Being Ryan Stiles and Contemplating Destiny Pairing - Ryan/Colin Not Rated Summary - what goes through his head normally - but especially during those crucial times. Disclaimer - I certainly have no ownership rights to Whose Line and any *being* aside from myself. This piece is complete fiction; any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental ;o) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Ryan." The voice whispers. "Ryan…" I halt at the feel, more so than the sound of my own name being breathed against the back of my neck. Arms are snug around me, warmth encompasses me as I muse to myself and do my damndest to complete the scene. This is what makes Helping Hands my least (and most) favorite game. I'm the baggage clerk at a grocery store, and she's the customer, going through the check-out line, and addressing Kathy Greenwood shouldn't be this hard. In fact, it should be easy. She's an easy one to play off of, but my hands are trembling, and I think maybe I'll have another beer. The audience laughing is drowning out the sounds of Colin's whispering behind me, and I'm grateful for the wig beneath which I blush profusely. God, that man… Hands pull another cucumber from the bag, and Kathy shrugs, feigning innocence. I make eyes at her, gesturing with the vegetable before slinging it back into the bag with hands not my own. I've said something funny; the audience is laughing. Oh good. I'm still taping. Thought I had gotten stuck in one of my fantasies again. To the untrained eye, it looks as if the game is progressing like normal, but behind me, Colin is teasing, pressing closer, breathing gently. When Colin begins tossing the second beer from hand to hand, I can see out the corner of my eye, Drew and Wayne are kind of seeking cover. Colin is like a piece of hot steel behind me, and I might drown in the heat he radiates, but first…I mus t…complete….the…scene… Kathy yelps a bit when I open the beer and it squirts out of the can - as predicted. The studio audience is going wild, and behind me Colin groans softly, and my ears redden at the imp lications…*sigh*…if only… Now I'm guzzling the warm ale, and then the words I'm speaking, the lines which are apparently getting me laughs, along with Colin's gestures are a mystery to me as I nearly lose myself in the feel of him. Helping Hands is unadulterated torture. The sound of Drew's buzzer is bittersweet music to my ears, ending the punishment, but placing distance between us. How could anything feel so traumatic? It's approximately one hour when taping finally ends (I know this because I keep glancing at my watch), and maybe ten minutes after that when I am changing in my trailer. The knock comes to the door several seconds later. "Come in." I call, tucking in my shirt. When he enters, my heart skips a beat, but I do my best to remain neutral-faced. "Hi." He nods, smiling. "Hi. Great show tonight." I feel the corners of my lips turning upward. He has no idea; how could he know? I wonder if I should tell him. "Wanna go grab a few beers?" I ask, clearing my throat. He pauses before answering, turning his attention to my tiny little wood paneled bookshelf. I take this moment to observe him. He's small. Not tiny, but shorter than I am by several inches. Although, he's stronger than he appears to be, he gives the impression of frailty, fragility. His pale skin is smooth except for the fine hairs on his forearms, and he carries himself lightly, stepping as if on eggshells but naturally. He's so comfortable in his skin, and as he turns his brown eyes on me, I melt inwardly. He's handsome in a non traditional way, baby-faced in some aspect and totally open to me. His head is balding, and to someone who didn't know him, he might seem aged, even old. But I know him enough to know the mischievous way in which he carries on, the boyish ornery glint in his eyes. I shiver lightly when he speaks. "Lets go to my place." He says out of the blue, and I am shocked and stunned - but oh so damned pleased. What can this mean? Generally, my days go like the following: I wake up in my bed, next to my wife, barely registering her presence (having long since stopped) as I go about the simple morning tasks of throwing on a pair of old jeans and falling into a limo or taxi that takes me to the studio. It is only then that I begin to emerge, the true person I was meant to be. At home, I'm stifled. Here, I'm a part of something, and it is here where I see him most. It is in this studio where we work together for several long hours, and it amazes me that I never seem to tire of him. I actually look forward to his face, his scent, his voice. His entire being is a part of my professional environment like files