𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞...
↬depicts: colt seavers, holland march, lars lindstrom, and ryland grace
↬warning: nothing serious. mild mentions of alcohol abuse and dangerous stunts. no spoilers for project hail mary either
↬notes: this is my first time writing anything in a year.. be nice. hoping that this'll push me to be more consistent with writing
𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒
• you know how little kids will beg you to turn around and watch them do a cool trick, only to show you a three inch jump off the ground? yeah, that's colt. only those three inch jumps are more like dangerous, life threatening stunts.
• he tries sooooo hard to impress you. not because he needs to, but because he loves the look on your face after when you're hitting him on the shoulder with a poorly contained smile and asking what the fuck is wrong with him.
"whattt, you can't tell me that wasn't a good shot! come on, i did, like, three rolls in that car and barely have a scratch! that's *got* to get some sort of recognition." colt wraps an arm around your shoulder, peering down at you with a much-too-excitable expression for your taste. it made pretending to be annoyed with him pretty hard— his ultimate goal at the end of the day, you knew that by now.
"yeah, that's ignoring the bruise on your side the size of texas, you adrenaline junkie." you snarked back, barely managing to push down a smile at his antics. it didn’t matter, colt knew you well enough to sense your amusement no matter how well it was masked.
"you, my friend, need to get new insults." he huffs playfully. "do you know how many times i've heard that? it's practically recycled material at this point—! i didnt take you for a plagiarist.." he leans in closer to your face with a proud smile before pulling back moments later. you notice a flush spreading to his ears, and silently avert your eyes with a small grin of your own.
"you know you've got about three minutes to meet ryder in his trailer for a stunt revision, right?"
"...shit—" is all he colt says before taking off, leaving a small cloud of proverbial dust in his wake.
• being a crew member constantly surrounded by moving parts and very loud, very demanding split-second decisions made it hard to get any real socializing done, but somehow colt had found a way to worm himself into your routine. it was like he'd just showed up on set in front of you one day, all messy hair and a teasing glint in his eyes, leaning down to smirk "watch this" into his walkie talkie.
• you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.
• thats why when he glances at you for a little too long, or smiles at you when he thinks you won't notice, you dont mention it. not the way he always seems to be hovering around you the second he's got a moment away from the scene, nor how his voice cracks when he says your name more than anyone else's (okay, thats a lie, you do mention that last part, but if only to tease him for the momentary high note).
• theres a part of both of you that is afraid to take the next step. to push your playful arguing into something more serious: more unexplored. not to mention the amount of explaining you'd have to do to your parents around dating a stuntman— rather than some secure, tight lipped businessman like they'd always imagined. and god, the paperwork surrounding workplace relationships alone was enough to have you retreating back into that old rhythm of push and pull with colt... never too much to break the seal, but never enough to satisfy the ache in your chest. you were sure he felt the same way, but it was better to stick with what you had. the both of you knew that.
• er, at least, you did. colt's search history said differently. "movie themed pickup lines," "love song playlist," "best food in town," "cheapest food in town," the list went on.. modern problems require modern solutions, okay?
𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇
• get ready to have a grown man pinning after you like a middle schooler, because holland march is a force of nature with a penchant for stupidity, and then some.
• how on earth you captured his attention is beyond me. there are simply too many places you could have caught the detectives eye— promptly saddling himself up by your side with a five o'clock shadow and a grin that screams trouble. that's almost assuredly what happens.
• the minute you ignore him to greet holly instead, holland knew it was over for him. someone who didn't roll over at his shit and liked kids??? label him as successfully whipped, for he just found his favorite new thing to daydream about. and a little more, if you know what i mean.
• god he wants to look cool in front of you so bad. boasting about cases that he's solved (and ones that he hadn't..) is his favorite way to pass the time around you— at least until holly calls him out for it, grumbling that "no self respecting adult wants to hear about the time you lost a suspect in downtown traffic."
• he neglects to mentioned failed cases from that point forward.
• when holland is sober, he's far more easily riled up by you than anything else. he has penchant for calling you his "secret weakness," even if its anything but a secret with the way he's practically tripping over himself to catch up to you at any point.
• on the rare occasion that he had enough money to spend on something other than food, bills, or booze, holland takes a trip down to the local radioshack in order to make a mixtape. whether or not he realizes it, a lot of the songs he puts on there are ones that bring the thought of your smile to his mind. holly notices a change in the type of music playing the next few times she's in the car, but she doesn't say a thing.
• drunk holland is a different story, but when is he ever not?
• healy can barely stand to be around him when he's drunk after you enter the picture. if he had to sit through one more drunken, hiccup-y monolog about how goddamn beautiful you are, he swore that he would give up drinking (a boldfaced lie, sure, but that's how fed up he had gotten with holland's blubbering).
