt wouldn't mind being dissected by Casey's eyes. "Yeah, it is," the words feel heavy the second they leave Casey's mouth and Colt wants so badly to understand.
He ends up getting pulled away to help figure out the best way to perform his next stunt before he can ask any further questions. It's not enough— it's nearly too much. Somehow the driver ends up consuming his mind entirely. Between being thrown around and keeping his body functioning, he had done nothing else but think of the man.
He watches Casey's stunts when he has the time, and god the man was right. He does driver. With a sort of pristine skill that makes Colt want to be in the passenger seat as he spins the car out.
It's hot, he thinks as his cheeks burn. It's even hotter when Casey pulls himself out of the car and pushes his sweaty hair up and away from his forehead. He's pretty sure the world's on fire when the driver reaches into a pocket for a toothpick, places it in his mouth, and starts rolling it around. He thinks, for a moment, about the warmth of Casey's mouth, if his spit tastes like the toothpicks he always seems to have, the way his sweat would feel against Colt's skin.
Colt stops going to watch the driver's stunts, he can't stand the guilty conscience and the heat building in his stomach anymore. It gets to a point where he feels kind of sick. He'd met the man once and they'd barely talked. Going to watch his stunts was one thing, something that could be rationalized. Of course he'd want to see Casey behind the wheel, maybe he could learn something. The way his mind wandered was an entirely different thing, something that made him feel slightly rotten on the inside.
It's for the best that he continues his routine as it was before Casey came around. Maybe his mind still wanders from time to time but at least he's not close enough to the man to accidentally make eye contact and worry for the rest of the day if he had transferred his thoughts into the driver's mind.
Casey finds him the next time they see each other. He's tucked in between trailers, taking a break from all the noise when suddenly there he is. "Colt," he says, breathlessly, like he'd been running around looking for him.
"Hey," Colt greets, smiling. Despite this being an attempt to get away from all the people, he's actually quite glad to see the driver.
"I haven't seen you around as much," Casey says, which is interesting because Colt was sure the only time he saw him was when he was meant to show him around and the handful of occasions they had made brief eye contact when Casey had finished his stunts. Those times were few and far between.
"I've been busy," he coughs out and Casey looks at him like he knows it's a lie. Colt briefly, childishly, worries that he had actually sent all of his wandering thoughts to the man when their eyes had met. To preserve his sanity, he chalks it up to Casey being oddly observant.
Casey hums an acknowledgement before slotting himself next to Colt, against the trailer. And then he stands there, quietly. It makes Colt antsy, not the way silence usually gets to him— where it makes his skin crawl and chest ache— but something different, something new.
He wants to fill the silence, not pointlessly. He wants to tell Casey what he liked about his stunts, wants to tell the man about his own stunts. He wants to talk about anything and everything just to see if Casey would listen. He says nothing for a while, tapping his fingers along the side of the trailer.
"Did you like my stunts?" Casey asks after a long moment of watching Colt squirm. He turns and it only feels right for Colt to turn to face him too. They're both leaning a shoulder against the trailer, staring at each other. "You stopped coming to them."
Colt's brain buffers and resets entirely. "You noticed." He feels caught, like a kid with his hand at the bottom of the cookie jar. "You're a good driver," he says dumbly, cheeks heating. "Great, really," he amends. He doesn't think he could find the words to describe how good Casey was behind the wheel— especially not now, with his ears ringing at the thought of Casey noticing him enough to be aware of his absence.
Casey nods once before looking away. It gives Colt chance to stare at the slope of his nose, the wonders if he'd broken it before, and if he had then when? If it had happened when he was much younger and far more careless, just a boy playing around, or if it had been a stunt gone poorly. He finds that he wants to know the specifics all the small, mundane details about what made Casey the man standing in front of him now.
"I have to get back," Casey says and it's too soon, far too soon. Colt wants to grab his hand and dig his heels into the ground like a dog playing tug with his favorite toy. He frowns at Casey's retreating figure but quickly finding a smile worm it's way back onto his face when the man stops and spins around before returning a few paces. "I'll see you around." He means more by it, Colt can feel that. It sounds like an invitation— it sounds like Casey's soft tone wrapped around sweet words; stop avoiding me, I miss you coming to watch my stunts. He's reading too much into it, he knows he is, but he can't help it.
Casey doesn't leave until Colt nods and, maybe a bit too enthusiastically says, "not if I see you first." He waits until the driver is completely out of sight before he sinks into the rough gravel and tucks his face into his knees. He's beyond giddy, it's nearly embarrassing but he can't find it in himself to care.
