Work Text:
“Nooooo.”
Ryland tugged at his hair, reading the email again and again.
Dr Grace,
I’m afraid I won’t be able to make today’s Science Day demonstration…
“This can’t be happening.”
His eighth-graders had spent weeks preparing for Science Day – building model rockets, designing posters, and reminding him about it every lesson since spring break.
In past years, teachers had managed to cobble together a pizza party and a few low-key science experiments. But his kids had been doing so well that Ryland wanted to reward them. And, well, as disgraced as he might have been in certain academic circles, he still had contacts.
He had promised them a real aerospace engineer: photos, samples, and a compressed-air rocket demonstration on the football field. He had promised them the kind of day that made science feel real. Instead, he was about to demonstrate what happened when an experiment lost a key variable.
As he entered his office, Ryland started mentally reorganising the day. Could he sell a rocket documentary for ten minutes? Maybe fifteen, with enough questions. But they had built model rockets with their own hands. They deserved something that smelled like burnt plastic, compressed air, and possibility.
He let out a long sigh. He hated letting his kids down. At their age, one good teacher could change the trajectory of a life. Ryland knew because one had changed his.
Sure, it wasn’t technically his fault, but it still felt like it. He sank into his chair, trying to think past the rising panic. He had less than an hour before first period. Assignments and a game might buy him thirty minutes, but they wouldn’t conjure a guest speaker.
His phone buzzed before he could even open his laptop.
“What now?”
Three new messages.
Tom: So, how’s the big day going?
Tom: I wanted to send you something over to wish you luck, but Colt said that’d be distracting.
Tom: But if that’s complete bull, lemme know, and I can have enough Dunkin sent over for your entire class.
Ryland let out a strangled laugh.
Ryland: You know, I might just take you up on that. My morning’s not going great.
His reply had barely sent before his phone started buzzing across the desk.
“...Hello?”
“What happened?”
Lips parted, surprise and warm exasperation blossoming in his chest. “It’s not really something you can fix, unless you happen to know an aerospace engineer who can get here in the next two hours.”
“The speaker cancelled?”
Ryland rubbed at the bridge of his nose, staring at the stack of worksheets he had printed the night before. They suddenly looked absurdly optimistic. “Yeah. There’s going to be a room full of very disappointed kids here soon if I can’t come up with an alternative.”
“What were they supposed to be doing?”
“Demonstrations mostly. A Q&A. They’ve been working towards this all term.”
Tom was quiet for a moment, muffled sounds in the background as if he had covered the phone. “Okay,” he said finally. “Give me an hour. I can fix this.”
Ryland leaned back, the old office chair squeaking in protest. He sounded so confident. “Unless you’ve secretly become an aerospace engineer overnight–”
“Do I need a code to get in, or should I wait at reception?”
“Tom.”
“I’m serious.”
Ryland looked at his laptop. The documentary was still an option, but so was the increasingly absurd possibility that Tom Ryder might somehow rescue Science Day.
“Hey,” Tom said more softly. “I know this isn’t a date. This is just a friend helping another friend. I’m not trying to be weird about it.”
“I know.” Ryland closed his eyes. Tom hadn’t brought up the whole date thing since Ryland had made his stance perfectly clear: No dates before summer break.
“Trust me?”
Ryland sighed. What other choice did he have? “...Okay.”
Ryland glanced at his watch for what felt like the millionth time. Tom had said an hour. His class had already begun filtering in, and a TA was buying him a little more time. Maybe he could give him a quick call? As fingertips brushed against his phone, a hand landed on his shoulder, arms wrapping around him from behind. A startled yelp filled the air.
Colt grinned at him unapologetically. “Morning.”
“What are you doing here?” Ryland asked, taking a step back. “Aren’t you filming today?”
“Kind of hard to film when the star decides to play hooky. Y’know you coulda called me, right?”
Ryland blinked. Right. He had somehow filed Colt under annoying sibling rather than highly experienced stunt coordinator with an extensive industry network. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Colt shook his head. “We’ve got you. Give us thirty, then bring the kids to the gym.”
“I don’t even know what Tom has planned,” Ryland called after him.
“Neither did Tom, which is why I’m here.”
Despite himself, Ryland laughed. It was that or hide in the staffroom and cry again.
It would be fine. Everything would be fine. Probably.
“Alright, everyone, settle down. We’re–” Ryland’s words cut off as they entered the gym.
The space looked less like a school gym and more like a movie set built around applied physics: crash mats, padded ramps, and a suspicious number of fake bricks and bottles.
His students immediately started whispering.
“Mr Grace, are those real?”
Ryland looked towards the foam bricks his student was pointing towards. He shook his head, a small smile beginning to grow.
“No.” Tom stepped forward with a grin, wearing jeans, a hoodie, and the kind of confidence that suggested he had absolutely no idea how ridiculous it was that he was standing in a middle-school gym surrounded by eighth-graders. “Not even a little bit.”
Several students recognised him immediately.
“Is that Tom Ryder?”
Tom pulled off his sunglasses, sending the room a wide grin. It wasn’t quite the same smile Ryland had seen him give the press – he might have watched an interview or two in the weeks since that first fateful meeting on set, curiosity getting the better of him – nor was it the same slick, film-ready smirk so many of his posters seemed to sport. It looked warm, and real, and almost... bashful.
