Title: Five Roads Home Pairing: Colin/Ryan Rating: PG-13 Summary: Every moment has infinite possibilities. These are five from Colin's wedding. A/N: This is a work of fiction. No harm is intended. I'm trying something different -- for me, at least - so let me know if it fails horribly: a common opening section that breaks into five possible outcomes. I hope it's not too hard to follow. The tone varies from fluffy to angsty. And this is my first attempt at writing any wives. I usually take the easy way out and pretend they don't exist. Colin's hands were sweaty. He wanted to wipe them on his pants, and, really, there was no reason not to. The tux was a rental after all. But then again, he didn't think there was any way he could subtly dry them without everyone seeing, and then they'd all know he was nervous. He told himself he shouldn't be nervous. A more forgiving part of his brain reasoned that everyone was nervous at their wedding. Even if everyone actually was nervous, Colin thought there was something wrong with that. You shouldn't go into a lifetime commitment afraid, he thought. But he loved Deb, he knew. So maybe the nervousness was normal. And the sweaty palms when nervous? Well, that was just a Colin Mochrie signature that wasn't going away anytime soon, so he'd better learn to deal with it. Ryan was standing next to him, his best man. The ridiculous thought crossed Colin's mind that if he weren't marrying Deb, the only other logical person for him to marry would be Ryan. God knows he loved him enough. And while he was content to love him just as a friend he wished he was brave enough to find out if all of Ryan's suggestive jokes were purely jokes. He almost asked, two nights before at his bachelor party, but he couldn't get him alone and after an hour Ryan was far too drunk to carry on a coherent conversation anyway, let alone one as serious and potentially embarrassing as that. The minister was getting to the part where he asked if anyone had any objections. Oddly, it made Colin relax a little. If this was a movie, it would be the cliche part where the true love of his -- or maybe Deb's -- life came bursting through the door, professing their love. But this wasn't a movie, so that wasn't going to happen. The certainty that he really was going to get married calmed him. *** I. Fairy Tales But it only calmed him for a moment. Ryan shifted and made a soft, rather incoherent sound. Colin tensed. Despite the thoughts passing through his mind a few minutes earlier, he hoped no one else heard, because he wasn't sure he could deal with this, if Ryan actually objected. He was equally uncertain he could deal with what by that point could only be crushing disappointment if Ryan didn't. The minister paused and looked at Ryan expectantly. Colin stared at his shoes. "I, um. They. I'm." It was strange. Ryan was always so confident. Or, he hid his fear well and always at least acted confident. Colin, on the other hand, felt like he might faint. "Maybe we should move this somewhere more private?" The minister's eyes darted between Colin and Deb expectantly. Deb didn't respond; Colin thought she might be in shock. Colin nodded weakly and they left the crowed behind. It was, Colin thinks, probably the most difficult and awkward afternoon he'd ever spent. But his family didn't disown him and Deb didn't castrate him and Ryan went home with him, so it could have been much worse, he knows. Deb told him she never wanted to talk to him again, and she was completely justified in that. As it was, she was far more understanding then he deserved. It's a few months later -- in fact, it's the day after Ryan and Pat were supposed to get married -- and Colin's watching Ryan sleep. He's running his hands gently through Ryan's sleep-mussed curls, trying to decide on the best way to wake him. Then a fire engine goes roaring by and it's too late, Ryan's beginning to stir. He closes in for a kiss, before the moment is completely gone, and Ryan hums his approval as he wakes up -- so much better than him being pissed about the noise. "Morning." Colin grins at him. "Good morning." "What time is it?" "You have a couple of hours before you have to be there." Ryan has an audition for some British improv tv show. Neither of them knows too much about it. Both of them are hoping it could be Ryan's big break, though neither of them wants to think about the possibility that it might put them on separate continents. "Plenty of time for breakfast." Ryan catches Colin's hips before he can get out of bed. "And dessert?" Colin affects disinterest. "Breakfast doesn't usually come with dessert." "Hmm." Ryan rolls over on top of him and starts nibbling his neck. "Guess we should just skip breakfast, then." They have a long road ahead of them, but Colin's aiming for happily ever after. II. Fractured Fairy Tales "You can't do this." The words were soft, but loud enough that the minister and everyone in the wedding party could hear them. There was a murmur rippling back through the pews, and soon Ryan's words would be relayed to everyone. "What?" It was Deb who spoke, and she said it with a half smile, like she hoped it might be a joke. Ryan looked at her like he knew he was breaking her heart. "I'm so sorry." Then he turned to Colin. "I need you." Colin's heart raced. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He hated Ryan a little for saying it at the wrong time, but turning him down was the last thing he thought he could do. "Ryan, I -- " "Colin?" It was Deb again, and she was scared. He got that. After all, he was scared, too. And as much as he hated being the center of attention for all the wrong reasons, he was grateful that their gathered family and friends were loud enough by this point that they wouldn't be able to hear anything that the three of them were saying. "Deb, I can't do this, I'm sorry. I can't say that enough." Colin thought she might punch him in the face, but after a moment tears welled up in her eyes and she ran away. Her maid of honor, Deb's best friend, called him a fucking asshole piece of shit who deserved to die, then ran after her. Then there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Ryan, of course, struggling to find something to say. "I'm sorry. I should have said something earlier." "Don't be. It'll work out, I promise. I love you." Four years later, Colin finds out it was a promise he had no right to give. He can't be sure, but he thinks Ryan's been cheating on him. He can't blame the other man; the thought has crossed his own mind. They hardly see each other and the money's tight. Ryan gets fairly regular work in seedy clubs, but it doesn't pay well. As for Colin, there isn't much work for a balding thirty-something in Tinseltown. Their dreams brought them to LA; Colin thinks they might have been better if they'd stayed grounded in Canada. They were golden together on stage -- they knew that from the few times they shared it years ago in Vancouver. But they should have known that connecting on stage doesn't mean someone is your soul mate off of it. One day, Colin realizes that Ryan never said "I love you," only "I need you." III. Drunken Interlude Ryan swallowed hard next to him. Colin didn't see it, and he didn't think he actually heard it, but he felt Ryan's swallow. Yet no one else noticed and his friend didn't say anything, and the moment passed. Short minutes later, Colin walked back down the aisle, this time, arm in arm with Deb. Later still, Colin's ducked out of his reception for a smoke. Just one. He's giving it up, after all, but he needed an excuse to get away from the crush of family and friends wishing him well. Sometimes people are overwhelming. The cold dark of the parking lot is a relief compared to the stuffy reception hall, and Colin finds himself lingering long after he grinds the cigarette out with the heel of his shiny black wingtip. Sill unwilling to go back inside, he lights another and tells himself that this will be the last one. As it's burning down to the filter and he's wondering if maybe the third time's the charm, there's a flash of light and noise as the door opens and a figure steps out. A familiar voice says, "I've been looking for you." "Maybe if you looked somewhere other than the bar..." The way Colin sees it, Ryan's been avoiding him all night. He hasn't had too much time to check up on his friend, of course, because it's his wedding and he has other obligations, but every time he's noticed him, Ryan's been at the bar. He has a drink in his hand now, in fact, and alcohol is thick on his breath. He shouldn't be pissed off at his best friend right now, but he is, and he needs to get away before the scene turns ugly. "I was just going back inside." "Col, wait." There's a hand on the wall next to his head. Colin sighs and tries to focus on Ryan's face in the dark. "You can't do this." "Do what?" "Marry her." Colin's stomach turns and his heart tries to leap up his throat. It's quite the internal organ circus. "Ryan, it's done. I love her. We're married." "I love you." "Ry, you're drunk." It's the truth, but that it's the only reason Ryan's saying these things is a lie, Colin's fairly certain. Ryan steps closer. "You'll always have me, but it's a little late for this now." Ryan's so close they're touching, and Colin's sandwiched between him and the wall. He shifts a little and his tuxedo jacket protests where it's snagged on the uneven surface of the brick. "Do you love me?" Ryan asks with a needy whisper. Colin's hands are playing with Ryan's jacket and they are beyond sweaty. He thinks about Deb, and how much he loves her. He