"Superhero" [Friendship Fic]

[mizzmeow.livejournal.com]

“Superhero”
by mizzmeow  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Summary: The WL Guys gather for a BBQ, and get an unpleasant surprise instead.
Notes:  I wrote this a looooooong time ago, and people on fanfiction.net liked it, until they got rid of real person fiction, the bastards.  And this could be considered slashy if you close one eye and hold your head at an angle.  Forgive any spelling errors as you find them.  (There are lots of them.  *headdesk*)
Disclaimer:  I don't own anyone but myself, and even then I wonder.  This is a work of fiction, and would probably never happen.

Greg Proops pulled the rental car up the long driveway to the “4-S Ranch” as he liked to call it, and nudged his traveling companion on the arm.
“We’re here, sleepy bear. Y’ know, Brad most people sleep nights, it might do you some good if you tried it out some time.” Brad Sherwood, sat up and rubbed the hour’s sleep from his eyes. He yawned, and mumbled something incoherent. “Pardon, me compadre?”
“I said, why can’t Ryan live nearer civilization?”
“Well, maybe cuz he lives part time in Hollywood, Braddy-pooh. You know how much he hates it there. This will always be home to him.”
“Mm, yeah. I guess you’re right.” They made the final descent to Ryan Stiles’ house, and Greg parked the car. As they got out, Brad looked around and frowned at Greg.
“I thought Colin was supposed to be here two days ago.”
“That was the plan, pookie. So what?” Greg popped the trunk to get the food. Brad came around to give him a hand.
“So, where’s Col’s car?” Greg stopped what he was doing, and cocked an amused eyebrow at his friend.
“Helluva drive from Toronto to Seattle, don’t you think? Why would Col’s car be here, when he flew out?”
“Oh, yeah. I always forget that Totonto is farther east.” Brad blushed and hefted the relish tray they had purchased on the way to Ryan’s ranch house.
“You’ve got to get that ‘Where We Met Tour 1999’ outta’ your head, kid. They took you to Vancouver . Now that’s just a beavers throw from here. Our love muffin could have made that trip, no probs.” Brad chuckled, as Greg pulled two grocery bags full of potoato chips out of the trunk and closed it with his elbow.
“I think you went a little overboard on the chips, Proops.”
“Not the way you eat them, Sherwood.”

Greg smiled at Brad as they walked onto the front porch, and poked a finger at the doorbell. They waited a couple of minutes before the door opened, and they were met by the smiling visage of Ryan Stiles.
“Hey, guys. You’re early, but that’s okay. C’mon in, and put the stuff in the kitchen.” Ryan led them through the front hall, that opened into a large family room. A large entertainment center sat against the far wall, sparkling in the sunlight that flooded through the picture window. Greg loved the ranch more each time he visited it. Ryan and Pat always made one feel at home here.
“Hey, new picture?” Brad asked, stopping just shy of the kitchen. Greg and Ryan had to step back and look up, to see what he was talking about. Catching a glimps of it himself, Greg stifled a giggle.
“Yeah. You like?” Ryan sounded proud.
“You two scare me sometimes.” Brad laughed, admiring the picture from another angle.
“That’s exactly what Pat said. I told her she was just jealous.”
“Mmhm, and what did Deb say?” Greg cocked his head sideways, but the eyes still followed him.
“She said we made a cute couple.” Brad and Greg laughed out loud.
“Trust Deb McGrath to come up with a line like that. Her husband and his best friend dress up as outlaws from the old west and she thinks ‘they’re a cute couple’.” Ryan lowered his eyelids, and rubbed at his nose.
“Well, we are. C’mon before the lettuce starts to wilt.” He sneezed, and rubbed his nose again.
“You got another cold, Ry?” Brad asked, opening the fridge to put the relish tray away.
“Nah, just summer allergies. The antihistamine should kick in any time now.” Despite the tantilizing smell of barbecue sauce simmering on the stove top, the kitchen was void of any mess. No sign that there had been other foods cooking in it, as the stocked full refridgerator revealed.
“How in the hell did you keep this kitchen looking so emaculate, just before a barbecue?” Greg demanded, as Ryan put the chips --bags and all-- in some large serving bowls.
“Well, first you go to the airport, find a bald man with big brown eyes, and dimples that don’t end. Then you bring him home, and let him cook in your kitchen for two days. And when you get ready to go clean the mess up, you find that it’s already been done.”
“A self cleaning Colin. We should mass market him.” Brad giggled, and sat at the kitchen table.
“I can just see it now. Every woman in the US and Canada, all beating down the doors of their local appliance dealer for a Colin Clone.” Greg could see rows and rows of Colin Mochrie in his mind. All with that killer smile, and all with that blinding pate of his.
“That woudn’t work, guys. He’s a one of a kind model. And think of all the happy marriages he’d break up.” Ryan’s grey-green eyes twinkled happily, as he leaned against the counter top.
“The man is too damn sexy for his own good.” Greg nodded. “And he doesn’t even know it.”
“Where is Colin, anyway?” Brad leaned his head against his left hand, and plunked his elbow on the table.
“He’s in the shower. He must have been up till the wee hours this morning, putting the finishing touches on everything. He was so dead out, that I let him sleep till ten-thirty. That,” Ryan hooked a thumb at the pot of sauce to his right, “is what I woke up to this morning. I was ready to start grilling at seven AM!”
“It does smell delish. He’s got a real charm with food.” Greg lifted the lid, and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. I could bathe in this stuff.” Ryan smiled again, and shook his head.
“You know, I keep telling him to write a cook book. It’d fly off the shelves, that’s for damn sure.”
“You can lead a bald man to hair, but you can’t make it grow.” Brad quipped, a rather stupid grin splittng his face.
“You’ve been hitting the bottle early, Brad. It isn’t even noon yet.”

