First post and first fiction

[whiskyandcoke.livejournal.com]

Title: Just Trying to Help
Pairings: Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language.
Summary: From Dan Patterson's POV. 'Cause I wanted to tell his side of the story.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone (apart from myself) or Hattrick or WLIIA? or anything else. This is complete fiction.
Note: This is my first post, and my first fiction, and I hope I don't mess up the formatting or tags. If I do, I apologise. I'm oh-so-very OCD when it comes to details, so I've tried to keep everything in time and as close to reality as possible. Sorry about the length. Oh! And I need tags.

I'm not an idiot you know. I've always known how the cast and crew feel about me. The bastard, the censor and -more recently - the British asshole. But I keep clinging to the fact that at least I know I've always done the right thing, even though everyone else thinks otherwise. I couldn't tell anyone about my real motives, because that would mean ruining what they have. Sometimes, I don't even know why I bother to be honest. Especially since they're usually the ones insulting me. I've had their back, even though they didn't know they needed it, for years. Ever since that one fateful day dead in the middle of season three...

(Man, I couldn't believe I had to flash myself back then. I mean, I'm a writer and producer for God sake. Surely that would mean I would link this more successfully?)

I was sitting in front of five different monitors, flicking my eyes back and forth from each one. I swear, I've had more headaches from one recording of 'Whose Line?' than a whole week of non-stop drinking. Mark was next to me, rocking his chair backwards and forwards. My co-creator really pissed me off sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy to death, but he didn't understand what it was like to have to concentrate on a billion things at once.

"Could you stop that?" I hissed, keeping my voice low.

"Have some fun! We have our own show!" Mark replied, grinning.

I had to smile back. He was infectious like that. And, it was true, nothing compared to knowing that the show you created, strived for, had to do unspeakable things to the heads of Channel Four for was in production. The show was my, no our baby. From conception to birth, I've carried it. Unfortunately, my sweet child was now entering its teenage state. Undoubtedly due to a couple of American's who were now performing. 

"Lucy! Lucy!" Ryan shouted, kneeling down to a 'dying' Greg. 

They were performing melodrama to a 'T', but I couldn't enjoy their performance. I had to keep checking the monitors, making sure every camera was where it had to be. One cameraman seemed slow, so I barked at him through my headset. He quickly woke up and focused. I couldn't see, of course, but the camera jostled. I almost swore.

"Dan!" Mark scolded.

Ok, well I did swear. But who could blame me? Any camera fuck ups or light problems would write off the entire scene. Luckily, or unluckily in my perspective, I didn't have to worry about technical thoughts anymore.

"David," Greg gurgled, pulling Ryan down onto the floor. "Just remember... I'll be up in heaven..."

'Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it,' I thought, knowing what was coming.

"Lucy... in the sky... with diamonds... URG!" Greg finished, dying.

Clive buzzed, and the audience cheered. Even they could see that one coming. I swore louder, every cameraman with a headset catching my crass comments. This time Mark didn't tell me off.

You see, it was IMPOSSIBLE to get the permission for Beatles lyrics without forking out payment. We weren't a rich production company, and thanks to that 'wonderful' piece of improvisation, the whole scene was written off. I stared at the monitor that held Greg's smiling face and wanted to punch it. Resisting my temper, I grabbed the nearest microphone and my clipboard and headed out onto the set.

The stage manager saw me coming and let out a call of "HOLD PLEASE."

Clive looked up at me in amusement, while Ryan and Greg looked mock-sheepish. They both crawled into their chairs like puppies who had just been whacked with a newspaper for peeing on the carpet. I knew it was all for laughs, but now I was going to be seen as the bastard.

"Greg. That was great. But you know we can't have Beatles lyrics," I implored, not speaking into my microphone.

"Sorry Mr. P," Greg said, honestly.

The audience laughed. I gritted my teeth as I realised Ryan was making obscene gestures behind my head. I swung around and Ryan looked at me with a face of complete confusion. The audience laughed, again, and I realised I was the ping pong ball in a game of comedian insults. I knew there was no point in turning around to glare at Greg, so I walked straight up to Ryan. I didn't actually know what I was going to say. I felt like whacking him with my clipboard, but I didn't think his agent would like me damaging the 'talent'. Ryan looked at me, a clear 'What?' imprinted on his face.

"Don't fuck with me, Stiles," I glared, and Ryan gave me a sweet look.

The audience giggled as I cleared off the stage, cueing Clive with a sweep of my hand.

"The next game is for Ryan and Greg," Clive read out the instructions for 'Film and Theatre Styles' and grabbed suggestions from the audience.

Ryan and Greg jumped into their positions and looked at each other. I knew that look, and I hated it. I didn't even bother to return to my seat. Clive cued them to go.

"You've really got a hold on me," Greg said, leaning in.

I groaned. The audience laughed.

"You can't buy me love," Ryan replied, turning around.

"All you need is love!" Greg cried.

Clive saw me return, and hastily buzzed them out. 

"Mean Mr. Mustard," Greg snarled, looking in my direction.

The audience continued to laugh, and I sighed. I motioned for them to come with me, and I walked into the hallway with connected the studio to the green room and dressing rooms. I heard laughing, so I assumed that there was some audience-bantering going on. Eventually, as I lit up a cigarette, they appeared.

"What is with you two? Maybe when we're a bit richer we can afford to play a game like that, but not now! Why do you do this?" I asked.

I knew Greg was a live wire from the moment he started the show. It was half the reason i made him a semi-regular. The sparring he and Clive constantly participated in was brilliant for television. Occasionally, he would swear or make some big political statement, but he was just like that. You dealt.

Ryan, on the other hand, never used to act like this. He was so nervous when he started, desperate for everything to go alright and get his scenes finished. I assumed it was because Greg had his stand-up to fall back on, while Ryan was a through and through improviser. But, for some reason, he started to act the rebel alongside his American friend. One annoying attention seeker I could deal with. Hell, I've worked with Tony Slattery! But two was impossible.

"We were trying to get laughs. You know, that sound that fuels our careers?" Greg laughed.

I noticed Ryan was being quiet.

"Every time you do something like that, it fucks up our film. The film someone has to pay for!" I swore, looking into Greg's face.

The stand-up in Greg surfaced, and he simply stuck out his tongue. I turned to Ryan.

"I don't want to stand here yelling at you two! Stop fucking about and give us something we can use!"

"Sorry, I think I'm just a bit excited," Ryan replied, honestly.

"Why? Has Greg slipped you something?"

"No. Just, well, you know Colin?"

"Colin..." I said, searching my brain. Something clicked.

"Oh! The Canadian guy we auditioned off Second City?" I replied.

"Yeah, him. His show's tomorrow. I'm just glad we're finally in the same continent," Ryan laughed. "We were drinking last night - it was so funny. Man, I just feel completely full of energy, y'know?"

I looked at him oddly. His eyes were glinting. I've seen acting in my time (believe me - a LOT of it), and that wasn't acting. He was genuinely that enthused about this guy. I flicked my gaze back to his hand, checking the wedding band remained there. It did, and I looked back up at him.

"I wish you'd told me you knew him. I could have given you a spot on the show," I replied, still wondering in my head.

"Oh! No, I couldn't have. He wanted to get here on his own merits."

I looked over at Greg, who seemed equally amazed at the effect this unknown improviser was having on the tall American.

"Well, he did. Look, I'm happy that you had a fun time last night, and I want you to be peppy and jumpy. It works for the show. However, it's got to stop when I say so. Okay?"

It was hard to be intimidating to someone a good foot taller than you, but he understood. I clipped Greg, supportively, on his back as they walked back to the stage.

Even then I could see something going on. Looking back, I supposed I shouldn't have been told how much Ryan cared for Colin. The way Ryan had pictured him; I expected some kind of whirlwind to hit the stage the day after. Don't get me wrong, Colin was good. Maybe slightly better than good. But all the way through that performance I was urging him to sparkle. Something was there... but it just didn't manage to escape during the taping. 



I put on my producers hat, and thought while I watched playbacks the next night. I was stuck in the dingy booth filled with equipment and half eaten sandwiches. Most of them were mine. Studio food was just like playboy models. It seems delicious but in the end it's just plastic.

I had to decide on the next line up, and at the moment it was going to be a standard Josie, Mike, Ryan and Tony. Something told me Ryan was going to be pissed if I didn't re-commission his friend, but I couldn't. He didn't have a niche. It sounds mean, I know, but I had to think about the audience. Josie and Mike could sing, Tony had his cheeky school boy charm, Greg was the rebel and Ryan was the gawky American. Colin didn't seem to fit in. 