• you definitely get more than a few payphone calls from holland, the detective doing his best to sound coherent as he giggles into the receiver how sweet you are, and that you should come over to... whatever street he happened to be standing on that night.
• on the rare occasion that you show up its always to get him back home safely. not that he remembers much other than the smell and interior of your car
"y'er sho good to me. i ever told y'that?" holland mumbled into the upholstery lf your backseat, face smooshed against the fabric unabashedly. you were sure there'd be a drool puddle by the time you got to his place.
"yes. almost every time we do this actually." the sight that follows your sentence carries a feeling of pity with it. mostly for holly for having to deal with them when you got him home, but also for holland. things had been starting to make more and more sense ever since healy let it slip about his wife (rest her soul).
the car makes a slow right turn into a cul-de-sac as holland shuffles around in the backseat, fighting with a seat belt for a moment before leaning up into the front seat.
"you smell like a bar." he giggles as your nose scrunches up at the scent, and despite yourself you feel your heart seize a fraction. "sit back and buckle up before you fly through the windsheild, march."
"y'sound sho nice when you say my name." he either ignores you or just doesn't register your words; either possibility could be true when he's in this state.
"sit back." you twist briefly to shove holland into your backseat, cheeks flushing with heat when you accidentally make content with his exposed chest instead of his shoulder. since when did he take his tie and jacket off?
"button your shirt up before we get inside." you demand, killing the engine and slipping out of the car to walk over to the door holland was currently using for support. your expression remained unchanged as you opened it, watching his frame spill out onto the sidewalk below.
"hi." came a toothy grin as he looked up at you from his spot on the floor. you had one hell of a time trying not to smile down at him.
"just— get indoors before the neighbors see you ass."
"whatever y'say partnerrr."
• god he was a mess. unfortunately, you happened to like that
𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌
• ohhhh baby you're in for a treat... a very sweet, very awkward treat in the shape of one lars lindstrom.
• you probably met him through work or karin and gus. new to town, more likely than not, and new face for the rural wisconsin residents to welcome and usher around. it's almost like being surrounded by excitable toddlers in elderly church-going bodies— every one of them more excited than the last to show off their home (and, apparently, a few matchmaking skills of their own).
• besides visiting the chappel every sunday (sometime wednesdays!) lars doesn't really make much of an effort to show up around town. bianca helped with that some, but it's still a slow process. it's not impossible to get ahold of him, per se, just very... rare. even rarer to capture his attention longer than an initial meeting— at least according to his family, the likes of which had practically begged the two of you to meet just a month into your move.
• lars can't remember what he liked about you at first.
• no really, he couldn't even if you asked. he was too busy trying to turn in the opposite direction of the diner at the time. unfortunately, karin's bruising grip on his parka had long since decided his fate.
"they're nice lars! everyone has been telling them about you since they've got here," came karins encouraging whisper as she comandered lars into the warm embrace of a diner "they're excited!"
her crackling voice, while normally familiar and comforting, was instead sending lars' brain into overdrive. he'd been promised a nice calm trip to the thrift store, not an ambush.
he blinked in rapid sucession, doing his best to look he wasn't literally being dragged into a nightmare scenario. the intense fidgeting of his mittens and self-soothing sway to his stature broke that illusion almost immediately.
a desperate look was tossed gus's way, but his brother returned it with a sigh and a shrug as if to say "what can you do?"
"a lot, actually." lars' mind whispered back traitorously.
"lars.. just give them a shot." karin's tone sounds heavy with something he can't place, so he turns around to get a better look. he's unsettled to find that she's using her pleading face. she knows how lars feels about that.
"please, buddy?" gus finally steps in, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. he looks at something over lars' shoulder. "just this one time, okay?"
lars swallows thickly.
against his better judgement, he nods, and that's that.
• maybe it was your unabashed smile or the way that you included him in nearly every conversation, waiting patiently for lars to put in his (brief) two cents before speeding along, that has lars sitting in the booth longer than just a few minutes. whatever the case, he found himself unable to look away from you, even if his line of sight was fixed on the slope of your nose rather than your own cheerful gaze. baby steps.
• gus and karin did most of the talking on lars behalf that day, but by the time the two of them had driven lars home from the diner and said their goodbyes, he couldn't help but feel like your attention had been on him the whole time.
• he could be imagining things...
• ...but he could be right. and that thought was more exciting than anything else.
• hope you're ready to have a shadow. any chance he gets to cross paths with you from that point on, and lars is nervously asking you to visit, always for a new reason or another.