The doorbell rang again, making Ryan jump. That must be Chip and Wayne. Drew had been invited too, and had planned to come, but production complications on one of his many projects had screwed that up. Though dissapointed, Ryan understood the perks and woes of show business, and told Drew he was invited anytime.
“That’ll be our other boys. Be right back.” Ryan left the other two men in the kitchen, and headed for the front door. As he passed the staircase, he could hear “Pinch Me” by the Barenaked Ladies, faintly from Colin’s room. It was actually the guest room, but Colin and his wife spent so much time in it, that Ryan just called it theirs. With another smile, he approched the door, and opened it. Chip and Wayne smiled back, both holding two large pink boxes. The kind you get when you buy cakes and other goodies from a bakery.
“Hello! C’mon through to the kitchen. Greg and Brad are in there already.”
“Mmmm. Home made barbacue sauce? You really out did yourself, Ryan.” Chip smiled and inhaled again.
“The only thing I did was grocery shop. Colin made all the food. You could tell him how good it smells if he’d ever get his ass down here!” He yelled the last part, as they passed the staircase. They could hear a door open, and the music got louder.
“Did you say something, Ry?” Colin’s voice carried down the stairs over the music.
“I just said that everyone is here but you! Would you hurry, already!” They could hear Colin chuckle.
“I’ll just be a few more minutes. Gotta’ buff the forehead!” Wayne and Chip snickered, Ryan simply smiled.
“In other words, ‘I’ll be down when I’m damn good and ready, shithead’.”
“He send that message telepathically?” Wayne wondered.
“Well, sort of. You gotta’ listen to the tone in his voice.”
“We might, but you don’t seem to have any problems reading his mind.” Chip said, shifting the box in his arms, so he could get through the kitchen door.
“Reading whose mind, Charles, darling?” Greg looked up from the magazine he was reading.
“Colin’s.”
“Ahh. ‘Nuff said.” Ryan rolled his eyes, as he crossed to the stove and shut down the burner. Lifting the lid, he caught a waft of the sauce, and he almost drooled into it. He was too hungry to wait any longer.
“Well, while Prince Charmer upstairs preens, could I get some help setting up the tables out on the patio?” Three eager hands shot up. From Brad, Chip and Wayne. “Great. Greg, could I get you to start getting the stuff out of the fridge for me?”
“You got it, Tall Man. Shall I go fetch the Dino One to help?”
“Nah, it’s cool, Greg. Let him take his time. He’s done all the work so far. C’mon, guys. Let’s get this thing going.”

***
Colin opened the window to his room, and shut off the CD player. He could hear Brad and Wayne swearing at something, so he walked back over to look. They had one of the banquet tables on it’s side, and couldn’t figure how to lock the legs so that it would stand. Ryan walked by, knocked the two braces in place, and disappeared through the patio doors. The other two men looked at each other stupidly, and set the table upright. Colin chuckled, and walked back to the bathroom, to finish cleaning up the mess. Folding the damp towel neatly, he hung it on the back of the door, and stuffed his shaving cream and razor into his travel bag. He rinsed off his toothbrush next, and slid it into it’s case, and tucked it into the bag as well. Mopping up the water on the countertop with a wash cloth, Colin deposted it into the laundry hamper just outside the door.
Despite it being Seattle, it was a rather warm, dry day, so Colin chose to wear light blue denim shorts, and a white polo shirt. No need to look like a slob, just because you were hangin’ with the homeys. Not wanting to hassle with shoes and socks, Colin decided on his beach sandles. They were comfy and fashionable too. As he sat down on the bed to put the sandles on, he was startled back to his feet, by what sounded like gunshots. His heart slammed into his chest, threatening to beat it’s way out, as Colin stumbled to the window. Peering carefully out, Colin saw two strangers, who had apparently joined the party without invitations. They were both holding big guns. No, large guns. Guns. Illegal guns, but guns just the same.

They had hearded Colin’s three friends into a group just beside Ryan’s barbecue grill. Brad, Chip and Wayne looked terrified. And why shouldn’t they have? Ryan and Greg were shoved roughly outside to join them moments later, by two more men, with the same kind of guns. Horrified beyond belief, Colin backed away from the window, and quietly stepped into his walk-in closet. Slipping his suitcase out of it’s special compartment, Colin carried it to the bed, and pulled all the dresser drawers open. He scooped his belongings into his arms and quickly deposited them in the case, not caring whether they were folded or not. Hastening his step, he ran to the bathroom and retreived his travel bag, stuffing the wet shampoo bottle into it without bothering to dry it off. Putting his toiletries with his clothes, he zipped the suitcase shut, and hefted it back into it’s “secret compartment”, and slid the nearly invisible door shut. He looked down, and saw three pairs of shoes.
“Shit!” he cursed, under his breath, scooping them up and pulling the door open again. He tossed the shoes in with the suitcase, and looked around to see if there was anything else that would give him away. All clear. He slid the door closed again, and closed the closet door too. He sat on the bed, shoved his feet into the sandles, and ran back to the dresser. He closed the drawers quietly and grabbed his wallet and cell phone, keying it off. He didn’t want a phone call at an inopportune time. He shoved them into his shorts pocket, and walked back over to the window.
“Are you sure?” one of the strangers asked the other three. They all nodded, nervously, and the one who appeared to be the ringleader, growled. He wasn’t very tall, about as tall as Drew, maybe. But he was much more svelt, his golden hair hung in a ponytail down his back. All that beautiful hair, wasted on a bastard. His companions ranged in size, but none of them could look Ryan or Brad in the eye without looking up. Colin doubted whether they were even as tall as himself, but that was unimportant now. The blonde was moving toward Ryan, angrily.
“Where is he?” he barked. If Ryan was scared, he was hiding it well.
“Who?” Colin let out a shaky sigh. Ryan was scared alright. His voice was tight, and strained, but his face masked a calm demenor.
“You know who! The bald one! Mochrie! Where is Mochrie!?” Greg, Brad , Chip and Wayne all blinked, nonplused. Colin wasn’t surprised, and neither was Ryan. These guys knew who they were looking for, for damn sure.
“He’s not here.” Ryan lied, looking the man in the eye. “He’s sick, so he didn’t come. He’s at home.” The blonde man turned toward Colin’s window, and Colin dropped to the floor, almost as fast as his stomach had. Did he see me? Shit! Did I blow it that fast?
“Why don’t I belive you, Stiles? Hm?” The man’s voice was mocking, and dangerous. “I know that you two have some kind of ‘special’ relationship. Whatever the hell that means.”
“Just because we’re close, doesn’t mean he lives here. Hell, I only live here some of the time.” Ryan’s voice quivered just a bit, but he kept it under control. That was Colin’s signal to move, and as he started for the door, he remembered the damp towel and the washcloth. Moving as quickly and as stealthfully as he could, he snached the washcloth from the hamper, and did the same of the towel.
“Go search the house. Tear it apart from top to bottom if you have to! GO!”
Outta’ time! Colin sprinted down the hall, stopping only to shove the terrycloth items into the hall hamper. He came to the crossroads, the spit in the hallway. He had to find a place to hide that they would never think of looking! Not the master bedroom. Too obvious. He looked at Sam’s bedroom door, then at MacKenzie’s, then back at Sam’s. Sammy’s room didn’t have any room to hide, it was too small. Kenzie’s room on the other hand, had room for her cramped little playhouse. The playhouse that “Uncle Colly” was always invited to, for tea parties. Why am I thinking about Kenzie’s tea parties? This is not the time! Then the thought hit him, like a slap to the face. The playhouse! He could fit in there, and they’d never think to look!

