The Daily Show w/ Jon Stewart RPS

"Fix Your Hair" - Jon/Stephen, R

Wed, 15 Oct 2008 21:58:35 GMT

Title: Fix Your Hair
Series: TDS/TCR
Pairing: Jon/Stephen
Rating: R
Warning: Handjob! :DDD
Summary: Jon doesn't like the fact that Stephen's hair is slicked back all the time and he intends to fix it.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the computer I type on and the ideas in my head.
Author's Notes: I made some icons of Stephen from an episode where his hair was incredibly fluffy and soft-looking. Shoebox_addict (aka, Teh Muse) and I agreed that his hair looks better that way.

====

“Ugh, Stephen.”

Jon Stewart stepped into the small dressing room that belonged to his best friend.

Stephen Colbert sat in a chair in front of a mirror as his stylist sprayed down the last bit of Stephen’s hair. She acknowledged Jon with a smile and a nod.

“Hey, Trish.” Jon said, smiling back.

“Hi, Mr. Stewart. I’ll leave you guys be.” Trish said. She quickly made her way out of the dressing room and shut the door behind her. Jon shook his head.

“Will she ever call me Jon?” he asked, staring at Stephen only through his mirror reflection. Stephen chuckled. “She still has trouble calling me Stephen.” he replied. Jon put his hand on Stephen’s shoulder.

“Now, hey, what was that entrance all about, Jon?” Stephen asked.

“Your hair! Stephen, you know your hair looks better when it’s all soft and pushed back, not slicked and sprayed down.” Jon said, touching Stephen’s hair.

“There’s nothing I can do about it, Jon. It’s Trish’s decision.”

“Stephen. It’s your hair. You can decide exactly how you want your hair to be.” Jon said. He leaned in close and kissed Stephen’s good ear lightly, tracing his fingers across the lines in Stephen’s crispy hair.

“Mmm…Jon…” Stephen whispered. He turned to look up at Jon for a second before sighing.

“I wish we had time, Jon, but I’ve only got -” Stephen checked his watch, “- three minutes til we start taping.”

“Oh, Stephen, that’s plenty of time.” Jon said. He grabbed Stephen’s tie and pulled him up to his full height. He crushed his lips against Stephen’s lips and held him closer.

Stephen hummed against Jon’s lips and smirked at the vibration. Jon’s hands slid down Stephen’s body, snaking their way to his pants. He fervently unbuckled Stephen’s belt and yanked Stephen’s pants open.

Without a second of hesitation, Jon reached into Stephen’s boxers and began pumping his fist up and down Stephen’s cock, all the while kissing him passionately. Stephen clung to Jon, gasping for air, sweat cancelling out the effects of the hairspray.

“Mmm, Jon…” he muttered, resting his forehead against Jon’s as Jon continued to pump, harder, faster. Jon leaned forward and tasted Stephen’s skin, licking a line up his jaw to his ear. He sucked on Stephen’s earlobe and received a pleading groan in reply.

“Nngh…don’t…don’t stop…” Stephen whispered. He shoved his arms out and pushed against the walls of the narrow dressing room to support himself so he wouldn’t collapse. Jon used his free hand to run his fingers through Stephen’s slowly-softening hair.

Jon smiled as he caught a growl deep in Stephen’s throat. Jon sped up a little bit more and that was all it took; Stephen buried his face in Jon’s chest and bit down on the fabric of Jon’s suit as he rode out his orgasm.

“Christ, Jon.” Stephen muttered. His hair was an utter mess now, falling in his face, his glasses askew and making their way down to the tip of his nose. Jon smiled and got up on his toes to kiss Stephen sweetly, gently.

“See?” Jon said. He ran a hand through Stephen’s hair, pushing it back and out of his face. Stephen adjusted his glasses and smiled at his reflection, then at Jon.

“You’re right, Jon. It looks much better this way.” He checked his reflection again, then turned to Jon and walked to the door with him. “But you know, Trish isn’t gonna like this. And she’s just gonna keep styling it slicked back and sprayed.”

“Well, then, I’ll just have to come in here every night and fix it for you.” