•─────────•❋•─────────•

chapter twenty: russ tyler, #56

a/n:

rory and charlie are my little babies.

•─────────•❋•─────────•

After breakfast that morning, Rory, even if she's still so tired that she feels nauseous, goes to the gym in the vain hope she might tire herself out. Bombay's been keeping a log of how much time they've been spending in there, anyway, so, even if she's already gone over her quota for that week, she figured she'd kill two birds with one stone.

Running a steady pace on one of the treadmills, she tries to focus on the words to a song from Face to Face by The Kinks instead of the wall in front of her. She wonders who ever thought a wall of mirrors was a good idea for a gym as she glares down at the buttons on the panel in front of her. Did they ever think about how harmful it was? Did they ever consider the fact that people might not want to see themselves in this state? Did they even care? Her deceitful eyes drift up to the reflective surface as she gets lost in thought. While her knee only hurts when she's overusing it, her face is taking a while to heal. The bruise is more blue than it is purple, now, but it's still so painstaking against her pale skin that she can't not look at it.

Forcing herself to ignore it (and her eye bags), she figures she looks decent for a girl with less than a few hours of sleep under her belt.

She hopes so, at least.

Charlie's face enters her point of view abruptly and shocks her out of her reverie. He's jumped up on the front of her machine so he could look her in the eye, holding onto the panel to keep steady, and smiles sheepishly.

"Hi?"

"Hey."

"What are you doing?" She pants, struggling to take off her headset and keep up her pace at the same time.

"I have this idea to bounce off you." He says innocently and waits for her to nod before he continues. "So, with Adam benched, we have a seat to fill, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, if we don't want you or Guy to have to play twice as hard to compensate as the remaining best scorers on the team, we'll need a new player. I have an idea on who to pick."

Rory stops running, standing on either side of the belt, and stares at him with pinched brows.

Shouldn't Hendrix have a reserve of extra kids for this exact scenario?

"And?" She asks. "Do you need me to, like, talk to my dad so he can make Tibbles do something?"

"No."

"Then why do you need my help?"

"Russ Tyler thinks you're neat."

Her shoulders deflate as she picks her water bottle up to take a sip. "Charlie, I don't know about this. I just wanted to take a nap..."

•─────────•❋•─────────•

For the second time in her life, Rory slides to a stop in front of basketball courts in downtown Los Angeles and considers leaving Charlie for dead. She's not entirely sure how he convinced her to finish up at the gym, get her roller skates, and follow him out here, but she's going to punch him whenever she does figure it out.

Perhaps there's something to it.

Perhaps there's a reason that it's so easy for her to succumb to Charlie's happy-go-lucky method of leadership.

Or, maybe she just, for someone with a pedigree that consists of hard-ass, business-savvy people, has no spine when it comes to her friends.

The two of them must stick out like a sore thumb because they're noticed by Russ, his brother, and all of their friends almost immediately. They put their game on pause as the two approach.

"Check it out!" Michael calls out as they slip in through a gap in the fence. "Fish out of water!"

Rory casts Charlie a withering glance as they're approached by the boys but manages to smile as they're swarmed. Their excitement is palpable, half of them so joyous that they're talking over each other and the other half choosing to express themselves in head pats and gentle elbows to the ribs. Rory's (already tired) head spins as they ask questions about the last two games, and why they are there, and how they're planning to wipe the floor with those Iceland kids. They try to keep up with them-- hi, how are you, yeah, the game was cool wasn't it?-- but they get lost halfway through.

Rory, also, stares as the 'use the breaks, baby' boy tries to dap her up, confused until he laughs and shows her how to do it.

"Alright, alright! Shut up!" Russ waves his hands. Michael purses his lips, and the other boys share looks of both amusement and frustration, but the boy ignores them in favor of squinting at her. "Saw you kiss that wimp on live television, Richie Rich. Guess I don't have a chance anymore?"

Her expression falls flat as this big, goofy smile breaks across his face. Charlie coughs to hide a laugh.

"You never did."

He sucks his teeth, still grinning, as his friends and brother laugh at him.

"Anyway," Her captain puts a hand on her back, "we're actually here to talk to you."

Russ points at himself for confirmation. He lifts an eyebrow when they nod.

"Okay, so, remember how our teammate got hurt on his wrist in the game with Iceland?"

The boys give them various versions of 'yes' but Russ fidgets in place. Rory wonders if he feels a little guilty for how much heckling he (apparently) did.

"Well, he's been benched for the time being, and we're going to have to fill his slot if we don't want to be overworked." She says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Charlie figured who better to ask than a loudmouth with a crazy trick shot?"

Slowly but surely, all eyes turn to land on Russ.

"Who? Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"No way, man."

Rory tries to muster up the exact words that Don Tibbles used to convince her, but she can't. What do family honor and business mean to kids like Russ? He's way too normal for that speech. He'd probably prefer something about patriotism and American values, or maybe a whole spiel about how special he is, but she wouldn't know how to touch on those, either. Patriotism and American values don't come naturally to the daughter of a British capitalist, and she's never been told how good she is at anything enough for her to be able to reassure someone that way.

Her gaze flits to Charlie.

