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Being cold isn’t Tom Ryder’s thing. Being in buttfuck nowhere Norway isn’t really Tom Ryder’s thing either. It could be nice, maybe, if he was here on vacation, with a hot chick or two. Maybe some nose candy. In a nice cabin, at a private ski resort.
He isn’t though. Instead, he has to work.
Yeah. Not only is he cold as shit, and not only is his skin drying out from the wind — that is messing up his hair too, mind you, — he also has to deliver a great performance. It’s not so much that it’s hard — he is Tom Ryder, after all. He’s a phenomenal actor. It’s just that he really doesn’t care that much for this movie.
It doesn’t make him particularly pleasant company to have around. He’s pissy when he’s displeased with his working conditions, and when he’s pissy, he takes it out on other people. His favorite person to take it out on is, of course, his number one stunt guy.
After chewing out his PA for not having his trailer preheated to his liking, Tom is desperate to have a little fun around set. So, naturally, he is on his merry way to where the stunt team is working on some snowboarding chase scene, or whatever. Tom really could not care less.
He spots his target standing on the sidelines, his back turned to him and chatting with Dan. It’s a bit odd that Colt isn’t wearing his costume, but whatever. Maybe he’s done for the day. It doesn’t really matter to Tom, so long as he gets to annoy the stuntman.
Except when the fall guy turns around to say something to the camera girl — Jody, Tom has learned, because it’s an added thing to laugh at Colt about, — it becomes kind of clear that it probably, potentially, most likely isn’t Colt Seavers.
They have the same face, same height, same appearance, for the most part. But this guy’s hair is a bit shorter, and from what Tom can see peeking out from under his knitted hat, his strands are also a darker blonde than Colt’s. Then, there’s the dorky pair of glasses on the slope of his un-crooked nose, the lenses fogging up when he raises his steaming cup of something to his lips. Tom can’t hear it from where he’s standing, but he can see the sheepish chuckle the guy lets out, and that is definitely not a Colt Seavers thing to do, either.
“Who the hell is that?” Tom asks the unlucky intern passing by him. The scrawny kid skitters to a halt, following Tom’s gaze to the stuntman’s doppelgänger, before shrugging.
“Not sure. Seavers brought him by today, if I had to guess, I’d say they’re twins.”
“Huh.” Tom isn’t sure why he didn’t think of that, but he blames the cold for it. He laments his frozen brain cells, while waving the intern away, without taking his eyes off this apparent twin of his stunt guy’s.
He’s curious enough to consider going over there and seeing if this fake-Colt is as much fun to bother as the original. But then real-Colt suddenly catches his gaze from across the set. He pushes his snow goggles up, so that he can look directly at Tom, and despite the distance, Tom can feel the sharp warning in his eyes. ‘Stay away from him’ is the unmistakable message.
Tom raises his hands in surrender, but as soon as he turns around to walk back to his trailer, there’s a devious smile forming on his lips. This movie just became a whole lot more interesting.
“Do I know you?”
Not-Colt turns around with raised eyebrows, blinking at Tom in confusion. It’s cute, in a very un-Colt-like way.
“Uhm, I don’t think so? I’m —”
“Well, that’s interesting, because you look just like my next fling.”
Not-Colt looks delightfully caught off guard, and though his cheeks are already flushed from the cold, Tom would like to believe that he’d be blushing right now anyway.
Not-Colt opens and closes his mouth a few times, seemingly lost for words. His eyes dart around the set, like he’s looking for someone to rescue him. Tough luck, because Tom waited for hours to find him alone. Dan is busy somewhere and Colt is currently doing some stunts; Jody focused on capturing them perfectly on camera.
“Cat got your tongue?” Tom goads, clearly not deterred by the lack of response. “That’s okay, I’d love to help you find it.”
“Pardon?” The man’s voice climbs in pitch, disbelief heavy on his expression. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, though it seems like more of a nervous tick than an actual necessity.
