Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:30 am
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:30 am
Fake News (RPF) | Unforeseen Possibilities | PG | Brian/Jon
Title: Unforeseen Possibilities
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brian Williams/Jon Stewart
Warning: Crack.
Summary: Even highly-intelligent, intergalactic beings can’t predict everything.
Word Count: 1,028
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: Thank you for the beta, Kelly.
The earthling who called himself Jon Stewart was not outwardly remarkable, Brian (his earth name, as his real name was unpronounceable in English or any other earth language due to their severely limited alphabets; he actually liked it quite a bit) had thought the first time they’d met. It had been one of the few times that one of his initial assessments had proven to be incorrect.
True, the man was only slightly above average-looking for his age, but he possessed qualities that Brian had come to understand mattered to fellow earthlings—and, if he were honest (and he was always honest), to himself as well.
These were qualities like kindness, humor, compassion, genuineness, and, most of all, decency. He’d only been on Earth a short time (not quite five decades, as the humans called them, and it was only a small fraction of the time he would live on his home planet) but he had come to value these qualities as integral to the character of what was known as a good person.
There were other things, too, like a sharp, inquisitive mind and quick wit, both of which Jon had and Brian also appreciated. However, none of these qualities were what made Jon truly remarkable.
In his most learned and professional opinion, he deduced that it was That Damn Giggle, as it had come to be officially referred to in all of his formal reports. (While citizens of his planet were generally forbidden to use this sort of language, being around humans—Jon especially—took its toll. Agents were given some leeway.)
All his research—and there had been a lot, because he was always prepared—had indicated that a giggle was a high-pitched, silly type of laughter most commonly heard from small children, predominantly females. However, there was simply no denying that the sound Jon had released after one of Brian’s comments had been just that, and it had thrown him completely off guard. For someone so used to always being firmly on guard, he hadn’t minded all that much. In fact, all he could think about was trying to find a way to get Jon to make that sound once more. It was wholly preposterous. Ridiculous, even. Most assuredly absurd.
It was also, as he later realized, completely human.
Hours of research revealed that many humans found themselves enamored with Jon’s giggle, and that he was hardly alone in his feelings. This should’ve alarmed him—after all, his mission here on Earth was to prove that his so-called alien race was far superior to that of the earthlings. He shouldn’t be thinking and feeling things any common group of humans did—and yet, it simply pleased him. He was glad that others recognized how remarkable Jon was.
That was how it began. He eventually started spending more time with Jon, both in front of cameras (earthlings relied so much more on television than those on his home planet, and they’d invented it; it amused him) and not. He grew to like Jon a great deal and quickly started considering him a friend. It wasn’t long before he considered him a possibility for something more.
Humans, Brian knew—especially the male humans, as he’d learned in his studies—had peculiar hang ups about what they referred to as homosexuality. This continually perplexed him. On his planet, romantic pairings were based on carefully calculated findings surrounding interests, values, chemistry, intellect, and more. Gender was of one of the least important concerns on that list, and rarely factored into the final equation at all, let alone in any significant role. It was because of this that he hesitated in saying anything to Jon, even though logically he knew Jon was very reasonable and would likely (a 96.4% probability, to be specific) not react in an adverse fashion.
It gave him pause, of course. Several years ago, he would’ve chuckled dignifiedly at the prospect of his behaving anyway not wholly logical, but that was several years ago, and this was now. If he’d learned anything on Earth, it was that things could change, and often did, usually when you were least expecting it. He’d come to rely on that.
It wasn’t until one night, after they had gone out for drinks (human alcohol had no discernable effect on Brian because his body chemistry was so significantly different from that of an earthling’s; so as to not arouse too much undue suspicion, he simply claimed to be what the humans referred to as a teetotaler) and were back at Jon’s apartment that his illogical behavior flourished. They had been talking—bantering, rather, since that was what he knew it was considered—and Brian had said something to make Jon let out that ridiculous giggle again. Without thinking, reasoning, analyzing, calculating odds of probability, or even determining the short-term pros and cons and long-term repercussions of his actions, Brian leaned in and kissed him.
Jon hesitated for barely a second before kissing back, moving his hand and curling his fingers around the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss, resting his other hand on Brian’s chest. It felt like nothing Brian had ever experienced before, and he decided immediately that if this was what being illogical could gain you, he had absolutely no idea why he hadn’t tried it before.
When they broke apart, gasping softly, it was only just far enough so that Brian could see Jon’s face: his lips were slightly puffy, and his eyes half-closed. He had a slight blush to his cheeks and his mouth had curved into a satisfied half-smirk. “About damn time, Williams,” he said, and kissed him again.
His superiors were not going to like his next report. He might even be exiled to Earth for good because of it. Mentally shrugging, he leaned over Jon on the couch as they kissed. That was okay with him, he decided right then. He liked Earth. After all, Jon was here.
Besides, he dared any of them to be able to resist Jon’s giggle. For all his planning and preparation, Brian hadn’t even suspected it was coming.