Colt makes a point of greeting Casey in passing. This quickly turns into having conversations in between shoots, which turns into Colt bringing Casey a coffee with tons of cream and sugar, just like the man likes it, when he gets to set early enough. It's only natural that their morning routine and small chats stretch into having lunch together every now and again, which turns into everyday somehow. It's astounding how quickly Colt's spare time changes to revolve around Casey.
Halfway into July, when it feels like the sun's only goal is to swallow him whole, he realizes that everything reminds him of Casey. A song on the radio, the baby geese in the pond he passes on his drive to set, the wind and it's gentle touch as it cuts through the heat. Colt isn't quite sure what to do about it— if he should do anything.
He spots Casey moving across set with the grace of a man who knows how to get through a crowd unnoticed. He watches the driver snake through a group of people before he sets off after him.
“Hey, Casey!” He says, probably a bit too loudly. Most everyone in the vicinity cranes their necks and stares at him, but that’s okay because that means Casey’s eyes are on him too. The smaller man start making his way back to him with the same measured grace. “Hi,” he greets the man again, softer this time. “I got you something.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls it out before shoving his hand forward.
Casey takes it with an easy smile and a cocked head. “You got me something,” he repeats, reverence heavy in his tone. It makes Colt's cheeks heat, he wants to buy Casey the world, if only to hear him speak so sweetly again.
“Yeah I just— yeah. Saw it, thought of you. You don’t have to use them if you don’t want to. You just always have your toothpicks and I thought you’d maybe want to try these.”
Casey stares at the mint flavored toothpicks in his hand for a moment before his eyes lift to meet Colt’s. “Thank you,” he says, voice small. He reaches for the toothpick on his mouth, pulling it out and pocketing it, before replacing it with one of the new ones. “They’re great.”
Colt watches it slot between Casey's teeth as he smiles and is quiet for a second too long before he says, "good," nearly breathlessly. "I've got to get back." He really was never supposed to leave, he didn't have time to be here, especially not with Tom's absolute lack of patience. But the toothpicks felt like they were burning a hole in his pocket and admittedly he wanted to see Casey, they hadn't had the time for their morning coffee catch up. "I'm glad that you like them. I think they make other flavors but I didn't see any, but I can keep an eye–" He's cut off by someone yelling his name in their direction.
He turns to see an intern barreling towards them with a gait only acquired by being chewed out for managing to lose the stuntman. He turns back to Casey with a soft smile and says, I'll see you later," before making his way back to where he ran off from.
This all leads him to where he is now, waiting for Casey to get out of a meeting with Andrea so that they can try this new diner Colt had heard great things about but didn't want to try on his own. He's not paying attention, too busy thinking about how to convince Casey to let him drive them for a change when he loses his balance and falls face first off the short ledge he'd been standing on. It's not too bad, if anything it’s mostly just incredibly embarrassing and he’s glad no one is around to see it.
Or so he thought. “Is your head alright?”
And Colt—stupid, desperate Colt who had been told repeatedly that flirting in a way that could be perceived as joking would get him nowhere but frustrated, but who also could find no other outlet for the things Casey made him feel— bites his lip slightly and stares straight into Casey’s eyes before saying, “yeah, my head’s pretty good. Wanna check it out?”
Casey flushes, eyes widening momentarily— it’s something Colt relishes in, seeing the man unsteady after watching him be nothing less than fully certain of himself around set— before his face goes blank again. “Sure,” he says, muscling through Colt’s poor attempt at flirting like he always does.
Colt still comes out victorious, because Casey’s hands are in his hair and they’re so gentle it makes his heart ache. He looks at the younger man, who’s focused on checking to make sure he isn’t greatly injured, and he wants to devour the sight. He wants to lean forward and capture Casey’s lips with his. Colt wants to kiss him until they’re both breathless and Casey’s grip turns near painful in his hair.
It’s stupid, him wanting so much when what he has now is more than enough. Casey pulls back with a soft smile he’s pretty sure the man had reserved only for him, because for as much as he'd watched the man he hadn't see him smile like this at anyone else. “It looks fine, you feeling dizzy at all?”
Colt is, he’s so dizzy that it’s making him breath shallow. Casey’s so close, closer than he’s ever been before. They’re sharing air, he can feel Casey’s warm breath on his face. He wants to take it all in. “Nope, im all good,” he says giving an awkward thumbs up that Casey probably can’t even see because they’re so close and the man’s eyes are entirely focused on his own.
There's no chance he'll let Colt drive now, but somehow he finds he doesn't mind all that much. It's nice to sit back and watch Casey's gloved hands grip the wheel lightly and maneuver them through the city with an ease Colt doesn't think he'd ever be capable of.