“Before anyone asks, yes, I am ‘that guy’ from those movies your parents definitely won’t let you watch. Wait, show of hands – are any of you thirteen yet?” Every hand went up. “Right. Eighth grade. Okay, some of you might have seen a couple of my movies.”
“Can I take a selfie with you?”
“Could I get an autograph?”
Before Ryland could step forward, Tom held up a hand. The class fell silent.
“Maybe after Science Day’s over. Right now, we’re gonna do something way more fun.”
Ryland wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it hadn’t been for Tom to redirect a room full of excited thirteen-year-olds with the gentle ease of someone who genuinely liked children. For the first time since opening his email, Ryland felt the pressure fade. Tom had an actual plan.
Colt stepped forward. “Before anyone asks, I’m the one here to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid and get us all in trouble.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Everyone, this is Colt. Colt, everyone. He’s the No Guy.”
“Only when you’re being an idiot.”
“Which is apparently all the time, according to you.”
“Exactly.”
Ryland stepped between them before their argument could derail the morning entirely. “Okay, let’s try that again. This is Tom Ryder, and this is Colt, stuntman and stunt coordinator.”
“I’m the one who makes this guy look good while making sure nobody gets hurt.”
One of his students raised a hand. “Mr Grace? What’s this got to do with aerospace engineering?”
Ryland winced. “Well–”
Tom stepped forward. “We heard you were going to learn about applied physics, and when the plans changed, we figured we’d show you how much of it goes into making movies. Turns out, there’s a lot more science involved than just having a pretty face on screen.”
“There’s a lot of math and science behind it,” Colt added. “We’ll show you how the stuff you’re learning actually gets used. Just with more fake bricks and falling down.”
The class gave an enthusiastic yes.
“Today we’re going to talk about how movies trick you.” Tom picked up a foam brick. “This looks like it would hurt.”
A few students nodded.
“It doesn’t. It’s foam.” He tossed it neatly to Colt. “The trick isn’t making something dangerous look safe. The trick is making something safe look dangerous.”
Ryland waited for the inevitable middle-school derailment. Instead, every pair of eyes stayed fixed on Tom.
Colt launched the foam brick at Tom’s face.
Ryland’s mouth fell open as Tom staggered back several paces, dropped to one knee, and clutched dramatically at his face.
“Tom–”
Blue eyes found him across the crowd. Tom winked. Relief hit so hard Ryland had to consciously unclench his hands.
“We’ll show you how stunt performers control falls, how we use force and movement to make impacts look bigger, and how materials like these are designed to either be harmless or break apart without breaking people. And then,” Colt added, pointing to the crash mats, “we’ll show you how much physics goes into making someone look like they just got thrown through a wall.”
Questions started flying. “Can we try?”
The room turned towards Ryland.
“With supervision. Once we’ve talked about the science behind it.”
Ryland stood to one side, watching as Tom let one of his shyest students break a fake glass bottle over his head. She laughed so hard she nearly dropped the second one.
Colt sidled up beside him. “I told you it’d be okay.”
“Excuse me for being nervous when the guy who gets set on fire for a living tells me to trust him.”
“I don’t just get set on fire for a living.”
Ryland gave him a flat look.
“...Ry, I’m starting to get the impression you haven’t seen any movies.”
“I’m more of a book guy.”
Before Colt could answer, a pair of students wandered over, immediately derailing him with questions about his career. Ryland bit back a laugh as Colt tried—and failed—to convince them that being a stunt double was impressive enough without also being the one on screen.
Tom appeared at Ryland’s side, watching the argument with a fond smile.
“So, not bad for a last-minute substitution?”
“You are amazing, and I owe you one. Both of you,” Ryland added, glancing towards Colt.
Tom shook his head. “That’s what friends do.”
The word friends should have settled something. Instead, it only made the flutter in Ryland’s chest more noticeable.
“You... do know that I know this really isn’t a date, right?” Tom asked. “This isn’t me trying to get around your rules.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
Tom shrugged. “You asked.”
Ryland looked down at his hands. He had spent years asking for as little as possible. The idea that someone might rearrange an entire filming day simply because he had asked for help landed somewhere behind his ribs and stayed there.
“I guess I was hoping this might be a good second chance at a first impression.”
“You don’t need one,” Ryland said immediately. “Even with everything Colt’s said, this has earned you infinite chances for any future fu–mistakes.”
Tom laughed. “I’m gonna need those.”
Ryland watched his class, the faint hum of amazement beneath his skin. Tom really had come through to save the day.
“We should get coffee. Today. If you still want,” Ryland said, before he could overthink things.
Tom blinked. “... you were very clear about the whole waiting for summer break?”
Ryland took a steadying breath. “That was before I had all the variables. Unless, you’d rather–”
“No!” Tom said too quickly, then winced. “I mean – yes. Absolutely yes. I’d love to. I just... you’re sure? Like, actually sure? ‘Cause, if you think you owe me–”
Ryland let their hands brush together. Tom fell silent. “I’m sure.”