to an administrative assistant. Without them, what would one work with? What would be the point? We tape the show, and I barely notice when eight or ten or twelve hours has passed because I'm so wrapped up in it. And then, (because we've been friends for nearly as long as I've been an adult) Colin Mochrie and I go have a beer - or several - because it's just something that we do. The fact that I love him, have loved him for so long doesn't factor into the equation anyplace because to jeopardize his friendship would be to jeopardize my life. I'm content just to have his attention. But tonight, during the taping something was different. It's only natural that he teases me during Helping Hands. He's been doing it for years, but something about him felt more suggestive. Something about his body against me, something about his breathing…I dunno. He couldn't possibly know how I feel. I've never let on that anything serious was going on. I've only ever flirted with him about as much as I flirt with anyone else. That he's my idol shouldn't have anything to do with it. He's a comic genius. Everyone on the show idolizes him - even those who don't voice it. So, we're in his limo and I'm surprised by the lack of conversation. There should be bantering, joking, silliness. Instead I'm trying to battle these damned butterflies tickling the inside of my stomach and Colin is on his cell phone. From the sound of it, with his agent. When he's off the phone, he turns to me. "I may have another gig on Drew's show." I nod, glad for the opportunity to spend more time with him. "Sounds good." I say simply. Then, he studies me. "You okay? You seem pensive." I chuckle at his use of the word. "I've always tried to figure out the major difference between Canadians and Americans, and now I know what it is." Colin raises an eyebrow. "You mean besides the taxes and the geographical?" I snort. "You're too damned formal! You're all Americans - just with a bigger vocabulary." He cocks his head. "Some people might argue that." "Well…" I shrug, noncommittally. "..there *is* the whole French thing…" my voice trails off. "You're nervous." He says, and I meet his eyes suddenly. "What?" He continues. "Listen, we don't have to go to my flat. I just thought it would be a change of pace - since I'm not really in the mood for an L.A. crowd or onlookers constantly asking, 'Can I have your autograph?'" I smirk and mock punch him in the arm. "Hey. Why would that make me nervous, Col? It's just us." Yeah, I've said the words, but I sure as hell don't believe them. In fact, I'm finding myself wishing someone else were along for the ride. Wayne or Greg or …Hell - I'd even settle for Drew. Anything to take the pressure off because the closer we get to his place, I feel myself becoming starved for oxygen. He has no idea and I don't know how to be around him - alone - feeling like this. When we get to his door, he takes his key and slides it into the lock, then uses another one for the deadbolt. There is a light on in his kitchen and I suddenly wonder if his wife is here. "Have you been here since we remodeled?" He asks, moving about the room smoothly while I stand here in horror at myself for breaking into a sweat. "Um. No." I swear I didn't mean for it to sound like a Peter Brady impression, but my voice is suddenly prepubescent. Colin notices and moves towards me. "You look absolutely rotten." He says. "Have a Heineken?" I nod, unable to speak. "Have a seat, while you're at it." He says while I head towards the living room. "You're acting like a virgin bride on her honeymoon." I feel my lips curl into a grin and flop onto the soft couch, trying to recapture some of the comfort I had before I fell in love with Colin. When he returns from the kitchen, he's carrying two beers and a bowl of pretzels. "The help I hired made a chicken soup. Can you believe that?" He sits next to me, leaving one cushion between us before tossing me a bottle and opening his. "That's all I need, right? Food for the soul. What am I, a sick and shut in?" I smile at his casual witty self before turning my attention inward. Maybe he wouldn't take it so hard, the fact that I fantasize about him. Of course, one might argue that he provokes a lot of the attention with his little comments and gestures and touches. It would almost seem as if *he's* the one with the crush on me, but Colin has been around longer than I have. He's above wearing his heart on his sleeve. On the other hand, maybe he just needs the right segue… "Hey Col," I address him as he turns on his television. "You get internet, right?" He nods absently, glancing at David Letterman's top ten list. "Yeah." "You ever been to a Whose Line web site?" He shakes