Collab: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter One

[draconica-nova.livejournal.com]

Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Authors: rycolfan  and draconica_nova 
Pairing: Colin/Ryan
Chapter Rating: PG
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ryan Stiles, an eager young journalist in the making, seeks his place at one of Los Angeles’ biggest newspaper companies. Although it soon becomes clear that his boss wants a lot more from him than just dictation…

A/N: Woohoo! Our very first joint venture. We're both having a blast writing this and decided that it's time to share it with you lovely lot. ^__^ A new chapter will be posted every Monday in the hope that we cheer up the Monday Blues a tad. Don't forget to leave feedback for both of us - we're not telling who wrote which chapters!
Enjoy it!

DN and RCF x



Ryan shuffled his papers one more time and tried to set them straight and level on his lap, but his heavily jittering leg prevented this from happening. He cursed himself for possessing the nervous habit and almost tried to push his knee down forcefully with one hand. He wondered if any of the women in the room noticed it. Well, they’d noticed him, certainly, what with his tall posture and the fact that he was of the masculine species. Men don’t usually hold secretarial jobs, but what harm could a little diversity do?

He didn’t feel all that optimistic about landing the job when he glanced around the waiting room to his competitors – each one a woman, each one blessed in the chest department in addition to pouty lips and curves, that most woman put it, to die for. Not that he was particularly interested, mind you. Out the closet since he was sixteen and proud to be.

No, what worried him most was that the secretarial job was for a man. A man no doubt past forty and thrown into the midst of the mid-life crisis and wanting a sexy secretary to gawp at any chance he got.

All Ryan wanted was a chance to work and pay the bills. Save up for the finer things in life rather than spending his time in a too-small apartment with mould manifesting on the ceiling. He’d spotted the ad in the paper that morning and had quickly rustled up a hardly impressive résumé, hoping it would be enough to land him a job within the top LA newspaper production. What a great industry to be in.

He looked over at the vacant desk near the door where the successful applicant would sit. It looked so white and clean, like it was made ready for him. He could picture himself sitting at it almost.

At that moment one of the current hopeful left the man’s office, a scowl on her face as she threw her résumé into the trash and stormed out, her high heels clicking madly. Ryan watched her go and swallowed nervously as the next hopeful timidly made her way inside to be interviewed by her potential boss. Ryan took this opportunity to look up at the name displayed on the office door:

Mr. C. Mochrie.

What followed was a brain game that left the young man trying to guess what the ‘C’ might stand for. At least it kept him occupied for a while as more applicants went into the office and then came out, each one unsuccessful. Ryan was watching in disbelief and some happiness as they were all seemingly being rejected – they all looked professional, what with their preened hair, black skirts and briefcases.

As fate would have it, Ryan was the last applicant left to be seen. The woman who had gone in before him took longer than all the others, which let him believe that she had beaten him to the job. He was just about to give up and leave when she came out, looking exasperated and defeated. She grabbed her coat and bag before muttering to him, “You’re next. Good luck.”

She’d sounded bitter as if the luck was the only sure-fire way of him being successful. From what Ryan had seen this afternoon, this seemed entirely likely. Once he’d gathered the courage, he stood unsteadily, clutching his handful of papers and adjusted his tie and suit – first impressions, and all that.

One deep breath later and in he strode.

The first thing he noticed was how clean the place was, almost obsessively so; the smell of varnish and bleach was subtly masked by musky cologne and the dull waft of tobacco.

“Yes, yes, sit down,” a voice spoke out from the window behind the desk. Mr. Mochrie stood, his back to Ryan and staring out into the bustling city of Los Angeles. By now, the sun was beginning its descent for the day, turning the sky a mellow yellow colour.

Ryan did as he was told and perched himself on the leather-cushioned chair opposite the desk, placing his papers on the table awkwardly and resisting the urge to fiddle with them.

Mochrie turned then, executing a perfect jaw drop once his eyes came to rest on the tall man in the sharp suit sitting there in wait. Ryan watched as he blinked a few times before growing a small smile.

“Oh… welcome.”

His voice sounded a lot friendlier than it had before, which eased Ryan into relaxation a little as he smiled back. Mochrie sat into his large chair, one of the swivel types, and shuffled into his desk, placing clasped hands on top attentively. “I’m Colin Mochrie. So, what’s your name?” he asked as he reached for Ryan’s résumé.

“It’s Ryan, sir,” the younger man responded, nodding slightly. “Ryan Stiles.”

Colin meanwhile was thumbing through the papers, skimming over details and smirking. “So, you want to be a journalist, huh Ryan?” he queried when his eyes caught that particular detail in amongst his skills. “That’s a good career aspiration.”

Ryan ran a hand through his hair as a blush threatened to overtake him. The man seemed quite pleasant and Ryan had wondered what he was ever worried about. “Thanks.”

“Well, you know what this job entails. It’s a bit of answering my calls and getting me coffee, but it’s also a lot of typing.” He unclasped his hands and leant back a bit in the chair. “You’re okay with doing that?”

“Yes, sir. My personal record is 110 words a minute,” Ryan explained, trying to silence his inner voice. Sell yourself, but don’t sound so big-headed.

