[identity profile] clayangel.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] wl_fanfiction
Title: The Wonders of Mexican Cuisine
Author: Clay
Pairing: Ryan/Colin (Ryan’s POV)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Response to Patricia’s Seven Deadly Sins Challenge: Gluttony
Author’s notes: Okay, I went with the obvious game of Helping Hands, but I’ve always wanted to write one and this seemed the perfect opportunity.



“You need to loosen up,” I hissed, just quiet enough for the microphone not to pick it up.

Colin just frowned. His hands were folded in his lap, leg bouncing nervously as he stared out into the audience. He’d been like this ever since I met up with him in the lobby of the hotel that morning. At the time I’d told myself that it was just nerves, as implausible as that was. We’d been doing Whose Line for far too long for Colin to be even the least bit nervous about going on stage, and London was more of a summer getaway now than the strange, forbidding city it had been years ago when this had all started.

I figured he’d calm down once the taping began, but rather he was just getting worse, becoming more and more withdrawn with each passing game. Normally I’d wait until after the taping to broach the subject, but Colin’s performance was starting to suffer. He’d never forgive himself for letting personal matters interfere with business, so I took it upon myself to try and find a way to cheer him up, distract him until we got the chance to hash out just what was on his mind.

I had a few minutes to think it over while the stage hands set up for the next game: the dreaded Helping Hands. Clive was making amicable chatter with the group seated behind his desk while a few seats down Caroline and Steve giggled about something or other, heads bent together, whispering like teenaged girls. Part of me wished I could get in on the fun, but no, Colin came first.

I refilled my glass of water as I thought, topping off Colin’s as well, for no better reason than the pitcher was my in my hand.

Unfortunately, nothing was coming to mind to help him. I was too caught up worrying about the upcoming game. Helping Hands wasn’t so bad in the beginning, and then they decided to add props, which still wasn’t bad, but then Dan got the brilliant idea to throw in food. That’s not sarcasm; I really do think that it was a great move, but I have this bad habit of going to my absolute limits for a laugh. I think that’s why, as years went by, I became the only one to play the main role in that game. Dan knew that whatever he stuck on the table, I’d have no reservations about putting it in my mouth.

It was at times like those, I thought, watching the stage hands hurry off into the wings, that I wished I were a little more reserved, but it would never happen. Getting that laugh was far too important. It was a drug, the addiction that made it all worth while.

And then it hit me. I could use this to my advantage. I was here to entertain the audience, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try and get a laugh out of my fellow performers as well.

Before I could put anymore thought into it, however, the break was over and Clive was going into a long winded explanation of the game, calling down Caroline, Colin and myself. I was up and out of my chair with far more enthusiasm than I had ever shown for this particular game and was already halfway to the table when I realized Colin had yet to leave his seat. I jogged back up to him and extended one hand, smiling brightly.

“Come on; let’s play.”

Colin blinked at the offered hand, and took it, even as he whispered, “I don’t want to play.”

“What?”

Still, he let me pull him up. He wasn’t looking at me, but at the audience. I doubt he even realized he was vocalizing his thoughts. “I’m afraid....” he started, but trailed off after only those two words.

Afraid? What did he possibly have to be afraid of? But I didn’t have time to dwell on that at the moment. I closed my fingers tight around his and practically dragged him downstage, more determined than ever to pull him out of this funk. We would definitely talk about this later, but for now I had a job to do.

With Colin beside me, I took a good look at the table as Clive explained the scenario. I would play the manager of a fast food restaurant, teaching my new employee, Caroline, how to prepare the food. The restaurant, it seemed, was Mexican, because aside from a cash register, various bottled drinks and tiny plastic toys like the ones found in Happy Meals, there were taco shells, wraps and an array of fixings, which included a big bowl of refried beans. Yum.

The attire for the game was a simple apron and paper hat, both of which I donned without thought. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Caroline do the same.

It was time to assume the position. I lifted my arms, an invitation for Colin to stick his through. He did so, but strangely seemed to be keeping his distance. I was used to him, or whoever was playing the part, to get close, press up against my back in order to have the most freedom when it came to using his or her arms. For some reason Colin didn’t do that today. So I did it for him. I reached back, snatching at the sides of Colin’s shirt, and tugged. Caught off guard, he stumbled forward, bumping into me, and I held him there in a sort of backwards hug.

He gave a sharp inhale when I did that, letting out his breath in a shudder against the back of my neck.

I shivered involuntarily, the hairs at my nape standing on end. That little exchange had seemed oddly sexual, but it couldn’t have been; I had just startled him.

“Whenever you’re ready, Ryan,” Clive said, sounding just a bit impatient, and I had to wonder just how long I had been standing there contemplating my friend’s breathing. I plastered a smile on my face and looked to Caroline.

She jumped into the scene with her usual flair, getting the part of a perky teen down to a T.

“I’m so excited to be working here,” she exclaimed, nearly bouncing. One arm came out to point at something on the table. “Are you going to show me how to make a taco?”