He realized he preferred it that way.
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brian Williams/Jon Stewart
Warning: Crack.
Summary: Even highly-intelligent, intergalactic beings can’t predict everything.
Word Count: 1,028
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: Thank you for the beta, Kelly.
The earthling who called himself Jon Stewart was not outwardly remarkable, Brian (his earth name, as his real name was unpronounceable in English or any other earth language due to their severely limited alphabets; he actually liked it quite a bit) had thought the first time they’d met. It had been one of the few times that one of his initial assessments had proven to be incorrect.
True, the man was only slightly above average-looking for his age, but he possessed qualities that Brian had come to understand mattered to fellow earthlings—and, if he were honest (and he was always honest), to himself as well.
These were qualities like kindness, humor, compassion, genuineness, and, most of all, decency. He’d only been on Earth a short time (not quite five decades, as the humans called them, and it was only a small fraction of the time he would live on his home planet) but he had come to value these qualities as integral to the character of what was known as a good person.
There were other things, too, like a sharp, inquisitive mind and quick wit, both of which Jon had and Brian also appreciated. However, none of these qualities were what made Jon truly remarkable.
In his most learned and professional opinion, he deduced that it was That Damn Giggle, as it had come to be officially referred to in all of his formal reports. (While citizens of his planet were generally forbidden to use this sort of language, being around humans—Jon especially—took its toll. Agents were given some leeway.)
All his research—and there had been a lot, because he was always prepared—had indicated that a giggle was a high-pitched, silly type of laughter most commonly heard from small children, predominantly females. However, there was simply no denying that the sound Jon had released after one of Brian’s comments had been just that, and it had thrown him completely off guard. For someone so used to always being firmly on guard, he hadn’t minded all that much. In fact, all he could think about was trying to find a way to get Jon to make that sound once more. It was wholly preposterous. Ridiculous, even. Most assuredly absurd.
It was also, as he later realized, completely human.
Hours of research revealed that many humans found themselves enamored with Jon’s giggle, and that he was hardly alone in his feelings. This should’ve alarmed him—after all, his mission here on Earth was to prove that his so-called alien race was far superior to that of the earthlings. He shouldn’t be thinking and feeling things any common group of humans did—and yet, it simply pleased him. He was glad that others recognized how remarkable Jon was.
That was how it began. He eventually started spending more time with Jon, both in front of cameras (earthlings relied so much more on television than those on his home planet, and they’d invented it; it amused him) and not. He grew to like Jon a great deal and quickly started considering him a friend. It wasn’t long before he considered him a possibility for something more.
Humans, Brian knew—especially the male humans, as he’d learned in his studies—had peculiar hang ups about what they referred to as homosexuality. This continually perplexed him. On his planet, romantic pairings were based on carefully calculated findings surrounding interests, values, chemistry, intellect, and more. Gender was of one of the least important concerns on that list, and rarely factored into the final equation at all, let alone in any significant role. It was because of this that he hesitated in saying anything to Jon, even though logically he knew Jon was very reasonable and would likely (a 96.4% probability, to be specific) not react in an adverse fashion.
It gave him pause, of course. Several years ago, he would’ve chuckled dignifiedly at the prospect of his behaving anyway not wholly logical, but that was several years ago, and this was now. If he’d learned anything on Earth, it was that things could change, and often did, usually when you were least expecting it. He’d come to rely on that.
It wasn’t until one night, after they had gone out for drinks (human alcohol had no discernable effect on Brian because his body chemistry was so significantly different from that of an earthling’s; so as to not arouse too much undue suspicion, he simply claimed to be what the humans referred to as a teetotaler) and were back at Jon’s apartment that his illogical behavior flourished. They had been talking—bantering, rather, since that was what he knew it was considered—and Brian had said something to make Jon let out that ridiculous giggle again. Without thinking, reasoning, analyzing, calculating odds of probability, or even determining the short-term pros and cons and long-term repercussions of his actions, Brian leaned in and kissed him.
Jon hesitated for barely a second before kissing back, moving his hand and curling his fingers around the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss, resting his other hand on Brian’s chest. It felt like nothing Brian had ever experienced before, and he decided immediately that if this was what being illogical could gain you, he had absolutely no idea why he hadn’t tried it before.
When they broke apart, gasping softly, it was only just far enough so that Brian could see Jon’s face: his lips were slightly puffy, and his eyes half-closed. He had a slight blush to his cheeks and his mouth had curved into a satisfied half-smirk. “About damn time, Williams,” he said, and kissed him again.
His superiors were not going to like his next report. He might even be exiled to Earth for good because of it. Mentally shrugging, he leaned over Jon on the couch as they kissed. That was okay with him, he decided right then. He liked Earth. After all, Jon was here.
Besides, he dared any of them to be able to resist Jon’s giggle. For all his planning and preparation, Brian hadn’t even suspected it was coming.
He realized he preferred it that way.