Colin looked impressed at this statistic and suddenly stood, moving away from the desk. “A statement like that needs to be proved, don’t you think? Sit.” He gestured to the comfy looking chair, pulling it out a little. Ryan was a little confused at the sudden test; he wasn’t quite expecting a demonstration but if it helped, then he would do it. As he got settled, Colin moved him a little closer to the computer on the desk and placed both hands firmly onto Ryan’s shoulders – something that didn’t faze Ryan at all and he twisted his head to look at the older man. “Okay, I want you to type out your day: what you did after you got up, what you ate for lunch, whatever happened today. You’ll do it for one minute, alright?”

Ryan nodded in confirmation then put fingers to keyboard in preparation, making Colin smile at the man’s eagerness. He looked at his watch and waited a few moments for the second hand to tick its way to the number twelve before beginning the test.

Colin was trying to keep an eye on the time ticking away but was far more distracted by the speed at which Ryan typed – he’d never seen anything like it. The man’s fingers were long and rather nimble in their task and Colin was intrigued by the sheer amount of concentration etched onto Ryan’s youthful face.

“And… stop.”

Ryan relaxed, removed his hands from the keyboard and looked up at Colin expectantly, biting his lip nervously. Colin leant down next to Ryan to check the computer screen and Ryan could feel Colin’s breath near his ear, slow and steady. He thought it odd at first but didn’t dwell on it for very long. “112 words and not one spelling mistake. I’m impressed, Ryan. Looks like you’ve beaten your record, too,” he smiled. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief and sagged his shoulders, pleased with himself.

When he moved back to his assigned chair, Ryan asked, “Is there anything else I need to do?”

“No, no, everything seems fine,” Colin replied but didn’t sit back down; instead he walked around the desk still smiling, the dimples of his face deepening adorably. “In fact, I think I’ve seen all I needed to.”

“Oh.” Ryan stood up as he approached and adjusted his suit on last time. “So, that’s it?”

“That’s it.” His hand extended outward, a gesture that Ryan returned immediately with a firm handshake. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ryan’s eyes widened allowing Colin to picture him as a deer caught in the headlights – something that amused him to no end. “Does that mean…?”

“You seem to be the exact thing I’m looking for.” Colin’s eyes brightened a little. “And I’m looking forward to seeing what freshness you bring to the job.”

Grinning, Ryan ducked his head in a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

Colin led him back to the door, on hand still shaking Ryan’s whilst the other rested on the younger man’s lower back in guidance.


As Ryan left the office building, a significant spring in his step, he knew that tonight was a night for celebration and fished the cell phone from his pocket, ready to call in the guys.



That night, as the various cave-dwellers emerged from their daylight refuges, Ryan headed down to the Harlequin – their jaunty bar and place of alcoholic worship. He walked in and shook himself of the cold before catching the sight of his three friends on the other side of the room, huddled in one of the booths like people who would die if they caught any sunlight. As he walked over to them, their voices became clearer and louder.

“No, Michelle Pfeiffer was the one from Batman Returns,” Brad said, one hand grasping his beer whilst the other pointed at Drew informatively. “You’re thinking of Thandie Newton.”

“I am not,” Drew replied, smiling. “All I’m saying is if she came up to me and asked, I wouldn’t say no.”

Ryan rolled his eyes upon hearing their topic of discussion, laughing to himself. Jeff was the one who saw him first and stood up to greet him, leaving Drew and Brad to continue their ridiculous arguement.

“Hey, man!” Jeff called out and he and the others shifted over to give Ryan some room to sit at the table. “So what’s this big news that you had us gather here for, huh?”

Brad pushed a beer over to Ryan and laughed. “Not that we need an excuse to come down here. The ‘Quin is like our second home.”

“That’s painfully true,” Jeff added. “So come on, Ry. What’s the news?”

Once the others had calmed down and focused their attention on him, Ryan smiled and took a proud swig of his beverage. “You remember that job I was going for today? I got it.”

“You mean at that huge newspaper place?” asked Jeff, whilst Drew leaned over and grabbed Ryan in an affectionate, brotherly headlock and ruffled the young man’s hair playfully.

“Now, who told you you’d get that job, huh? Didn’t I tell ya?”

Freeing himself, Ryan joined in with the laughter and hit Drew on the arm in return. “You did. Your gentle bullying really notched up my self-esteem.”

“So what’s the job?” poked Brad, after swallowing a mouthful of beer.

Ryan waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s nothing special. Just a secretary kinda thing, and my boss seems real nice.”

“Really?” Brad seemed highly amused. “Sounds like a woman’s job if you ask me.”

Jeff laughed. “That didn’t sound sexist at all.”

“Besides, I’m gay,” smiled Ryan. “So the feminism and flamboyancy are pretty much there anyway, huh?”

“Well, I think it’s great,” Drew interrupted and raised his beer. “To Ryan, and good luck with the new job.”

The rest of the jovial table raised there glasses, each one throwing back another gulp almost simultaneously. Whilst three of them only had one or two swallows, Brad downed the whole glass, grinning inanely once he’d finished.

The evening meandered on into the late night status cueing Brad to pass out onto the table, snoring loudly. This in turn prompting the others to return him home and resist playing certain pranks on him whilst he was out cold. Ryan really loved his friends – whatever had happened to him during the day, they always succeeded in cheering him up.

When he returned home to his bare-necessities apartment, Ryan suddenly didn’t care about the incessant mould or the fact that the bathroom was only a stone’s throw from the bed. No, there was simply too much good in his life for anything to bring him down now. Shunning his clothes down to the boxer briefs, he buried himself under the blanket and made sure to set his alarm for the next morning.

He smiled to himself. Starting tomorrow, his life was finally going in the right direction.

To be continued...