I sighed as I picked up the studio phone and dialled Ryan's hotel room. Ryan picked up straight away.

"Hello?"

"Ryan? It's Dan."

"Oh. Hi."

"Have you, erm, talked to Colin?"

"Yeah. He thought he did shit, but he's always beating himself up of his performances. Hey! Could you tell him that he did good? Maybe he'll believe me then."

"He's in your hotel room?"

"Yeah. He's taking a shower."

Maybe it was the career of innuendo based situations I led, but that didn't sound right. I took a breath. Short and sweet.

"Ryan. He didn't do good. I'm not bringing him back in."

There was silence for a while. I considered putting the phone down until I heard Ryan's voice. Angrier this time.

"You bastard! And you're going to leave it to me to break it to him? For fuck's sake, he flew all the way over here to do this performance and you drop him? You fucking bastard!"

"No! I'll break it to him!"

"Then why did you call me?"

I was a bit taken a back by that comment. Why did I call him? I didn't want to admit it, but I really did want Ryan to break it to him. I knew it was my job, but it's hard to be the bad guy all the time. I thought long and hard, and came to a conclusion that could have killed my career.

"Look. I'll give him one more chance, okay?"

Ryan sounded relieved.

"Great! Look, put him on with me. It'll be great -"

"Ryan, I can't put him on with you. The only shows you're doing for the rest of the series are in New York."

There was silence down the phone as he thought it through.

"Can't he come to New York? He lives in Canada - it's not that far."

I sensed the pleading in his voice.

"I can't just kick someone off the New York run. It's not like here, you can't just come another day."

"What if I convince someone to give their chair away?"

I hesitated. I know it may have seemed that I just threw four people into a show, but I hand picked the performers. I considered it an art. Well, not an art. Something that got me money. I had to have performers that complimented each other, otherwise it was too risky. I looked through the rota under a plate of chips I had on one of the monitors.

"Okay, well you're filming four shows."

"With who?"

I looked through the listings and bit my lip. 

The first one was a no-go. We had two new performers, that was a big enough risk. The third was a 'Sessions', as I liked to call it, and he wouldn't be happy if I changed the order this late into the production. I mean, the guy almost throttled me when I stopped him having top billing with Clive. The second and last seemed the most promising.

"Two of them are available. You're with Josie, Greg and Mike and Greg, George and Mike."

"So, if I get someone to drop out you'll let him in?"

"I guess so, but you owe me one."

"I'll call you back in thirty minutes," Ryan said, clicking the phone off.

I stared at the nervous Canadian on the screen to my left. I had to admit, a tiny part of me wanted Ryan to fail.

Ryan called me back twenty minutes later, announcing he had managed to convince Greg to drop a performance. I silently hoped that Ryan hadn't agreed to get anything through customs for Greg in payment for the favour. I quickly crossed his name off the second performance and pencilled in 'Colin Mochire'. Ryan didn't even thank me before he slammed the phone down. I sighed and started to dial a list of numbers. I had to tell the hotel, the production company, Colin's agent... Man, they really didn't pay me enough.



Sounds stupid now, doesn't it? Ryan and Colin flew through that performance and soon I had to bring him back for the next 'New York' half of the next series. Colin was a nice person as well. Nervous, but nice. I soon saw that sparkle in Ryan's eyes again when they were together. They were inseparable. RyanandColin. Of course, that caused other problems. I could tell that Greg was pissed that I gave Colin the chance to be Ryan's ' Helping Hands' in the game of the same name, but even he softened up when he saw what they had. 

The weirdest thing was, even I didn't know what they had. However, in my career, you just shut up and enjoy it. I was curious though, hell, wouldn't you be? I casually slipped into a conversation - which was rather difficult when you only see the performers before the show in the green room - that Channel Four was considering a sitcom with a gay main character. Greg seemed interested enough, but Ryan and Colin weren't listening. Ryan had an excuse - he was asleep. Colin was cuddled into his side, reading a magazine.

"Colin? Any opinion?" I offered, cutting short Greg's rant about the homophobic state of the US's production companies.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. Why are you asking me?" he inquired, looking at me.

