The Warren

Right.

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 17:05:07 GMT

Few things to say here. One of which is "sorry for the lack of updates", because I've been busy as hell for a while with the exams and such. Secondly, I'll be updating this journal even less for a while because I'm taking a break from Whose Line fanfiction and, through that, fanfic100 for a while. This isn't because I've got fed up with it. Of course, I might be writing some hot Ryan/Colin drabbles in my notebook from time to time, I just won't be posting them up that much. This is because I'm gonna start work on mission_insane, recommended to me by the lovely Rhi. I'll be writing about U2, which will be, hopefully, awesome. I was thinking about posting that up on this journal, but I've decided it's better for me to set up a new community, seeing as Mission Insane is more demanding - but a little freer - than FF100. Also, it'd clog this journal up like hell. I'll post a link up to the new comm when I've got it set up, somewhere on my personal journal.

Before I leave to plot my devious U2 RPS, I'll leave you with a poem I wrote this afternoon. Enjoy!

Name: Scene from a moonlit bedroom, part 1.
Word Count: 240.
Rating: 12, for mild slash and some "language".
Pairing: Tony Slattery/Paul Merton.
Notes: My attempt at blank verse. Might be horrible, but you decide. It's more focused on atmosphere rather than action, but there are hints to what's going on. Hopefully it'll become clear.

He wasn’t sure quite what to say or do,
To think, to feel, to scream or weep or kiss,
All he knew that night was a single fact –
They pushed him to the point of no return.
Lying in bed, his lover by his side,
It could be perfect if he had not called,
Called out into the dark for help, for love,
When all the other team - mates did was laugh.
They pushed him to the point of no return
On a night when life should have been perfect.
He had a man and money, what was wrong?
Jealousy pushed another off the edge,
To no return, spiralling, sleeping rough,
Nights in hotel rooms. Balmy, moonlit, Paul.
Look at him there blithely dreaming of
What could have been a perfect night with him.
A man he saw in such a unique light,
Though others might have found him quite risqué,
Paul saw Tony for who he really was.
In the light of the moon – voyeur, he waits,
They pushed him to the point of no return.
He wouldn’t let Tony fuck him tonight,
He’d wait for his time to come and whisper:
“I’m still with you, I’ll never leave your side.”
While Paul rests; mulls this over in his mind,
Tony smiles - he sees Paul move in his sleep,
“They won’t hurt us tonight, Paul, not ever.”
Paul saved him from the point of no return.

Diamonds on a ring of gold?

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 16:26:38 GMT

Title: All I Want Is You
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie
Pairings: Ryan/Colin. Hints at Tony/Colin.
Word Count: 541
Rating: 12
Summary: Because nothing broken can be truly fixed. But that didn’t stop Colin from trying to fix Ryan after a near – death experience.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.

Colin frowned as he started at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be to get all the pieces of glass back together and in a decent mirror – like shape. Sure, it had changed from a rectangle to a circle in the process and sure, it was slightly smaller than before, but it did the job. He had, rather hurriedly, decided to reassemble the mirror with a tube of strong glue, piecing the shards back together until they resembled some type of mirror. It worked, but the faults appeared, distorting Colin’s features, not too comically obvious, but none too subtle either.

For a moment, he wondered why he was holding a mug of coffee in his hand. Then he saw a figure in the background of his reflection and remembered.
Ryan.
When he had got back to the apartment after an encounter with Tony, he had found Ryan lying on their bedroom floor, surrounded by shards of glass and the mirror’s broken frame. Was he dead? He checked the pulse point on the side of Ryan’s neck. No, Colin sighed a sigh of relief. Were there any wounds? A few scratches here and there, but nothing too serious, he thought. They’d heal sooner or later. He decided that the best thing to do was to pick him up off the ground and to take him a few steps to the right, into his bed.

He had slept soundly and opened his eyes for a moment, halfway between the realms of consciousness and dream.
“I,” Colin hesitated, “I brought you some coffee.”
“Thanks,” he took the mug from Colin’s hand and gratefully drank the coffee. “I needed that.” Yawning, he looked around at the room. It was clean. Tidy. Neat. Fixed. Not how he had last seen it, that’s for sure – in a state of chaos before he had drifted away.
“What day is it?” Asked Ryan, his voice hazy.
“Tuesday,” Colin replied. “You’ve been asleep for three days. What happened, Ry? I was worried at first. Then I was reassured, simply because you were still alive. But then the sleeping started, the long, languorous, dreamless sleeping. Comatose, I thought. I thought you might not ever wake up.”
“I nearly didn’t. There was darkness, all darkness, then a dream; a blinding light.” His voice trailed off as he began to smile. “I turned away from the light, of course.” He added wryly. “Turned away from it to find a light of my own right here.” He smiled again, as if seeing Colin with new eyes.

Colin nodded appreciatively at Ryan, knowing that he was already on the road to recovery. “It’s good to have you back,” he mused.
“I don’t think I’ll be doing that again, you know.”
“You stay here for now. Don’t worry, I’ve told Tony. He can explain what happened to the rest of them.”
“Really? But why him?” There was a glitter of concern in Ryan’s eyes, a flash of a pained, knowing expression.
“He understands. That’s why.” Colin paused, blushing a little; remembering the feel of Tony on him. The thought, however, drifted off, away with other memories, as he wrapped his arms around Ryan.
“I’ll never leave you again.”

Reflect what you are...

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 18:55:35 GMT

Title: I’ll be your mirror
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles.
Prompt: Broken
Word Count: 331
Rating: PG
Summary: Ryan and a bout of angst, of which he cannot find the reason for.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Inspired in part by The Velvet Underground’s “I’ll Be Your Mirror”, as evident by the title.

Shards of the mirror stared back at me, reflecting my every move as I wandered around the room surveying the damage I’d caused. They glittered and distorted, tearing myriad reflections into pieces – all fragile, all still, all broken.
I couldn’t help but watch them, the small slivers; the larger slices, torn off erratically. Seven years’ bad luck? I’d sacrifice that for what I did. Admittedly, it really was rather satisfying to go into my own room and pummel the mirror, letting it crumble within itself after the first strike of a kitchen knife hit itself; watching it shine as it slipped to the ground.

Why did I revel in that? Why was it seen as such a powerful gesture for me to do? Why didn’t I feel any sort of guilt? Maybe I was having an off day. I might have seen something of me in those pieces of ruined glass, something fragile, something pained.

Of course it couldn’t have been that bad!

But there was an unshakeable feeling that it was as bad as I thought; that I, like the smashed mirror, would distort anything that I saw into pale, glittering flashes of empty air. Maybe I just cared about Colin too much. Maybe the overpowering love I had for him was clouding my vision. Was this wrong? I didn’t think so, but I was sure that Colin and my fixation on him was something to do with it. He knew how I felt; he probably felt the same way about it. He’d even told me that he loved me on many occasions.

We shared an apartment!

It had to be my own fault - I just couldn’t come to terms with everything, all the time we’d spent together. All those shared kisses…
I couldn’t get up. I was there, lying flat in the middle of the bedroom, surrounded by flat pieces of a broken mirror.
If only there had been a way for me to get back up again.

Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:56:26 GMT

Title: The night is ours
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Colin Mochrie, Tony Slattery
Prompt: Strangers
Word Count: 257
Rating: 12 – ish
Summary: In which the mysterious man’s (as introduced in “His Former Self”) identity is revealed.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
We will return to your normal Ryan/Colin shortly. Thank you. Also, hints at Tony/Richard.

Little Damn Table is here.

x - posted to </a></b></a>fanfic100, </a></b></a>britline and </a></b></a>nausicaarabbit (writing journal).

He was speechless; his head was still swimming. Overcome with emotions both contrasting and complimentary, he reeled back, slamming himself into the wall in shock.
“I suppose,” said a cut – glass English accent from the other side of Colin, “I suppose I did go a little further than I expected to. That isn’t exactly a problem though, is it Colin? Colin, are you there?”
He murmured, falling to the ground in a heap.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it Colin? It’s not a problem.” His voice changed suddenly to a slight whisper. “I won’t tell Ryan, I promise.”
“It’s not that,” Colin yawned. “It’s just, I don’t know why you did that.”
Tony wasn’t sure what to say to Colin’s response. It may have been a little rash, that was for sure, but he’d always felt something towards him, even if it were only a pang of lust in between his daily goings – on. Sure, they weren’t often paired together in games; they weren’t even good friends outside of work, but Tony couldn’t help but see something in Colin.
“We’re practically strangers, Tony. Why did you have to do that?”
“I don’t know myself.”
“Not like I didn’t enjoy it, though.” He nodded weakly in approval. “You’re pretty good, I must say. No wonder Richard gives you the eye all through recording. Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on between you and him.”
“Eh? Oh, Richard? I can understand. Come on, you don’t look too well – I’ll get you a cab.”
“Thanks.”
“Ryan’ll be missing you.”

Do you love me? Are you playing your love games with me?

