Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:31 am
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:31 am
Fake News (FPF) | All I Want For Christmas | PG | Jon/"Stephen"
Title: All I Want For Christmas
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Summary: Stephen just wants one thing for Christmas.
Word Count: 756
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
For a second, Jon thought he was seeing things—he had just woken up, after all—but after he blinked and rubbed his eyes, he realized he wasn’t. Stephen was sitting next to the tree (the one he’d insisted that they put up) and his clothes were apparently made out of...wrapping paper. Very festive Christmas wrapping paper. That was peculiar, since the last he knew, Stephen wasn’t speaking to him. Their fight the week prior had been a big one; Stephen had even booked a room at a nearby hotel in order to get away from him.
“Uh,” Jon said, raising an eyebrow at Stephen. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to surprise you.” He shifted a little, awkwardly looking away. “Is that okay?”
“Er, yeah, sure,” he said, sitting down on the couch and feeling very bewildered. “Can I ask why? And, uh, what are you doing?”
“I couldn’t figure out what to get you,” Stephen started. “And anything I thought of didn’t seem good enough.”
“Stephen, I’d like—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’d like whatever I got you, because you’re you and you’re that sort of person,” Stephen interrupted. “But I still wanted to get you something good, something you’d really, really like. And after our fight last week…I think this is it.” He took a deep breath, as if screwing up the courage. “I love you, Jon.”
Jon stared. “Wh—what?”
“I love you. I think I’ve probably loved you since shortly after I first met you. You’re…you’re nice to me even when I don’t deserve it. You help me understand things, you try to make me a better person and I think knowing you has...your smile lights up the room and every time you laugh I feel warm and happy and like everything is perfect and right with the world and even though you’re a tax-and-spend, cut-and-run, bleeding-heart liberal I still love you more than anything.” He sighed. “And for some reason, you love me too. I don’t know why, but I’m glad, and the scariest thing I can think of is that you’ll stop loving me one day and I really, really don’t want that to happen.”
Jon almost couldn’t believe it. He’d wondered about the day when Stephen would finally be able to say the words, but he never thought the man would go to these lengths. “First of all, I would never, and second, well—” He stopped and smiled at him. “Come here already, why don’t you?”
Stephen beamed up at Jon, standing up carefully and sitting next to him on the couch. Jon leaned in and pulled him closer, smiling into their kiss when he felt Stephen’s hand thread through his hair. He tried to press closer until he heard paper ripping, pulling away and looking down at Stephen’s clothes, eyebrow raised. “Your shirt seems to be falling apart.”
“It’s supposed to,” Stephen said, smirking. “Are you going to finish unwrapping your present?”
Jon grinned. “Yeah, I am.”
* * *
They ended up in a mussed heap on the couch, a tangle of limbs, with pieces of ripped and crumpled up wrapping paper strewn about the floor.
“Mmpf,” Stephen murmured eloquently into Jon’s neck. “I love you.”
Jon ran his hand through Stephen’s hair. He loved it when it was naturally fluffy, without all the product he wore in it for his show. “I love you, too.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it last week,” he continued. Lowering his voice, he added, “I...was scared.”
“Yeah, I know you were,” Jon replied. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I just got frustrated. Six months is a long time to see someone without hearing the words. I—”
“You were right,” Stephen interrupted, voice quiet. “I should’ve said it way before now. You deserve someone better.”
“It’s okay now.” Jon shifted them so he could look at Stephen. “I mean that. And I don’t want anyone else.”
Stephen bit his lip before leaning in and kissing Jon soundly, then burrowing his face back against his neck again. “I still don’t know why you put up with me,” he mumbled, voice slightly muffled.
“You do,” Jon said. “I’ve already told you why.”
He didn’t reply for a moment. Eventually, he said simply, “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” Jon asked him. “I haven’t even given you your present yet.”
“Yes, you have.” He pressed closer, breathing in deeply. “You forgave me.”
Jon smiled softly, stroking Stephen’s hair. “I see. Merry Christmas, Stephen.”