Inadvertently, my eyes - along with Greg's - flicked up to the sleeping man next to him.

"Oh, please!" Colin laughed, but I swore I heard some regret in his voice.

And, ever curious, I would continue to look at them in tapings. I had to see every episode at least five times to make sure nothing was wrong, and I spend at least one run though only looking at RyanandColin. It was the little things. Like the way Ryan always filled up Colin's water glass without offering or Colin always offered a sympathetic smile if Ryan's performance didn't go as planned. It was sweet, in a way. I remember a game of 'Helping Hands' - I think it was the 'brie' one - they had done. It took longer than usual to set up, and Colin and Ryan stayed in that backwards hug for at least half an hour. Colin lent on Ryan's back, the side of his face resting on Ryan's shoulder bone. He was sighing, peacefully. I could tell Ryan knew. His mouth was slightly twitching into a smile



It was entertaining distraction for while. The seven years flew by, them getting closer and closer. Sometimes I felt guilty, like I was intruding on their little... thing. I didn't know what to call it. Was it love? I knew they were both married, and with kids, but somehow all those details faded away when on stage. The very essence of improvisation. Not for the first time, I wish I could do it.

Of course, various things were going on to the show. Whose line? was no longer a teenager. It had grown up, moved out and started shagging everything in sight. Both me and Mark knew the show was moving on. And we knew that the prevalence of American comedians had done it. We dispensed with the innuendo that used to be the norm for Fry and Sessions, and moved into blatant sexuality. I wasn't sad that it had gone the way. It was interesting. Especially with the ongoing RyanandColin moments. Tony left, and that seemed to shove the show in the direction of the US with a giant pole. So, not to mess with a giant pole, I took it's direction. For series 10, I took to the States. Mark came along a couple of times, but started to get bored with the commute. Eventually, it was just me running the show.  And there I got the worst news a producer could get.

(And, yet another flashback. Eh, sometimes things just work.)

I had asked Ryan, Greg and Clive into the office that the American studios had provided me with. I loved the States, but it was nice to have a little room that I could fill with trinkets from home. Or, at least, a place where I could drink. The three men sat in chairs on the other side of my desk, and I turned to them and dared myself to speak.

"Channel Four's done."

It had been coming for a while. They all knew it. Ten series was a brilliant run, and everyone knew it couldn't last for ever. Especially since Channel Four had started cutting back on the budget. It was expensive to support a show across the pond.

"So, we're fucked?" Greg asked, bluntly.

"Yeah," I replied.

Hey, it was the truth.

"Dan. You know that favour?" Ryan asked, leaning forward.

To be honest, I didn't remember that telephone call eight years ago. But I hardly going to turn down a favour.

"Yeah."

"Do you remember Drew Carey?"

How could I not? The man had drunk my house dry once, and then complained about the warm beer. Add that to the fact I was constantly at war with his show for Ryan's schedule at it was unlikely that I'd forget the ex-marine.

"Yeah."

"He could get it commissioned here. With ABC."

Ryan offered me an olive branch. I grabbed it. Hell, I would have screwed it if I had had the time.

"That would be amazing! What does he want?"

"He's just really interested in the whole improv thing," Ryan explained.

"Fine! We'll give him a permanent chair," I offered.

Even if Drew was awful it would be worth it to get the show re-commissioned. Anyway, this was my baby. I could see my metaphorical child, returning home - blind drunk and begging for help. I'd sell myself for my kid - any parent would.

"Drew doesn't want a chair. He wants... a desk," Ryan announced, gently.

I snapped my head around a Clive. Clive smiled back at me.

"I've got my career in England. I couldn't leave for a full time show anyway," he said.

I still frowned. Clive was the last person I had left from the old days. We knew each other. Hell, I had jump started his career. 

"Really, it's fine," Clive offered, reading my mind.

I nodded, trying to look concerned as my brain whirred. I put people in chairs in my head. Wayne Brady - that kid had class and a voice to rival Mike's. And Brad, Brad was damn good. Hey, I could even get Chip to reappear now the show was in the US. It wouldn't be so expensive to hotel everyon -

My brain stopped. Crap, I thought.

"We don't have the money. Hattrick doesn't have the money," I explained.

Ryan thought for a moment.

"Drew's got money. I could sink some in as well," he said, slowly.

It took all my strength not to grab him off the chair and start kissing him.

