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It's well established that Colt and Tom Ryder don't get along.
Well, scratch that, actually. It's well-established that they don't like each other. They're professional, or at least Colt is, and they get the work done.
(Even if that work is Ryder passively aggressively talking about another take having "too much face," and makes the stunt team replace the squibs in his jacket for a seventh fucking time—)
But Colt always swallows around his complaints and smiles, throwing a thumbs up. Tom usually slaps his ass with a sharp grin, telling him to, quote, "Get it right this time, Seavers!"
Even for an actor, its obvious he's talking down to Colt. But that's fine! Colt is used to it, hell, it's as well worn into his routine as brushing his teeth or checking a weapon before it's used in a scene.
Smiling and letting it go never gets easier, but being Tom Ryder's exclusive stunt double comes with a lot of perks. He has great insurance, steady work, and a hell of a paycheck.
He even has the ability to invite people onto set! Ryland brought his partner today which Colt was excited about. Driver seems quiet, but respectable— Holds doors open, talks politely, and is endearingly protective of Ry. Colt wasn't sure how to feel about him at first, but after a few months of knowing him, it seems he'll fit into the family dynamic perfectly.
…Also, working as Ryder's stuntie means seeing up-and-coming director Jody soon-to-be-Seavers a lot during his day to day, and seeing his wife at work is a huge benefit.
So… Definitely some good parts!
"Seavers!"
Definitely some bad ones.
Colt turns around just in time to see Ryder take a couple large steps toward him, before he's being handled bodily off by an elbow.
"Good morning, I'm doing just fine thanks for asking, Tom, I actually had the greatest espresso—" Colt rattles off sarcastically, routine even though it's not really morning anymore.
"Oh my God, shut up, Seavers." Ryder grits out, uncharacteristically sharp. Must've not had as good of an espresso as Colt had. Surprising, considering the nice machine Colt knows Ryder has in his place.
Ryder drags him into a more secluded corner of the set— it's not barren of people, there's always some intern running this way and that, but no one actually stops here. This in itself isn't unusual, Ryder doesn't like to be seen chatting with "the help" outside of telling them what they're doing wrong, but his face isn't… right for that.
Colt's not sure if he's ever seen this expression on Ryder before, outside of when it's being caught by a high definition camera lens.
He looks unhinged.
"Hey, woah, what's… what's up, man?" Colt swallows down his meaner thoughts, focusing on trying to fix the issue at hand. Now, he doesn't know the issue at hand, but he knows Ryder, and any problem that gets him looking like this will delay shooting significantly. That would mess with the schedule, and— more important— mess with Jody's schedule.
Anything he can do to nip this in the bud, could save literal days of rescheduling.
"Look, Seavers, I need a favor." Tom says, and his face looks actually contemplative and serious, but there's a rawness to it that differs from when he's acting. It's frankly uncanny.
"Uh, well, you know I'm here to help man. What can I do?"
"I need your jacket."
Colt buffers. He glances down at the familiar cuffs of his Miami Vice's Stunt Team jacket, and then back up at Ryder's serious face.
"Yeah, I'm gonna need more than that," he states, quite matter-of-factly.
Ryder groans, the sound low and irritated, scrubbing a hand over his eyes, under his douchey, yellow-tinted glasses.
From what Ryder describes, he's talked himself into a corner with a girl— a girl? Really?— and has been telling her about all the stunts he's done in his movies. He included Miami Vice, and even said that he had the jacket to prove it.
The stunts that Ryder never does because it's always Colt doing them.
"Yeah, that's not happening," He says once he fully understand the interaction and what Ryder wants out of it.
" What?! C'mon, man, it's just a stupid jacket, I'll get it back to you in one piece—" This phrase doesn't make Colt feel any better, whatsoever.
"It's not just a stupid jacket, asshole." He snarks back, running a thumb over the inside seam of one of the cuffs.
Ryder bithces and moans, but Colt huffs and walks away; He is not "fixing" this. Ryder will just have to wait for Gail to order him a fucking copy, or whatever he's sure Gail would do. Ryder is not getting his original stunt jacket. That's just not happening.
Ryder follows him, hot on his heels, whining and huffing lowly to not draw attention from the other people on set.
"Seavers, c'mon, man, Colt—"
"The answer was 'No,' Ryder. You'll just have to wait for Gail to figure it out." Colt is breathing, he is pushing it down, he is not going to blow up at his boss, he isn't.