“No,” I started, but Colin had already lifted a hard, curved shell in one hand. I felt him hesitate. “I mean yes,” I amended. “This is very simple. We just take a little meat....”

Colin went scrounging around the table. I could feel him slide against me as he got up on tiptoe in an attempt to see over my shoulder. Without thinking, I pressed back, looking for more friction. It had been a simple, platonic gesture on his part, but it had felt good all the same. Once I felt him freeze and had realized just what I was doing, I stopped, but didn’t pull away.

“Where’s that meat...?” I muttered, attempting to hid the blush that threatened to creep up my cheeks. I don’t know what was wrong with me. Maybe it was Colin’s sullenness that had me overanalyzing and over exaggerating our normal touches. I vowed to tone it down.

Colin kicked back into action, finally finding the bowl of ground beef and plunging his hand in. It looked horribly greasy and congealed. I suppressed a shudder at the thought that I’d be swallowing it soon enough.

“I just like to dig in with my hands,” I told Caroline. “This may be fast food, but it’s fast food with love. You have to feel the food.”

Colin complied by toying with the meat, rolling it around his fingers before tossing it unceremoniously into the taco shell. I think it was pure luck that any got in at all.

We quickly went over the remaining ingredients, topping it all off with a generous helping of tabasco sauce. It came in a little clear squeeze bottle, and despite the fact that my stomach would hate me for it, I urged Colin to keep pouring it on until it covered every shred of cheese and bit of lettuce, until it poured out over the sides and through his fingers, dripping onto the table below.

“Now that’s a taco!” I exclaimed. Colin held it up to show it off, obviously trying to offer it to Caroline, and I backed him up, saying, “Would you like to try it? We don’t usually eat the food we prepare, of course, but in order to appreciate the level of quality we expect in our employees, you should have a bite.”

Caroline took one look at the horrid, dripping mess and took a step back. “Oh, no,” she said, laughing, “I’m on a diet. You can have it.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said even though I knew Colin would never let me get out of it that easily. I could feel him chuckling against my back in anticipation. Suddenly I wanted to eat it. I would have even if it were filled with dirt and slugs. The very thought had Colin smiling, and what was a little discomfort compared to the laughter of a friend?

“Well, why not?” I said before Colin even made the move to bring the taco to my mouth.

As eager as I was to please him, the sheer amount of sauce had my eyes stinging, and I actually cringed as I took a bite.

Hot. Hothothothothot. Oh, it burned, and I need it out now. Luckily, Colin was quickly regaining himself as the game went on. By the time the pain registered, he’d already dropped the taco onto the table and had one hand poised under my chin, ready to take whatever I spat out, and I did so without hesitation.

As I hurriedly went on to pretty much beg for a drink, the audience and other contestants alike voiced their disgust, not that I could blame them. Manhandling another guy’s chewed food wasn’t the most appealing thing in the world, but I felt no regret for putting Colin through it.

I had at first. I remembered the first time I had spit something into his hands. After the game I’d apologized profusely, but Colin just shrugged, smiling bemusedly.

“You didn’t have a choice,” he’d argued, “and I wasn’t going to make you swallow that.”

It was his way of telling me that while he obviously didn’t enjoy it, he didn’t really mind either. He’d followed that up with a little laugh and, “What are friends for?”

So I felt no regret, but I knew I’d have to buy him a drink to make it up to him. Not by his orders, of course, but to ease my own conscious. Now, as Colin knocked around the bottles of soda, making sure to get them all shaken up before he attempted to open one, I squeezed him a little tighter to me. This time it wasn’t even remotely sexual, just a silent thank you.

“You’re welcome,” he laughed against my neck.

Maybe the hug hadn’t been sexual, but his voice, a soft, smiling whisper, and the wash of his breath over my skin, that was a different story. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this, I told myself, trying in vain to stay focused on the game. I’d never had this problem before; why now?

I was finally brought back to the present when I noticed Caroline backpedaling furiously away from the table. Colin was preparing to open a bottle of cola. As expected it sprayed everywhere. I was mostly protected by the apron, but I would definitely need to clean up before we could move past this game.

My mouth was still on fire, which Colin probably suspected, as he was bringing the now almost half empty bottle to my lips, but I stopped him. I wanted him to get an idea of the feelings he was stirring in me. It was a crazy thing to think, to want to do, but once the thought was in my head, I couldn’t get rid of it.

“I don’t like to drink out of the bottle,” I protested, and Colin stopped moving obediently, waiting patiently for instructions. “Too much carbonation that way,” I explained. “I like to drink it out of my hand.”

So Colin did it. He tipped the bottle until it rushed out over his hand, pooling in his palm and sloshing over the sides. Caroline was still keeping a careful distance.

Colin brought the hand to my lips, and I closed my eyes, wanting to center completely on the task at hand, as it were.