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 21:24:47 GMT

Title: If your glass heart should crack
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie
Prompt: Years
Word Count: 223
Rating: PG
Summary: What happens when two friends are reunited after twenty years? In the long years before, they knew hardly anything of each other, but soon enough they will learn more. Alternate Universe; may be continued as a US Whose Line series.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation. It is alternate universe, in which Colin did not follow Ryan to London in the heady days of the late eighties, but is reunited a long while after. May not be specifically set within the UK series of Whose Line, but makes reference. There is frequent use of the second person, and is written from Colin’s POV.

It’s taken all these years to find you and now that I have, I don’t know what to say. You’ve changed, I can tell – not much, but there’s a difference. Is it something about my own personality that’s stopping me from saying or doing anything relatively meaningful? Nobody can exactly tell what’s going through anyone’s mind – especially what is going through my own.
“I’ve missed you.”
Great, you’re saying the only thing that I would have been able to say with my mind cramped and my vocal cords snapped like this.
“I’ve missed you too.”
“Where have you been?”
“Oh, just working. It hasn’t been much. Just a few gigs here and there. Not like you at all.”
I’m not sure whether to admire him or to be jealous.
“Yeah, I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Pretty much everything, now I’ve got out of that stupid dead – end life I had as a nobody in a club… I’ve enjoyed myself in London, but it’s great to see you again. It must have been, I don’t know, twenty years or something? Twenty years since I last saw you.”
“It wasn’t as if we were that good friends, either.”
“Aw, Col, that’s in the past.”

I still don’t understand how I ended up in your arms later that night. But I guess some things need no explanation.

Title: Love Games
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie
Prompt: How?
Word Count: 100
Rating: 12
Summary: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and an impromptu game of “Questions Only”.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation. 100 word drabble inspired, again, by “The Mighty Boosh.”

“What are you doing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Are you implying something?” Ryan sighed, as he tried to get back to sleep. Colin smirked. “Would it be a problem if I was?”
“Would it be better if I implied something?”
“Is it possible not to be aroused by that?”
“Hey,” he put his head on Colin’s naked shoulder and grinned. “Who’s asking the questions here?”
“Don’t you understand?”
“Does it look like I understand?”
“Do you…” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you love me?”
“What?”
“Are you playing your love games with me?”
“Would you like to play?”

It is done.

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 22:27:51 GMT

Title: Brownies
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie, Greg Proops; Tony Slattery
Prompt: Too Much
Word Count: 568
Rating: 12
Summary: Much to Colin’s amusement, Ryan made brownies and started talking like Carol Channing. Were these two incidents linked? We can only wonder.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation. Inspired in equal parts by the “Party” episode of The Mighty Boosh, Melville’s “Bartleby” and Ryan Stiles’ Carol Channing impression.
This is my attempt at light humour. It… May not happen again. Please excuse the grammar, changes in tone and lapse in continuity. It was a bunny that needed to be written.

Colin arrived home from an early evening walk to a shock, when he saw that the kitchen was in a mess, more so than it had ever been since they moved into the flat in north London. Ryan must be cooking something, he thought. This will end in tears. In spite of this assumption, Ryan was not in there, but somewhere else entirely. It wouldn’t take too long to scour the flat for him, Colin thought, although it may take up more energy than is really necessary. Much to his surprise, Ryan was, in fact, in the kitchen.

“Ryan,” he said, taken aback at his unannounced appearance. “I looked in there and couldn’t find you.”
After a pregnant pause, eyes wide open and grinning, Ryan responded. “You didn’t look hard enough.”
“That’s not a problem now I’ve found you, I guess. But answer me this.”
“I would prefer not to, Colin.”
“If you would let me finish the question, then you might change your mind.”
“I would prefer not to.”
“Ryan, why are you talking like Carol Channing?”
“I would prefer not to.”
“Then why aren’t you stopping?”
“I would prefer not to.”
“Well then, Bartleby, would you be able to answer me this? Why is the kitchen in such a mess?”
“I would prefer not – I mean, I was making brownies. Lots of brownies.”
“I see.” Colin began to pace around the kitchen, looking on at the chaos in horror. “So Ryan, why is there a cauldron in the middle of the room?”
“Well that’s to make the brownies right. First you bake them, then blanche them in a cauldron. If you don’t have a cauldron, an industrial drum works in the same way.”
“You know I can’t take you seriously when you’re talking like that,” Colin suppressed a smile. “There’s something else in those brownies, isn’t there?”
“Yes. I think I put too much in. Although, I haven’t seen the devil yet, so it mustn’t be as much as I had last time.”
“There was a last time?”
“Forget I just said that.”

It was clear to Colin now. Ryan was, as much as he had thought beforehand, even before he knew about the brownies, high as a kite. Not permanently, he added, but today – as well as on a few other occasions – he was. He wondered whether this was good for his own morale, but instead of worrying, Colin preferred to just point and laugh at Ryan when he was in this state. Even after the effects had worn off, he was still able to do the impression. That mustn’t have been the reason – that was just the normal, for want of a better word, Ryan.
When asked to do the impression by Greg in a break between sketches, however, Ryan couldn’t, unless he had had one of the brownies as a snack.
“Does it work on me?” Greg asked, after trying a bite of one.
“I don’t think so… How about me?”
“No, Colin. It doesn’t. You two are just giggling like schoolgirls at the lamp over there, though.”
“But it’s so shiny!”

There was no stopping them now. They had been giggling, to the point of near insanity, for twenty minutes. As the scene unfolded, Tony walked into the green room, stared at the three men on the sofa, paused, raised an eyebrow; then walked away.
“I don’t think I want to know.”

Couple of drabbles

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 20:30:25 GMT

Title: His former self.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Colin Mochrie and a mysterious man. Make of him what you will.
Prompt: Who?
Word Count: 202
Rating: 15 for slash and darkfic.
Summary: He wasn’t sure who it was approaching him, but that may have been for the better.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.

Little Damn Table

He wasn’t sure who it was approaching him as he left the studio. Whoever it was, their shadow loomed closer every second, threatening, like an approaching storm. The silhouetted frame was disturbingly familiar, yet at the same time, alien. What would happen to him? He did not know. Who was it approaching him? He couldn’t know, shouldn’t know; wouldn’t know.

The figure leant in towards him, overwhelming him with short lived, tender kisses that seemed like they’d been kissed before. And yet, there was always, in his mind, something unfamiliar about it all, in spite of the unknown man’s familiar touch.

Slowly, as the other man, the vague, blurred shadow of a man began to grind into him, pushing him hard against the wall, still smothering him with kisses, he realised who it must be – it was as if a blinding light had been flashed in front of his eyes. He let out a moan as the other, still uncertain in his mind, bit down on his lower lip, causing it to bleed a little.

Softly, he released him from his grip, recoiling with dizziness. He looked into Colin’s eyes that were still glazed with shock, with a smirk.
“Missed me much?”

Title: Still Alive
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie
Prompt: Death
Word Count: 166
Rating: 12 for dark themes and mild slash.
Summary: It was a triumph. He’s making a note here: Huge Success. Ryan wakes up from a rather strange dream. Whose Line/Portal crossover.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation. Portal is copyright of Valve software, I believe.

Ryan awoke suddenly, bathed in a cold sweat. “Where am I? What the hell just happened to me?” With the shock of Ryan’s waking up, Colin rolled over to the other side of their bed.
“You’re here, Ryan,” Colin murmured, still half asleep. “You’re here, with me.” He paused. “So, was it a bad dream?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“It was dark, so dark, except – except for a few circles in the air and the walls, circles everywhere – blue and yellow – a woman with a gun…” His speech was erratic, his gravely voice catching on each word. “I – Col, I was alone in there, alone inside my own head, the chiming voice of that computer ringing in my ears.”
Colin saw his pained expression and reassured him with a soft, drawn out kiss. As he broke away, Ryan furrowed his brow, broke down and let out a few hot, angry sobs.
“Col, I saw my own death there.”
“Not yet, Ryan, not today… Today, you’re still alive.”

NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE! I WROTE TWO - WORD SLASH!

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 17:14:16 GMT

Well this afternoon, I had a go at writing one of those six - word stories, or short short stories, or flash - fictions that people write if they're as pretentious as me... And they were rather addictive to write, especially because you can just leave so much to the imagination while saying so little, yet being emotive and... I rather like it. So I wrote twelve, for a few Whose Line? common 'ships, and a few one - offs. Well, one. It's all a little different to what I usually do, but it's always good to experiment.

I might try and write some exact hundred - word drabbles later, because I feel like it, and because I can.
Title: Flash Slash Frenzy (The name of the series. I don't have separate names for each, yet.)
Author: Me. Nausicaa.
Pairings: Ryan/Colin, Clive/Josie, Tony/Richard, Tony/Paul, Greg/Tony, Greg/Ryan.
Summary: A sentence each, everything else is left to the imagination.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
This idea came about on a whim, and is only an experiment. I may continue it, I may not.

Crossposted to britline.

Ryan/Colin

We live in a fucked – up world, Colin, be strong.
Clive/Josie
One minute she’s here; the next, she’s gone.
Ryan/Colin the second
You’ll find your yellow brick road someday.
Tony/Richard
Richard plays, I listen; we fly.
Tony/Paul
Where were you when you were needed the most?
Greg/Tony
Watch those fireworks explode, watch them burn, baby.
Greg/Tony the second
You’re telling me that you did what with Greg?
Tony/Paul the second
Whatever floats that boat of yours.
Greg/Ryan
Don’t be so naive, trust me.
Ryan/Colin the third
Come closer.
Tony/Richard the second
This is what you want.
Tony/Paul the third
Will you be here if I die today?

