Entry tags:

genre: angst, pairing: jon'n'"stephen", series: fake news, story: five times jon terrified stephen

Title: Five Times Jon Terrified Stephen (1)
Fandom: The Colbert Report
Rating: PG for innuendo
Words: ~3300 in total
Disclaimer: Two.

For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.

And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.

Notes: This started small and snowballed, so I'm posting each of the Five Times separately. I shouldn't need to link a clip for this one, but I will.

One | Two | Three | Four | Five



Five Times Jon Terrified Stephen


One.

It's almost sunrise the next morning and the election still hasn't been called yet; the other networks keep going back and forth over Florida, while the in-field correspondents periodically call in to confirm that, no, they still don't have anything new to report.

In the studio, they've been taking it in shifts to catch a few hours of sleep at a time. Steve is back in the office he shares with Stephen, improvising a bed with stolen couch cushions. Vance is actually on the set, passed out on the couch. Lewis was last seen in the break room making another pot of coffee. Frankly, more coffee is the last thing Lewis needs right now, but nobody is brave enough to say that to his face.

It's supposed to be Jon and Stephen on watch right now, but Jon has fallen asleep on his desk -- the first time he's slept all night -- and Stephen has no intention of shaking him awake.

None of them have toothbrushes around. Stephen has downed about a gallon of Nutz, but he can still taste pizza.

No, he is not going to touch Jon right now.

Stephen is heterosexual. That's the Truth, with a capital T. But humans are inherently sinful, and temptation is everywhere, and he can feel the lure of this particular sin like the edge of a cliff, close enough that it wouldn't take many wrong steps to send him over.

They ordered pizza at around two AM; his hand brushed Jon's as they both reached for the last slice; they both closed their eyes as they leaned in to take a bite; and when Stephen opened his again he was standing on the brink and staring down into the abyss.

He quickly retreated to his own desk at the side of the room, and he's still there, pretending to watch the screens and the telephones around him, actually watching Jon snore.

If only the mental retreat were as easy as the physical one -- but no, he can still feel the dropoff just beyond his toes, and any little shift of his feet knocks pebbles out into nothingness.

He thought he was doing so well!

Oh, sure, there were lapses. Everyone has those. And a man can hardly be blamed for occasionally giving in to temptation when that temptation is Brad Pitt. Or Johnny Depp. Or Denzel Washington. Or basically anyone whom People had ever declared the Sexiest Man Alive, because it's hard to argue with People.

But Jon Stewart?

Not only that -- Jon Stewart now, of all times? Now, when he's scruffy from not shaving, when there are bags under his eyes, when he's wearing the same stale clothing he's been wearing since the broadcast, when only a few hours ago he had his first cigarette in nearly a year and Stephen could still smell it over the pepperoni?

Are Stephen's carefully maintained defenses so weak that they can be felled by Jon in a state like that?

It's a good thing Jon was too drained to notice anything odd, a good thing that he's asleep now, because it gives Stephen a chance to plan. He needs to shore up his defenses, that much is certain. He needs to tighten his control. He needs to find something stronger than the temptation.

Anger. It'll have to do.

He looks at Jon. You. You make me angry. You have a nightly news show, you have awards, you have accolades. When you speak, people pay attention. When you laugh, people laugh with you. Nobody yells at you. Nobody brushes you off. I resent that. I resent you.

There's an abyss in front of Stephen, and he doesn't know how far down it goes. All he knows is that he is terrified of falling.

I hate you, he thinks, and feels himself back away from the edge.