[FIC] Two Sides of the Same Coin

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

Don't worry, Cae!  I'm still thinking on your Mike/Drew story (unless Clay beats me to it!)  But since I wrote such a disgusting story last night, I wanted to completely turn it around tonight.  This one is for Razberrycreme who...ahem...subtly....pointed me in the direction of protective!Ryan.  Part of it also comes from the wonderful interview that Claire was kind enough to share about Colin.  A little violence, but mostly fluff.

TITLE:  Two Sides of the Same Coin
PAIRING:  Ryan/Colin
RATING:  PG for language only.  No sex
DISCLAIMER:  Don't own, don't sue.  Please.
NOTES:  See Above.

“C’mon funny man. Be funny for us.”

 

Colin was sitting in a grungy bar, surrounded by men in filthy overalls who had few teeth and fewer brains, being batted around like a tennis ball.  He was doing his impression of a turtle, head tucked low between highly hunched shoulders, his fists, palms sweating profusely, loosely curled into impotent fists, wishing he was anywhere, anywhere, but here.

 

“I’m not funny,” he said, sounding much calmer than he felt.

 

The breath was almost driven from his lungs by a healthy swat to the back.  “Sure you are.  I seen you in that show, Whose….what is it again?”

 

“Whose Name is it Anyways, ya ijit!” another man exclaimed.  The others agreed, nodding sagely.

 

“Yeah. That.  You was funny then. Be funny now.”

 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not that man.”

 

His breath was then choked from him as his collar was yanked tight and he was pulled halfway off the stool by a man with the strength of a bull.  “You callin’ me a liar, boy?”

 

Boy?  While he wasn’t quite old enough to be this young man’s father, a ‘boy’ he most certainly wasn’t. The prematurely gray hair—what was left of it—made him seem even older than he was. It didn’t seem wise to mention that, however. “No, sir.  I’m not.”

 

“Good.”

 

It was true, though.  The Colin of the stagelights, fearlessly leading where Angels fear to tread, taking the suggestions—if not always cheerfully—that they wouldn’t dare to give the others, joyously walking the highwire with nothing but faith in his friends, and the timid, shy Colin currently sitting at the bar were as unalike as East and West.  That both sides of that coin happened to be housed in the same body was mere coincidence; a freak of nature that sometimes happened. 

 

“So if you ain’t callin’ me a liar, then do somethin’ funny!”

 

“I told you, I’m not funny.”  Damnit, Ryan, where the hell are you?  It seemed like he’d been in the bathroom for hours.  If he could have waited just five more miles, they would have been in a place where something like this wouldn’t have happened, but no, he had to go, and he had to go now!  Besides, he liked roadhouses.  He liked the rough-and-tumble atmosphere of them, and he liked that he wouldn’t be recognized.

 

Apparently, he wasn’t the one who had to worry about being recognized.  Unless…unless he had been recognized and was getting the same treatment in the bathroom. 

 

Colin immediately shook that thought out of his head.  Ryan could take care of himself; had on more than one occasion.  Semi-literate idiots like these wouldn’t pose problem one for him.

 

Colin, on the other hand…

 

“You’re an im-pro-vis-or,” the youngest one said, scratching his greasy hair.  “Near as I can figger, that means you pull funny outta your own head.  So it’s in there.  Let it out.”

 

Colin covered his face with his hands.  “I can’t, don’t you see?”

 

His collar was tugged again, and a grimy fist shook itself before his eyes.  “Do somethin’ funny, funny man, or we’ll beat it outta you.”

 

Slowly, Colin shook his head.  “Threats of violence aren’t the greatest impetus for getting what you want.”

 

His collar was released as all men took a step back.  “What are you, one o’ them too-smart-for-their-own-good down Easters or something?”

Colin sighed.  “I’m Canadian.”

 

The fist reappeared as the group closed in around him again.  “The ones that killed all them people in them buildings?”

 

Colin’s eyes flew open in absolute horror.  “Not Al-Queda.  Canadian.  We’re your allies!”

 

“I dunno,” the oldest said.

 

“Sure doesn’t look like one of em,” said another.

 

“Heard they’s masters of disguise.”

 

“Nah.  He wouldn’t be on Tee Vee if he was one o’ them.”

 

The others nodded, and Colin thanked fate for idiocy in all its forms.

 

“One of them Illegals, then,” one said.

 

“Yeah, takin’ food off a workin man’s table.”

 

Colin sighed again.  “I have my Green Card. If you want my job, you’re certainly welcome to it.”  Actually, that might be amusing.  Brad would probably flip.  But then again, he’d have a whole mine of new joke potential.  The bald jokes had gotten old ten years ago.  His lips quirked at the image.