1917 - 2008

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 08:16:45 GMT

(This is a little early to be posting for me, but the Muse works in mysterious ways, I guess.)
Title: Far Stranger.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Colin Mochrie, Ryan Stiles
Prompt: Earth.
Word Count: 268
Rating: U
Summary: Sometimes, only the most oblique response can be the perfect way to sum up your feelings. Such is the case for Ryan Stiles.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
For the most part, this ‘fic is Colin stream – of – consciousness, but there are a few snippets of dialogue, however vague they might really sound.
In memory of Arthur C. Clarke. I just hope this is in as good taste as it can be.

Little Damn Table.

"How inappropriate to call this planet Earth, when clearly it is Ocean." – Arthur C. Clarke.

He didn’t look right. There was something in his eyes that spoke to me about an allusion to some sort of event, or some sort of filthy joke gone wrong, but I wasn’t sure why, or what, or how, or even when, this had come about. His hair was more dishevelled than usual. He was slouching. There were lines engraved in his face that I had never seen before. I became confused – he had been absolutely fine the other day, even yesterday at the studio he was in good spirits. Problem was, I was afraid to even ask him what was up, in case I would hit on a particular nerve that just wouldn’t stop twitching and he wouldn’t stop talking about it. Instead, I thought about space, and how lonely it must be up there for someone travelling there; how isolated they’d be up there. It must be so awe inspiring to see the Earth from there, shining all green and blue like a jewel. I realised how much we needed to go stargazing again, that is, if we could see them through the London pollution. I wasn’t even able to think about what space travel really would be like, if only because I’d never had the chance to take part in it. Although that really is a poor excuse for not having an imagination; even so, I’d rather just speculate. Sometimes speculation, fiction and escapism are the only ways to see into the future; to do something about our real – life situation.
“Ryan, what’s wrong? You seem disheartened.”
“The truth, as always, will be far stranger.”

Ryan and Colin in the morning

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 20:35:16 GMT

Title: Ryan and Colin in the morning.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie
Prompt: Drink
Word Count: 538
Rating: 12, for fluffy, sexless slash.
Summary: On the aesthetics of various caffeinated drinks.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
This is my thirtieth 'fic, and through this one, I have also reached the 10K mark!

Ryan rolled out of the bed, woozy with the encroaching sunlight, hair dishevelled and eyes still half shut with the promise of sleep still there in his mind. What to do? Should he crawl back into his bed and get a few more hours sleep, or should he get ready for the day? There wasn’t much choice, seeing as it was a weekday, and what a day at that! There were things to be dealt with, although he wasn’t quite sure what they would end up being just yet.

Of course, Colin was already up, sitting there by the kitchen table, drinking tea from a chipped, stained, ironically patterned mug – that was all well and good, Ryan thought, but why was he up so early? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. The other wasn’t sure either. He woke up at some unearthly hour and managed to stay up for a few more, calmly brewing his tea. At least, that was what he thought. Maybe it was just the force of his willpower and contrary awkwardness to daily patterns that did it.

The coffee machine gurgled happily to itself as Ryan silently paced around the kitchen, dishevelled and gaunt. He needed coffee more than he ever had done that morning. Why couldn’t that machine hurry up and get going? If only he’d slept in late and shared that mutual feeling of annoyance with Ryan, Colin thought.

“Coffee brewed yet?” he asked, flippant and cold.
“Mm. I think so. Why were you up so early?”
“You think I was up early?” Colin pointed at the clock. “It’s already twelve. Besides, I’ve only been up for fifteen minutes before you.
“It felt like hours.”
“I bet. Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You don’t like seeing me brew tea.”
“I don’t, it’s true. There’s none of the sex appeal that coffee has. Besides, you need more patience to make tea.”
“Oh yeah, I really am Mr. Patient of Patientsville, Patientsvania. Now, back to the sex appeal. Tea is better for you than coffee, right? Well, nothing that’s good for you can be remotely hot – but coffee is terrible for you, so when someone knocks back a cup of sludgy coffee in one gulp, it’s so much more alluring than someone mulling over a pot of tea. There’s one exception, though. You make tea drinking look sexy, ‘cause you’re you.”
“But you wouldn’t listen to ‘One more cup of tea’, would you?”
“My point exactly. Coffee’s dangerous and cosmopolitan, tea’s boring and provincial.”
“Are you implying something about me and you, by any chance?”
“No! Tea in itself is like that – the tea drinker in this case being you is a wonderful thing. Then again, you can’t smoke with tea.”
“I know you would.”
“I don’t drink tea.”
“And I don’t smoke.”
“You don’t need to – tea drinking is hot without it in your case.”
“Why?”
“You’re Colin Mochrie.”
I was beginning to doubt whether I was for a moment myself, if it’s any consolation.”
“Don’t we all doubt who we are at some point? Don’t we all wonder what the nature of ourselves is once in a while?”
“Existentialism and coffee, they really do go well together. It’s hot.”

I'll show you a place, high up on a desert plain...

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 22:13:54 GMT

Title: One step closer to knowing.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie
Prompt: Sunset
Word Count: 443
Rating: 12 for mild slash.
Summary: Reflections on life, the universe and everything on Primrose Hill.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.

It was something they hadn’t done together for a while, or at least since the move. It was a way of clearing their heads - a form of meditation, so to speak. That they had to climb all the way up a hill in order to get the best view was something of debatable philosophical intrigue. Nevertheless, it was something beautiful, maybe even profound. The sky had been relatively clear the whole day, a rare meteorological feat for London at this time of the year – well, it was autumn, and the weather had been rather gloomy for the past few days. That day was an exception, the sky changing its colours from powder blue to pink to orange to red in the space of a fleeting five minutes.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Colin smiled, a little embarrassed by what he’d said, but nonetheless honest in his sentiments.
“I guess.”
“Why so blunt? You’re not normally like this with me, Ry.”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s a mid – life crisis, or something.”
“I don’t think you’re ready for that yet,” he said softly, before ruffling Ryan’s hair and planting an impromptu wet kiss on his lips.
“What was that for?”
“Reassurance. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about whatever you’re going through.” He smiled, looking up at the sunset. “Seriously, if there’s anything on your mind…”
“Only the sunset,” Ryan mused, looking up as wistfully as Colin was. “Maybe there was something else, too. Although, I’m not sure what.”
“Oh go on,” Colin smiled, “you know you want to tell me.”
“You.”
“I knew it!”
“But it’s mostly the sunset. No offence to you, it’s just – there hasn’t been one like this for a while, has there?”
“Not that I know of. Come to think of it, a sunset is a little like a lover, isn’t it?”
“Sunsets are like a lot of things. One of them being a sunset.”
“Bare with me here, Ryan,” he laughed, obviously noting Ryan’s impatience at the somewhat implausible analogy. “What I was getting at was, well, a sunset isn’t around for long each day, is it? Even though it’s only here for a few minutes, it’s always something precious. You go to the ends of the earth – well, Primrose Hill in this case – to find a really good one.” He paused for a moment. “And when you find that good one, well, it’s definitely not an anticlimax.”
“I’d say that I understood, but… Does this mean I’m not gonna last much longer?”
“Of course not,” Colin put his arm round Ryan in reassurance. “Just think of it as you being one step closer to knowing.”

Music prompts!

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 22:36:48 GMT

Title: Music is the best! (Series)
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Primarily Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: Multiple prompts.
Word Count: 1,784 words in total.
Rating: Ranging from U (G) to 15 (About an “R”).
Summary: A motley assortment of song based drabbles.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Each of these drabbles is relatively short, as they were all written in the space of each song. All from either Colin or Ryan’s perspective, some with more oblique references to who is narrating than others.

Of course, he’d told me that he loved me more than a few times before. This time was just different. Murmured into my ear, late at night, how it should be done. Not something pretentious and, well, temporary. Three words, just for that moment in time, seemed to last forever. I didn’t even know how it came about, but he woke up with a start, came right up close to my ear while I was fast asleep and woke me up with that. Granted, it was three in the morning, and I was cranky at first, but I wouldn’t have missed that for the world. I asked him no questions about the random act, I just smiled and went back to sleep, his words still ringing clear in my head.
They’d always be there. Forever.
About two hours later, I leaned over to Ryan and messed up his hair, before whispering to him, “I love you too.”
I could tell that the words would stick with him forever. Not the one to forget things, is that Stiles.

“I don’t believe you, Mochrie,” she quips, walking into the distance; pacing away from Colin.
“What’s the matter, Josie? I only said that painkillers might help.”
“How could they help? I have a steaming headache, do you expect me to be able to swallow anything?”
“Maybe some things, but not painkillers,” I quip from beside Colin.
“And you can keep quiet, too!”
“I guess, if you’d rather curl up with a good book or get some sleep than seek professional help, then that’s fine with me.”
“Fine, fine!” She shouts. “It’s just, I don’t exactly trust doctors.”
I smile and catch up with her. Looking at her earnestly, I pat her on the shoulder in reassurance. “It’s alright. Nobody does. It’s like trusting the police. Everyone says they do, but they lie to please the masses.”
“I thought I was the only one who thought that, but no. I suppose sleep could help.”
“Yeah. Call me when you’re not suffering,” Ryan adds dryly.
“Oh, I will.”

He looked up at the enormous sky from the window and pointed up at the moon, a thin half circle on that particular night.
“You know,” he sighed wistfully, smiling his typical half – smile. “In Japan, they say there’s a rabbit in the moon.”
“In Japan, they say lots of things, Colin.”
“Yeah, but that one’s a great one. Can we buy the moon?”
I sigh and shrug my shoulders. “Yes Colin, we’ll buy the moon.”
“Would it be more sensible to buy a rabbit?”
“Worse, I’m sorry to say.”
“We’ll neuter it!”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No. No way.”
“I’ll remember that on my deathbed. I’ll look at you and say, ‘he didn’t let me buy a bunny.’”

He’s something to me, definitely. I can’t really pinpoint exactly what, but he’s something positive, some sort of driving force that makes my life worth living again. He reminds me of some kind of bright colour, somewhere between yellow and orange, something that you can’t exactly pin point, but is definitely light.
Light, something that can be beneficial, something that can let you see, but it can sometimes be fucking intense, so much so that it can hurt you a little inside.
Beware the light, for it will blind you. Beware of innocence, for it will grow up and bite you in the ass someday.

(And it rained all night. Prompt - Winter)
We watched the people sit on trains sodden and laughed. We were so careless and flippant that night. We didn’t even care that we were soaking wet ourselves, we were just so off our heads that there was nothing to bother us whatsoever. Yet, we heard the ticking of some large clock up in the great ceiling of the station. Once we got home, we dried off, but still it rained the next day, and still we got wet. Sensible enough, we stayed at home that afternoon, curled up on the sofa in front of the TV.
But still, the cold winter rain fell the next day. We had to go out, but it didn’t bother us, really.
I think he enjoyed it, really. Through the rain, he was an enigma. Still himself, but I couldn’t see his real soul through the drips in front of his eyes.

Driving across London is something you should never do. Even with a rent – a – car, just driving for a day like this, is painful. I’ll never do it again. Public transport is a much kinder mistress, even though she is unreliable. What happens if I miss the train? Why, Colin picks me up from the station, of course. What happens if a car breaks down? We have to call the AA, and that solved nothing when it happened. Still, we drive around; we drive through time, whatever happens. Clichéd as it might be, we drive along until we break down and nobody is there to pick us up. But what happens next? Nobody really knows. We just have to remember that we were kids once and we were free. If we remember what we’ve been like; what we’ve been through, there can be a chance for hope in the end.
Drive on, Colin, and I’ll drive on too. Whatever happens next, we’re in this together.

I did so much for you, but it wasn’t enough, was it? I couldn’t just be an honest citizen for nothing, could I? No, I had to just do all I could, move to the UK and find myself there. It was a sad life, and I know it wasn’t enough, but I want to go back there. I want to see what it’s become, but I’d rather be comfortable here. I can’t be negative about this, I can’t be angry; I have Colin, why would I be angry?
I’m angry, because of one thing. Every day, someone goes on trial for murder.

“Look at her,” Colin says to the Brit, grinning like a maniac now Josie and I are paired up for Film and Theatre Styles. “She’s obviously in love with him.”
“You think so?” Tony smiles, a little bemused, but going along with Colin. “I don’t.”
“Really?”
“Well first of all, she’s got something for Caroline, hasn’t she?”
Colin goes dead silent. “Has she?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“A little.”
“Second, isn’t there something between you and Ryan?”
“Well – uh – I guess you could call it that.”
“I knew it!”
“What’s your last opinion, before I shoot myself?”
“Well thirdly, she’d be losing it if she ever tried her chances with Ryan. I can’t see it myself.”
“You and me both, Tony. At least, I think.”
“Don’t be daft, he’ll be back for more from you, I can tell.”

“You’re a coward, Colin.”
“Do you really think so? Because I think it’s you who is the coward.”
“Why won’t you try this?”
“I… I’m not sure. Maybe I’m losing my nerve.”
“It won’t hurt. Really, it won’t.”
“What are you trying to get me into this time?”
“It’ll be fine.”
“But – my dignity will be crushed!”
“Hasn’t it been crushed enough?”
“No. You’re going to the gym with me, and you’ll like it. Just… Mind the showers.”
“I’ll try my best to.”

Was I trapped in some sort of ulterior motive of his? It felt like it, that’s for sure. Whatever had happened, there had to be something going on. I could feel a pull towards him from across the room, some sort of magnetism.
Then he bored me with politics. But after that, we were fine. And yet, something came over me every time I saw him. My eyes glazed over, like I was watching some sort of mind – numbing television show when I was really staring at him dumbstruck.
And all this when I was away from my wife. Whatever would she think?
Strangely, I didn’t care. I was in love with him, wasn’t that obvious? But I always felt hypnotised by him, so much so that I was ignorant of whatever was happening to my wife; my children.
Such was his power, if you can even call it that.

The thing is, he’s good at everything. At any game, whether he’s paired with me or not, he manages to come up with a real blinder. Maybe that’s why I love him, maybe I love him simply because he’s Mr. Perfect.
Don’t get me started on how he is with other people. Honestly, he’s a complete saint, even if that isn’t what he’s like with me. He just seems to contribute to humanity with everything and anything he does.
What about when he walks? It’s something else, I’ll tell you that. He really tries to make his point when he walks – something about his self assured look when he strides down from a stool and goes up to the front of the stage makes you think he’s just ready for anything an audience could throw to him.
Honestly, he’s so perfect that he should have a string quartet follow him around.
He carries the weight of the world in his whole body; he’s just this beautiful, perfect, weirdly innocent and downright funny man. He finds something wonderful in anything. He finds goodness in everything that he finds. I’m not jealous – it’s far more profound than that.
It’s downright fucking admiration, that’s what it is. I’m not ashamed, either.

I guess you can’t form a circle without two halves. To put it bluntly, we are those halves. No matter how much we’ll go through, and no matter how much trouble we have with each other, there’s still something to carry us through.
That need in the night is mine, love. You can help me through, if you just complete me another time.
I guess you could say we complete each other. Even in spite of our stupid lovers’ tiffs and bouts of idiocy in the face of confessions, we’ll stay together and carry the circle on. Yes, you can be silly about this, yes, fame’s gone to your head, I know, but you can carry on. More importantly, you can carry me on. We need each other, and I don’t care what you say. You’ve dragged me through the ground, but you picked me back up again and I guess I have to be thankful for something.
We’re not the same, I know, but we’re all we have.
You’re all I’ve got, Colin Mochrie. And you’re all I’ll ever have. I don’t care – you’re staying with me.
Now, about that need in the night...

First Impressions

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 21:15:31 GMT

Title: First Impressions
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: “Blue”.
Word Count: 414
Rating: 12 (similar to PG – 13) for sex references, and general sexless slash.
Summary: It’s true what they say: People really do notice what one wears.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Written in Colin’s POV and following on from “Green eyed… Hoedown?” in sequence.

Strange. I hadn’t seen him wear that shirt for months. Funnily enough, absence really did seem to make the heart grow fonder in this case. It was, or at least it seemed, different to when he last wore the blue shirt I’d got so used to seeing him in: the colour looked brighter and he gave off a clear air of self – assurance. It was the only time I’d seen him without a tie for a while too, revealing the buttons that tore down the middle of his shirt, dramatically shining; bugging out like huge, intimidating eyes.

I could tell he hadn’t gone out for a cigarette in weeks. Between recording that night, during the commercial break, I was sure that he’d gone out into the road for a quick one. Even though he looked wrong with one in his mouth or between his fingers, he seemed to be enjoying his moments of quiet, sandwiched in amongst the chaos and banter that filled most of our waking hours. Of course, I said “most of.” I also said, “waking,” for a reason too. Those hazy moments between consciousness and dream that we’d spend together alone, in perfect silence except for a few moans didn’t count.
I followed him outside to the clear, crisp evening, not a cloud in the night sky – but still freezing cold. Neither of us wrapped up to go outside, foolishly. We had to keep reminding ourselves that we were in London, almost on a daily basis. Tonight though, I suppose we forgot.
“Are you cold, Colin?” His voice was gravely, a slight rumour of a sore throat coming along.
“Freezing.” He was surrounded by an unnatural blue glow, some trick of the light that I just picked up on. It must have been the fault of that shirt, so simplistic on someone else but so perfect on Ryan. “Why did you go blue all of a sudden?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it was my shirt.”
“It looks good on you, I haven’t seen you in blue for a while.”
“Yeah,” he lowered his head. “It’s normally you in the blue.” He paused, and then smiled mischievously in my direction. “I bet you can’t wait to take it off me, either.”
With that, he turned and walked back into the studio, not letting me respond. Following suit, I returned into the warm of the studio, hot on his heels.
He was right. I hate to admit it, but he was right.