• it starts out with helping him collect firewood while he hacks away— innocent enough, even if the thoughts running through your head as you watch him are anything but —to coming over anytime karin and gus had leftovers, taking walks down by the lake for "vitamin d", and, eventually, borrowing extra sweaters that lars just so happened to have "lying around." the both of you know that's not really the case, but you wear them anyway, and come back smelling like him the next day. a fact lars can't seem to handle without a few dozen blinks to reset his brain.
• he knows it's a crush. you know it's a crush. karin and gus know it's a crush. hell, lars wouldn't be surprised if his local office creep and cubicle buddy kurt knew he had a giant, head over heels crush on you. the photo of you smiling at him behind the camera sitting on his work desk was proof enough. he really was just that obvious; especially when his ears happen to turn fire engine red at the mention of your name. every. single. time.
• one day he'll ask you out, theres no doubt about it in lars mind. mostly because he knows if he doesn't do it, the rest of the town will for him
• but for now, lars is content enough to take you to his tree house and help you up the ladder every step of the way— even if you don't need it. he's content to send you home with a sweater smelling like detergent and firewood, especially when you lean forward to whisper your thanks like its a cheeky secret between the two of you, breath ghosting across the shell of his ear like a phantom touch.
• yeah, lars lindstrom is content alright. as long as he has you to look forward to.
𝐑𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄
• depending on the situation, he's either the most obvious man on the planet about it, or avoiding everything to do with his feelings. possibly a fine mixture of both.
• part of ryland grace is alight with excitement at the tell-tale signs of a crush (rapid heart rate whenever you're around, an increased flush to his cheeks, and severe loss of speech capabilities, just to name a few), but another, much louder part of him, wants to ignore it completely.
• he was afraid, simple as that. it's stupid, sure, but what if you didn't like him? thought his interests were dorky? what if he said something embarrassing?? or worse, cringe (as ryland's class so often described him). there were simply too many variables for his scientific brain to handle.
• unfortunately, avoidance wasnt an option when he happened to run into you at his diner nearly every week (well, not his diner, but it may as well have been with how often he showed up every morning, wallet already set out and stomach grumbling).
ryland always took the booth in the corner of the room. he liked to made sure that he could peer out the window at san francisco's rolling fog while he waited for his coffee— same as every morning. it was soothing. familiar.
so why was he currently sitting on a rickety bar stool at the counter, anxiously bobbing his knee up and down?
simple: you.
"nice shirt."
the force of ryland's knee hitting the underside of the counter caused a nearby salt shaker to spill over with a clatter, turning a few heads his way.
"uh— what?" his voice came out higher than usual, a breathy laugh tapered onto the end that sounded far too nervous for rylands taste.
"your shirt—" you had turned from your spot two seats down, fork poised in front of you with a bite of egg teetering on it. he'd noticed you by now, of course he had, but the sudden conversation had caught him severely off guard. he hoped you couldn't see how sweaty his palms were.
"i said it was nice. very science-y." the last bit of your sentence was punctuated with a playful wiggle of your fingers
ryland looked down at his chest, past the knit cardigan drapped over his shoulders. the cheery words 'i wear this shirt periodically!' stared back at him.
"thanks." his laugh is full of nerves, glasses sliding down his nose unhelpfully as he desperately tried to pretend your attention isn't pinning him to the spot. "my students say they're cheesy, but, uh, i might be the only one keeping the science pun buisness in tact so..." he trailed off, unsure how much more he should say.
"not the only one." you cracked a smile, tilting your head slightly. you'd set your fork down at this point, and ryland felt a jolt of electricity run through his spine at the knowledge that all your attention was on him. "i'm pretty sure my cousin has a whole collection at home of geology themed shirt-puns. not the same as—" you squinted closer at his shirt before pulling back, thankfully unaware of the flush spreading across ryland's neck. "—chemistry, but still!"
"well, good to know someone out there appreciates a good joke just as much as me." ryland gives you a boyish smile of his own, gaze meeting yours for a second too long before flitting away nervously.
you hum at him happily and turn back to eggs, spotting the approaching waitress by his side before he did.
"coffee?" she asks helpfully, and ryland does his best to sound thankful at the delivery instead of grumpy that she'd inturrupted a very rare moment for him. if only she'd come a few seconds later, maybe he would have built up the courrage to ask you more about yourself.
by the time the coffee had stopped pouring and his server had left to attend to someone else, you were gone. he hadn't even heard you get up and leave.
"darn it."
• the next time ryland sees you, you're wearing a science shirt with one more coffee than usual in hand. you seem to be just as nervous as him, if not more. it has a small smile tugging at the corner of the middle-school teachers lips as he approaches you, sitting down for what he hoped was another conversation.
• who knew stupid shirts could help you make friends in l.a? much less with diner-crushes that he'd been trying to talk to for weeks. now that was just a bonus.