"Well, could you call him?" I said, trying to keep my voice level.



Ryan agreed to call him. I spoke with Drew and arranged a meeting later that day. I knew I should try and keep sombre for Clive, but he seemed alright. Anyway, I was skipping. Literally. As I bounded past the dressing rooms, I stopped and snapped out of my happy stupor as I heard something. It sounded like a groan. I held my ear up to Colin's dressing room door, and heard scuffling. Luckily, the door was open a crack. I peered inwards. I really shouldn't have.

I saw Colin leaning against his wall. He was breathing heavily. His hands were pushed against the surface of the dressing room. His face was flushed, and he was biting his lip. As if he wasn't sure whether to smile or not. I had the notion to open the door and see if he was alright, but soon I heard another voice. Deeper than his own.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that," Ryan said.

Colin's face flushed again. 

"No! I... I wanted it," he admitted.

Ryan came into view. He slowly walked up to Colin and put his hands around his waist. Colin looked up to Ryan with his brown eyes and waited. Ryan looked like he was struggling with something. Colin looked down, away from Ryan's gaze.

"We shouldn't. It's too complicated. I'm sorry," Colin apologised.

"Why are you apologising?" Ryan asked with genuine concern in his voice.

Colin looked back up.

"Ryan..." he started, but he stopped when he saw the taller man lean in.

Ryan kissed Colin, his hands now knotting into themselves behind his back. Colin lifted his own up, and felt softly through Ryan's dark curls. Both pairs of eyes were closed. Their mouths were entwined, and the desperation for each other was obvious. Ryan pulled Colin closer, their bodies so close that there was no gap between them. Ryan lifted his hands, holding Colin's head as they turned around. Ryan felt for the sofa behind them, and he collapsed onto it, still intent on holding onto his best friend. Colin pushed Ryan down, so he was stretched across the couch. Colin grabbed onto Ryan's wrists, pushing them upwards, their fingers were entwined. Two golden rings glinted in my direction. I froze.

It was... beautiful. I'm straight, don't get me wrong, but they seemed to complete each other. And they were so desperate. It almost looked like Colin was going to cry just with the exhaustion of being so close to the man he... loved. I knew it was love. No two beings could kiss like that and not be in love. Just the look of need, closeness and gentleness that were on both of their faces told me that. But those rings continued to glint at me. Telling me about the wives and children. Taunting me.

This wasn't a sketch. I wasn't watching this in that dingy booth in London. This was reality. It tore me apart to see them like that. So venerable and close. Finally complete, and I had to kill it. Thankfully, Colin pulled back.

They looked at each other, searching each others eyes for something. I recognised that glint in Ryan's eye. Colin seemed to have caught it to. They waited for someone to break the silence, but neither one of them could. It was just too perfect. Colin smiled, Ryan smiled and they lent back in.

I silently swore to myself as I knocked on the door. I could here scuffling and muffled whispering.

"Yeah?" Colin called, his voice cracking as he did.

"Colin? It's Dan. Have you seen Ryan?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Er," Colin paused. I knew he was asking Ryan whether he wanted to be there or not. "No! Haven't seen him!" 

"Okay," I finished, walking away.

It struck me how badly Colin had hidden Ryan's whereabouts. You'd think he'd be better at improvising on the spot. It was his job after all. I walked back to my office, wondering what would have happened if I hadn't interrupted. Would they have... I didn't really want to think about it. Not because I was squeamish, just because I really, really wanted them too. They were too perfect for each other. All those little looks, those backwards hugs... they was obviously deeply in love. It was unfair that they were put in that situation. I mentally reminded myself to continue my atheism. 

No matter how much I reminded myself of their eyes in that moment, the glinting smiles just reminded me of the gold of their wedding bands. There were others. I hated thinking about it. It would be easier if this was just one big production, and I could just strike the wives out and let them explore their feelings without any hesitations. If this was just one big game of 'Film, Theatre and Television styles' and I could get Clive to call 'ROMANCE' and allow themselves to embrace. 

I couldn't. RyanandColin was too dangerous. It had to be Ryan AND Colin. For the good of all involved. And I knew how.

Two hours later, Drew and I firmly shook hands in one of the conference rooms in ABC studios. The lawyers and representatives could be left to meet later, this was purely to get the feel of what the show would become. I could see my kid opening my door and introducing me to his long term girlfriend. Would I give my blessing for their marriage? Even if she was a yank?

"So, Dan, are you happy me coming on board? I don't expect to have creative control, I've got no fucking idea how to control anyone, right Ryan?" Drew laughed.

Ryan wasn't listening. He was staring at one of the walls. I had a feeling I knew what he was thinking of.

"I don't mind your input. We'll have to change the games for the target audience though..." I continued into a producer's discussion with Drew that Ryan didn't seem too interested in.

"The secret is rotation," I continued. "Ryan's a given, but the other three can be interchangeable. We'll need to stick at least one singer per episode, but that should be fine with Brad and Way-"

"What do you mean 'other three'?" Ryan asked.

Damn it. He caught on.

"Other three. I assumed since you'd be sinking the money in you'd want a permanent seat," I replied, innocently.

"What about Colin? He's been in all episodes this series. Why are you dropping him?" Ryan asked, perhaps a bit too aggressively. 

"I'm not dropping him. I'm just saying, if we switch him out with Greg or someone we'll get a better thing going."

"Colin's staying. Permanent seat," Ryan stated.

I shut my mouth, and looked helplessly at Drew. He looked through his thick glasses back at me.

"He was just suggesting it. I know you and Colin have that thing..." Drew started.

"What thing? We don't have anything," Ryan snapped.

I decided to jump in before he outed himself.

"I think Drew means the way you perform. You two are... are... in sync," I replied.

Ryan looked back at the wall.

"Yeah. Well, he's staying."

And that was the end of it. I tried my best, I really did. Of course, from now on Ryan thought I had it in for Colin. I didn't - the guy is genuinely great. I just couldn't stand to see the two of them constantly so close to each other, yet so far apart. I thought it would have been easier if they saw each other less. But, I had forgotten about how protective Ryan was of his best friend. Almost to the point of possessiveness.

I gave in to most of Drew's demands. It seems like my kid had more on his mind than just marriage. I couldn't but help that feel, as I signed the name 'Whose Line is it Anyway?' and half of my rights away to American lawyers, that I had no idea what was going to happen. Luckily, shooting started almost immediately. And it was great. Sure, it wasn't the British not-quite-a-game show that it was before, now that the points definably didn't matter, but I enjoyed LA. It was sunny and perfect for me. I remembered just how good it felt to be on top of the world.

That was until I started to watch the shows again. It was a habit, I admit. Technically, I didn't even need to be on the studio floor anymore. There wasn't a booth for me to sit in and ponder. I, instead, watched the film live from just offstage. I could see everyone alright, and in some ways it was more interesting, but I couldn't help but want that cosy, claustrophobic, sandwich ridden place back again.

In regards to RyanandColin, life seemed to have returned to normal. Something about the show, perhaps Drew, perhaps the enthusiasm of an American audience that just couldn't be matched by an English one, pulled Colin out of his shell. I hardly ever heard a trace of nervous giggle that used to haunt his UK performances. Actually, if he had continued to be nervous, the next big thing wouldn't have happened.

(Flashback... flashback... so, sue me.)

Weird Newscasters. I loved that game. It was as good a format as Party Quirks and I wished I had thought of it earlier. It was time for me to stretch my fingers and, more importantly, the censors. I had talked to Drew before hand, and the idea for 'Cannot hide his love for Greg' had been popping up for a while now. Wayne was too new, we couldn't expect him to go gay so soon. I mean, that would kind of be like prostitution. Ryan was an obvious choice, but it had been done. Since Colin had lost all his nerves, we decided to give him the quirk.

I watched this one live, albeit through a monitor. It was hilarious. Colin was classic, and what made it better was the lack of emotion in his eyes. Sure, he looked cute, but it was nothing to the sparkle in his gaze when he looked at Ryan in that dressing room. It just reaffirmed to me that it was love, not lust. Somehow, that made it settle so much better in my head. Thinking of this, I looked at the camera focused in on Ryan. He was muttering something. I squinted. It was common for Ryan to mutter, I know, but it wasn't common to see such concentration. I tried to read his lips, glad for my years in television.

'Please don't kiss him, please don't kiss him, please don't kiss him'

I crossed my fingers that Colin would hear that subliminally (hey, I had a bet on with Mark that they could read each other's minds), but he didn't. Soon enough, Colin was jumping on Greg. 