He was at MacKenzie’s door in two steps, and inside in two more. One thing could be said about Ryan’s oldest child. She was no tom boy. She was everything a little girl was all about. Her room was pink and frilly. Dolls and plush animals pocked every nook and cranny. The playhouse was no exception. It was painted pink and purple, and the door stood wide open. The tea table had been moved out, it had the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle strewn all over it. The two tiny chairs, sat tucked on either side of it. Thanking God for his goddaughter’s love of jigsaws, Colin dove inside the tiny little space and pulled the door shut, as quietly as he could. Folding himself into an uncomfortable position, Colin again thanked God, for this odd talent of his. He was now lying on his stomach in the cramped little house, his long legs folded against the far wall. The little windows, had little shutters, that had been closed tight, before the little mistress had left for Canada. Colin found himself thanking God, once more, for her inheritance of his meticulous nature. How or why she inherited it, he might never understand, but he was grateful none the less.

He didn’t have time to mull the thought over in his head too much, because the door to Kenzie’s room suddenly slammed open. Colin hugged the floor, and didn’t breath. He just listened.
“Shit! Who lives here? Shirley Temple?” The gruff voice was muffled by the thin wall between them. Colin bit his tongue. He didn’t like hearing either of his godchildren being made fun of, and he wanted to bite the guy’s head off. After a short moment, he heard footsteps cross the room, and someone opened Kenzie’s closet. Another set of footsteps crossed over to her bed, and there was an audible thump, that Colin felt. His heart quickened, and he had to take another breath. Calm down, Mochrie. Don’t panic. They’ll hear you if you do! His mind was screaming that logic at him, so it was difficult to ignor. The closet door slammed, and the first set of feet crossed the room again. The second pair soon joined them. “Nothin’?” The gruff voice, again.
“Nuthin’.” A raspy voice confirmed. There was a pause. “What about that thing? I’ll bet that son of a bitch is hiding in there!” There were two steps toward the playhouse, and Colin thought his heart was going to stop. Instead, the footsteps did.
“Mochrie couldn’t fit in there if he tried, you ass! He’s 6’ 2”! How the hell is a guy that tall gonna’ fit in that stupid little doll house? Use your brain, if ya got one!” Another pause.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You suppose? You’re an idiot, and I don’t know why Kennedy hired you in the first place!”
Kennedy. A name. He devoted that name to memory. Another pair of footsteps thudded down the hall, and entered Kenzie’s room.
“There ain’t even shit in the guest room. Nothin’ in the master either. An’ the little boy’s room is too small to hide in.” This new voice was younger, more lyrical than his companions. Probably the lacky. The one that got stuck doing jobs no one else wanted.
“Well, he ain’t in here either,” the gruff voice said. “If he’s here, he’s invisible. I think Stiles is on the up and up.”
“Kennedy ain’t gonna’ like that, Roden.”
“No shit? Like I didn’t clue into that at all. C’mon. Let’s tell him it’s clean.” The three men thudded out of MacKenzie’s room and down the hall to the stairs.

Colin let out his breath slowly, realizing that he had become lightheaded. He didn’t dare move, for fear they might come back with the hot headed Kennedy in tow. When that didn’t happen, he reluctantly crawled out of his hiding place, and tried to stand. His legs wouldn’t let him, there wasn’t any circulation in them. He sat on the floor willing strength into his legs, when he saw “Twinky” on the floor next to MacKenzie’s bed. Crawling over to the brightly colored pulsh bird, Colin picked it up, and stared at it. He had given it to her for her third birthday, and she had slept with it at her side up to this day. Then three strangers invaded her room, and knocked poor Twinky off his perch. Hugging the little plush toy to his heart, he let out a terrified sigh, and placed it back on the bed. He could feel his legs again, and wobbled to his feet. Willing his terror to one side, Colin crept out of Kenzie’s room, and down to the staircase. He could hear loud voices from the patio. Kennedy, most likely. Going balistic because they hadn’t found their sixth prisoner. Tiptoeing across the family room, Colin spotted the keys to Ryan’s suburban on the coffee table. Risking being spotted, he collected them, and put them with his wallet and cellular in his pocket.
He ducked into the kitchen, and saw what Ryan and Greg must have been doing when they had been so violently interrupted. There was food set out on the counter, waiting to be taken outside for lunch. The three cases of Canadian beer Colin had supplied sat on the table, next to the cooler. There was also a bag of ice, melting all over the place. It dripped off the table and was making a puddle on the floor underneath. He heard movment just then. Footsteps. Lost of them. They were bringing Ryan and the others in the house! Feeling like a total ass, Colin knew he was a sitting duck. There wasn’t anything he could do now, but wait for them to find him.

“What the hell do you want with us?” Greg sounded wired, his voice was pitched high with nerves.
“Shut your face, Proops. I don’t need you smart assing off right now.” Kennedy snapped back. “You. You know Mochrie’s address?” Silence. “Answer me, Stiles!” Another gap of silence. “Good. We’re gonna’ all take a little trip, all of us.” Though Colin hadn’t heard an answer from his best friend, he guessed that Ryan had given a reluctant nod in the affirmative. Why would they need my address? Unless... Colin could just guess where they were going to take that little trip to, and his stomach turned. He didn’t know what they wanted, but he did know that they wanted the matched set. All six of them. But why? He didn’t have time to think about it, because the whole group was moving again. Toward the front door, and out. Colin watched quietly as they were all hearded out. The invaders didn’t even bother to close the door. Feeling nervy, Colin crept to the door and peeked around it. His friends were being loaded into a catering van. A white catering van, with the name “Roden’s Quick Caterers” scrawled across the side. Roden, Roden. One of the men from upstairs was called Roden! Colin added that name to his mental list, and pushed the door shut quietly. Feeling the need to protect his friend’s property, Colin locked, latched and bolted the door shut. He punched in the security code, setting it on automatic, and headed for the garage door. He had to stay with that van.