his head. "No. Should I?" I shrug, taking a swig. "Well. I don't know. There's some crazy people on line. I mean, more than a little… crazy." "Yeah. Don't I know it." He replies, kicking off his shoes, crossing his legs at the ankles and stretching out a bit. My mouth goes dry at the tiny sliver of skin I see between the top of his socks and the hem of his slacks. God, I'm a lunatic. "Colin, they're suggesting that you and I have some kind of…" I pause, searching for the word. "…'thing' going on." He meets my gaze. "Whose suggesting that?" I shrug, suddenly unsure. "Um. I dunno. Fans, I guess." Colin takes this in, then nods his understanding. "Well, I don't suppose that's so weird. I mean, after all - look at how we carry on. I'm constantly groping you on the show." "Yeah." I say. "But they think we're like that in real life." His brown eyes seem to twinkle as I hold his gaze. "Is that so bad?" My heart begins a slightly faster rhythm as I consider his words. "Um…." I fight for control. "It's just speculation, Ryan." His voice is even, unconcerned. "Hey, at least they're not pairing you with Drew Carey, right?" I snort a laugh but inside I feel the embers of desire beginning in my abdomen. Colin rests his head back against a cushion, and I watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. "What if it were true?" I ask, letting my gaze travel down his neck and into the open collar of his shirt. He turns to me just in time to catch me in my visual journey. "What if, indeed." His voice is barely above a whisper as I reach instinctively towards him to brush a finger against his brow, testing the waters. Then pulling my hand away as if it were burned, I lower my gaze and clear my throat. "I'm sorry." I say, quickly. "God, you must think…" He reaches out to take my hand. "I don't think anything." he says, and brings my hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles. My heart beats unsteadily against my ribcage as I feel myself getting light headed. His lips are so warm and so soft. Oh God. Kill me now before I arrest. This is insane. The moment seems to last an eternity before I feel his hand reach for me, and I slide closer, my body moving of its own accord. "Colin…" I sigh as his hand comes behind my head and pulls me into a kiss. Things race through my mind, and I try to force them away as I focus on his mouth, on his sweetness. This is unbelievable. Somewhere deep down, I thought maybe this could be possible. I was hoping, but I wasn't sure. Colin is so quick to change. One moment he's grabbing me, holding me close in an embrace, the next minute he's the father and husband. The seemingly straight guy. Not anymore, I think as his hands slide through the waves of my hair, and his tongue reaches for mine. With one hand, he's holding my head in place. The other is on my shoulder, then sliding down my back to rest against my hip. I'm eagerly tasting his kiss, deepening it and deciding where to put my hands. In another instant, he's pulling back to look at me. I wonder if I look as hot as I feel. "You okay?" He asks, resting a hand over mine. I nod. "Oh sure. We just kissed each other outside of Whose Line - By the way, I think I'm in love with you, and I also think I have a stiffy, but sure - I'm peachy." Colin chuckles softly. "You're sounding like a bad Woody Allen film." His finger traces my jaw line, slowly as he continues. "We don't have to take this anyplace - if you don't want. Either way, nothing will have changed." I shake my head at his words. "What do you mean, 'nothing will have changed'? Things have already changed, Col." He nods. "Well. I guess I just meant that I can't possibly love you any less than I already do." His words jolt through me like electric. My God. Can it be true? "Colin, I'm…" "Surprised?" He completes my thought. "You shouldn't be. I feel like I've dropped enough hints over the years." I shake my head in disbelief. "If by dropping hints, you mean grabbing my penis during a game of Party Quirks…" He smirks. "No. I mean I've tried to be as close to you as humanly possible and be there for you in every capacity without letting on how I really felt." He sighs. "I was just hoping that destiny would lead us to this…wherever 'this' is. I'm still not entirely sure." "Me neither." I muse out loud, then I turn to him. His brown eyes are alight with contentment, if such a thing is possible. "What are you thinking?" He doesn't respond for several seconds, then he smiles. "I was thinking that kissing you in private is infinitely more intimate than onstage." I nod my concurrence. "Yeah. Well. Duh. That was all acting." "Was it?" He has that secret gleam in his eyes, and I reach for him again. This time, the