Stephen sighed happily. “Merry Christmas, Jon.”
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Summary: Stephen just wants one thing for Christmas.
Word Count: 756
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
For a second, Jon thought he was seeing things—he had just woken up, after all—but after he blinked and rubbed his eyes, he realized he wasn’t. Stephen was sitting next to the tree (the one he’d insisted that they put up) and his clothes were apparently made out of...wrapping paper. Very festive Christmas wrapping paper. That was peculiar, since the last he knew, Stephen wasn’t speaking to him. Their fight the week prior had been a big one; Stephen had even booked a room at a nearby hotel in order to get away from him.
“Uh,” Jon said, raising an eyebrow at Stephen. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to surprise you.” He shifted a little, awkwardly looking away. “Is that okay?”
“Er, yeah, sure,” he said, sitting down on the couch and feeling very bewildered. “Can I ask why? And, uh, what are you doing?”
“I couldn’t figure out what to get you,” Stephen started. “And anything I thought of didn’t seem good enough.”
“Stephen, I’d like—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’d like whatever I got you, because you’re you and you’re that sort of person,” Stephen interrupted. “But I still wanted to get you something good, something you’d really, really like. And after our fight last week…I think this is it.” He took a deep breath, as if screwing up the courage. “I love you, Jon.”
Jon stared. “Wh—what?”
“I love you. I think I’ve probably loved you since shortly after I first met you. You’re…you’re nice to me even when I don’t deserve it. You help me understand things, you try to make me a better person and I think knowing you has...your smile lights up the room and every time you laugh I feel warm and happy and like everything is perfect and right with the world and even though you’re a tax-and-spend, cut-and-run, bleeding-heart liberal I still love you more than anything.” He sighed. “And for some reason, you love me too. I don’t know why, but I’m glad, and the scariest thing I can think of is that you’ll stop loving me one day and I really, really don’t want that to happen.”
Jon almost couldn’t believe it. He’d wondered about the day when Stephen would finally be able to say the words, but he never thought the man would go to these lengths. “First of all, I would never, and second, well—” He stopped and smiled at him. “Come here already, why don’t you?”
Stephen beamed up at Jon, standing up carefully and sitting next to him on the couch. Jon leaned in and pulled him closer, smiling into their kiss when he felt Stephen’s hand thread through his hair. He tried to press closer until he heard paper ripping, pulling away and looking down at Stephen’s clothes, eyebrow raised. “Your shirt seems to be falling apart.”
“It’s supposed to,” Stephen said, smirking. “Are you going to finish unwrapping your present?”
Jon grinned. “Yeah, I am.”
They ended up in a mussed heap on the couch, a tangle of limbs, with pieces of ripped and crumpled up wrapping paper strewn about the floor.
“Mmpf,” Stephen murmured eloquently into Jon’s neck. “I love you.”
Jon ran his hand through Stephen’s hair. He loved it when it was naturally fluffy, without all the product he wore in it for his show. “I love you, too.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it last week,” he continued. Lowering his voice, he added, “I...was scared.”
“Yeah, I know you were,” Jon replied. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I just got frustrated. Six months is a long time to see someone without hearing the words. I—”
“You were right,” Stephen interrupted, voice quiet. “I should’ve said it way before now. You deserve someone better.”
“It’s okay now.” Jon shifted them so he could look at Stephen. “I mean that. And I don’t want anyone else.”
Stephen bit his lip before leaning in and kissing Jon soundly, then burrowing his face back against his neck again. “I still don’t know why you put up with me,” he mumbled, voice slightly muffled.
“You do,” Jon said. “I’ve already told you why.”
He didn’t reply for a moment. Eventually, he said simply, “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” Jon asked him. “I haven’t even given you your present yet.”
“Yes, you have.” He pressed closer, breathing in deeply. “You forgave me.”
Jon smiled softly, stroking Stephen’s hair. “I see. Merry Christmas, Stephen.”
Stephen sighed happily. “Merry Christmas, Jon.”