Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 09:08 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 09:08 pm
Fake News (RPF) | The Way Things Need To Be | PG-13 | Brian/Jon (7/10)
Title: The Way Things Need To Be (7/10)
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: PG-13 for this part.
Pairing: Brian/Jon and others.
Warning: AU; BDSM.
Summary: In a universe where people are primarily defined by position—whether they are dominant, a switch, or submissive—Jon and others struggle to deal with dating, prejudice, and the drama that comes from not fitting neatly inside society’s narrowly-defined idea of how things should be.
Word Count: 1,839 for this part.
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: See masterpost for full header, author’s notes, and thanks.
“Jon!” called a very-distinct British accent, just as he was about to step into his office. Jon turned around to see John hurriedly heading toward him, Rob not far behind. “Please inform this raving lunatic that he is, in fact, a raving lunatic and needs to be locked up immediately.”
Jon blinked. “What did he do this time?”
“Not a thing! You’ve got nothing on me, Oliver!” Rob protested.
“Oh, so someone else broke into our office and superglued all of my things to my desk?” John asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
Jon dropped his face into his hands. “Do I work with sixth graders?” he wondered aloud. “First Sam handcuffs Jason to his desk, and now you two.” He shook his head, willing himself to remember that Rob and Ed had been even worse.
“You saw Jason, too, then?” Rob asked, grinning, his attention apparently completely diverted from the annoyed Englishman currently glaring at him.
“I did. He didn’t seem to like me laughing at him.” Jon smirked at the memory.
“We did a little more than laugh,” John admitted, grin becoming wicked.
Jon rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.” At least he didn’t have to worry about the two of them. While they flirted constantly enough, John and Rob were merely friends. Most places of business had a firm policy against letting doms and subs share offices, but Jon had always privately felt such a policy to be utter bullshit. Rob and John had helpfully proven his point: Rob never even accidentally dommed John, and John never felt compelled to sub for him; shockingly, it was possible.
“How could we resist? The guy was handcuffed to the desk. It would’ve been a missed opportunity,” Rob added.
Jon shook his head. “Was there anything else?”
“There is still the matter of all my supplies being glued to my desk,” John reminded him.
“Go buy a bottle of nail polish remover,” Jon said simply. Rob smirked. John sighed heavily in exasperation.
“Fat lot of help you are, Stewart,” he said dramatically.
“I try,” Jon said, giving them one last grin before disappearing into his office. When he got there, before he sat down, he noticed a dozen roses with a card attached to them sitting on his chair. Rolling his eyes at the flowers—Brian was a smart ass—he picked up the card and read:
By my estimation, this weekend—Saturday, in fact—we’ll have been dating one month. Just thought I’d warn you.
Jon grinned to himself. He was suddenly looking forward to the weekend more than usual.
* * *
“Dinner was fantastic, Brian,” Jon said, lounging comfortably on the man’s couch.
“Well, it was a special occasion,” Brian replied, smiling as he sat down next to Jon. “I figured I’d make the meal equally as special.”
“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely, leaning in to kiss him.
Brian grinned lasciviously at him, pushing him back against the couch and leaning over him. “Don’t thank me yet. The night’s not over,” he pointed out. “And dinner isn’t the only thing that I planned on being special.”
Jon smirked up at him. “No?” he asked, groaning softly when he felt Brian start kissing his neck.
“Definitely not,” he confirmed, pulling away to look Jon in the eyes. Jon swallowed at the heat and desire he saw there.
“Have something else in mind, do you?” Jon asked, trying for coy and failing miserably.
Brian smirked at him. “Make sure to vocalize tonight, Jon,” he continued, shifting to straddle him. “I want to hear your voice break.”
Jon moaned. He didn’t do much thinking for the rest of the night.
* * *
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Stephen commented as Jon walked into his office. Jon grinned at him; his cheerfulness was so overpowering that were he inclined to whistle when happy, he would’ve been.
“One month.” Jon smirked. “Saturday. It was a good weekend.”
Stephen grinned broadly. “That’s right. Congratulations.” He gave Jon a curious look as he sat down. “Things are good?”
“Very good.”
“So?” he asked, and Jon raised an eyebrow at him.
“Are you going to complete that thought?”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “So did he bring up collaring?”
Jon’s grin instantly disappeared. “What? No,” he said. “It’s only been a month. Why would he?”
Stephen shrugged. “Amy usually collars after four or five dates. Paul even sooner. Makes sense that Brian would wait longer, though.”
“He didn’t mention it.”
Stephen frowned, looking confused. “Why’re you so upset?” he asked, and Jon looked down as he saw realization dawn in Stephen’s eyes. “You didn’t tell Brian everything.”
“I told him most of it.”
“Tell him everything! Talk to him, be reassured.”
“Right, because it’s just that fucking easy, Stephen.” He shrugged. “I’ll tell him eventually.”
“You should tell him soon.”
“Stephen, you’re not a dom for a reason.”
“Hey, I’m just offering friendly advice. He’s going to need to know, and besides, this is the kind of thing you talk about with your dom.”
Jon shook his head. “I’ll tell him. Just not right this second.” Stephen looked skeptical at that, but Jon didn’t reply.
* * *
Stephen didn’t know what possessed him to ask the question. He and Evie had been in bed for about an hour, the both of them reading as they were wont to do, when he blurted it out: “What would you have said or done if I’d told you I didn’t want to wear a collar?”
Evie blinked, looking up from her book. She gave him a curious look. “Are you—” she started, but he interrupted.
“Purely hypothetically,” he said. “I’m just...curious, I guess.”
Sticking her bookmark in her book, she set the novel on the nightstand before shifting to look at him more properly. “What would I have done? I probably would have wanted to know why. I also probably would’ve taken it personally.”
“What if there were extenuating circumstances?”
“Like what?”
“A bad experience, maybe.”
She looked thoughtful. “If you’d have told me that before you rejected the collar, well, it’d be different. I’d see it less as a personal rejection, for one, and probably be more inclined to compromise.” She gave Stephen a concerned look. “What’s bringing this up?”
“It’s nothing to do with me,” he said. “I was just thinking about it, how important it is.”
“It’s supposed to be a deeply personal thing, giving someone a collar,” Evie told him. “You’re telling them how much they mean to you, and how much you want to take care of them. You’re also telling them you want everyone to know that they’re yours, and nothing is supposed to change that. Having it rejected with no explanation would be hard to deal with. It’d be like if I suddenly ordered you to quit your job and become a housesub—that sort of total disregard for your feelings.”
“You wouldn’t feel respected.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Stephen bit his lip. The issue of respect brought to his mind the conversation he and Kristen had had, about two weeks previously. He’d thought about it on and off since then, but he hadn’t yet talked about it with Evie. He looked at her. “You wouldn’t ever order me to quit my job, right?” He knew the answer, but still he felt compelled to ask.
“Of course not, honey,” Evie said, draping an arm around him. “I know how much you love working. I wouldn’t try to take that away from you.”
Stephen sighed happily, leaning against her. “More people should have what we have,” he said. “This is what Kristen wants, really.”
“Kristen?” Evie asked, and he realized he needed to elaborate.
“She works at The Daily Show. Kristen Schaal?”
“I know who you mean.”
“She’s a gay sub, and an activist.”
Evie looked sympathetic. “Not the easiest path in life, I imagine.”
“No, definitely not.” He looked up at Evie. “I love you,” he said. “I’m lucky.”
She smiled at him, kissing him softly. “I love you too. I count myself just as lucky.”
* * *
“Brian?”
Brian and Jon turned around in the stands—they were at a baseball game that had not yet started—at the mention of Brian’s name. Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow were seated several feet away from them. He had his arm casually slung around her.
“Keith,” Brian said, nodding. “Rachel. This is Jon.”
“I think we know who he is, Brian,” Keith said, amused. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”
Jon nodded. “You too.”