***

The five kidnapping victims sat in silence. Each was terrifed, with good cause. Ryan rested his head against the side of the van, and began to wonder how Colin had evaded the three lunatics. One of them had said that the guest room was empty. How could that have been? Colin had been living in it for the past three days! And dispite the fact that the ranch house was spacious, at best, there weren’t very many good hiding places in it, unless you were one of the children. So how did Colin do it? And how soon would he be able to get help?
As Ryan pondered on those thoughts, another thought came to him.
“Hang on, Ryan. I’m right behind you.” Ryan’s eye widened in surprise. That was Colin’s voice. Colin’s voice in Ryan’s head? The stress must have been getting to him, and affecting his sanity. But for the sake of curiosity, he thought he might send a message back to Colin. Did you call the police? The answer came back so quickly it startled him into sitting upright.
“Sorry, Ry. They weren’t much help.”

Colin punched the end button on his cellular with a frustraited sigh. The 911 operator must have thought he was nuts. True, the story was unbeliveable, but he had been there for the whole thing, dammit! And the operator had talked to him like he was a child.
“I may act like one, sometimes. But I don’t make stuff like this up,” he grumbled. He would have to try again, later. Not that he thought it would do any of them any good. The best way to help his friends, would be to stay as close to them as he could, without getting caught himself. And since he already had a good idea that they were headed for the small airport just twenty miles from Ryan’s ranch, he figured it would be easy enough to find them, should he loose them. That did little to comfort him, however. He still couldn’t figure out what in the hell these guys wanted with the group of improvisors in the first place. Ah, well, he’d find out soon enough he supposed.
The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and Colin felt very weary, and then the guilt set in. This barbecue had been all his idea. To get together as friends, talk about whatever the hell they wanted, and not worry about work. His original plan involved his own home in Toronto, but since the renovations weren’t complete, it wasn’t going to work. Ryan had enthusiastically volenteered his ranch, and had recived a nasty look from his lovely wife of many years. After a little persuading, and an effective puppy dog look from Colin, Pat gave in, and the party plans were made. Now he wished that neither of them had been so convincing.
“Dammit,” he swore under his breath. “I gotta’ find a way to tell Ryan that I’m trying to get some help.” And then, and incredibly stupid idea crossed his mind. What were the other guys always saying about them reading each others minds? It was ridiculous, but it was worth a shot, and it might make him feel a little better, anyway. Hang on, Ryan. I’m right behind you. That silent message sent, Colin concentrated on his driving, wishing that he’d had his glasses with him.
Did you call the police? Ryan asked him.
“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course, I...” Colin stopped mid-word, realizing that Ryan wasn’t with him in the suburban. But it had been Ryan’s voice. Ryan had heard that silent message, and had sent him one in return! How was that possible? Pushing any logic in his brain to the side, he sent Ryan another message. Sorry, Ry. They weren’t much help. The operator thought I was a nut case.
There was about two minutes of silence before Colin heard Ryan’s thoughts again.
Col? How come I can hear you in my head? Colin supressed a grin. This was no time for humor.
How the hell should I know?
But you’re the one who started it.
I didn’t think it would work. Look, we don’t have time to argue over this...this...condition right now. We’ve got to think of a plan. Gotta’ get you guys outta’ there, before they fly you to Toronto and find out I’m not there either. There was another long silence.
Col?
Yes?
How did you do it? How did you hide from these bastards? Colin thought back on his little game of hide-and-seek with the three men, and felt a sudden chill creep up his spine. That was a long story, and there wasn’t time to tell it anyway. I’ll tell you later, Ry. I promise. But right now, we’ve got to think of some sort of plan.
What did you have in mind?
He had, in fact, nothing in mind. This was bad, coming from the stand point that he made things up for a living. And now, when it counted the most, he had nothing. Angry tears stung at his eyes, and threatened to spill down onto his cheeks.
It’s okay, Col. Maybe together we can think of something. Ryan’s thought was like a gentle hand on his shoulder, and the tears subsided. We’re a team after all.
That we are. Colin agreed with a nod. And then it came to him. Ryan, are you up for a hoedown? He felt, rather than heard, Ryan’s mental groan of anguish, and smiled. Was that a yes?

Greg watched Ryan with concern. He seemed jumpy. Not that being jumpy in a situation like this would be unusual, but he hadn’t been jumpy before. Now he seemed startled, like something in his mind had snapped. His eyes were huge, and his breathing had quickened, he looked like a startled rabbit. Then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Ryan visibly relaxed, and rested against the side of the van again, only he seemed withdrawn. Pulled into his thoughts.
Greg put a genlte hand on the taller man’s arm, Ryan started, and looked at him. Grey-green eyes, bright and alert met his own, the slightest hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. Dear God, Ryan’s snapped. He’s going to do something, and get himself killed! Greg’s mind was screaming. But no, that was a familiar expression, one Ryan often wore after an especially good improv game with Colin. The “best friend buzz”, as Brad liked to call it. But why was Ryan wearing it now? Colin wasn’t here. He somehow had escaped the four crazy bastards, and hopefully was seeking help from the police at this very instant.

