Chapter Text
The lights of Grace's classroom hummed with a low bzzz that matched the same pitch of Grace's emerging headache.
It was 4:30 pm on a Friday. The school was completely empty other than the janitors and a few of the other teachers that were buried in paperwork trying to avoid their lives. Grace sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of his students' papers on chemical bonds and the periodic table. His red pen was bleeding into the margins of a paper that argues water molecules stuck together thanks to "magnetic attraction and strategic vibes", whatever that meant.
He let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the headache forming behind his eyes. He was thirty-one years old, loved his students, and currently had the energy levels of a wet paper towel. He had spent the last eight hours dealing with four classes of twenty-five twelve and thirteen year olds, dealing with the drama and meme references he would most likely never understand.
Grace had laid his head down on his desk for a moment and had started to doze off when the door to his classroom was slammed open.
"Step away from the papers, Ry. Your day is officially over. We are going out tonight," an extremely familiar voice called into the now open room causing Grace to let out another sigh.
Colt walked into the classroom; Colt looked far too energetic for a Friday afternoon. Colt was Grace's twin and a stunt actor who was able to take some time off in between filming to come see his brother. He was already in an outfit that Grace immediately recognized as Colt's 'I'm going to do something stupid and you're coming with me' outfit.
Grace looked between the two people in his classroom before his eyes landed on Colt. "Colt, I already told you earlier I have a hundred papers I have to go through and grade by Monday. I just want to go home and order something to eat and hopefully be passed out in my bed by nine."
"Nope, not happening," Colt said, walking over to Grace's desk and taking the papers from Grace's hands. "You've spent the last forty-five hours trapped here with hormonal teenagers. You need some fresh air. We're going to that new adult arcade that just opened up. High-scores, burgers, and absolutely no teenagers. My treat"
Grace squinted at him, immediately suspicious but he was too exhausted to fight Colt. Honestly, a nice burger sounded amazing and a place free of teenagers that wasn't a club was a siren song calling his full name. "Fine. If I fall asleep in a thing of fries, you're driving me home though."
"You've got yourself a deal. Pack your stuff," Colt smirked before turning around and walking out the door, knowing Grace was following him.
About an hour later, Grace had realized he had been lied to.
Colt hadn't taken the highway to go into town. Instead he had navigated his car into the outer city limits before he pulled into a large parking lot outlined with rusted chain link fences. Spotlights cut through the fall sky and a heavy artificial fog rolled across the ground. The air smelled vaguely of diesel fuel and fair food and Grace could hear high pitched screams in the distance.
Grace looked around and noticed the entrance gates, a huge sign reading Blood Ocean Haunted Attraction was hanging above the high gates.
"Colt, you know I hate these places," Grace said, his hand freezing on the door frame, anxiety already starting to climb. "You remember the last time you tried to scare me, right? I broke your nose and Jody was livid because you were in the middle of filming."
"Exactly, which is why this is going to be fucking funny. It's not me having the chance of being punched," Colt said, smiling. "Come on, Ryry. It's just people in costumes and bad makeup covered in fake blood. If you can survive middle schoolers, you can do this."
"There is a huge difference between someone throwing food and a person chasing me with a fudging chainsaw," Grace argued back, his voice rising in panic as they heard the screams getting louder. "And don't call me Ryry, you know I hate that."
"I already got the tickets and there's a no refund policy. Come on, Ry. I'll buy you a month's supply of that really good coffee you like." Colt bargained. With a frustrated groan, Grace grit out a "Fine," and followed Colt to the ticket booth.
Grace was already on high alert from the classroom drama and now being dragged into a literal haunted attraction completely messes with his ability to distinguish between an actual scare and a physical threat. Colt was laughing the entire time, trying to goad some of the actors into chasing him, immediately running once they did.
They made their way through the attraction and pushed their way into the final part of the haunt, The Blood Ocean. The floor in that part of the attraction was a smooth concrete instead of the carpeted floor of the previous room. There was no sound in the room, just the distant sound of screams coming from behind them.
Grace took a deep breath and looked around the room. His eyes found the exit sign hanging over a heavy door at the far end of the room. You're almost done, Grace he told himself, only a few more feet and you've completed the haunt without punching anyone.
He had just taken a step forward, making his way towards the exit when a loud BANG! rang out from the opposite side of the room. From the dark red-backlit area and the occasional strobe light near the door, a figure shot towards the twins at a terrifying speed.
The actor had dropped onto their shins, starting their slide, sparks from his gloves, knee pads, and feet trailed behind them as they slid towards Grace's knees. He could only see parts of the actors as the strobe light began flashing faster as the slider got closer; the actor was wearing only a black harness strapped across his heavily muscled chest and some black jeans that fit like they were painted on.
Grace's mind, already pushed past his limits from the previous scares, had completely blue screened. The sudden, aggressive threat to his lower body triggered a non-negotiable reflex.
The slider reached the end of his slide, popping up onto his feet a few feet away from Grace's face. His chest was heaving, the gloves clicking as he created more sparks in the now dark room.
Before the actor could even open his mouth to say whatever script he was supposed to follow, Grace's left hand flew out in a blind arc.
SMACK!
It was a perfectly placed, clean left hook.
The punch connected with the right side of the actor's face, the sound echoing through the now quiet room.
The actor's head snapped to the side and he stumbled a couple steps to the side, his boots thudding on the concrete before he fell over, losing his balance completely and falling into some of the plastic barrels that surrounded the scene.
Grace stood frozen in a boxing stance, his left hand throbbing slightly frozen in the air. He blinked rapidly, adrenaline leaving his body as he stared at his own hand.
"Oh no," Grace whispered, voice trailing into an embarrassed squeak. "Oh fudge."
Colt walked over to Grace, gaze flitting between his brother's outstretched hand and the actor laying on the ground, still groaning in pain. The grin he had on his face slipped into shock.
"Colt, I told you this would happen," Grace said, gaze not leaving the actor's crumpled form.
The actor began to sit up, his left hand coming up to grab at the right side of his face before he muttered "Fuck man, what the hell was that for?"
Before Grace could say anything, the overhead lights in the room flicked on, temporarily blinding Grace. The door that was hidden off to the side flew open and someone with a walkie-talkie rushed into the room, their face pale. "Stop the line! We have a code red in Ocean. A customer punched an actor."
Colt took a couple steps forward, raising his hands in the air to show he wasn't a threat and completely threw Grace under the bus.
"I don't know him," Colt said to the person with the walkie. "I mean, he's a science teacher! He didn't know we were coming here, he thought we were getting food. Sir," he looked at the actor that was now standing. "Do you need ice? Or punch him back? I'll hold his arms if you want to!"
Grace stood in the middle of the room, his knuckles throbbing and face turning a warm, mortified red as the security team surrounded them.
The security office was claustrophobic, the room smelling like a mix of cleaners and stale coffee. Grace sat on the edge of a camping chair, satchel clutched to his chest like Captain America's shield while Colt stood near the door, looking around the room avoiding Grace's eyes.
"I'm going to jail," Grace said under his breath, starting down at his left hand. "I'm going to lose my teaching license and be banned AGAIN from doing something I enjoyed. My life is over."
"Relax, Ry. The man was breathing when we walked out. It was a misunderstanding." Colt whispered back, his usual confidence missing.
The heavy door to the office swung open, the actor, a security guy, and a new person walked into the room.
Without the pulsing strobes, Grace could finally look at the man he punched. He was a little shorter than Grace was, with a lean athletic build of someone who worked out daily. The harness he was wearing was slung over his shoulder, leaving him in the jeans, combat boots, and a green-ish colored shirt. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead. He was also holding a plastic bag of melting ice to the right side of his face.
Grace immediately stood, his feet tangling in the strap of his bag. "I am so incredibly sorry," he said, voice cracking slightly. "My brother lied to me and told me that we were going to get food. I teach middle school and my fight or flight response is fight. Please tell me I didn't break anything."
The actor paused, his brown eyes tracking Grace's panicked moves. Slowly, lowering the melting ice pack. The right side of his face was already swelling but he didn't seem angry. Instead, an amused smirk was spreading across his lips.
"Breathe," the actor said, voice a low rumble. "My jaw's not broken. You have a solid left hooj though. Honestly, I'm more impressed than anything. Most people freeze, but you stood your ground."
The other person that walked into the room with the security guard and actor clicked a pen. "Alright, Simon. You're sure you don't want to file a report? Management can call the police for assault."
The actor, Simon, waved his hand dismissively, eyes never leaving Grace's face. "Nah, Rob. It's fine, but since you're sending me home early I'm down a night's pay," he tilted his head, smirk growing slightly. "The ice pack they gave me is already leaking."
Grace looked at the dripping bag and then at the bruise starting to form on the guy's face. A wave of guilt washed over him. He had done this; he ruined Simon's night and taken some of his pay all because he couldn't handle a jump scare or two
"Let me go with you to the medical area," Grace offered automatically, starting to step forward. "Seriously, let me carry something, get you a proper ice pack, and make sure that you don't have a concussion. I would feel awful if I left you like this."
Simon's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. He looked at Grace's expression, one of worry, and his cocky grin shifted into a look of genuine amusement. "You want to walk me eto the medic?"
"Please," Grace insisted, adjusting the strap of his bag.
"Alright, follow me."
The walk to the medical area was filled with small talk after they introduced themselves properly to each other. Grace insisted on carrying the harness and gloves Simon was wearing before Grace punched him. Colt walked behind the two, unusually quiet.
Inside the tent, a paramedic gave Simon one of the instant cold packs. Simon popped it, sighing as the ice pack hit the bruise and sat on the makeshift exam area.
Grace stood by the chair awkwardly, guilt still eating at him. "Look, Simon. I know that you said you lost your pay for tonight, I can CashApp or Venmo you the money or help pay for some over the counter medication if the swelling or bruising gets worse."
"I don't want your money, Grace," Simon said smoothly, turning his head to look at Grace and making eye contact with Grace. "But I am starving, and since I get to go home early before they normally feed us…"
"Let me buy your dinner then," Grace interrupted ."Anywhere you want that's still open. My treat since I'm the one who punched you."
Simon started at him for a second, genuinely disarmed at how sweet and protective the science teacher was. A confident, playful smirk made its way across his lips.
"Deal," Simon huffed, standing from the makeshift exam chair. "There's a 24 hour diner right down the road from here. Follow my truck. Don't worry, I won't slide across the floor when the waitress brings my food out."
Grace felt his face flush, but for the first time that evening, his chest felt light. "I'd appreciate that."