“I didn’t know you liked baseball, Rachel,” Brian said, and she laughed, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t.”
“Yet,” Keith corrected.
“So he keeps telling me. I let him drag me out here,” she added to Jon, who smiled.
“Give it a chance,” Jon said, “and before you know it, you’ll have a team to regularly break your heart.”
“See? He understands,” Keith said.
Brian looked amused. “Our seats are further this way. Want to get dinner after the game?”
Keith and Rachel exchanged a communicative look before nodding at Brian. “Sounds good,” Keith said.
“All right, we’ll see you then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jon and Brian continued through the stands, eventually finding their seats. “Isn’t Maddow a dom? I thought Olbermann was straight,” Jon said as they sat down.
“She is, so evidently he’s not. I thought so too before they got together, a couple months ago—raised a few eyebrows at work. Everyone knew she was gay, but he was a surprise. He’s dated a lot of subs, after all.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “But it’s nothing like the chaos and outrage that would’ve occurred were they both subs, I’m sure.”
“No, obviously not. Mostly there’s just idle speculation that he’ll cheat on her with a sub eventually.”
“And yet they both get to keep their jobs,” Jon said.
“You don’t have to tell me how unfair it is, Jon. I already know.”
* * *
Dinner with Keith and Rachel had actually been more enjoyable than Jon had been anticipating. He’d gotten into a discussion with Keith about baseball that had lasted about half the meal, much to the amusement of Rachel and Brian. Best of all, he hadn’t felt like the only sub at the table, even though he had been—Rachel and Keith hadn’t talked down to him, or talked about him through Brian. It was refreshing.
“That was fun,” he told Brian as they walked into his building and headed for the elevator.
“It was,” Brian agreed. “I’m glad we ran into them.”
“Me too,” Jon said, and then noticed the look Brian was giving him. “What?”
“When you mentioned your show’s upcoming guests, during dinner—when exactly is George Clooney going to be on?”
Jon gave him a confused look. “Thursday, why?”
“Just curious.” Jon thought there was probably more to it than that, but their elevator arrived then, and Brian took the opportunity to pin him up against the wall. He promptly put the strange question out of his mind.
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: PG-13 for this part.
Pairing: Brian/Jon and others.
Warning: AU; BDSM.
Summary: In a universe where people are primarily defined by position—whether they are dominant, a switch, or submissive—Jon and others struggle to deal with dating, prejudice, and the drama that comes from not fitting neatly inside society’s narrowly-defined idea of how things should be.
Word Count: 1,839 for this part.
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: See masterpost for full header, author’s notes, and thanks.
“Jon!” called a very-distinct British accent, just as he was about to step into his office. Jon turned around to see John hurriedly heading toward him, Rob not far behind. “Please inform this raving lunatic that he is, in fact, a raving lunatic and needs to be locked up immediately.”
Jon blinked. “What did he do this time?”
“Not a thing! You’ve got nothing on me, Oliver!” Rob protested.
“Oh, so someone else broke into our office and superglued all of my things to my desk?” John asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
Jon dropped his face into his hands. “Do I work with sixth graders?” he wondered aloud. “First Sam handcuffs Jason to his desk, and now you two.” He shook his head, willing himself to remember that Rob and Ed had been even worse.
“You saw Jason, too, then?” Rob asked, grinning, his attention apparently completely diverted from the annoyed Englishman currently glaring at him.
“I did. He didn’t seem to like me laughing at him.” Jon smirked at the memory.
“We did a little more than laugh,” John admitted, grin becoming wicked.
Jon rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.” At least he didn’t have to worry about the two of them. While they flirted constantly enough, John and Rob were merely friends. Most places of business had a firm policy against letting doms and subs share offices, but Jon had always privately felt such a policy to be utter bullshit. Rob and John had helpfully proven his point: Rob never even accidentally dommed John, and John never felt compelled to sub for him; shockingly, it was possible.
“How could we resist? The guy was handcuffed to the desk. It would’ve been a missed opportunity,” Rob added.
