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"You alright, love?"
Grace was flat on his butt, a stray wire from some filming equipment having just tripped him over in an embarrassing display. He'd only been on set for a few minutes and he'd already managed to mess up. Luckily, not many people were around to see it. He was especially lucky it wasn't around Colt, who would have laughed so loudly at him that the rest of the set would have heard.
Instead, stood above him with an outstretched hand was a brunette Tom Ryder with a moustache.
The look was… different than what he was used to seeing on the actor. Not in a bad way. Same with the thick English accent he was using for some reason. Strangely, it suited him, and perhaps, it had a small effect on Grace. What? He grew up watching Doctor Who, okay? Who could blame him?
Of course, he wouldn't tell Tom about it. The man had enough of an ego, and would most definitely take it the wrong way.
Hesitantly, he took his hand. It was course and slightly calloused, which was unusual for a man who never used his hands for anything. He pulled him up easily, muscles hardly even straining against his weight, and placed a hand on the small of his back to help him stand.
"Yeah, all good," he replied, trying not to think about the high-pitched squeaking noise that he'd made as he fell.
He was half-expecting Tom to make some annoying flirtatious comment like he usually would—something about him falling for him again—but he didn't. He dusted down the front of Ryland's shirt and said, "Spick and span. Good as new."
"Thank you." He risked the thanks, politeness overtaking his desire to avoid the man and his flirts.
"What kind of man would I be to ignore a damsel in distress?" He winked, his moustache twitching along with it. The make up artists did a really good job, it looked so real.
"I wouldn't go that far…" He mumbled, his cheeks faintly pink, "I just tripped. I do it all the time."
"If you want some arms to fall into instead, I'm here, and they're much more comfy than the floor."
Ryland rolled his eyes. There it was.
"Or not," he stepped back, taking his hands off him as he noted the disinterest in Grace's features. "Was just a suggestion."
Okay, now that was abnormal. Tom never backed off that readily, let alone after no verbal rejection from Ryland. Ordinarily, his advances only stopped once he was practically dragged away to work or Grace managed to shake him off. No matter how much vitriol or apathy he was given, he would not give up.
Grace refused to relax so soon. It was likely he'd follow it up with more flirting, this was just a gear up. "What are you up to, Ryder?" His tone came out stern and on-edge.
His brows furrowed, "I don't catch your meaning, sweetheart."
The pet name with the accent sent a rush through him that he had to push down and ignore, because he couldn't be having these feelings towards Tom fudging Ryder. Quickly, he ran through all his memories of his worst moments. His insults of Colt, his disregard for those around him, his annoying flirts. Anything to smother the weird fluttering in his stomach.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not interested in your games, Tom."
"I'm not-"
"And another thing, this little accent you're doing isn't going to distract me from how much of an egotistical, vulgar douche bag you are. So, stop trying."
"I think-"
He groaned, "I should know you'd never listen to me. Honestly, Ryder, you need to get over yourself. I am never going to date you."
"Can you just-"
Whatever it was he had been about to say was interrupted, this time, rather than being from Ryland, it was by a loud shout. "Fran!"
Grace's head whipped around as he watched Ryder in his usual blonde haired and all-American glory stride towards them. Glancing back, he saw the man he now knew was not Tom smile brightly. "Thank God. Tom! Perfect timing, mate."
"The fuck are you doing here?" Ryder appeared a lot less happy to see him.
"The fuck? I can't come visit my little brother at work now?"
Little brother? Oh God, there were two of them. It was dizzying, like he was seeing double. And that meant… the man he had been berating hadn't been Tom at all… It had been his twin brother… Oh, no.
Tom leaned in to his brother, whispering harshly, "How did you even get in here?"
"C'mon," the twin wrapped an arm around his shoulder and spoke with none of the same quietness, "you know security is no match for us."
"Us?" Ryder's features paled, "Liam's here too?"
"Never go anywhere without him, you know this, bruv."
While Ryder was distracted, his twin turned back to Ryland. "Sorry 'bout my brother's rudeness. Where were we?"
Words escaped him. He couldn't stop his eyes from shifting from one twin to the next, his brain struggling to compute with the situation.
"Oh, right, excuse my manners. I'm Francis," he held his hand out for Grace to shake this time, "Tom's brother, as you could tell. Even if he wishes it weren't so."
With the two of them side by side, their discrepancies became glaringly obvious. On top of the ones he noticed immediately, there was the difference in muscle, how they carried themselves, and their energies.
Tom was muscular but not in the way Francis was, despite the suit jacket his bulk was clear. Ryder had a tendency to show off his muscle, particularly when modelling, and it was a lot leaner. It was something he would never have noticed without trying to search for differences though, the way they carried themselves was more blatant.
Francis had his feet planted while Tom leaned his weight on one foot, their confidence shining through in different ways. Tom had an air of someone who sought out attention and Francis one who naturally drew in attention.
"I'm so sorry!" He burst out with the apology as soon as he managed to figure out how to speak. "I thought you were Tom. He always tries to talk to me and sort of harasses me on set and I was just really annoyed about it. It was nothing against you personally really. I'm sorry."
Francis laughed, not sign of anger or frustration behind it, it sounded warm and inviting. "No worries, darling. I understand completely."
His eyes flitted down to his hand, still outstretched, "Oh, right! I'm Ryland Grace."
His grip was firm, but not tight, and Francis made sure to meet his eye. The focus made his skin bristle. The man's blue eyes peered right into him, scrutinising his features with mild curiosity.
"Pleasure," his voice deepened an octave, "well and truly."
A shiver ran through his spine.
"Nope!" Tom yelled out, pushing himself in between the two of them and prying their hands apart, "Stop it!"
Francis raised his arms in mock surrender, "Stop what? Just being friendly."
"You know what you're doing!" He pointed accusatorially at his brother, "You're not stealing Ry-Ry from me."
"You're right," he replied, a rebellious glint in his eye, "I'm not."
"I'm not yours to steal, Ryder," Grace interjected, though he knew it was futile. Tom wouldn't listen to reason.
"Hear that?" The grin on Francis' face was damn near devious; it had no right to be as hot as it was, "He's free game."
He huffed, "I'm not anyone's game!"
"You're right, love, poor phrasing on my part," Francis placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head slightly. "You were off somewhere, weren't you? Apologies for taking up your time, please, go ahead."
"It's alright," he said cautiously, unsure if this was part of the whole thing he had going on or genuine politeness. Still, an out was an out. "Well… See you?"
"No, wait!" Tom protested, "Ry!"
Before Ryder could move, Francis had him in a tight headlock. His muscle restricted against the sleeve of his blazer, making it appear even larger than before. Ryder wriggled and struggled in his grasp while Francis hardly moved to restrain him. "Ignore him. Off you pop."
Somehow, the display made his heart skip a beat.
When he managed to find his way back to Colt, he didn't say a word. His expression did all the talking for him because at one glance, Colt said, "What happened?"
"I met Ryder's brother…"
"Ah…" Understanding washed over him instantly, "Fran can be a bit intimidating for sure."
Intimidating wasn't the word that Ryland would use… Ryland didn't quite know what word he would use. Nothing that came to mind was anything he wanted to say around his brother.
"But, don't worry, he's pretty chill. Always puts Ryder in his place when he's around. It is hilarious to watch."
"Yeah, I just saw him put him in a headlock."
Colt perked up, "Did you get a photo?"
"Didn't seem appropriate."
"Shame," he sighed, "Would've made great blackmail material."
The topic was dropped and forgotten soon after, until a few moments later when the loud noise of English accents carried through the air.
"Jesus, I'm sweating my bollocks off."
"Well, you're the one that insists on wearing three-piece suits, mate."
"It's sophisticated," Fran argued, "You can't tell me they don't look cool."
"What's not cool is the sweat dripping off of you."
Ryland risked a glance in their direction. Francis had shed off his jacket and rolled up his shirt's sleeve, exposing his forearms and with it his tattoos. His curls were more evident, despite the attempts to slick them back and sweat rolled off his brow.
It was hard to pry his eyes away. That was why Francis managed to catch him right in the act as he turned their way. He tried to casually look away but he had been too late.
"Ryland!" He approached his side, the man he was with following along with him. "How's your arse?"