He walks faster, getting decently ahead of Ryder. He starts to pass by the snack and refreshments table, pretending to fuss over some granola bars and protein snacks before grabbing one at random, and grabbing a candy bar for Ryland while he was at it.
"Seavers!" The exclaimation is in a stage whisper, rough around the edges and Colt is not dealing with it.
He spins fully away and stalks towards the last place he saw his twin brother. Ryder will get tired enough of being ignored, and stomp off to whine and moan at Gail instead.
He sees Ryland and his partner over by the stunt tent, probably waiting for him, and goes to shout out to them, when his world tilts. The food tumbles from his hands as a hot pain starts pulling at his shoulder.
Colt tries to spin as he realizes that Tom fucking Ryder is yanking his jacket off his fucking body. Ryder is using one hand to grip Colt's shoulder fiercely and the other to yank off the jacket sleeve on the other side.
"What the f— Ryder?!" Colt yelps, and scrambles to shove off the hand gripping his shoulder.
Ryder manhandles him to the ground in front of God and the stunt crew and his fucking brother. This is so embarrassing, what the fuck is wrong with Ryder?
He scrambles to get his feet back under him, but in the moment he's focused on getting up, Ryder rips the the jacket fully off his back and pulls the sleeve up and off of his other arm, sending Colt stumbling, shirt ridden up in the chaos.
"Thanks, Coltie, I'll bring it back later!"
When Ryder takes off, it's much faster than Colt would've expected. If he hadn't stared in shock for a couple beats, he may have had a chance at catching him.
Unfortunately for him, he had in fact stared open jawed for several beats, rubbing a hand into the meat of his, now, slightly sore shoulder. He might have to get on Ryder's cardio routine.
"Colt!?" Ryland calls out, and Colt turns to see Ry and Driver running towards him. Ryland looks so worried and frantic, and it twists Colt's heart painfully.
When he turns back around, Ryder is hopping in the truck, and Colt sighs and rubs a hand over his face.
"I'm not gonna be able to catch up to him in his car, God damnit," Colt says, exhausted down to the bone from all the shit that's happened in the last 20 minutes. He turns to Ryland bemoan his bad luck, and—
And Ryland's jaw twitches, clenching it hard as he stares after where Ryder is pulling away. Colt goes to reassure him, to choke down the loss of a jacket so important to him, and make light of it, just to put Ryland at ease.
But Ryland straightens his posture, gaze calculating. His expression changes subtley, and abruptly brings Colt back to middle school, face burning and pulsing with his heartbeat, bruise darkening over his eye. Ryland had made that same expression before he broke his knuckles on that other kid's face.
"Casey," He says, and Colt might have not even known what he was saying, or who he was saying it to, had Driver— Casey?— not stiffened immediately. His body tight and eyes suddenly dark, looking out over where Ryder's truck tires throw up dust. Colt gets the image of a snake, coiled like he was ready to—
"Fetch." Ryland orders, and Driv— Casey— is off. He runs to his car, a restored Malibu, quickly opening the driver side door and smoothly getting in, starting it up and rolling off before the door even shuts.
Colt watches him drive off, unblinking, until the dust kicked up by the tires gets in his eyes too much and he wipes them hastily. He turns to Ryland with, what must be, a frankly bewildered expression.
"The fuck was that?"
Ryland stops his intense stare towards where Ryder and Driver disappeared to, turning to Colt, and at least has the decency to look sheepish. He squints at the dust and rubs an embarrassed hand along the back of his head, hair a mess and glasses dangling from his chin.
"Well, he took your jacket, and you need it back, so I sent Driver."
Colt blinks and … yeah. Yeah, sure that's what happened. He wonders distantly if Driver is a nickname, or maybe Casey's last name? He feels bad for not knowing what the dude's real name is for sure, but now is not really the time to ask.
"Yeah… yeah, right you— Okay, no, I can't do this, you told him to fetch!" Colt says, exasperated with… everything! "You must know that's not, like, a normal thing to do."
Ryland gives him a half shrug and Colt wants to grab his shoulders and shake some damn sense into him.
"Driver will get your jacket back, okay? I…" Here Ryland pauses and makes hesitant eye contact, clearly worried but also determined. "I know how important it is to you."
Colt feels warmed by the thought, that Ryland knows how important it is, that he knows and doesn't think it's stupid to be upset, or…
It's nice. Ryland always gets him.