Jon shook his head. “Was there anything else?”
“There is still the matter of all my supplies being glued to my desk,” John reminded him.
“Go buy a bottle of nail polish remover,” Jon said simply. Rob smirked. John sighed heavily in exasperation.
“Fat lot of help you are, Stewart,” he said dramatically.
“I try,” Jon said, giving them one last grin before disappearing into his office. When he got there, before he sat down, he noticed a dozen roses with a card attached to them sitting on his chair. Rolling his eyes at the flowers—Brian was a smart ass—he picked up the card and read:
By my estimation, this weekend—Saturday, in fact—we’ll have been dating one month. Just thought I’d warn you.
Jon grinned to himself. He was suddenly looking forward to the weekend more than usual.
“Dinner was fantastic, Brian,” Jon said, lounging comfortably on the man’s couch.
“Well, it was a special occasion,” Brian replied, smiling as he sat down next to Jon. “I figured I’d make the meal equally as special.”
“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely, leaning in to kiss him.
Brian grinned lasciviously at him, pushing him back against the couch and leaning over him. “Don’t thank me yet. The night’s not over,” he pointed out. “And dinner isn’t the only thing that I planned on being special.”
Jon smirked up at him. “No?” he asked, groaning softly when he felt Brian start kissing his neck.
“Definitely not,” he confirmed, pulling away to look Jon in the eyes. Jon swallowed at the heat and desire he saw there.
“Have something else in mind, do you?” Jon asked, trying for coy and failing miserably.
Brian smirked at him. “Make sure to vocalize tonight, Jon,” he continued, shifting to straddle him. “I want to hear your voice break.”
Jon moaned. He didn’t do much thinking for the rest of the night.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Stephen commented as Jon walked into his office. Jon grinned at him; his cheerfulness was so overpowering that were he inclined to whistle when happy, he would’ve been.
“One month.” Jon smirked. “Saturday. It was a good weekend.”
Stephen grinned broadly. “That’s right. Congratulations.” He gave Jon a curious look as he sat down. “Things are good?”
“Very good.”
“So?” he asked, and Jon raised an eyebrow at him.
“Are you going to complete that thought?”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “So did he bring up collaring?”
Jon’s grin instantly disappeared. “What? No,” he said. “It’s only been a month. Why would he?”
Stephen shrugged. “Amy usually collars after four or five dates. Paul even sooner. Makes sense that Brian would wait longer, though.”
“He didn’t mention it.”
Stephen frowned, looking confused. “Why’re you so upset?” he asked, and Jon looked down as he saw realization dawn in Stephen’s eyes. “You didn’t tell Brian everything.”
“I told him most of it.”
“Tell him everything! Talk to him, be reassured.”
“Right, because it’s just that fucking easy, Stephen.” He shrugged. “I’ll tell him eventually.”
“You should tell him soon.”
“Stephen, you’re not a dom for a reason.”
“Hey, I’m just offering friendly advice. He’s going to need to know, and besides, this is the kind of thing you talk about with your dom.”
Jon shook his head. “I’ll tell him. Just not right this second.” Stephen looked skeptical at that, but Jon didn’t reply.
Stephen didn’t know what possessed him to ask the question. He and Evie had been in bed for about an hour, the both of them reading as they were wont to do, when he blurted it out: “What would you have said or done if I’d told you I didn’t want to wear a collar?”
Evie blinked, looking up from her book. She gave him a curious look. “Are you—” she started, but he interrupted.
“Purely hypothetically,” he said. “I’m just...curious, I guess.”
Sticking her bookmark in her book, she set the novel on the nightstand before shifting to look at him more properly. “What would I have done? I probably would have wanted to know why. I also probably would’ve taken it personally.”
“What if there were extenuating circumstances?”
“Like what?”
“A bad experience, maybe.”
She looked thoughtful. “If you’d have told me that before you rejected the collar, well, it’d be different. I’d see it less as a personal rejection, for one, and probably be more inclined to compromise.” She gave Stephen a concerned look. “What’s bringing this up?”