"Huh?" Colt turned confused.
"From when you fell over…" Francis clarified with a mischevious grin.
"Right, yeah, fine," Grace nodded, avoiding looking at Fran's face dripping like a model in an advert.
"This is my other, and better twin, Liam."
To avoid being rude, he extended a glance and nod to the man, "Nice to meet you."
He looked nothing like Francis or Tom, but he didn't question it. "Alright," Liam said in greeting.
"This is my twin, Colt," he gestured to his side; Colt simply nodded in acknowledgement.
"We've met," Francis replied, hardly paying any heed to him. His eyes stayed on Grace. "Again, just wanted to say, sorry you had to see that earlier, our brother can be a right arsehole."
"It's okay, really, I'm used to him."
"If it's any consolation, he shouldn't bother you for the rest of the day." He didn't want to think about what he would have had to do to get that to happen. At times it felt like nothing would stop him.
"However…" he continued, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket with his forefinger and thumb, "Feel free to call if he bothers you any other day."
Ryland stared at the piece of paper in front of him. This was a move, right? He was flirting with him? Sometimes he found it difficult to tell.
"Look, I don't want to be some kind of prize in this game between you and Ryder," he spoke clearly as he would when scolding a child in his class. "I'm not interested in whatever is going on there."
In the corner of his eye he could see Liam chuckle and hide it before his brother could notice.
Francis deflated a bit, placing the paper back into his pocket. "I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot. Ryder just so happened to interrupt a pleasant conversation, it had nothing to do with him."
"Really?"
"Really. All I saw was a handsome man take a tumble and wanted to strike up conversation. Had no idea my brother had a thing for you too, though I can see why."
Beside him, he could hear Colt mumble, "Not again…"
"Christ," Liam joined in too.
"Thanks," Grace responded, adjusting his glasses so his hands had something to do. "But, you know nothing about me."
"I'd love to learn more," he leaned in, "Maybe over tea sometime?"
It took almost all of Ryland's willpower not to watch a droplet of sweat roll down Francis' neck and exposed chest. He swallowed hard.
"Maybe…"
The paper was back in his hand in a blink of an eye. "Is that maybe enough to take my number?"
Silently, he grabbed it and slipped it into his jean pocket. Red in the face, he added, "That isn't a yes."
"But it's not a no?"
There was a hopeful glint in Francis' eye, one that Grace hoped was at the prospect of a date and not about something to gloat about. "It's not a no."
"I'll pick you up at eight on Friday," he said with a smile and walked away with a pep in his step.
"But I didn't-" his words died on his tongue as it became evident that Francis was not listening at all. He had already taken it as a yes. Worst part was, he wasn't entirely wrong to. Grace was going to say yes, the curiosity was just too strong. Francis was a handsome mystery with a sexy British accent, how could he resist that?
Liam sighed, "Sorry, mate," then he walked away too.
"Why didn't you say no?" Colt jumped on him as soon as they were gone.
Grace rubbed his face, his fingers pushing his glassed up and down. "I don't know… I was curious?"
"Then ask him questions, don't date him."
"I thought you said he was pretty chill?" Ryland argued, perplexed by the disapproval.
"I said that so you wouldn't be scared of him!"
Grace's brows knitted together, "Why would I be scared of him?"
Colt gawked at him with wide eyes, "Look at him!"
He did. Further across the set, he looked like he was in heated discussion with Liam, his hands gesturing wildly as he talked. A faint smile stretched across his lips, Ryland had the same habit of talking with his hands too.
"Oh, God," Colt groaned, "You like him. You actually like him. You're beyond saving."
The speed of his heart picked up, hammering in his ears, "I just met him! I just… want to get to know him…"
"He looks like he was pulled out of a gangster movie, Ry."
"No he doesn't," he protested, but looked back over with new eyes, "Okay, maybe a little, but…"
"But what?"
He had stopped himself in the middle of going to say that he still looked great—the look was hot on him—but then he had remembered who he was talking to. His brother didn't need to know what he found attractive.
In his attempt to save himself, he said, "I'm sure he's still a good guy."
"Ry…" Cold whined, disappointed.