"Okay, well, we can't do anything without Tom, so let's go tell Jodes—"
Colt is about to turn around, seriously just about to start saying they need to wait, when Casey's— Driver's? (Colt should probably keep calling the guy what he was introduced to him as)— Malibu turns back into the plot where the stunt tent is set up. He sighs, realizing that the guy is gonna come out and say he couldn't do anything, which is expected, and Colt will just have to say it's fine and hope that Ryder hasn't fucked up one of his most important mementos—
Driver gets out of the car, and then moves to the back, popping the driver's side back door, and hauling out a blubbering Tom fucking Ryder by the back of his neck. Driver's expression is dark and pointed as he brings Ryder up to them, dragging him along when Ryder stumbles over his own feet. Tom's holding the jacket. Driver marches Ryder up to the both of them, and thrusts Ryder forward.
"Jacket." He says, simply.
Tom sounds like he might be hyperventilating.
"Sorry, Colt, man, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have ever, you know, you're the best stunt man a guy could ever have, again I'm so, so sorry—"
Driver shakes one of Tom's shoulders, grip looking tight and painful, and Ryder thrusts the jacket back into Colt's arms.
"Sorry, so sorry, wasn't thinking, again, really, I'm, ow, ow, my arm hurts—" Tom sniffles and pinches his expression.
Once the jacket is back in Colt's arms, Driver lets go of Ryder who takes off, saying he needs to talk to Gail about something through whines over his shoulder. Driver jolts, like he's going to go after him again, when Ryland softly says "Leave it."
Driver leaves it.
Colt's head is spinning. The world is upside down, reorienting into a shape that makes no damn sense.
"What the fuck," he says, softly. Driver has always seemed like such a soft guy. Protective, sure, but not violent. The menacing grip that he had on Ryder's neck said otherwise. "What the fuck?"
He watches as Driver leans into Rylands space to gently fix the glasses on Ryland's face, pink cropping up in splotches down his twin's face and neck.
"Thank you, Driver. You did a good job," Ryland says, lowly, like it's just supposed to be between the two of them. Colt feels abruptly like he's intruding on a moment, even though they're literally just standing in the parking lot nearest to the stunt team tent.
Driver's face brightens significantly, and Colt abruptly gets the image of a hunting dog, tail wagging and panting after it's gored a rabbit on command. Ryland puts a hand on Driver's face and chastely pecks him, hand scratching idly under Driver's chin even after they pulled away.
Colt looks away, down at his jacket.
"What the fuck?" He whispers to himself, as he rotates the jacket in his hands and makes sure nothing is torn or otherwise damaged. Nothing is out of place, but then again, Ryder had it less than five minutes before Driver had drug him back. Colt shoulders the jacket back on, still touch warm from his own body, and the weight of it calms him significantly.
"You okay, Colt?" Ryland calls his attention back up to them, where Driver and Ry look completely normal, like nothing in the last half hour has happened strangely. Driver is leaning slightly into Ryland's space, and Ryland has a hand in one of Driver's denim jacket pockets.
Colt opens his mouth, then closes it.
Opens it again. "Uh…"
Ryland's face twists and he makes a soft noise in his throat, like he's hurt at even the thought of Colt not being okay, and Driver tenses, looking between Ryland and where Tom disappeared to, like he's… looking for instruction?
What the fuuuck.
"No, no, I'm— yeah, I'm okay. Just," Colt runs a hand through his hair, knowing that it always makes him look more like Ryland when he does that. Jody teases him about it. "Just was stressful, him taking my jacket."
Ryland smiles, easy and bright like he always does, and Driver's posture eases immediately.
"I'm glad, I was worried when I saw him on top of you like that," Ryland confesses. "Right, Driver?"
Driver nods, avoiding eye contact to pull a box of toothpicks from his pants pocket, placing one of the wood pieces between his lips. Colt was used to the quiet, awkward energy Driver has, but it… definitely has a different implication now.
But frankly, if Driver isn't hurting Ryland— and he's not, the man is so sweet with Ry— then it's none of Colt's business! Probably.
"Yeah, well, I wasn't in any danger," Colt responds lightly, reassuringly. "He's not evil, just a self-centered idiot."
Ryland nods back, laughing at Colt's mild joke. Driver looks at Ryland when he laughs, and he looks the softest Colt's seen all day.
Yeah, probably nothing to worry about.
"I know that," Ryland teases back, voice light. "If you were in danger, Driver wouldn't have brought him back."
Colt blinks.
Maybe a mild worry. A reasonable, decent worry.
…
Maybe he'll text Court.