“It’s nothing to do with me,” he said. “I was just thinking about it, how important it is.”
“It’s supposed to be a deeply personal thing, giving someone a collar,” Evie told him. “You’re telling them how much they mean to you, and how much you want to take care of them. You’re also telling them you want everyone to know that they’re yours, and nothing is supposed to change that. Having it rejected with no explanation would be hard to deal with. It’d be like if I suddenly ordered you to quit your job and become a housesub—that sort of total disregard for your feelings.”
“You wouldn’t feel respected.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Stephen bit his lip. The issue of respect brought to his mind the conversation he and Kristen had had, about two weeks previously. He’d thought about it on and off since then, but he hadn’t yet talked about it with Evie. He looked at her. “You wouldn’t ever order me to quit my job, right?” He knew the answer, but still he felt compelled to ask.
“Of course not, honey,” Evie said, draping an arm around him. “I know how much you love working. I wouldn’t try to take that away from you.”
Stephen sighed happily, leaning against her. “More people should have what we have,” he said. “This is what Kristen wants, really.”
“Kristen?” Evie asked, and he realized he needed to elaborate.
“She works at The Daily Show. Kristen Schaal?”
“I know who you mean.”
“She’s a gay sub, and an activist.”
Evie looked sympathetic. “Not the easiest path in life, I imagine.”
“No, definitely not.” He looked up at Evie. “I love you,” he said. “I’m lucky.”
She smiled at him, kissing him softly. “I love you too. I count myself just as lucky.”
“Brian?”
Brian and Jon turned around in the stands—they were at a baseball game that had not yet started—at the mention of Brian’s name. Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow were seated several feet away from them. He had his arm casually slung around her.
“Keith,” Brian said, nodding. “Rachel. This is Jon.”
“I think we know who he is, Brian,” Keith said, amused. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”
Jon nodded. “You too.”
“I didn’t know you liked baseball, Rachel,” Brian said, and she laughed, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t.”
“Yet,” Keith corrected.
“So he keeps telling me. I let him drag me out here,” she added to Jon, who smiled.
“Give it a chance,” Jon said, “and before you know it, you’ll have a team to regularly break your heart.”
“See? He understands,” Keith said.
Brian looked amused. “Our seats are further this way. Want to get dinner after the game?”
Keith and Rachel exchanged a communicative look before nodding at Brian. “Sounds good,” Keith said.
“All right, we’ll see you then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jon and Brian continued through the stands, eventually finding their seats. “Isn’t Maddow a dom? I thought Olbermann was straight,” Jon said as they sat down.
“She is, so evidently he’s not. I thought so too before they got together, a couple months ago—raised a few eyebrows at work. Everyone knew she was gay, but he was a surprise. He’s dated a lot of subs, after all.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “But it’s nothing like the chaos and outrage that would’ve occurred were they both subs, I’m sure.”
“No, obviously not. Mostly there’s just idle speculation that he’ll cheat on her with a sub eventually.”
“And yet they both get to keep their jobs,” Jon said.
“You don’t have to tell me how unfair it is, Jon. I already know.”
Dinner with Keith and Rachel had actually been more enjoyable than Jon had been anticipating. He’d gotten into a discussion with Keith about baseball that had lasted about half the meal, much to the amusement of Rachel and Brian. Best of all, he hadn’t felt like the only sub at the table, even though he had been—Rachel and Keith hadn’t talked down to him, or talked about him through Brian. It was refreshing.
“That was fun,” he told Brian as they walked into his building and headed for the elevator.
“It was,” Brian agreed. “I’m glad we ran into them.”
“Me too,” Jon said, and then noticed the look Brian was giving him. “What?”
“When you mentioned your show’s upcoming guests, during dinner—when exactly is George Clooney going to be on?”
Jon gave him a confused look. “Thursday, why?”
“Just curious.” Jon thought there was probably more to it than that, but their elevator arrived then, and Brian took the opportunity to pin him up against the wall. He promptly put the strange question out of his mind.