“You’re a bit dense, aren’t you?” Tom pays no mind to the offended squawk he gets in response, nodding to himself like it’s a truth he’s decided on. “That’s okay. A pretty face is more important than brains.”
That seems to finally snap the man out of his nervous stammering. His blue eyes widen for a second, before narrowing, his pretty pink lips twisting into a grimace. Tom has the feeling that he may have said something he shouldn’t have.
“I have a doctorate in molecular biology. Please don’t insult my intelligence, under the pretense of complimenting me.”
Well damn. It isn’t like Tom to let people speak to him that way. Granted, he was possibly a bit of an asshole, but he’s allowed to be one. Hello, he is Tom Ryder.
He considers retorting with something equally snide — it’s not like he’s that desperate to get with this guy, he can afford to fall out of his graces. His thoughts are derailed by the gloved hand appearing on Not-Colt’s shoulder, as Colt-Colt wraps a protective arm around him, tugging him away from Tom.
“Ryder. What a pleasant surprise to see you keeping Ryland company.” Colt’s tone suggests that it is decidedly very unpleasant, actually. And that alone is enough to spike his interest in Not-Colt — in Ryland, apparently — yet again.
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” he says with a grin, shooting a wink at the microbiologist, who is still glaring at him.
“I’m sure it is,” Colt drawls with a flat tone, “but unfortunately, we’ve got to go. Ry had a long day, so I’m taking him home.”
“Long day, huh? What, you just flew in from the states or something?” Tom asks, quirking an eyebrow.
“No, actually. I was at a UNESCO conference in Copenhagen.” There’s a hint of moroseness in Ryland’s voice, that he tries to hide under careful nonchalance. It doesn’t seem to be directed at Tom, though, so he decides not to concern himself with it.
“UNESCO. Wow. Super cool. Very science-y.”
“Yeah. So, if you would excuse us —” Colt tries to end the conversation and pull Ryland away in the other direction, but his twin brother remains stubbornly rooted in place.
“You have no idea what it even means, do you?” There is a very clear challenging edge in his tone, and Tom feels uncharacteristically pinned in place by getting called out in such a way. It should probably tick him off, but for some reason, it just gives him a bit of a thrill. “That’s okay. At least you have a pretty face. Right?”
“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” He shoots back without second thought and gets an eye roll in response.
“What is happening right now?” Colt asks, somehow looking more concerned than he ever did before any crazy stunt.
“Nothing,” Ryland answers him quickly. “And yes, for the record, I do find you attractive, Tom. Unfortunately, I’m not as shallow as you are, so looks alone aren’t enough to sweep me off my feet.”
“So, you don’t want my number? Because I guarantee I could show you a good time.”
Despite the sheer generosity of the offer, combined with Tom putting on his most charming grin, the only answer he gets is a scoff – two, actually, but who cares about Colt, — before Ryland turns around and leaves him in the metaphorical dust.
Yeah. Tom is hooked.
He is delighted when he spots Colt’s nerdy mirror image the next day, standing around on set. He is especially happy that Ryland seems to be alone, not even hesitating before approaching him.
“Well, if it isn’t the good doctor.” Tom greets him cheerfully. Ryland’s shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh, before fixing him with a look of disdain, over those nerdy lenses. He looks a little worse for wear, Tom notices. At the very least those dark, purple eyebags are much more noticeable than they were yesterday.
“What do you want?” His tone is just as tired as his expression. It isn’t enough to deter Tom.
“From you? A lot of things, but we could start with your number.”
Another sigh is all he gets in response. Okay, now that is just rude. Tom even threw in a wink this time. He knows that Ryland finds him attractive, he said so himself, so what is with all the… unenthusiasm? He doesn’t get it, really.
“Oh, come on. Why not?” He asks petulantly. Ryland quirks an unimpressed eyebrow, which really shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.
“I told you, I’m not interested.”
“But why?” Tom presses on.
“I just… I’m not. Okay? Besides, Colt wouldn’t like it if we became… involved.” Ryland says with a half-shouldered shrug. It’s a bullshit excuse and Tom isn’t afraid of voicing that.