The moment some of you have been waiting for...

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 18:39:35 GMT

Title: Green eyed… Hoedown?
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Mentions of Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie, Tony Slattery, Paul Merton and Clive Anderson.
Prompt: Teammates.
Word Count: 362
Rating: PG – 13 for angst and hints at slash.
Summary: How did hoedowns become a metaphor for unbridled jealousy? There’s only one way to find out, and that’s a stream of consciousness!
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Told through Greg’s POV. Dedicated to the lovely </a></b></a>ms_shalimar, with kind regards for the plot bunny that inspired the 'fic's creation.

That night, those two Brits confronted him again. Flustered, he searched for a few slivers of logic in between the usual deadpan comebacks. He was silent for a moment; then came up with something precious, something that neither of them had thought of. Admittedly, he really can think up real gems when under pressure.

Okay, I’ll confess. At that moment, I was jealous of him. Just thinking about him made me seethe with unbridled jealousy. He could have easily shrugged off Clive’s taunts, Paul and Tony’s upstaging of him throughout the last few weeks; let Colin be ill as he wished, but no. He had to be noble about it. Well that’s just great, but what about the rest of us?

Maybe I just had a problem with his ambivalent relationship with hoedowns. That could have easily been the reason why I reached my lowest point in relation to Ryan. He’s always claimed to hate them with a passion, but I’ve always thought that he secretly loved them. As a matter of fact, I think he just put on the façade of hating them in order to make Colin look a little better. Now he really hated the things, especially the last time we were recording. Of course, Ryan put up the usual shtick, but soon enough Colin would be even worse.

Is it just me, or is something going on between those two that the rest of us don’t know about?

Of course there is. Maybe that’s why I hated him so much that day. Yes, hate. Not jealousy, but a deep - seated hate. I’m over that now, but that could have been the reason. His life just seemed too perfect, looking out for Colin in any way that was possible. Even when it came to the show, even when it came to something as trivial as ‘Hoedown.’

It is, as they say, all water under the bridge now. I managed to slip in a few snide remarks in the direction of Clive with Ryan’s own approval and learn that he really did have a “special relationship” with that Mochrie.

A long way to forgiveness, but it was worth it.

Long ol' songfic.

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 20:43:35 GMT

Title: "That's where the hurt is"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: Friends (021)
Word Count: 1,004
Rating: PG - 13. General angst and thoughts of slash.
Summary: Colin is worried, but then again, what are friends for?
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other person portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
First - person songfic and counterpart to my previous songfic. This time from Colin's point of view, mostly stream - of - consciousness and reflecting on events within "Into the Flash." Lyrics are from "Walk On": lyrics by Bono, music by U2.

And love is not the easy thing
It never was something I’d thought about before I met Ryan, but love has taken over my life since then. It’s always hard, keeping secrets from people you know yet being uncontrollably head – over – heels in love with a man like Ryan. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, to be honest.
The only baggage you can bring...
Don’t think about the past, Ryan. Just live for the present and take things as they come. I don’t mind it, I’m sure you’ll be able to cope. I trust you.
And love is not the easy thing....
I’ve been practically denying that you were ever in love with me for years now. It’s always seemed to be just a very intense friendship with a few added perks.
The only baggage you can bring
I’ll come with you, wherever you go. I promise.
Is all that you can't leave behind
Do whatever you can do stay your own crazy, amazing, beautiful self, Ryan. I miss you, wherever you are.

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
I don’t want you to keep going off like this each evening. I want you to be here, with me. But I can’t stop you, I suppose.
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
We can make it. I just know we can, whatever it takes.
And if your glass heart should crack
I won’t say anything that I think could break it. I’ll try my best to help you every step of the way. I’ll even make you breakfast in bed, providing there are no disasters along the way.
And for a second you turn back
Don’t do it – I want to be with you as long as I possibly can.
Oh no, be strong
Nothing’s gonna stop us. Be brave, Ryan.

Walk on, walk on
Keep going into the distance without any cares, just live your life however well you can. I’m sure you’ll be fine in the end, however dark the place you are in is now.
What you got they can’t steal it
No they can’t even feel it
Just remember: You are Ryan Stiles. There’s nothing that can get in your way, as long as you remember who you are, and remember that I am there with you.
Walk on, walk on...
Stay safe tonight
Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.

You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been
A place that has to be believed to be seen
Are you leaving us, Ryan? Are you leaving London? Worse than that, are you leaving this planet altogether?
You could have flown away
A singing bird in an open cage
Who will only fly, only fly for freedom
Don’t die, whatever you do. I’ll come and find you. I’ll ring Tony, I know how much you like talking to that Brit and his Paul. I’ll ring him and find out where you are. I will do anything to stop you.

Walk on, walk on
What you've got they can't deny it
Can’t sell it, can’t buy it
You are Ryan Stiles. And you are mine, whatever anyone else says to you.
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight
I’m flagging a cab to come and get you back. Wherever you are, I’ll be there.

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
I know how bad this is. I’ve been there before.
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on
I can see you, in between the blurry spots of rain on the window and the lights that course past me on the streets. I can see you.

Home… hard to know what it is if you’ve never had one
You were always a traveller, moving house at such a young age; then moving to London with me. Who knows where you’ll go next? You’re talking to somebody about moving back and visiting your mother, God knows where she is.
Home… I can’t say where it is but I know I'm going home
That's where the hurt is
You have to face the truth some day, Ryan. I’ll come with you.

I know it aches
How your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe, Ryan. Come with me. Come home. You know you want to come home in the warm and safety of the (somewhat messy, but functional) flat. Just come back – the cab was kind enough to stay.

Leave it behind
You've got to leave it behind
Forget them. Forget the past, the future. Focus on now. Focus on your career. Remember that? Remember me, and the people you’ve met along the way. You need to be with these friends of yours.

All that you fashion
The stories you tell to me; the memories you have.
All that you make
You make us laugh, I make you laugh, you make friends more easily than anyone else I know. I’m thankful for you.
All that you build
Our relationship, as turbulent as it is, was almost fully built up by you. I’m grateful for that, myself.
All that you break
The links you made at home, whatever you left in the past – broken, just to be with me.
All that you measure
You can actually be pretty rational sometimes: don’t forget that.
All that you steal
Lines, thoughts, hearts.
All this you can leave behind
Forget it all. Think of me; come home out of the rain.
All that you reason
However much reason there is in you, we don’t know.
All that you sense
Both physically and emotionally, you sense so much in your surroundings. But some days, you just need to see and believe.
All that you speak
Quips, those lines, those stupid things you’ve said that put a smile on my face.
All you dress up
All that you scheme…
Forget it all, and come back home with me. Don’t look back.

"Into the flash"

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 14:25:39 GMT

Could be seen as Ryan's parallel 'fic to "ILU - LDN". Or not.

Title: "Into the flash"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: Family (024)
Word Count: 967
Rating: PG - 13. General angst.
Summary: Are friends more precious than family? Ryan searches for the meaning behind it all, and ends up none the wiser, in a way. But, of course, he finds out something about himself along the way.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other person portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
First - person songfic from Ryan's point of view based on the U2 song, "Mofo". Lyrics (those in italic) by Bono, music by U2. I do not own the song, nor do I know that any events portrayed are real - any resemblance is coincidental.

Lookin' for to save my, save my soul
I wish I could find something to make me feel better about all the chaos that’s happened between Colin and I since we moved to England for filming. Now I know that he understands what I’m going through, I feel a little better, but there’s always something missing, isn’t there?
Lookin' in the places where no flowers grow.
I need to be brave. I need to walk and visit places I haven’t been before, go and find something out. Will I find something out about myself? Only time will tell.
Lookin' for to fill that God-shaped hole
I wonder, was I ever religious? Because there’s something missing that could have only been that way. At the moment, I feel somewhat agnostic in my beliefs. But something’s got to stop myself from going insane and I don’t want to get back into all that fake hope and fake salvation. I’m not like that.
Mother, mother-suckin' rock an'roll.
Where did you go after I left for London, Mother? I shouldn’t think about it. I shouldn’t be morbid. I’m here to have fun.

Holy dunc, space junk comin' in for the splash
London is insane, I must say. It’s like science fiction, the lights and commercialism must be something out of a William Gibson novel. Walking back in this drizzle and seeing the lights flash on and off makes me feel confused, pained; missing Colin. I want to go back, but I want to find out more, more.
I’ll go into this stupid, arrogant heart of darkness.
White dopes on punk staring into the flash.
They don’t know I’m here, but they can see me – the tourists, the homeless, the drug addicts and the affluent, all there looking for something beyond themselves.
Lookin' for the baby Jesus under the trash
Is it religion that they’re searching for? Is it acceptance? Love? Sex? Maybe it’s all of those, or maybe it’s something simpler – maybe a roof over their heads, running water, a mother.
Mother, mother-suckin' rock an' roll.
I don’t know what to do. Should I go back and leave the rest of them over at the studio, or should I come back to you? I’m torn between two loves, but one of them is a career and one is human. I don’t know which one will go out of the window first.
Mother.
I miss you, and that’s what it all boils down to. I don’t want to go to this funeral, or whatever it will be, whenever it is. I just want to live my life. I’m sorry I went away, dropped out. Can you forgive me?

