Title: Looking Back Pairing: None really; Colin & Ryan friendship Rating: PG Summary: Colin and Ryan reflect on things they consider important. A/N: This is really short, and really fluffy -- possibly too fluffy. Erm, and the first half had already been posted to my journal. It always started the same. A smile he tried to contain by pulling his lips back into his mouth like he'd just eaten something sour. But even if the smile didn't make it to his mouth I could see the amusement in his eyes. That look that made me want to push for more. It always started the same, but it didn't always end the same. I dug deep for something to make him lose control. Sometimes it was so random and nonsensical that it made me think I was a hack who was eating up a weekly chair that someone more talented deserved. But it was precisely those times that I earned my reward: Ryan losing control. He'd laugh so hard we'd break the scene, which -- I know -- isn't how it's supposed to be. But it was what I worked toward every taping. And whenever I got there, it didn't just make me happy to see my best friend genuinely amused. I also treated it like I was one step closer to paying off my debt to him. Without Ryan, I don't think I would have ever made it out of Vancouver. So I loved to watch him laugh. Most of the time when it happened he'd look away or otherwise he'd never get his control back. And that was good. Once or twice, though, it was even better. Because he'd lea on me as he laughed and I could feel his love for me. Making Ryan laugh was addicting. So addicting that somewhere around the second to last season I completely gave up on the audience and focused on him. The way I see it, you have to love what you do, or what's the point? I knew from the way he carried himself, and from the half-bitter comments he made to me when we were alone that Ryan wasn't enjoying this like he used to. So I tried to make him laugh. Not a grand gesture in the slightest. But it might just have been the best I could give. *** It didn't always start the same. Well, in a way it did, I guess. A moment of randomness from Colin followed by a glint in his eye and a smug suggestion of a smile that meant he was going to push things even further. I wouldn't have been doing improv on national (hell, international) television if I wasn't good at it, but Colin got me to laugh so often that I felt unprofessional. That feeling of being an amateur shouldn't have been as intoxicating as it was. There were too many of those moments for me to remember them in detail, so most of them are just a pleasant jumble of "Colin" in my memory. But I do remember one taping in particular. Greg was there, and on our wat to setting up for Greatest Hits, he stopped Colin and they exchanged a word or two. I don't know what Greg said to him. All I do know is that Colin break-danced with Wayne and I could barely restrain myself from tackling him in a bear hug after. Colin pretended it was no big deal, just another day on the job; all I ever got out of Greg was a wicked smile and the suggestion that Colin lost a bet. But whatever the reason he may have had for doing it in the first place, I could tell -- after -- that he was damn pleased with himself for making me laugh. He used to thank me, constantly, for fighting to get him on -- and keep him on -- the show. He didn't stop until I insisted. And I suspect that even now, if asked, he'd tell people he owes me a thousand times over. It's unnecessary, though. He has more talent than anyone gives him credit for, and if you can't help out your best friend now and then, there's something seriously wrong with the world. I couldn't have done that show forever, and I'm not going to lie and pretend I could. But when I look back and miss it, 99% of it is because of Colin. He thinks my backing him was a big deal. I just think it was a small price to pay for some happiness. -- end --