“Since when do you need your brother’s consent to go out with someone?” Ryland purses his lips at the question, avoiding meeting his gaze. “I mean, hey, I’m not asking for your hand in marriage here, sweetheart.”
It seems like the petname finally got him a reaction. Ryland’s lips twitch a little, his cheeks flushing in a way that can’t be blamed on the cold this time, thanks to the portable heater next to them. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Tom has already smelled the blood in the water.
“Listen sugar, all I’m asking for is a chance here. You’re hot as hell, I’m obviously fucking amazing looking. Plus, you’ve got a smart little mouth that I don’t find annoying, for some reason. We’re obviously a match made in heaven, baby.”
Ryland gives him a look that he can’t quite decipher, but it’s really close to incredulity.
“Do you even hear yourself when you say stuff like that?” Despite his protests, he sounds flustered enough for Tom to count it as a win.
“What, no one’s ever called you hot before?”
“Not in the way you did, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I have been called a smartass before, though. Just sans the part where you said you like it.”
“Well, I do. Like it, I mean. So? Am I getting those digits, baby?”
Tom can see the slightest hint of hesitation in Ryland’s expression this time. He can basically taste victory already, only for it to be ripped away, when Ryland shakes his head with a sigh.
“Listen, this is really flattering and all, but I gotta be honest, I don’t really like you that much, Tom.” Tom’s jaw can be found somewhere on the frosty ground, right about now. He can not believe what he’s hearing. Doesn’t like him? How is that possible?
“How is that possible?” He voices it out loud, because truly, he is baffled.
Ryland shuffles on his feet a little, wrinkling his nose, like he’s not entirely sure how to word it without seriously offending him.
“You’re conceited.” Tom opens his mouth to object, but Ryland is apparently not done yet. “You don’t care about anyone, other than yourself. Your ego is the size of the moon. You act like you own everything and everyone, and your actions have no repercussions. You’re demanding, you complain all the time, and you have a fragile ego. I could keep going, but —”
“No, that’s quite enough.” Tom cuts him off hastily, blinking a little owlishly, as his brain tries to make sense of what just happened. This is the second time that he thinks he really should be pissed off at the other but somehow can’t seem to bring himself to it. “Wow. You got all that from me asking you out?”
“You really think that Colt doesn’t tell me things?” God, he really shouldn’t find that condescending tone hot, he really shouldn’t. He still does anyway.
“Well, I would be nicer to you than I am to him.” Tom tries to reason, but Ryland just shakes his head.
“I seriously doubt that.”
Tom really wants to object, but his radio buzzes to life in that exact moment, one of the coordinators letting him know that he is needed in makeup, pronto.
“This” he points between the two of them “isn’t over.”
“Right.” Ryland sounds like he doesn’t believe that for a second but is going along with it, for the sake of humoring him. It makes something interesting stir inside Tom, which is weird enough to have him back off. For now.
“So, what’s the deal with UNESCO?”
Ryland startles when Tom sits down on the chair next to his, in the cafeteria. It’s one of the only properly heated places, other than the trailers, and Tom is delighted to finally see Ryland without his thick winter coat on. Not that the knitted cardigan over the dorky science shirt is all that hotter, but it is endearing. In a way.
There are two half-finished plates of food on the table — one in front of Ryland and one in front of where Tom is sitting right now. It is proof enough that he was having lunch with Colt, before the fall guy got called away to reshoot a scene. Sure, maybe Tom’s complaints about ‘too much face’ were a bit unfounded this time, but he had to get the guy away from his much hotter twin, alright?
“What about UNESCO?” Ryland asks carefully, looking at him with an assessing gaze.
“The first time we met —”
“Yesterday.”
“Yes, yesterday,” Tom rolls his eyes. “You said you were at a UNESCO conference in Copenhagen. But that conference doesn’t end until tomorrow, so how come you’re here, instead of there?”
He loves the look Ryland is giving him right now, somewhere between surprised and stunned. He knows that he caught him off guard and, as per usual, he relishes that.