"I am truly a man!" Colin yelled.

Crap. The audience lapped it up. Ryan looked like he was going to punch Greg's lights out if he'd had the chance. I thought of everything I could to try and get this game stopped. I couldn't just run out and stop it - the production crew would report the waste of film. I continued watching, hoping to the God I didn't believe in that Ryan wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Well, thank you very much Packed!" Ryan spat, after Greg had thrown it over to weather.

I half hoped he was acting, but he wasn't. I could tell. I squeezed by hands together. Ryan seemed to deal with it, and nothing else was out of the boundaries of good improvisation. Sure, saying 'You can do better than him!' at Colin was slightly out of character, but that was his prerogative. I breathed out as he sent it back to Greg. But, as Proops is Proops, he took these last two minutes as an opportunity to continue the lengthy kiss with Colin.

I jumped in my seat as Ryan slammed his foot forward, his eyes dark with anger as Greg and Colin emerged giggling. He looked fit to explode, and I knew that I needed to cut. But how?

I ran onstage with my clipboard. It acted as my security blanket in opportunities like this. Drew looked up - he was halfway through announcing the next game. I picked up a microphone by a camera and improvised.

"That was great!" I said, enthusiastically.

The audience laughed and clapped, but Greg knew I had ulterior motives. I don't stop a show to praise. I shot a glance at Ryan, who quickly used this time to go to the toilet. I had a feeling I'd see Ryan-fist shaped holes in the stalls later. But it was better that he took his anger out on the wall than Greg's face.

"We're going to do another 'Weird Newscasters'," I announced. "Drew, I think there's another lot of quirks on the cards."

"Why? What was wrong with that one?" Greg asked.

I wished that, for once, Greg would shut the fuck up. 

"Nothing, it's just better to have several versions. You know that."

"Then, can't we keep the same quirks? I wouldn't mind that - right Colin?" Greg smiled.

Colin smiled back. Through my headphones I could hear Ryan's voice.

"Fucking bastard. Don't you fucking touch him."

I groaned as I realised Ryan hadn't turned off his microphone. He must have been waiting just offstage. I walked quickly towards the back of the studio and saw Ryan, seething with rage. I mouthed 'microphone' at him, and he looked startled. Quickly switching it off at his battery pack, he bolted off. 

"Dan?" Drew asked, and I realised everyone - including the audience - were looking at me.

"So, same quirks? Or - what?" Drew asked.

Yeah, that would be great. Let's give Ryan another opportunity to kill Greg.

"No. Other quirks," I said.

The audience groaned and booed.

"Why not?" Greg asked.

"Well, I'm not sure ABC would want two men kissing on their channel," I said, and then wished I hadn't.

The roar from the audience was only shattered by Greg bursting into full 'freedom of speech' mode. Wayne looked to his left and his right, unsure of how to act. Colin looked up at me, confused. Drew followed Greg in suit. I thought it was rather ironic that Drew, the military man, and Greg, the anarchist, would join together so easily. Luckily, I managed to quieten everyone down long enough to make my words heard.

 

“Look, I’ll check with the censors. Everyone take ten,” I said, racing to the toilets.

 

The anger seemed to subside, but I still wanted to get out as soon as possible. Why the hell did I do that? So everyone would think I was a homophobe? Honestly, Dan, you can be so fucking stupid sometimes.

 

I stopped just in front of the toilets, considering whether I should knock or not. There was no guarantee that Ryan was even in there.

 

“Dan? Are you going in?”

 

I jumped as Colin came up behind me.

“Oh! No. I’m good,” I said, trying to be casual.

 

Colin gave me a curious look, and then passed me into the toilets. Standing outside the gents, listening in at the door. Now everyone will think you’re a homophobic homosexual. Good on you Patterson, good on you. I actually realised I need the toilets then (strange how that happens) and pushed the door. I knew it made a sound, I knew it was damn obvious I was there, but Ryan and Colin didn’t seem to care.

 

They were hugging. Not just hugging, but cuddling. Comforting. It occurred to me that they were probably so wrapped up in themselves not to notice if I just left. I did, turning on my heels, but before I left I swore Ryan’s voice. Unnaturally small.

 

“I love you Colin. Please don’t leave.”