You can’t be serious! Sing a hoedown in the middle of this?
Relax, Ry. I was just kidding. The hoedown will have to be a last resort kind of thing. Pushing the incredulous feelings away, Ryan sighed, and noticed all the eyes on him. He sniffled nervously.
Col, I’m getting some seriously weird looks here. You plan, I’ll get back to you.
Got ya. And then Colin was gone. And in a van full of people, he suddenly felt alone. Greg opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut again, when one of the abductors leered at him. Ryan gave him a reassuring look, telling him that he was fine. Greg didn’t look particulary convinced, but let it go.
Hey, Ry. We’re almost to the airport. You all okay in there?
Scared as hell, Col, but I think we’re all fine. You got anything yet? There was a long pause, and for a moment, Ryan feared that he’d lost the connection. Colin?
Sorry. I’m still not sure what to do, I’m worried I won’t be able to do anything. Shit, Ryan, what the hell do these guys want with us? They say? This time Ryan paused, thinking back on any comments any of them might have made.
No, they haven’t said. But I’ve got an idea about it though. I think they might send Drew a randsome note. You know; “give us five million dollars or you’ll never see your friends again”. That sort of thing. Ryan felt Colin’s amusement at his theory. This connection was more than just being able to read his mind, it was far more--intimate, Ryan decided. It’s not funny, Col.
I know that, I’m sorry. But you made it sound so funny. I don’t think I’m worth five million dollars anyway. Ryan scowled, and snorted, causing one of the kidnappers to cast a warning glance at him. He did his best to smooth his features, and sent an admonishment to his best friend.
Colin Andrew Mochrie, don’t you EVER sell yourself short. I thank God every day that Jim introduced us to each other. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Ryan felt Colin blush, an odd feeling indeed.
You really think that?
Yes, I do.
And here, all this time I thought it was me who should be thankful for you.
Now don’t start that again. Dan and Mark are the ones who decided to give you another shot, I had nothing to do with it. Colin’s mental eyebrows bobbed, and Ryan could just see the dimple in his left cheek dent a bit.
If you say so. The van is pulling into a hangar at the airport. We’re gonna’ have to cut this off for a while. A brief pause. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?
That’s just what I was going to tell you. Col, please be careful. Whatever you do.
I will. If you can talk to them, tell the others help is on the way--I hope. And Colin was gone again.

***
Colin watched as his five friends were hustled out of the van and into the hangar. He had parked about twenty paces away from them. Biting his bottom lip, he dialed 911.
“Nine one one. What is your emergency?”
“Five men are about to be kidnapped at the County Airport. You’ve got to send some help!”
“How are you aware of this, sir?”
“I overheard these four men talking. One of them is named Kennedy, and another of them is called Roden. They were planning to take the five men to Canada. And they all have very large illegal guns. Please, you’ve got to send some help.”
“Do you know what part of Canada they might go to?”
“Toronto! Look, they’re at the airport now. If you don’t send someone now, they’ll be halfway to Toronto!” Colin felt the panic rising in his throat, why wouldn’t these people just send someone out to check his story? “Please. These five men are my friends. I don’t want any of them to get hurt.”
“May I have your name, sir?” Again, he was getting nowhere. He felt a tear burn down his cheek.
“Co--Andrew. My name is Andrew Mochrie. They’re in hangar 302, I just saw them hustled inside.”
“Did you follow them, Mr. Mochrie?”
“Yes! What the hell else was I supposed to do? Look, if you’re not going to do something about this, I’m going to do it myself. Good bye.” Colin thumbed the phone off, and dropped his face into his hands. “God, help me. I don’t know what to do.” He wanted to cry, but he didn’t have time. He would have to cry later, after everyone was safe. Steeling up his nerve, Colin opened the door to the suburban, and slipped out. He quietly crept to the building his friends were in, and peered around the corner. The door was open, but he didn’t see any of the kidnappers standing there. That didn’t mean shit right now though, he couldn’t see inside the building to know where anyone was. Now what? Shaking his head in self admonishment, he remembered he had a pair of eyes inside the building. Ryan’s.
Ryan? You there?
Yeah. You okay? You seem a little--angry.
I am. But that’s not important. You all okay in there?
Yeah. They push us around a lot, but they don’t seem like they want to hurt us.
Probably cause your ransom theory is right. Don’t damage the merchandise. Are all four of the bastards inside, or is there one guarding the door? There was a short pause.
All four of them are in here. None of them are anywhere near the door. Where are you?
Just outside. Is there anyway I can get in there without anyone seeing me? Another pause, this one a bit longer than the last one.
You could probably walk right in, and they’d never even notice. They’re trying to figure out a way to hire a plane without having to use force.
Good. I tried the police again. The thought of it made Colin’s blood boil.
I take it they weren’t much help?
No. I finally told them I was going to take care of it myself, and hung up. A wash of concern came from Ryan’s direction. This emotional connection was intimidating.
You can’t just do this by yourself. They’ve got guns! You could get killed!
Ry, I have to. I can’t just let these idiots get away with this. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happend to any of you. Colin could, quite literally, feel the lump rising in Ryan’s throat, and those tears were stinging in his own eyes now.
Col, don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s not worth the risk.
Yes it is! If I have to die, saving the rest of you, I will. It’s worth that risk to me. There was no response, but Colin could feel Ryan’s heartache. He didn’t care, if he could save five lives by sacrificing his own, he knew Deb would understand. Luke might be a little young, but he was smart, he would figure out why his dad did such a dumb ass thing. And he knew, by Ryan’s silence, that though he didn’t agree, or approve, he understood. I’m coming in, Ryan. Be ready to cause a distraction.

Greg stood between Ryan and Brad, watching the four men who had abducted them argue over how to hire a plane. They were idiots, granted, but idiots with large guns were dangerous. Greg, like Ryan, had formulated a theory of why they had been kidnapped. Ransom, plain and simple. Drew had lots of money, and he liked all six of the improvisers. He was a good man, and would plunk down any amount these bastards wanted. It was just sad, that there were men like Kennedy in the world. Greg was startled out of his thoughts when Ryan dropped his head, and let out a quiet sob.
“Ryan, what’s wrong?” Greg whispered, touching his tall friend’s hand.
“Colin’s gonna’ get himself killed, Greg. I told him not to, but...”
“Colin? Col’s here? How?”
“He followed us in my suburban.” Ryan brushed the tears from his cheeks, and did his best to get his emotions in check.
“How do you know that?” Brad had overheard the hushed conversation.
“He told me...” Ryan stopped up short, probably realizing what he had said, and how ridiculous it sounded. “I just know he’s here. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
“Okay. And how is he going to get himself killed?” Greg was curious about the whole thing. How could Ryan know any of this, unless the two of them where able to communicate somehow.
“He’s going to come in here and do something.”
“What?” That was Chip.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think he knows either. But he’s determined to get us out of this if it kills him.” Wayne joined the huddle then.
“Ryan, no offense, but do you know how ridiculous that sounds? First of all, you don’t know that Colin is here, and second, even if he is here, you can’t know he’ll even try anything.” Ryan looked at Wayne, an angry spark in his grey-greens, and Greg knew that the younger man had stepped over the wrong line.
“Wayne, don’t you dare judge me where Colin Mochrie is concerned. I’ve know him a lot longer than you have. I know what he’s thinking--eighty percent of the time, and I’m not usually wrong. He know’s me just as well, and if you don’t like it, you can go to hell.” Ryan’s voice was a low growl, his eyes narrow and still sparking. Wayne shrunk visibly under his withering gaze, and kept his mouth shut.
“What the hell is going on over there? This ain’t social hour, get back in line!” The gruff man with the dark hair barked at them. They obeyed, no sense in getting themselves hurt if they could help it. “And if you get out of line again, I’ll make an example of one of you! You got that?” All nodded their understanding, and fell silent.
Col, if you are here, please hurry. And be careful. Greg dropped his head, and studied the concrete floor between his feet. God, if you can hear me, take care of Colin, please? He’s a special guy.