Mother, am I still your son?
I don’t feel like it any more.
You know I've waited for so long
For years, I’ve waited for what I have now, but still I feel alone in the world.
To hear you say so.
Just give me a sign.

Mother, you left and made me someone.
Thank you for what you did for me. Made me into who I am today, helped me survive in the world outside our town. I’m just sorry I forgot about you.
Now I'm still a child, but no one tells me no.
I don’t feel like I ever grew up. I guess that’s why I turned to comedy. I’d make a terrible doctor, or a lawyer, or even a writer. Just accept me for who I am, mother. Please.

Lookin' for a sound that's gonna drown out the world.
We all want something dramatic to happen in our lives, don’t we? We all feel like we want to die at some point. This is my point, this is the time when I hold out my hand to the void and wish it could all go away.
Lookin' for the father of my two little girls.
I was never a good father. They miss me and I know it. I have a family to care for myself, and what do I do? I give it all away for a stupid career.
Got the swing, got the sway, got my straw in lemonade.
“Ryan, what the hell are you doing?” It’s him, Colin, the closest I have to family now.
“How did you find me?”
“I don’t know, but I do know you’re in a bad place at the moment. Have this lemonade – you look drained.”
I say nothing, and we walk off into the lights and sounds of London.
Still lookin' for the face I had before the world was made.
Knowledge. It really is power, but of course, there is a flipside to that. Without knowledge, we feel weak and hopeless. We want to know things that we never will know, and even though it’s impossible to answer these questions, we sink lower and lower down anyway, just for the sake of it.
Mother, mother-suckin' rock an' roll
I’ll get on that plane some day and come back to see you, whatever it takes.

Soothe me, mother
Your voice could make everything all right for me.
Rule me, father
You always did, and I really need some advice right now. I need someone to ground me – you’re the only person who could.
Move me, brother
Help me to change my life around.
Woo me, sister.
I know it’s strange for you to do so, but we all have our admirations and stupid crushes, even in the family. I’m past it now – but I’ll never tell you what I think about Colin.

Soothe me, mother
I need to get myself out of the rut, and you can give me confidence.
Rule me, father
Just do something, I don’t care what.
Show me, mother
Show me how to live my life again.
Show me, mother.
Show me the way to go home.

Waiting

Sat, 16 Feb 2008 17:07:17 GMT

Title: "Waiting"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: If (082)
Word Count: 317
Rating: PG - 13. One use of strong language, sex references and general slash.
Summary: What if someone really was controlling their lives? And what if they knew it? What if, indeed. An absurdist drabble exploring the inconsequential consequences of Ryan and Colin's afternoon musings.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Loosely based on "Running to Stand Still" by U2 in relation to Ryan's state of mind.

“Ryan?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Do you ever get the feeling that some higher force is controlling every move that you make?”
“It’s called religion, Colin.”
“No, no, I don’t mean it in that way, Ry,” he sighed, his shoulders drooping in near defeat. “I mean, do you ever think someone’s watching you; playing tricks in your mind? As if someone else is in control of our lives?”
“All the time.”
He paced around the backstage area, looking pensive. “It’s like someone’s,” he paused, standing still for a split second before he began to stride around the room again. “like somebody is writing our lives for us!”

Colin nodded in approval, arching an eyebrow. “I wonder if that explains why I’ve been madly attracted to you for the past few days.”
“Well Colin, that’s what’s different about me and you. You, of course, are a sceptic about these sorts of things. But in my right mind, I know that we were made for each other all along. Fate? Possibly. Luck? Maybe. Somebody who is writing our lives for us? Fuck no,” he furrowed his brows and scratched his head before continuing his tirade. “Although, your theory could explain why I haven’t been too sure of myself lately.”
“It’s as if you are staying in the same spot, even though you think you’re running the fastest you ever have done in your life.”

Ryan peered round at Colin, nodding in full understanding. “That’s exactly what it’s like!” He smiled, laughed and blushed a little at the sheer absurdity of what was going on. “How did you even know that?”
“It must be our author, inflicting philosophical meaning and psychic enlightenment onto our questionable behaviour.”
“What else are writers for?” Ryan asked, regretting it immediately after it escaped from his lips.
Colin grinned. “Implying sex between two consenting males?”
With that, the two headed in the direction of the bedroom.

"In the name"

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 21:36:58 GMT

Title: "In the name of love"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie, Tony Slattery and Paul Merton.
Prompt: 006 - Hours.
Word Count: 645
Rating: R for innuendo, fluffy slash, heavy philosophising and "moderate sex references."
Summary: One day to change the world... With pie!
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Based slightly, not loosely, but not to the word, on the U2 song "Pride". Longer than my normal drabbles, but not extremely long. Takes place at three or four stages in a day. And what day might that be? Why, the 14th of February, of course.

Paul?” he murmured into his ear.
“What?”
“There’s something,” he hesitated a moment, “that I’ve been meaning to say to you.”
“Don’t tell me, you’re actually a robot. I expected it from the start, if you really must know,” he smiled, cynical; trying to keep calm when he already knew what his other really wanted to say. “Go on, tell me what you wanted to say to me.”

Tony sighed; then paused for even more dramatic effect than there already was. “I love you, Paul.”
“You’ve been wanting to say that for a while, I can tell. But of course you had to wait until today.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever say this about myself, but I really am a hopeless old romantic.”
“Don’t say a word more,” Paul grins, putting a finger to Tony’s lips. “You’ll ruin it.”

An hour later, on the other side of London, Ryan and Colin will share a piece of pie in between glances across the table and more than a few eloquent silences.
“What?” Colin will stand up from the table and shout, underestimating his volume. “What are you looking at me like that for? Where did that pie come from?”
“Windowsill,” Ryan will reply nonchalantly.
“Do people even do that these days?”
“Obviously so, seeing as I found a pie on a windowsill in Shepherd’s Bush earlier this evening. But that’s beside the point.”
“Is it?”
“I think so. Anyway,” the tone of his voice will suddenly become softer, calm, and with it Colin will relax and sit back down. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” There will be another pause. “I love you,” he will declare.
Colin will look up at Ryan, unfazed. “You could have – you already have – said that to me before. But I can tell that you really are serious about it today. I love you too, Ryan.”
“More pie?”
“Only if you’re bringing it to me.”

It was two hours earlier. Tony and Ryan approached a bus stop, hoping to get back to their flats as soon as possible.
“Good news,” Ryan grinned.
“What?”
“I bought Colin a cake. I’m gonna ‘fess up to him tonight, tell him the truth.”
“And you thought that cake would help?”
“Yes.”
“The thing is,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow, “I was planning on doing the same for Paul. Although I have no cake to prove my point.”
“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying…”
“Yes. Give me the cake, and I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
“But what about Colin?” Ryan pleaded as they got off the bus. Tony glared at him, a little flustered. “Just take that pie over there on that windowsill. That’ll be fine.”
“Do people even do that these days?”
“Just take the pie.”

A few hours into the night, Paul and Tony will share the cake that was so kindly given to them by Ryan, in between cackling laughter and murmurs of adoration between a couple of sheets. They will throw a few cake crumbs at each other in jest, but one of them will take it a little too seriously, and a few joking gestures will turn into some sort of a lover’s tiff, albeit one that is clouded over by gazes into each others’ eyes.
“We’re being so stupid, aren’t we?” one of them will yawn. The other will not respond, he will only smile at the other.

At the same time, another couple will walk the streets of London in complete, yet perfect, silence. They will look at each other at times, kiss at random intervals, but keep themselves to themselves otherwise. They will see the Valentine’s Day decorations being torn down, even though it will only be two o’ clock the next morning.
“All that, in the name of love,” Ryan will muse, out of the blue. And it will sum up the whole charade.

Couple of short 'fics.

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 21:22:03 GMT

Oddly, I don't really feel very proud of these two. Make of that what you will. I dunno, they were just sketched out in my notebook, then typed, like the others - and sure, they may be shorter and that's alright, but I don't feel like I did them justice. Hopefully I'll improve, or figure out that they aren't too bad.
Title: "Summer Rain"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 094 - Independence.
Word Count: 211
Rating: PG for philosophical angst.
Summary: There are two kinds of independence, but they must work together in order to have the greatest effect...
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Loosely based on the song "4th of July". Only loosely, as it is an instrumental and therefore can't be as detailed as a songfic or lyric - based 'fic.

Midsummer in London. It isn’t as pretty a sight as one would imagine, in reality. Gone are the dreams of playing Frisbee in St James’ Park, the sun melting your ice cream. Instead, on this particular summer’s day, rain pours down in a deluge. Cooped up in the recording studio, Ryan and Colin feel somewhat safer than if they were out in the downpour. They hear one of their co - actors mention that today is the 4th of July. They can’t see who it is, and they don’t exactly care who it is speaking. All Ryan knows is that he is utterly homesick. If only he was back at a firework display. If only he could see his parents today. He didn’t know what they would think of him now – he didn’t even want to think. He had nothing to do with them now, independent in another country.

“Maybe this is the best form of independence,” Colin smiles, talking to Ryan in a break between recordings.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But how did you know what I was thinking?”
Colin shrugs. “Because I thought the same thing – even though I wouldn’t have celebrated.”

Before Ryan can reply, their break is finished, and they pace back into the recording studio.

Title: "Disaster"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 059 - Food
Word Count: 269
Rating: G, because it's practically fluff.
Summary: He'd give him the crumbs from his table... If there were any crumbs, that is.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Loosely based on "Crumbs from your Table" by U2.

“Well this is just great,” Ryan groaned as he paced around the kitchen. “Nothing left – nothing left for that stupid dinner party,” he rolled his eyes and slammed the cupboard door shut. “I guess it serves me right for trying to be sociable.”
“You’re overreacting,” Colin called from the living room. “Again,” he added under his breath.
“I am not overreacting!” He opened the fridge door; then slammed it shut shortly afterwards. “You’d feel the same way if you found out we had no food in the house!”

From the opposite end of the flat, Colin appeared beside Ryan.
“There’s no food?”
“Of course not! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
“I thought you were just overreacting. At least, I hoped you were. That dinner party will be a disaster, I can tell.”
“Well, of course any dinner party will be a disaster without food. That’s just obvious.”
“Ry, I’m sure there’s something.”
“That’s what they all say.”

The two searched frantically around the kitchen. All they could find were tins of useless, expired vegetables and packets of cake mix that would never be appealing or useful. After minutes of madness, they both stopped in their tracks.
“We could always go and buy something.”
“But that would involve movement,” Ryan sighed. “Besides, even if there was some food in the house, I would leave most of it for you. Noble, huh?”
“That’s sweet, I must say,” Colin smiled a little, still trying to remain calm. “Although, we really should go out and buy some food – we need some before we can share it.”
“Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

Sing, Tony! heehee

Sat, 09 Feb 2008 08:32:17 GMT

Title: "A phone call from hell"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Tony Slattery, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 074 - Dark.
Word Count: 350
Rating: PG - 13 for angst, slash and some language.
Summary: Two guys walk into a bar, realise that they have something to tell each other, and discover that they need to make a phone call each...
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Slightly based on the U2 song "The Fly," starting my 15 'fics that use U2 songs as some part of the framework. Sometimes taken literally, sometimes not, but normally just picking up on a theme. These 'fics are inconsequential one - shots, with nothing that really has anything to do with the rest of my story arcs.

“It’s strange being on television. All those cameras are just watching; waiting for you to either enchant the audience or fuck up completely. They’re eyes – all only eyes – and those red lights. I just want to get it over with, quick and painless, on air. I just need to tell Colin the truth, not the sugar coated truth but those feelings that haven’t wanted to come out yet. It needs to happen some day, no matter who’s watching us. You’re on this show, but are you still watching us, watching us shine and fall?
Do people only watch us for a cheap, but somewhat intellectual laugh? They don’t notice what happens backstage, or what happens when they aren’t looking. Our real lives are lost on them. All they see is what the cameras see – but what do the cameras see? They could only view that façade, hopefully. I wonder if Colin can hear me rambling now. Even he doesn’t know what I really feel like. Sure, you, you who I’m talking to now, can hear my voice, but how do you know the capacity of my feelings?”
“Ryan, I know what you’re going through, and it’s definitely not a happy place. Just go back to Colin. Don’t stay here all day, it’s not good for you.”
“So what should I do?”
“Call him. I need to call someone too. I need to call Greg. We can do this together.”
“You really don’t sound like yourself, Tony.”
“I know, strange, isn’t it?”
“Okay, let’s get to the phones. You call Greg and I call Colin,” he sighs, putting down his drink. “We can do this.” While Ryan rambles along, Tony is already at the phones in the bar. Ryan can hear a few words from the other side of the bar.
“Hello… Greg?”
That does it for Ryan. He paces to the next phone, and dials the home number.
“Colin, it’s me,” he mumbles.
“Where have you been?”
“Bar, with Tony. Drowning our sorrows.”
“Ryan?”
“What?”
“It’s alright, I understand. Come home, it’s late; I’m lonely.”
“Fine, fine. You’ve convinced me.”

'Fic dump!

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 22:49:23 GMT

Title: "Unexpected pleasures"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 056 - Breakfast.
Word Count: 405
Rating: PG - 13 for mild slash and innuendo.
Summary: If only every morning was like this.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Takes place within the story arc that started with "Only To Be With You" and will end with "Dinner."

“Is that all you’re having?” Colin says from the kitchen with a hint of concern in his voice. I don’t reply to this, mostly because I wouldn’t be able to respond without sliding a few not so subtle innuendos into my answer – not that that’s a bad thing, it’s just that it is early in the morning and I can’t function at this time. Even though I’d imply something, it wouldn’t work as well as it would do once my brain was switched on. Instead I just wait for him to get back from in with my coffee.

It’s amazing, the way he’s so concerned about my health and all. It’s not even like there’s anything wrong with me! I’m just not hungry. In a few hours, maybe, but at the moment all I want is coffee. Is that a crime? I don’t think he would go as far as to say that, but I’m sure he wants me to eat something.
It’s like he’s my adopted mother, or my wife, or my boyfriend. For the time being, I’ll go for the latter.

“Thanks,” I mumble as I snatch the cup of hot, sludgy coffee from his grasp. I gulp it down pretty quickly, in spite of its scalding heat. “I needed it.” A little more awake than I was, I get out of bed and approach the hallway to fetch the mail from on the mat.
“I bet you did,” he stops me in my tracks, raising an eyebrow and smiling. Man, I hate it when he does that. A mother wouldn’t be able to amuse me, just with one insidious remark and a silly facial expression, for sure. He’s better than that.
“Your cold passed over now?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, a little unlike him. Shortly after he blurts out the affirmative, he slams down his toast and tea on the bedside table and kisses me hard.
“Just getting you back for the other day,” he says after breaking off. “Now fetch the mail, like a good Ryan.”
I just shrug, head bent in sheer amusement. “I’ll fetch more than that.”
“I don’t know what you meant by that, but I’m sure you didn’t imply anything less than R – rated!”
After strenuously consecrating half an hour of my life in the kitchen, I return to the bedroom with a plateful of pancakes.
“Bet you weren’t expecting that. Happy Pancake Day, Col.”

Title: "Even the trivial seems profound."
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 057 - Lunch.
Word Count: 271
Rating: PG - 13 for sexless slash.
Summary: Arcadia - the word brings up so many connotations. Strangely enough, pizza with a lover in their cramped apartment isn't one of them.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Follows the series of mealtime 'fics starting with "Unexpected pleasures", although a few days after the events depicted therein.

It had been the perfect Sunday. We’d slept in late; we’d gone for a drive in the car, we even went down to the river and taken photos. It couldn’t have gone better. Except, we’d forgotten all about lunch. Normally I don’t eat in the afternoon, but since it was such a special and downright perfect Sunday, it seemed right to have a Sunday lunch.
It was a shame that when I realised this, it was six in the evening.
“What should we do?” Colin fretted once I told him that we needed to have lunch. “It’s not right! We can’t do this! It’s dark, and you’re saying we should have lunch? I thought you were insane before, but this is the last straw!”
“Time’s relative. We had breakfast at about one, we’re having lunch now, that just means that we can have a midnight snack.”
“That’s true. Pizza?”
“I’d love to. But where?”
“We’ve got a menu over at the apartment, so we could always have takeout. Unless you want to go somewhere more fancy.”
Colin paused. “An evening out with you, or an evening in with you. I’m spoilt for choice,” he remarked dryly after weighing out the pros and cons in his head, presumably.

We ended up back at the apartment, making eyes at each other over greasy ham and pineapple pizza, dry curly fries and partly melted chocolate ice cream, all in front of the TV while watching a mediocre British sitcom from the seventies. We had lost all the dignity that remained intact, and yet it was the perfect Sunday lunch to end a perfect Sunday.

Title: "Midnight's Comedians."
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 058 - Dinner.
Word Count: 319
Rating: PG - 13 for sexless slash.
Summary: Did you ever wonder how the "tapioca" sketch came about? It may have been purely coincidental, but a midnight snack in a London apartment could well have led to the supposedly random answer.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
The last 'fic of this story arc that began with "Only To Be With You."

I hate myself for these crazy, farfetched plans that I hatch. I wanted to have a midnight snack tonight, but we had no decent food in the house. Terrible. I have one idea, with the possibility to get closer to Colin as well, and it all falls down because there’s nothing in the fridge that either of us could eat. Nevertheless, Colin remembers and wakes me up, during my nocturnal worries, half sleeping, half awake, brain still racing on.
“Ryan?” He yawns. “What about that midnight snack you promised?”
I can’t resist. I can’t tell him the truth – I can’t tell him that I didn’t stock up on food at the Tesco too recently. He’s just too sweet for me to admit something as soul – crushing (if you’re hungry) as that.
“Sure,” I get out of bed. “Let’s see what we can scavenge from the kitchen.”

We get there and as I expected, there was hardly anything left. A few tins here and there, a few frozen items that nobody would touch with a ten foot pole, possibly the right food for a couple of sandwiches, but nothing too amazing. I attempt a sandwich. I fail. There is only one slice of bread – how can you make a sandwich with one tiny slice of bread?
“Hey Ryan, look what I found!” I turn my head to see Colin grinning like a maniac, as if he found some sort of bounty from the dark corners of the cupboard.
“What the hell is that?”
“Tapioca.”
“And?”
“It’s edible, more so than anything else.”
“But it’s tapioca.”
“At least it isn’t week old bread.”
“Good point.”

Colin then decides to boil some of the flavourless, gelatinous pudding and spoon it out into bowls. It’s not bad, but I wouldn’t call it a masterpiece. Not as good as those pancakes.
“Colin?” I ask between mouthfuls.
“What?”
“Isn’t there a song about this stuff?”

"ILU - LDN"

Fri, 01 Feb 2008 22:07:14 GMT

Title: "ILU, LDN"
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 31 - Sunrise.
Word Count: 504 words
Rating: G
Summary: There are some things that only a long walk can take care of.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Takes place shortly after "Only To Be With You" and "Revelations", but is not part of the immediate sequence. A little stream of consciousness told from Colin's point of view. Mildly angsty, implied slash but no sex.

There are some days when all you can do to calm yourself is to take a long walk to somewhere you’ve never been to before and just see where the road takes you. It’s even better to do this in the early morning if you want the full effect.

I set out from our flat in west London and head up the road towards the tall, glassy buildings of the city. Sunlight reflects off each facet of the towers and I squint at the brightness. Nevertheless, I walk towards those crystalline eruptions of architecture, feeling drowsy at the sight of this new skyline before me, still sleepy, but hopeful of the day ahead. It’ll be a long one, but I should survive.

Luckily for me, I feel much better than I have done for a while. The sore throat and painful cold have died down since my days bedridden, so I should be able to get back to recording this morning, after my walk. I wonder if any of them have missed me, or if I just blend in to the furniture so much that I’m ignored. I know Ryan will be happy that I can make a return to the show, but what about the rest of them? Will they appreciate my returning, or will they just go on performing?
It’s not a problem if they don’t notice me. I just wonder whether I’m really welcomed into the group – it can be a little cliquish, but I suppose that’s bound to happen if a group of comedians are vying for the attention of an audience at any given time.

Instead of brooding over this, I look up at the towering buildings in front of me. How did I walk so far and not notice? It’s amazing what the combination of walking and thought can do for you. I manage to catch the last act of today’s sunrise, a glorious burst of red light spurting out from behind a few thin strata of cloud, illuminating the light pink blotches of sky.

I look up in awe at the beauty of it. How could I have missed sunrises like this before, during my time in London? Maybe I just hadn’t been observant enough to look up, or I might have been a little preoccupied with Ryan and travel and work. There are some days when I just have to forget about all those stresses and remember the simple things in life, the simple beauty of nature.

I head back. Thankfully, I seem to know my way around this area pretty well, so I catch the Underground from a nearby station and make my way home to meet Ryan. I hope he’s doing well without me, hope he’s not worried. Eventually, I get back to see him upright in bed, reading some sort of book, at ease with the world.

“Morning, Colin. See the sunrise today? It was gorgeous.”
I smile as I wander into the kitchen to make some coffee. “Yes, Ryan. Yes I did.”

"Revelations"

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 21:36:34 GMT

Title: Revelations.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 11 - Red.
Word Count: 401 words.
Rating: PG - 13
Summary: After returning from recording the show, the truth comes out for both Colin and Ryan.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
Second part of a short 'fic that started with "Rain." Mild slash. Assumption that my pairing live together, à la The Beatles and assorted comedy duos.

“Ryan?” He yawned from deep within the duvet and blankets. “What’re you doing?”
“I went to the studio. We were recording, don’t you remember?”
“Oh yeah,” he sighed, his throat raspy. “Sorry I couldn’t come today.”
“No problem,” I shrugged, pacing around the room. “You weren’t well at all this morning, so I thought I’d just leave you be all day. Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling too good. Except for Tony. But he got it eventually.”
“Thank you,” he smiled. “You really are a great friend, you know. Maybe something else too, but I don’t want to speculate too much.”

I blushed. It was about the tenth time that I had blushed in front of Colin ever since we’d started the show. Even that may have been an understatement, seeing as he always seems to either embarrass me or make me laugh whenever we’re on air. But this was different. We’d known each other for about four years now, but that was the first time that he’d really thought of me as a friend and told me to my face, with a sense of honesty as well. Of course, this turned me an intense pink, flustered and sweating, but with a smile ear to ear on my face. And yes, I was still sodden from travelling across London in the rain.
“Thanks,” I said with my head bent. “You’re a pretty great friend, too.”

Colin smiled weakly. “You know, I’d let you kiss me right now. Of course you want to.” I turned from my intense pink to an even deeper red, still grinning like a maniac. “But I wouldn’t want you to get sick from it,” he added hastily in protest. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
In spite of my sorry condition, I ran up to Colin’s blanket covered bed and kissed him, shameless, short and pretty intense.
“What the hell. If I get sick, then I get sick.”
“I really do love you, Ryan,” he shook his head, almost in denial of what happened a minute or so before. “I honestly, truthfully love you.”
“Colin?” I grinned. “You do realise that I am now beet red, right?”
“Of course you are! You just kissed a man, and then that man told you that he loved you! You should be embarrassed!”
“Are you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No. I’ve been waiting to say that for years.”

"Only to be with you"

Wed, 30 Jan 2008 22:19:54 GMT

Title: Only to be with you.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles, Tony Slattery, Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 66 - "Rain"
Word Count: 391 words
Rating: G
Summary: Determination gets you nowhere, unless you're Ryan Stiles, it's raining and Colin Mochrie is sick.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
First part of a two - part 'fic. Second part to come later.

He stood in the doorway, waiting for the rain to stop. With no umbrella to shield him, it would be a long night getting home on London transport for him. It had been drizzling throughout the show’s filming, but unfortunately for Ryan and the rest of the cast, God’s sense of humour was rather ridden with schadenfreude as soon as they wished to leave the studio.
“But they said it’d be fine on the weather this morning!” He sulked, staring at the sodden pavements as if his stare would automatically cease the rainfall.
“Ryan, you’ve been in England for a few months at least,” I sighed. “Surely you’ve learned to never trust the forecast by now.”
“It’s not that I trust it, Tony,” at this moment, he was pacing around the lobby in a huff. “It’s just that I can’t be bothered to do anything about the situation!”
“You mean you just haven’t bought an umbrella yet?” I tried to remain calm while Ryan got more and more frustrated. I wished Colin had been there to calm him down – I couldn’t do a thing.
“That’s exactly my point!” In a fit of defiance, Ryan stormed out of the studio wearing only his suit and a light scarf.
I rolled my eyes. “Good luck.”

Even though I tried to keep myself as reserved as possible, I almost felt a pang of sympathy for Ryan at that point in time, adamantly walking out into the rain just to get himself from A to B. Of course, he was inexperienced in the quirks of British weather, how could I forget that? But surely there was something else that was driving him through those sheets of water that pummelled the pavements and all that walked on them.

Of course it was Colin. His best friend, and maybe even something else, if I may add myself. He hadn’t been here today, so there must have been something wrong wherever he was. That was it! Now I know why he wasn’t his normal self. All through recording he’d been a little quiet and maybe even somewhat reserved in his mannerisms. Not like Ryan at all. But now it became clear. He was just missing Colin.

‘I’d better get going myself,’ I sighed, slinging my bag on one shoulder, unfolding my umbrella and heading home in the rain.

Fanfic100

Wed, 30 Jan 2008 16:18:31 GMT

First 'fic. Prompt 001, "Beginnings".

Title: Don't Look Back.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie.
Prompt: 1 - "Beginnings".
Word Count: 308 words.
Rating: G
Summary: Everything has to start somewhere...
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.

Sometimes you have to look back into the past and try to remember how the insanity began. I guess I could start at my birth, but the first seventeen years of my life really weren’t that much of a childhood. Even the move wasn’t too much of a big deal for me. I was only ten at the time, and couldn’t imagine what would happen afterwards at such a young age. Things started to get a lot more interesting once I’d dropped out of school and started to take comedy more seriously – not that you can take comedy seriously anyway. But I digress. What I am trying to say is that it was at that point in my life when everything changed.

For a few years, I rehearsed for roles, performed, played bit parts in plays that weren’t too well accepted and took part in a few shows around town. When I was in my twenties, after I’d passed my audition for Second City, I found the thing – well – that’s a rather degrading way to say it – that made me want to stay in this career and do what I loved to do.

“Hi.” He was smiling at me as I got off the stage. “Great show. You were pretty funny.”
“You could say that,” I shrugged, a little embarrassed at this random act of flattery.
“Don’t be modest. You were better than I was when I first started out here.”
“You’re a comedian here, too? Jeez, I thought you were just one of the masses in the audience. I’m Ryan, by the way, in case you didn’t know.”
“Colin Mochrie. Nice to meet you.” He shook my hand, while I was still slightly flustered, blushing like someone half my age.

This was to be the first day of the rest of my life. I never looked back.