Luckily, he's a good captain, and he's much better at this than she is.

"Hey, man, can I talk to you?"

After a moment's hesitation, Russ agrees to step to the side with the captain.

Leaving Rory all alone with a group of boys that she barely knows.

There's an awkward silence in their wake, all of them trying to listen to the hushed conversation that they're not a part of. Rory's head aches and she squints in the bright light but she forces a smile and breaks the silence.

"We, uh, taught Luis how to stop, by the way."

That same boy grins. "Really?"

"Yeah." She nods. "We had to make obstacles and work for hours every day, but he's finally got it."

"Good. How are you gonna be a hockey player but not know how to hockey stop?"

"I've asked myself that question a few times."

Eventually, long after conversation finally starts to flow between her and the older boys, Charlie and Russ finish their talk and come back over, the latter smiling so wide that his face might split in half.

"So?"

"I'm gonna play hockey for Team USA!"

As his brother and their friends swarm Russ, clapping him on the back and cheering, Charlie turns to Rory. She cocks a brow at his expression.

"What now?"

"Now we go convince Coach."

She groans loudly, pulling her wallet from the pocket of her exercise pants.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting money so we can take the bus. I'm not skating back."

"You left the hotel with your wallet on you?"

•─────────•❋•─────────•

Bombay's office is easy enough to find. It's in one of the four or so buildings that were on the same block as the hotel and is, while of a decent size, somehow bleaker than any office she's ever been in.

"Coach. Coach." Charlie says, excited, and pushes past them to go in. "I know with Banks out, we've got a roster slot open."

Rory lingers in the doorway and Russ stays in the hallway behind her. Bombay, who'd abandoned some paperwork at the sight of them, cocks an eyebrow and glances between the two of them.

She smiles nervously. Awkwardly.

"Yeah?"

"Well, you know how I always told you I'd make a better coach than player? I-- Rory and I did some scouting for us."

The brunette snorts a laugh and shifts to lean on the doorframe. "He's pulling your leg. I was just bait."

"Shut up." Charlie turns his back to Bombay and petulantly sticks his tongue out at her. "Let him in."

Looking over her shoulder, she smiles and gives Russ an encouraging thumbs up. He slips past her without much fuss.

"Russ Tyler, Coach Bombay."

Bombay looks at her with an odd expression, his eyebrows pinched, as Russ grins brilliantly.

"Hiya, Coach."

"Russ Tyler, huh?" When she gives him no input, Bombay turns his attention to the boy. "Well, Russ, what can you do for the team?"

The boy is visibly offended by the question.

"You never heard of my knucklepuck?"

She looks down at the floor, heaving a sigh but biting back a grin.

"Knucklepuck? No."

Charlie and Russ exchange a look, and plans are immediately made to show the coach what their newest new recruit can do. After that, the kids are (rightfully) shooed from the office so he can return to his work and Rory swivels, excited to take the nap that she's been deprived of all day.

"Hey, Lorelei, wait a second."

Sighing shortly, she backpedals into the room, putting a hand on the doorframe so she can lean halfway in.

"Yeah, coach?"

"I benched Adam... I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you are okay."

Bombay leans forward, elbows on his desk, and stares at her with uncomfortable intensity.

"I'm okay." And it's honest because the pain has faded into occasional soreness.

He nods, exhales deeply, and smiles softly at her.

"Thank you, Lorelei."

"Rory." She corrects gently. "Call me Rory."

Bombay nods. "Alright, Rory...I'm glad you're feeling okay."

"I'm glad too, coach. See you later."

"See you."

They exchange another smile and she ducks out of the room, happily making her way back to the hotel.

•─────────•❋•─────────•

"You look exhausted."

Rory nods tiredly, crawling into her bed and resting her head on Averman's chest. He was lying down when she got there, holding her Hobbit copy gently and thumbing through the pages, and he doesn't voice any complaints as she settles.

In fact, he simply starts scratching at her scalp, something that makes goosebumps erupt across her skin.

"Couldn't really sleep last night."

"Why not?"

"Dunno. Got a lot going on in my head, I guess."

He nods. "Wanna talk about it?"

Rory thinks about that, the cogs turning slowly because she's sort of drunk on her exhaustion. The sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers in her hair distract her from her train of thought a few times.

"No. M'not gonna bore you with the details."

Averman breathes a laugh. "I thought I told you, a jokester or not, that it's my duty to be bored with the details."

"You did." She mumbles. "But I'm happy. I'm in my Hobbit hole right now. I don't wanna talk about my issues."

He looks down at her with furrowed brows because he doesn't quite get that one, but he nods anyway. Eventually, with the combination of the exhaustion and the hair play and the quiet of the room, Rory's breathing evens out and she settles against him. He lets himself be used as a pillow and, when Connie comes into the room to get some stuff, he shushes her so that his girl can get some sleep.

Averman's going to take care of her, even if it kills him.

•─────────•❋•─────────•

a/n:

#myrtleman

idk. something about charlie valuing rory's opinion on things and rory following his leadership so blindly???? love and trust??? in a grace fic???? unheard of.

comments and votes are super appreciated! they let me know that you guys like my writing and I cannot stress how much they motivate me to continue! thank you