Peering around the open door, Colin saw that Ryan was right. The four kidnappers stood in a circle arguing quietly with each other, about five feet from his friends. Ryan and the others stood in a line near the far wall. The hangar wasn’t all that big, and there was a small two engine prop plane inside. Scanning his friends one by one he assesed them all to be unharmed. And all five of them were staring at the floor. Ryan looked sad, he felt sad too, Greg stood next to him, deep in thought, Brad was next, he seemed to be dividing his attention between his shoes and the long crack in the concrete just ahead of him. Chip stood beside Brad, twiddling his thumbs nervously, and Wayne stood next to Chip looking rather despondant, like he had just been scolded. Colin crept into the hangar as quietly as he could, ducking behind several large cardboard boxes. He was inside, but still at a loss of what to do. Sighing heavily, he looked down into one of the open boxes at his feet, and smiled. It was a box full of duct tape! Rolls and rolls of brand new duct tape! He could use this! Throwing a silent thanks to God once again for his friends Steve Smith and Patrick McKenna.
It is the handyman’s secret weapon!
What? What’s a handyman’s secret weapon? Ryan’s thought snapped him back into reality.
Duct tape! That’s what! It’s gonna’ help me get you guys outta’ this!
Col, don’t flip out on me now. We need you’re brain all here! Ryan’s trepidation was understandable, after all, Colin’s sudden insparation hadn’t been explained.
Sorry, Ryan. I’m formulating a plan, and I forgot that you were in my head for a couple of seconds. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll let you know what’s going on. Okay?
Okay.
Silence. Ryan was leaving him to his own thoughts. Good, if this plan was to work properly, he didn’t want any distractions, untill he needed them, that is. Colin scanned the area close by him, and saw several heavy wooden crates stacked high enough that he could climb up into the rafters. But the box of tape was too big and heavy for him to carry all the way up there. A peice of bright blue nylon fabric caught his eye just then, it was tucked in another box along side the tape, quietly, Colin extracted the fabric and found it to be a large, tattered, empty gym bag. Perfect! He filled the bag with as many rolls of the tape as it would hold, and started to climb the crates. He had to get the other guys’ attention if he was going to get this plan to work.
Ryan, you remember the hoedown idea I had a while back?
Unfortunealy, yes. Why?
Cause I have a better idea. Instead of the hoedown, I want you and the other guys to sing the chorus to Irish Drinking Song instead.
I can’t tell ‘em, Col. We just got into trouble for talking to each other.
Don’t worry, Ry. I’ll get their attention, just wait for my signal, and then you cue the rest of them to start. Okay?
Gotcha’. Col, please be careful. Touched by Ryan’s concern, Colin couldn’t help but smile.
I promise, I’ll hurt myself as little as possible.
I was hoping you wouldn’t hurt yourself at all. But if that’s the best I can get, I’ll take it.

Setting the gym bag down in the calculated position, Colin smiled at his odd surreal humor. Duct tape to the rescue. Carefully he walked along the narrow rafter that sat fifteen feet above the floor, praying that he’d be able to hold his balance. He could see them all now. The guys and the kidnappers. He had to get his friends attention without drawing the attention of Kennedy and the others, or the whole plan would be shot down, literally. Colin shuddered at the idea of being shot to death, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
Are you okay?
Yeah, just got an unpleasant vision in my head.
Oh. Where are you?
Look up, but do it carefully. Ryan’s grey-green eyes trailed slowly up to the high celing, and grew wide. Don’t freak, Ry. I’m fine. This seemed to placate him, sort of. It also suited another purpose, because Greg was looking up as well.
Greg opened his mouth to say something, but then realized what would happen, and snapped it shut again. As he did, Brad looked up too. Three down, two to go. Colin watched, satisfied, as Brad poked Chip in the arm, to get him to look up as well. Without telepathy, Brad had understood that he wanted them to see him. Brad was a great friend. Chip looked up, and understood, motioning for Wayne to do the same. All eyes that needed to be on him were, so Colin mimed something he knew they all would understand. Bringing his left hand up to chest level, he held a pretend beer mug and waved it back and forth in front of him, like they did on the show. There were small nods of understanding, and then he poked a finger at Ryan, so they would know to follow his lead, more nods, and then his friends looked away. With a relived sigh, Colin made his way back to the gym bag, and took a deep breath, hoping this plan would work, and wondering why he had been posessed to do something so crazy. Pushing the thought aside, he sent out the signal to Ryan.
Okay, here’s the plan you start singing on three, and I’ll “rain on their parade”.
What do you mean?
Nevermind what I mean, it’s a bit weird, even for me, but I think it’ll work. Just count three and start singing.
Okay. The two counted together, and when they hit three, Ryan began to sing, follwed quickly by the others.
“Oh! Hy dee dy dee dy dee dy dee dy dee dy dee dy!”
Startled, the four kidnappers looked over at Ryan and the others as if they’d all lost their minds. And then they started to move. All part of the plan. Colin’s friends kept on singing, as the four men moved just a bit closer to the mark, almost there. And then three of them were within range, and Colin yanked the strap of the gym bag, sending duct tape flying. It pelted the men, who in their surprise dropped their guns, and threw their arms over their heads in protection. Brad, Chip and Wayne took advantage of this and jumped the men. Greg also thought quickly, and started using the tape to bind their hands behind them. What Colin hadn’t counted on, was Kennedy moving out of range, and poking his gun in Ryan’s chest. The threat was there along with the intent. Kennedy had been angered into violence, and Ryan was to be his victim. There was no time to think now, only time to act.
Ryan! Duck! Colin warned, before throwing himself fifteen feet to the concrete below.

