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After the match is over, Luke puts an arm around him and tells him to take a moment to himself, to regroup and recover from the shitshow that was his singles match.
It could’ve been worse, Rory tells himself. There were a couple of highlights for him in there, and Scottie left him some room he probably could have taken advantage of more. He didn’t, though, and that’s why he’s walking out of this without a contribution to his team.
He makes his way back to the team room in a daze, mostly just trying to avoid anybody noticing him and ignoring anybody who does. His feet lead him to the quiet rooms, and he collapses onto the bed face first. His phone is. Somewhere. He should probably set a timer to let him know when he should go back to support the team, but it probably won’t be more than ten minutes before he starts getting antsy and makes his way back on his own. Things didn’t seem to be going great when he left, and he knows he needs to bring what encouragement he can so the unfathomable ending where they lose after everything doesn’t come to be, and since they won’t lose, he’d like to be there when their victory is secured.
For now, though. Ten minutes of peace. He forces himself to focus on the feeling of the bedspread against his forehead instead of literally anything else.
There’s a knock at the door.
Rory sighs. “Occupied.” It might not be audible given that it’s spoken into the mattress, but he hopes his tone transcends words.
“Yeah, I know. Can I come in?” is heard through the door. It sounds like Scottie, which is strange considering this is Team Europe’s room and Scottie is not European.
Rory makes a noise that Scottie interprets as an invitation, even though that’s not really how Rory meant it. Whatever.
He forces himself to turn onto his side so he can see Scottie sticking his head into the room.
“Oh, this is nice,” Scottie says after a quick appraisal of the room, before finally looking back at Rory. “I wanted to make sure you were fine, I guess. After everything.”
“Of course I’m fine. Just tired, but you already knew that.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”
Scottie starts to retreat, like that one question is the only reason why he broke into Europe’s team room.
Against his own better judgement, Rory stops him. “How did you get in here, anyways?”
Scottie reopens the door enough to stand halfway inside the room. “I mean, it’s really nothing. I told the guy outside that I wanted to collect, and he let me in. I only wanted to check in, though, since I was worried. I don’t think either of us have the energy for, uh, all that.”
It takes a second for Rory’s stalling mind to figure out what Scottie’s referring to. The Winner’s Rooms. It’s an old clause in an agreement or something that nobody’s taken advantage of in at least forty years, as far as Rory knows, but since Scottie won their match, he has the option to use Rory’s body at his discretion in the Winner’s Room. It’s what the quiet rooms are, technically, because they’re required to have them, even if they’ve been cleverly retitled and given a purpose the players will actually appreciate.
Rory would rather never play golf again than submit to Scottie like that, so it’s good that it sounds like Scottie isn’t all that interested in trapping Rory in a Winner’s Room. There are better things to wonder about, instead. “Why were you worried?”
Scottie raises his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’ve played five rounds in three days, you’ve heard some of the worst things I’ve ever heard shouted at you for a lot of that, and even if it was better today you still seemed out of it. If you’re not able to celebrate after Team Europe wins, I’d be upset on the USA’s behalf.”
“You have no faith your guys can pull off the comeback? Last I saw, Ludvig was the only blue on the board.”
“We might get close, but I think you guys still have enough in you to pull through. You know me, I’m a realist.”
“I do know that.” Rory flips onto his back and closes his eyes again. “I also know you’ve been through the same shit as I have, so I don’t know why you’re concerned about me when you should be with your team right now.”
There’s a pause, and Rory would almost think Scottie had actually left if he hadn’t not heard the sound of the door closing. He opens one eye, and Scottie is indeed still standing there, looking conflicted. Rory has no idea why.
“Either go and be with your team or come in and join my ten minutes of quiet. Don’t just stand in the door, it’s not helpful.” He closes his eye again and takes a deep, centering breath.
Rory hears the door shut, and he thinks Scottie has finally left, until there’s a rustling and a soft exhale as, Rory can only assume, Scottie sits down next to the bed. Rory opens his eyes and turns his head to confirm, and yup, there’s the back of Scottie’s head.
Contemplating his next move too hard consumes precious brainpower he’ll need for later, so Rory doesn’t overthink scooting over on the bed to make room for Scottie, since the floor is not a fun place to be after a round of golf like the one they just played. He rests his hands on his stomach. “On the bed or in your own quiet room.”
Rory closes his eyes again just before he feels the bed dip. Soon enough, Scottie’s shoulder is pressed against Rory’s own, since these beds are not quite wide enough for two people.
It’s kinda nice. Reassuring. He knows he could bury himself in a hug from Shane or have Luke pull him into his side at will, but there’s something special about this, with Scottie, who was there alongside Rory for who knows how many hours today trudging through the same shit. They might be against each other most of the time, but somehow that adds to their camaraderie. Equals, yet opposite. It’s easy to empathize.
Maybe it’s odd it’s happening in the Winner’s Room, but Rory can’t really bring himself to care. He lets himself relax.
Until he starts getting nervous, the urge to see how his team is doing battling the exhaustion that permeates his body and his soul, until it eventually wins. He heaves himself up with a sigh, rubs his hands over his face, and starts to move off the bed when Scottie grabs his wrist.
He settles back down, looking back at Scottie, who’s looking up at him with a face that Rory doesn’t really know how to read.
“I lied,” Scottie says.
“About what?”
“About not wanting to collect my Winner’s Room.”
Rory flinches away instinctively. To hell with the rules, he is not going to let Scottie's dick get anywhere near him.
“No, no, not like that.”
Rory watches with trepidation as Scottie sits up, then reaches out to Rory with his free hand. Rory stares at Scottie as Scottie cups Rory’s face in his hand, swipes his thumb over Rory’s cheek. Scottie stares back.
“I just wanted to–”
Scottie’s intention is clear in the way he leans in, slowly, waiting for Rory to escape. Something keeps Rory in place.
Scottie’s lips brush against Rory’s, almost no different from the pressure of their shoulders against each other earlier. Rory feels the slightest scrape of Scottie’s beard, keeps his eyes open so he can see Scottie’s are closed.
There’s a rush of warmth through Rory that doesn’t leave even as Scottie pulls away and his eyes flutter open again. His face feels hot, at least.
Rory has no clue how to respond to that. Scottie doesn’t seem like he expects a response, getting up first. Scottie opens the door for him and follows him out of the team room, not eliciting a reaction from the person outside.
The bulk of Team Europe is probably still on the sidelines of the 18th green, and so is Team USA. They make their way over together, and just before Rory splits off to check in with Luke, he hesitates, adds a “see you later” in Scottie’s direction that he hears over the crowd, going on the small smile he sends Rory’s way before folding himself back into his team.
Rory comes up on Luke’s right, and Luke puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once. The weight is familiar, and Rory relaxes.