I darted my tongue out to lap at the puddle in his hand, thankful that he hadn’t used the one still coated in tabasco. Colin gave a little start at the contact, so I did it again, this time dragging the tip of my tongue across his palm slowly. I continued to do that until nearly all the liquid was gone. I could feel Colin breathing, short, hot breaths that fluttered the hairs above my collar. It was working. I moved on to his fingers, trailing a line up the pinky and then down again, doing each finger in turn. When I reached his index finger, I actually took the whole thing in my mouth, sucking greedily at the sweet, sticky soda that clung to his skin. I went back down the line, taking each finger completely into my mouth. I couldn’t get enough.

Colin complied eagerly, almost too eagerly. In fact, he was now pressing up against me, chest flush against my back, lips brushing my neck with each exhale. And if I wasn’t mistaken, a certain other part of him was enjoying my ministrations as well.

Shit.

I hadn’t meant to do that to him. Or had I? I’d never considered how it would feel to try and get another man aroused, or to have the evidence of my success pressed into the back of my thigh, but I certainly never imagined how much it would excite me in turn. This was not good. We were on stage, I reminded myself, and finally pulled away from Colin’s hand, saying loudly, “Now that was refreshing.”

Colin seemed to regain his senses, because he suddenly muttered a curse under his breath and backed off enough so that we were no longer touch, save his arms against my sides and my hands still lightly around his back.

Caroline was giving us a very strange look, but, saint that she is, hurried on with the game, going on about how much she loved beans and wanted me to make a burrito.

I was running on autopilot now, speaking without thinking. I was far too concerned with what had just happened. Colin’s words from earlier passed through my mind.

I’m afraid....

He couldn’t have been afraid of this, could he? Of being near me? Of how he might react? I supposed it was possible. We were close, but perhaps I had underestimated exactly how close Colin wanted to be. I know I never imagined I’d end up giving him an erection on stage....

Suddenly Caroline was doubled over in laughter. I blinked. I had no idea what I had just said, but apparently it had been good. I could hear Steve’s deep laughter behind me, and even Clive was chuckling. I looked back to Caroline, silently begging for help.

At first she simply smirked at me, asking, “Really, sir, this is a work place. Should we be discussing things like that?” I must have looked horrified, because she relented. “It’s nice that burritos remind you of penises, but that’s a little too much information, don’t you think?”

I had said what?

I glanced down at Colin’s hands. He was waggling a sloppily made burrito, beans spilling out at either end. And while I had been out of it, he had apparently drawn on a happy face with tabasco sauce. I stuttered for a few seconds, grinning embarrassedly at what was now in my mind the smiling penis burrito, and then Clive finally, thankfully hit the buzzer.

Oh, I was ribbed mercilessly for that by everyone but Colin. Colin, actually, wasn’t doing much talking at all and wouldn’t meet my eyes. He was probably fearing what would happen when the show was over. He lapsed back into quiet for the rest of the taping, and nothing I did could bring him out of it.

I’m sure he imagined that I was angry or disgusted with him, an idea which I found silly, but then he didn’t know that I was far too intrigued to be angry.

A chunk of the cast and crew were going out for drinks, but I politely declined their invitation, knowing that in his current state, Colin would as well. Instead I intended to meet up with him in his dressing room, but he had already gone by the time I got there.

Thinking quickly, I raced over to a nearby liquor store, picking up a little something to drink before going back to the hotel.

When I knocked on Colin’s door, he didn’t answer. I could hear him moving around inside and said as much. “Come on,” I continued when he still refused to open the door, “I’m not mad at you, so stop sulking and let me in.”

I’m sure he still didn’t believe me, but after another few seconds, the door opened. Colin was practically hiding behind it, watching me with wide eyes.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, I pushed past him, setting down the paper liquor store bag on top of the tv. “I brought beer,” I said cheerfully, turning back as Colin shut the door. He hung back, however, watching me warily.

“Why?”

“Why not?” I shrugged.

Colin still had the look of a cornered animal, so I advanced on him, laying a hand on his shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. “Hey,” I said gently, watching Colin’s eyes dart from mine to my hand and back again, “about the taping....”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Colin ducked his head. His cheeks were flushed, eyes downcast.

“Don’t be.”

As quickly as he had looked down, he looked back up, startled.

“Actually,” I said, moving my hand for his shoulder to trail up his neck and along his jaw, feeling Colin push into the touch instinctively, “I was thinking we might want to continue. You know, a private game of Helping Hands.”

Colin blinked at me. I could see hope and disbelief warring for dominance in his eyes.

On impulse, I leaned down, pressing my lips to his in a soft, chaste kiss. Colin gave a little gasp against my mouth. His hands fluttered up to clutch at my arms, pressing forward and deepening the kiss.

My head was spinning with the intensity of it. I couldn’t figure out how I’d never known how much I wanted this. Reluctantly, I pulled away. The disbelief was still in his eyes, but it was a small thing, almost completely overshadowed by love and a quickly growing lust.

“What do you say?” I asked, my voice coming out in a gravely whisper. “Want me to suck on your fingers again? Maybe other things, too?”

Colin laughed, low and beautiful. “Yes,” he said, “I’d love that.”


End
9/11/05

January 2016

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