Spotting Colin in the rafters had been a surprise. The fact that he had wanted them to sing Irish Drinking Song had been a surprise. Rolls and rolls of duct tape flying down on the bad guys had been a surprise. Even Kennedy threatening Ryan with his gun had been a surprise. But the biggest surprise of the whole situation, had to have been Colin Mochrie, swooping out of nowhere like an avenging angel.
Greg looked up from his task of “tying” one of the abductors hands behind his back, in shock when he heard and un-godly scream from above. Ryan tucked and rolled out of the way, as a large blur hit Kennedy in the shoulder and sent him sprawling to the floor. The mass of tangled arms and legs on the floor divided into two individuals, Colin and Kennedy. And they were in a deathgrip struggle over the gun.
Still dazed, Kennedy was struggling the most, and this gave Colin the upper hand. The gun clattered to the floor, and Colin managed to kick it across the hangar. This seemed to anger Kennedy more, and it also cleared the surprised cobwebs from his mind. He gained the upper hand again, and furiously dragged Colin and himself to their feet. He had Colin’s shirt front, and was shaking him violently, swearing, demanding to know who the hell he was. When he got no answer, Colin got a knuckle sandwich. Dazed, Colin staggered backwards, rubbing his nose in pain, when Kennedy let fly his fist once more. This time, fist connected with jaw, and sent Colin tumbling backwards to the floor.
Colin fell in a heap next to a large pile of crates, and groaned in pain, but made no move to get to his feet. A large crate at the top of the pile slipped and fell on his poor head, rendering him unconsious. This didn’t seem to satisfy Kennedy, who was getting ready to lunge at the mild mannered Canadian again, with the intent of beating the shit out of him, but Brad was at his side, and grabbed him in a full nelson.
Ryan, who had been watching the whole scene in horror, suddenly moved to Colin’s aide, pulling the crate off of his friend’s head. Greg joined him, and together, they managed to get him to his feet, as Brad, Wayne and Chip bound the ring leader with duct tape. Colin groaned again, his head lolling against Ryan’s shoulder, a stream of blood trickled down his forehead above his right eye.
Ryan lifted Colin’s head, and made him look him in the eye. There was no verbal exchange, but there was definate communication going on between the two. Colin’s eyes drooped, as he looked at Ryan, but he nodded, then shook his head. His knees seemed to gel beneath him, and he was starting to get his bearings back. Ryan eased his grip on him, urging Greg to do the same, and they let Colin stand on his own.
“Two?” asked Ryan, with a grimace. “Ouch.” Colin nodded, a sheepish look on his face, and rubbed at his back.
“What’s ‘two’? And why is it ‘ouch’?” Greg demanded.
“Colin slipped two discs when he landed on Kennedy. It hurts when you do that.”
“Colin? You’re Mochrie?!” Kennedy was incredulous. “You told me he was in Toronto!”
Ryan was rubbing Colin’s back now, and didn’t bother to look up. “I lied. Col, you need to sit down? You look kinda’ pale.”
“I always look pale.”
“More so than usual, muffin. And you’re bleeding too.” Greg fished a handkerchief out of his pants pocket, and began to gently dab at the wound. “It looks deep, you might need stitches, Col.” The comment elicited another groan of pain from Colin.
“Great, thats all I need.” he commented, just as four uniformed police officers ran into the hangar.
“Sure, now they show up! When all the hard work is done.” growled Brad, as he shoved Kennedy toward the other “prisoners”. The officers seemed befuddled.
“Who here is named Andrew Mochrie?” one of them asked, hesitantly.
“I told you I would take care of this myself. And I did.” Colin sounded indignant, as he leaned against Ryan for support. “Meet my friends,” he indicated the tight knit group of friends. “And meet their kidnappers,” he poked a finger at the group of duct taped men.
“And meet the hero of the hour,” Wayne waved his arm with flourish. “Colin Mochrie.”
“I thought you guys looked familiar. You guys are on that funny show Whose Word?”
“Whose Line.” Greg corrected. “Can we get Colin to the hospital? He’s bleeing, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, of course.”

***
Three days and forty stitches later, Colin Mochrie walked to the front door of Ryan Stiles’ ranch house to see who had rung the doorbell. Not that he didn’t know who it was, everyone else was already there, so he wasn’t surprised to see Drew Carey’s smiling face on the other side.
“Hey, Drew. C’mon in. The tables are set up on the patio, and the food is in transit.” Drew’s sideways glances at him didn’t go unnoticed.
After the fight, not only had Colin slipped two discs in his back, and cut his forehead open, but he had recived a bruise on his jaw about the size of the irrate Kennedy’s fist, and a mild concussion when the crate had fallen on his head. The ER doctor had told him to take it easy for the next few days, but Ryan and company had taken it to the extreme, and refused to let him do much of anything. He loved his friends, in fact they were more like family to him, but this was just a bit much.
“Forty.” Colin said finally.
“Huh?” Drew was startled out of his silence.
“I’ve got forty sitches in my head, if you were wondering.”
“Oh, that. I wasn’t even thinking about that.” The blush rising on Drew’s cheeks indicated otherwise, but Colin let it slide. “I was just thinking how nice Ryan’s place is, that’s all.”
“Mmhm. Ryan’s place is nice at that. Though I guess I don’t appreciate it much since I spend so much time here. Hope you’re hungry, Ryan bought enough food to feed a small army of Russian women.” Drew laughed, and patted him on the shoulder.
“Ryan said your sense of humor was still intact. I’m glad to see you up and moving.”
“I’m not an invalid, Drew. I just got a concussion, and it wasn’t even a bad one.” Colin was trying not to sound angry, but his lack of activity was starting to wear on his nerves.
“I know your not an invalid. I was talking about your back. Ryan said you slipped two discs. I just figured that would lay you up is all.” Drew sounded defensive, and Colin felt bad for snapping at him.
“I’m sorry, Drew. It’s just that...well, Ryan and the other guys won’t let me do anything, and I’m going nuts. I mean, I know the doctor said not to over do it, but how is cutting up carrots and celery, or...or loading the dishwasher going to hurt me? Dammit, they’re going to be the death of me yet.”
“And all because you took the time to save their lives. What a bunch of ingrates!” Drew smiled at Colin’s blush, and patted him on the shoulder again. “Seriously though, you want me to talk to Ryan?”
“No thanks. I think this is an issue that he and I should discuss. Besides, they all mean well, and I don’t mean to sound like a baby about it, but...”
“But you like your freedom too. I understand. That’s an interesting bruise.”
“You like? I call it ‘The Fist’.”
“Nailed you hard, did he?”
Colin rubbed at the tender spot on his jaw, and grimaced at the memory. “Yeah, I guess he didn’t like me jumping on him the way I did.” As they approched the patio doors, Colin turned to Drew in ernest. “Can you not bring up the...you know, the kidnapping and stuff at dinner. If you do, the guys will never shut up about it.”
Drew studied him for a moment, Colin knew he would love all the details, but it wasn’t a happy memory for him, and he really didn’t want to talk about it either. “Deal. I won’t mention it at all.”
“Thanks, Drew. You’re a pal.”