It all feels perfect until his mind finds him in the middle of a sunny day and decides that he's got it all wrong. Colt had always been a lot, he knew that. He was loud and could be pushy, he just had a lot of life in him. A lot of people found him to be a bit too much. Casey didn't think that he was too much, or at least that's what he thought, but the more he reflected on his endless flirting that had only been met by small smiles and occasional red cheeks, the more he wants to dig a deep hole and die in it.
Casey was nice, that was part of why Colt found him so endearing, the man was one of the nicest people he had ever met. Colt sighed, banging his head against the table. Was Casey too nice to tell him that he was being too much?
Colt, decidedly stops flirting with Casey. He holds his tongue when they converse between shoots, he doesn't tell the driver that he looked unbelievably hot behind the wheel, or bite his lip, or stare. He barely allows himself to think about Casey. He talks about how loose the sand is, about how the coffee machine is on the fritz, about any and every boring thing that crosses his mind. Casey frowns a lot during their talks, it's a subtle downturn at the corners of his mouth that Colt doesn't catch because he's trying not to stare, harder than he's ever tried to do anything in his life.
"Can you meet me in the lot when we finish the last shoot?" Casey asks, his hand on Colt's shoulder as if holding him in place— like that's something he needs to do, like Colt wouldn't stay just to hang off his every word.
"Of course," Colt says with what he hopes is an easy smile. The rest of the work day passes easily, he gets thrown into a wall, stabbed, and set on fire, it's overall a pretty good day. Other than the small pit growing in his stomach at the thought of what Casey might want. Maybe, he worries, maybe the man wants to thank him for reigning himself in.
Casey's leaning against his Malibu, waiting for him under the awfully bright lights of the parking lot. He looks calm but Colt can see the way he worries away at a toothpick. "Hey," Colt greets, stopping a few feet away. Casey frowns at the distance before pushing away from his car and walking closer.
He takes the toothpick out of his mouth slowly, like he wants Colt to watch, before putting it in his pocket. "You feeling okay today?"
Colt nods, doing everything in his power to keep his eyes off the driver's lips— it's a task that proves harder than it should be. "Yeah, I'm alright why?"
"You were acting weird." Casey steps forward, and suddenly there's very little space between them. "All distant." He places a hand on Colt's hip, whose breath hitches in response to the touch.
Casey runs hot. Even after the sun has long gone down and taken it's scorching rays with it, Casey's fingers burn against him, even through the layers of his leather glove and Colt's cotton shirt. He wants to move close, to feel the warmth spread to every inch of his skin. He thought he was grateful that the summer sun had set but he suddenly finds himself feeling far too cold. "I wasn't," Colt says, dizzy. "I talked to you all day."
"About nothing." He drags his hand up ever so slightly so that his fingers rest just underneath the hem of Colt's shirt. Colt could die, right here, right now. He feels pathetically weak at the knees over the small touch
It takes him a second to find his voice. "I always talk about nothing."
"No, you talk to me about everything." He somehow manages to step closer. "You tell me everything that goes through your head, that's not nothing. Today was nothing, Colt. What happened? Did I do something wrong?"
He starts to pull his hand way. "No," Colt says hastily, grabbing Casey's wrist and holding his hand in place. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then what is is?" Colt averts his gaze but Casey's other hand shoots up to his face and cups his cheek, pulling his vision back to him. "Talk to me." He can smell the leather of Casey's driving gloves and it takes everything in him to not turn his head slightly and inhale the scent.
"I was being too much." he says simply, hoping to be able to leave it at that but Casey's eyebrows furrow in confusion and he sighs. "I'm always flirting with you and taking up your time, making you listen to me. It was– I was asking too much of you and you were too nice to tell me to stop."
"Oh," Casey says with a small frown and knowing eyes. For a second Colt thinks he's going to agree, that he's going to say that Colt had been too much and that he was grateful that he brought it up so he didn't have to keep awkwardly going along with it, but then Casey leans in and kisses him.
After a second Colt's wide eyes flicker shut and he melts into the kiss. It's slow and it feels like a reassurance more than anything. Casey's lips are soft and he tastes like the mint toothpicks Colt bought him. He wants to lean in, to get lost in this forever, but Casey pulls back.
"Stop trying to be less." He says, stepping back. Colt can only find it in himself to nod dumbly. Casey smiles, one of the soft ones he saves just for Colt. "I'll see you tomorrow, Colt," he says turning back to his car.
"Goodnight," Colt calls after him. He stays long enough to watch Casey pull out of the lot and for a second the kiss feels like something he imagined but he presses his fingers to his still tingly lips and knows it was real.