“How do you even know that?”
“I googled it.” Tom admits with a shrug. The huff of amusement he gets from Ryland is gratification enough for his troubles, he decides. “I tried googling you too, by the way. I didn’t get any results, but you should still feel honored. The only person I usually google is Tom Ryder. So as you can see, I’m clearly not that conceited.”
“You what? Why?” Ryland sounds truly speechless now. “That is — wow, that is a lot to unpack.”
“Okay. I google myself because, duh, Tom Ryder is a global brand, I need to know what the people are saying about me. I googled the conference, because you sounded like someone pissed in your cereal in Copenhagen and I got curious.” Tom puts a finger down for each point he is presenting, like that might help illustrate how seriously he is taking this. “I googled you because I figured a hotshot scientist would have a couple google results. So, I typed in Dr Ryland Seavers, but I got nada. I even put microbiology after your name, but zip.”
“Okay.” Ryland takes a deep breath, looking like he isn’t sure where to even start. “First of all, my last name is Grace. Seavers is Colt’s stage name,” he explains, seeing Tom’s confusion.
“Also, my field is molecular biology, not microbiology. Molecular biology is the branch of biology that deals with the structure and function of macromolecules like protein and nucleic acids that are essential to human life. You know, cells. Microbiology is more focused on stuff like viruses and fungi and bacteria.”
Tom nods slowly, his eyes narrowing a little as he tries to decipher all the information he just gained on… bacteria, or whatever. He doesn’t think he’ll remember any of it, but there is something about the way Ryland explains things that keeps him hooked.
“Okay. Sure. And the conference?”
Ryland’s lips twist into a grimace at the question, poking at a stray meatball on his paper plate.
“The conference ended for me two days ago, after I got fired.”
“You got fired?” Tom asks incredulously, leaning closer to Ryland in intrigue. “What for?”
“For calling the leading scientist in my field a ‘staggering waste of carbon’,” is the tentative reply he gets.
There are a few seconds of silence between them, before Tom bursts into disbelieving laughter. It earns him a glare from the snarky scientist next to him, but he can tell that it lacks real heat.
“No, you fucking didn’t.”
“Uhm, yes, I fucking did.” For some reason that only makes Tom laugh harder. It’s a bit odd, he can’t remember the last time someone made him laugh this hard, not to mention this genuinely.
“Jesus, man. What did the poor guy do to you?” He asks, after catching his breath. The flush of embarrassment on Ryland’s cheeks is a nice little treat, and it only makes him want to fluster him further.
“It’s a bit of a long story, but he basically called my thesis stupid.” Ryland admits, with a small shrug.
“Well, who has the fragile ego now, sweetheart?” Tom points out with a smirk, getting another eye roll in response. It’s fine because Ryland’s lips finally twitch upwards into a smile, his previous frown disappearing. “I told you. We are a match made in heaven.”
“You really are insistent, aren’t you?” For the first time, Ryland doesn’t sound annoyed by that fact. Instead, he seems amused and maybe even somewhat intrigued. Good. Tom is also intrigued by this sharp-tongued, witty science guy, with a pretty glare and even prettier smile.
“Actually, I’m usually not. There’s just something about you. I just feel like I have to have you, you know?”
Ryland doesn’t look entirely convinced, and the way his blue eyes seem to assess Tom makes him feel like he is under some sort of inspection. It does seem like he passes it, based on the way the other’s gaze softens.
“I’m still not giving you my number.” Tom is ready to bang his head against a wall — not really, his face is worth millions, but still — but Ryland keeps talking. “I’m not that easy. However, there is supposed to be a crew party tonight that Colt is dragging me along to attend. If you feel like showing up at the bar, I might let you buy me a drink.”
Crew bonding isn’t Tom’s thing. Crew bonding in a shitty bar, in a shitty Norwegian town, in such shitty, cold weather is definitely not Tom’s thing. There is no way he’d say yes if he was in his right mind.
“See you there, sweetheart.” He agrees anyway.