 

“You finding somethin funny, funny man?”

 

“No.”

 

“Last chance.  You start making with the laughs, or we start pounding.”

 

But he couldn’t, and he knew it.  Hell, everyone knew it.  Or at least everyone who knew him.  Fans still expected him to be funny at the drop of a dime, but it just wasn’t in him without his friends and the stage lights.  He slowly closed his eyes and waited for the pain to start.

 

The first blow came to his gut, and his breath, for the third time that evening, whooshed out of him like air from a bellows.  He wanted to vomit, but didn’t.  He wanted to bend over and cradle his aching gut, but didn’t do that either.  He simply waited.

 

Then the bathroom door slammed open and Ryan strode out, a look of murder in his eyes.  His hair was a bit mussed and his t-shirt was partially torn, so he had gotten into a bit of a tussle in there, hence the delay.  That made Colin feel better, if anything could.

 

“What the fuck is going on out here?” he demanded, huge hands tightly fisted.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” the oldest one asked.

 

“He’s that tall one from the same show!” the youngest one said.  “I told you they was gay!”

 

“No he ain’t.”

 

“Sure he is.  Look how tall he is!”

 

“Yeah, but skinny as a rail.  He won’t be no trouble.”

 

“Don’t bet on it,” Ryan grumbled, long arm reaching through the pack and snatching Colin from his stool and shoving him behind his back in protection.  “Now, who wants to be first?”

 

Waiting for a fight all along, they came at him altogether, and with a whoop of joy, he waded in, fists flying.  Skinny he might have been, and gangly as hell too, but he had one fuck of a punch when he needed to use it, which, thank god, wasn’t very often.  He wasn’t, by nature, a violent man.

 

But seeing Colin hurt….

 

The men went down like tenpins, bleeding from various orifices.  Before they dropped, the men managed to get in a few licks and as a result, Ryan was bleeding a little from one corner of his mouth, but otherwise seemed unharmed. 

 

When he was sure that they would pose no more threat, he snatched Colin from behind him, slung an arm around his shoulder, and walked him out of the bar and into his car. 

 

Once seated and belted in, he looked over at his lover with sorrow in his deep green eyes.  “I’m sorry, Col.”

 

“It’s ok,” Colin said, meaning it as he reached up a thumb and dabbed the drying blood off of Ryan’s mouth.  “It’s over, and it’s ok.”

 

“No, it’s not.  I keep forgetting, damnit.  I keep forgetting that there’s two sides to you.  Hell, even on stage, when you’ve got me beat, and something comes across too sharp, I want to protect you, and then….I stop here, and leave you alone, knowing, knowing damnit, that you’ll be uncomfortable.  Damnit!”  His fists, a little bruised but none the worse for wear, pounded the steering wheel so hard that the whole car shook.

 

“Ry, Ry, stop, ok?” Colin said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.  “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a grown man.”

 

“Maybe,” Ryan said, “but it’s the boy in you that hooked me from the start.  A sweet, gentle boy who opened his scared heart to me and never let go.”  He shook his head.  “Why do I do that?”

 

Colin chuckled, a little painfully.  His gut was still hurting.  “Because you had the misfortune to fall in love with a really, really fucked up person.”

 

“No.  I fell in love with Superman.”

 

Colin’s jaw dropped.  “Huh?”

 

Ryan laughed, genuine and engaging.  “When the lights are off, you’re all Clark Kent, soft and shy, but when those lights go on, BAM!  Bullets bounce off your chest.”  He shook his head.  “Guess that makes me Lois Lane, huh?”

 

“Or Kryptonite,” Colin replied dryly.

 

Ryan nodded soberly.  “Yeah.  Sometimes that, too.”

 

Colin shook his head.  “Don’t go all maudlin on me, Stiles, or I won’t kiss it later and make it better.”

 

Ryan’s grin was slow and sexy.  “No maudlinity here, sir.”

 

“I don’t even think that’s a word,” Colin replied, frowning briefly and cocking his head.

 

“Fuck it,” Ryan replied, good mood completely restored.  “I’ll spend the rest of the way home thinking up other places you can kiss and make better.  I’ve got three in mind already.”

 

“Three, huh?”

 

“Mm. But why stop there?  You’re sure you’re ok, though.”

 

“Perfectly fine,” he replied, and he was, for the most part.  Ryan was like that.  Without even trying, he could take what was bad and make it good again.  That’s why Colin, no matter what incarnation, could never really blame him for anything.

 

“Then let’s get the fuck outta here.”

 

And so they did.

 

FIN