“And then, from twenty-five feet up, here comes Colin, flying out of nowhere. That bastard didn’t know what hit him!” After five beers, Brad’s toung was a bit loose, and he was starting to exagerate.
“It was only fifteen feet.” Colin poked at his potato salad uncomfortably, and put his fork down. For the tenth time in two hours Ryan tried again.
Col, what’s wrong? And for the tenth time in two hours, he got no answer. For some reason, their mental connection had been severed. In fact, it hadn’t worked for Ryan since the day after it happened, and it frustrated him. He liked knowing exactly what Colin was thinking, how Colin was feeling. It was an intimacy that he didn’t even share with his own wife, and it had been a great comfort to him in a time of stress. He missed that connection with his best friend.
“And then he kicked the guy in the head...” Brad was prattling on about the struggle for the gun now.
“Look! I didn’t kick him in the head! I kicked the bloody gun away, so he wouldn’t shoot me with it! Can’t you guys find something else to talk about?” Colin’s sudden outburst had rendered Brad speechless.
“Like what, Col?” Greg questioned from across the table.
“I don’t know. Anything. The weather, what you ate for breakfast this morning. How much water the ocean would have if it didn’t have any sponges in it!” Drew laughed, nearly spitting his beer all over Wayne.
“That was a good one. I wonder where he heard it.”
“I’m sorry, Col. I didn’t think it would bother you.” Brad had found his voice again, and he sounded like a kicked puppy dog. Colin’s expression softened, and he lowered his head.
“No, I’m sorry, Brad. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just...I just...excuse me, please.” Dropping his napkin onto his plate, he pushed himself out of his chair, and walked briskly into the house.
“I didn’t mean to upset him like that. Maybe I should go appologize.” Brad started to get up, but Ryan dropped a hand on his arm.
“I don’t think you made him mad. I think he’s just tired.”
“But we haven’t let him do anything to make himself tired,” Chip insisted.
“Exactly. We haven’t let him do anything, period. And I’m the worst of the lot of us. If anyone should appologize to him, it should be me.” As Ryan rose from his own chair, Drew tugged him on the arm.
“He did mention that on the way in. He said he would’ve liked to help, even if it was just something like loading the dishwasher.”
Ryan smiled and gave Drew’s hand a gentle pat. “Thanks, Drew. Now I know where to look for him. I’ll send him out with the dessert in a while. And,” Ryan held up an index finger to make a point. “We never had this conversation. Right?”


After he was satisfied that the water was the right temprature, Colin dripped some dishwashing detergent into the sink, and set to clearing the dishwasher for the lunch dishes. Ryan walked in a moment or two later, and leaned against the counter top, watching him. Colin was afraid that he would be shooed back outside to appologize, and to “take it easy”, but Ryan surprised him instead.
“Col, I’m sorry.”
Startled, Colin stopped what he was doing, and stared at his friend. “Sorry? For what?”
“For being over protective. For taking away your freedom.” Cranking his head around, Colin twisted the tap to the off position before they had a flood.
“You didn’t take away my freedom, Ryan. You just got in the way of it.”
“I know. I was wrong. It’s just...well, after what you did the other day, that was the least I felt I could do. You saved my life, Col...” Colin put up a hand, and Ryan stopped.
“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done. If the roles had been reversed, you would have done the same thing,” Colin dunked a sauce pan in the soapy water, and began scrubbing it down with a Brillo-pad. “Besides, after all the stuff you’ve done for me in my lifetime, it’s the least I could have done.”
“What have I ever done for you?”
Colin stopped his scrubbing and looked at Ryan, who had joined him at the sink, dish towel in hand. “Well, gee, Ry. Lemme’ think. Hrmmm... Second City... Deb McGrath... Whose Line. The only thing you didn’t do for me was sire Luke.”
Ryan’s right eyebrow bobbed up and down suggestively. “Who says I didn’t?”
Colin snorted, and handed Ryan the saucepan to dry. “Have you looked at my son lately? He’s mine alright.”
“Seriously though, Col. All I did was stick my foot in the door, and push you through it. You did all the rest on your own.”
“I suppose so.” Colin nodded, and started working on a frying pan.
“Col?”
“Hm?”
“I can’t hear what you’re thinking anymore.”
Colin sighed, he knew this conversation was coming. “I know, Ryan. I can’t hear you anymore either.” Ryan dropped the saucepan on the counter with a loud *thunk*.
“Why? Why won’t it work anymore?”
“I don’t know. Maybe cuz we don’t need it to.” Ryan cocked his head, and raised that eyebrow again.
“What do you mean?”
Colin stopped scrubbing, and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking about the recent events.
Though he and Ryan knew each other very well, and could determine what one or the other was thinking, they had never been so in tune with each other as they had been three days ago. And now it was gone.
“Well, think about it, Ryan. How often are we thrown into a situation like that? How many times in the last year were you kidnapped?” Ryan nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Maybe it only worked for us the other day, because we needed it to. We don’t need it now, so it doesn’t work.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But, you know, I kinda’ liked knowing exactly what you were thinking.”
“Even if you didn’t understand it?”
“I never understand what you’re thinking, Colin.”
“Oh, thanks a lot.” Colin gave his best friend a lop-sided grin and turned back to the dishes. Ryan picked up the frying pan and started to dry it off.
“I know what you’re thinking, Ryan.” Colin warned, before the two of them burst out laughing.

The End