kiss is less urgent, more explorative. His mouth is lightly grazing mine as I let my fingers slide through the soft hair at the back of his neck, cradling his head in my hands. I can't fight the urge to bring one hand down and let my fingers dance against his chest. Even through his cotton shirt, I feel his heat. I feel his heart beating. The sensation shoots straight to my groin. When I pull away this time, I stand and start to pace the room as he watches me with question marks for eyes. "What?" he asks. "You're making me nervous." I don't respond for several seconds, then I stop. "I don't know what to do. I'm conflicted. " He relaxes against the couch cushions, regarding me. "What do you *want* to do?" I shrug, finally coming back to sit beside him. "What do we call this? Where should we take it? Why do I feel like I want to throw you against a wall and…" Colin's eyes are wide with amusement as I pause in mid sentence, horrified at myself. "Whoa, cowboy." Colin's voice is playful. "Throw me against a wall and what? I'm curious…" My ears get hot and I know they're bright red. "Colin…I've never felt this way - about any guy." I pause and close my eyes. "Now, I want you…like that…" He nods. "It is surprising at first, isn't it? The first time?" I swallow and meet his eyes. "You've…with a guy, before?" "Yeah." He says, standing and disappearing into the kitchen, returning with two more beers. "I don't know why you're so shocked. I know I've mentioned it before." I snort a laugh. "Um. No, Col. If you'd have mentioned sleeping with a guy before, I'd have remembered." With nimble hands, he opens both beers and hands me one. I don't know what to make of his behavior, but I still feel oddly aroused by it. He's a tangle of contradictory elements, masculine one minute, soft the next, always somewhat stoic even when being funny, and I never really know how amused he actually is because he rarely laughs. His face is neutral even now when he utters the words that nearly make me fall out of my seat. "One time with Greg." He says, casually. The sentence fragment, taken out of context, might seem cryptic to the outsider, but I know exactly what he means, and my stomach lurches - in hostility and (dare I say?) jealousy. "You fucked Greg." I manage, raising my bottle to my lips with a trembling hand. "You did *not* fuck Greg." I pause, mid- swig. "Proops?" He nods. "Yes. Greg Proops." Now, I'm chugging back the ale, grateful for the cold bitterness, wishing it could cleanse the knowledge I've just received. They had sex and he didn't even think to tell me? That's great. Some friend. "You're pissed." Colin says, quietly. "Listen, I didn't tell you before because…" I raise a hand. "No biggie, Col. I know you didn't tell me because I didn't even know you were…" "Bi-sexual." He completes the thought. "I didn't want to categorize myself. Not to you for fear of you hating it. Hating me." I smile sarcastically, stand, and go to the kitchen for another beer, returning with only one - for me. "It's okay. So, you're bi-sexual. Hell, I could have told you a long time ago about my little 'crush' but I thought you'd be mad. I could have spared you the desperate experience of sleeping with Greg Proops. God, I still can't believe that." My stomach clenches. "Was he good?" "What is it, Ryan? Are you angry that it was him or are you just pissed that it wasn't you?" He asks, quietly as I turn to him with fierce eyes. "Fuck you, Colin." I hiss and stand to leave but he gets in front of me so quickly I don't even know how he does it. "Don't." He whispers. "Not like that." He places a hand on my chest and I feel myself sinking, surrendering - just that quickly. "I'm sorry." I sigh. "Maybe I' m…jealous…or something…" He nods, letting his hand slide from my chest to my shoulder. "It's okay. He's not the one I love." His words cause a wellspring of moisture to pool behind my eyes and I let him take me in his arms. "Jesus, Colin…" I breathe against his shoulder. "…Why didn't you tell me?" Instead of responding, he kisses me gently on the neck and when I face him, he brings his mouth to mine. We stand like that for several minutes, embracing and kissing, and then finally he speaks. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I'm telling you now." His voice is uneven. "I've wanted you forever." I nod and caress his face with one hand. "I don't really know what to do with that, Col." I say, only half telling the truth. "Do whatever you want." He's smiling at me, his coffee eyes shining. And it is in this instant when I realize that whatever destiny lies ahead for the both of us, it rests in my court. Then I take him in my arms, hold him tight and decide to never let go. END