thinks about promises, and how they should be kept. He thinks about all the explaining he'll have to do, and how much he's going to end up hurting people. "Yes." Any space that's left is closed and Ryan's lips are on his, warm and hungry. Colin hears the glass Ryan was holding shatter as it drops to the ground, forgotten. Colin moans, unconsciously bucking against Ryan who takes this as encouragement and forces his thigh between Colin's legs -- more than welcome pressure and friction. It's not enough for either of them, though, and soon Ryan's hands are on his belt, working it open. This requires them to separate a fraction. With the aid of that minimal space Colin regains some self-control. He just got married; he can't fuck his best man in the parking lot and then go straighten things out with his wife later. "Wait, Ry. We can't -- not now. I need some time." Ryan understands, at least, and sags against Colin. They breathe together for a while, trying to get themselves under control. "I need to find Deb. But don't leave, okay?" He nods and pulls away. Colin grabs his hand and pulls him back to kiss him lightly. The kiss lingers longer than it should and time slows down even more for Colin as he sees a flash of brightness as he begins to pull away. The door's opening and anyone coming through is going to be bad news because he and Ryan are still in a rather compromising position. But it's the worst possible person. Colin's been gone for a while and she must have started worrying. Deb runs back inside. The door slams shut behind her, and the night returns to darkness. IV. Life's A Stage "I object!" The voice next to him was loud, confident, and authoritative. The room went silent, and the silence stretched on. "Kidding, I'm kidding." Ryan waved his hands and shook his head, half apologetically, half still teasing. Colin shook his head too. Their friends were all comedians; he should have seen this coming. He shook his fist at Ryan and said, "Why I oughta..." Deb went one better and reached across her soon-to-be husband to punch Ryan playfully on the arm. "This isn't Perry Masion." Ryan smiled. Hell, Colin smiled back at him. But he saw guilt in Ryan's eyes and he couldn't look there too long. So he turned back to Deb, and smiled at her genuinely. It took a fraction of a second for her to smile back. As the minister picked up where he left off, Colin though he saw relief in her eyes. But he wasn't sure -- he was always better at reading Ryan. V. Still Life It was their anniversary, Colin's and Deb's. He'd tracked down a pair of shoes she'd been coveting ever since she saw them in Glamour or something like that. They were strappy and had an impressive heel that still wouldn't bring her anywhere close to eye level with him and were entirely too expensive for the amount of material they were made out of, but Colin knew she'd love them. He didn't know what she'd gotten him, but from the knowing glances he'd been getting for about a week he knew it was going to be good. Not that he really needed anything. Colin could genuinely say that he was perfectly content with her just being his wife and didn't need fancy presents once a year to remind him of that. He was cooking a special dinner later, but at the moment he was trying to do some paperwork. It doesn't matter how successful you get -- and Colin couldn't complain -- you still have to pay the bills. About five bills in he ran out of postage and began rifling through drawers for stamps. He didn't find any, but he didn't look too long either, because a picture caught his eye. Normally he would have shoved it aside and kept looking, as an identical copy -- or one very much like it -- sat framed in the living room. But it was his anniversary, after all, and he was feeling nostalgic. It was a picture of the wedding party. He looked happy in it; they both did. As he really looked at it though, he noticed perhaps for the first time that he was standing just a little closer to Ryan then to Deb, and that Ryan had a fake stage smile plastered on his face. The reason for that fake smile so many years ago, however, remained elusive. They had posed for what felt like hundreds of pictures that day, and the smile's meaning could be no more than that Ryan was tired. Colin wondered, not for the first time, if he could have made a different choice and told Ryan he loved him before he got married. He's not sure that it would have been a better choice. He had a good family, a job he loved, and countless supportive friends -- and he owed most of that to Ryan. But he didn't think the 'what-ifs' would ever go away, either. Colin made a mental note to call Ryan in a few days, just to hear his voice, even though he knew they both found their phone conversations superficial. Then he went to start on dinner. -- end --