Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 02:47 am
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 02:47 am
Fake News (RPF) | Discovery | PG-13 | Jon/Stephen
Title: Discovery
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Stephen
Summary: Lewis discovers something.
Word Count: 725
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: Edited from its original version.
Jon and Stephen have always acted pretty gay. It’s funny, you know, for our amusement. At least, that’s what I thought.
I mean, yeah, they’re pretty affectionate for straight dudes, but I always thought that was because they were good friends. Never once did I think, Oh, they’re really fucking each others’ brains out.
Looking back, I probably should’ve.
Sure, some of the things they did made me raise my eyebrows: the pizza thing, the Prince Charles thing, (though that was pretty gay to begin with) and recently, that making out comment from Jon, but I just shrugged it off. They’re just doing it for the hell of it, I thought. They find it funny—and it is.
Wow, I was fucking retarded.
The new set is small in person, but the building it’s in is pretty big. I was there to do another ‘Back in Black’ segment, and since I had an hour to kill, I decided I’d take a look around. I rationalized that I should be able to find my way around the place, but really, I was just fucking bored out of my mind. While having one of the younger female interns constantly staring at me in awe started out flattering, it quickly got fucking creepy.
So I was walking around and I came to this door labeled Supplies that some dumbass had obviously attempted to lock in a hurry. The lock was only turned about halfway, so the door could still be opened. I could hear movement inside the closet and I smirked to myself. What do we have here? I wondered. Two interns who couldn’t wait to get home? I was about to walk away, because I had no desire to interrupt anyone’s fucking, when I heard it.
“God, Stephen!”
While the voice was at a higher pitch and clearly heady with desire, I recognized it instantly: it was Jon’s. Convinced I was hearing things, I turned back to the door and listened again.
“Ohh—that’s—fuck, yes.”
I wasn’t hearing things. It sounded like Jon Stewart was getting a fucking hummer. From Stephen Colbert.
After getting the fuck out of there, I found the writer’s room and sat at the table, stunned. My first thought was, No wonder Jon is always so goddamned relaxed during tapings. Hey, I’m a fucking comedian—what did you expect? My second thought was more along the lines of, What are these assholes doing? They’re both married with kids, followed by, Like you have any fucking right to judge, Black. Get the fuck over yourself.
I was actually so distracted that I didn’t realize that Jon had sauntered in until he said, “Hey, Lewis, what’s up?”
I just managed to repress my desire to snap, Obviously not your dick anymore. What can I say? I like being employed. What I actually said was, “Not a whole a lot.”
As I looked up, I noticed that the man was a study in satiation—slight flush to his cheeks, broad smile, and his walk had a little spring in it. Jesus fucking Christ, it was almost like he had I just got a blow job! written on his forehead in black sharpie.
“We’re going to need you soon. You go on right after Stephen,” Jon said.
“Uh-uh. After Stephen.” The tone of my voice must’ve been off, or something, because he gave me a sideways look before smiling again and walking out of the room.
I don’t give a shit about who fucks who, when, how, where, and why, because people who worry about that have too much fucking time on their hands. I’m not going to deny being a little curious, but that’s mainly because of the circumstances—these two have families. What the fuck do they need to fuck each other for?
It’s none of my fucking business, of course, so I don’t expect to lose any sleep over it. And it’s not like Jon or Stephen have any obligation to tell me anything whatsoever about their private lives. Wouldn’t that be fucked up if they did? Lewis Black, chief of the sex police. God, that’s so fucking wrong.
Whatever. Jon and Stephen can do whoever they want. I’m sure as hell not going to say anything about it.
I will, however, stay the fuck away from that supply closet from now on.
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Stephen
Summary: Lewis discovers something.
Word Count: 725
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: Edited from its original version.
Jon and Stephen have always acted pretty gay. It’s funny, you know, for our amusement. At least, that’s what I thought.
I mean, yeah, they’re pretty affectionate for straight dudes, but I always thought that was because they were good friends. Never once did I think, Oh, they’re really fucking each others’ brains out.
Looking back, I probably should’ve.
Sure, some of the things they did made me raise my eyebrows: the pizza thing, the Prince Charles thing, (though that was pretty gay to begin with) and recently, that making out comment from Jon, but I just shrugged it off. They’re just doing it for the hell of it, I thought. They find it funny—and it is.
Wow, I was fucking retarded.
The new set is small in person, but the building it’s in is pretty big. I was there to do another ‘Back in Black’ segment, and since I had an hour to kill, I decided I’d take a look around. I rationalized that I should be able to find my way around the place, but really, I was just fucking bored out of my mind. While having one of the younger female interns constantly staring at me in awe started out flattering, it quickly got fucking creepy.
So I was walking around and I came to this door labeled Supplies that some dumbass had obviously attempted to lock in a hurry. The lock was only turned about halfway, so the door could still be opened. I could hear movement inside the closet and I smirked to myself. What do we have here? I wondered. Two interns who couldn’t wait to get home? I was about to walk away, because I had no desire to interrupt anyone’s fucking, when I heard it.
“God, Stephen!”
While the voice was at a higher pitch and clearly heady with desire, I recognized it instantly: it was Jon’s. Convinced I was hearing things, I turned back to the door and listened again.
“Ohh—that’s—fuck, yes.”
I wasn’t hearing things. It sounded like Jon Stewart was getting a fucking hummer. From Stephen Colbert.
After getting the fuck out of there, I found the writer’s room and sat at the table, stunned. My first thought was, No wonder Jon is always so goddamned relaxed during tapings. Hey, I’m a fucking comedian—what did you expect? My second thought was more along the lines of, What are these assholes doing? They’re both married with kids, followed by, Like you have any fucking right to judge, Black. Get the fuck over yourself.
I was actually so distracted that I didn’t realize that Jon had sauntered in until he said, “Hey, Lewis, what’s up?”
I just managed to repress my desire to snap, Obviously not your dick anymore. What can I say? I like being employed. What I actually said was, “Not a whole a lot.”
As I looked up, I noticed that the man was a study in satiation—slight flush to his cheeks, broad smile, and his walk had a little spring in it. Jesus fucking Christ, it was almost like he had I just got a blow job! written on his forehead in black sharpie.
“We’re going to need you soon. You go on right after Stephen,” Jon said.
“Uh-uh. After Stephen.” The tone of my voice must’ve been off, or something, because he gave me a sideways look before smiling again and walking out of the room.
I don’t give a shit about who fucks who, when, how, where, and why, because people who worry about that have too much fucking time on their hands. I’m not going to deny being a little curious, but that’s mainly because of the circumstances—these two have families. What the fuck do they need to fuck each other for?
It’s none of my fucking business, of course, so I don’t expect to lose any sleep over it. And it’s not like Jon or Stephen have any obligation to tell me anything whatsoever about their private lives. Wouldn’t that be fucked up if they did? Lewis Black, chief of the sex police. God, that’s so fucking wrong.
Whatever. Jon and Stephen can do whoever they want. I’m sure as hell not going to say anything about it.
I will, however, stay the fuck away from that supply closet from now on.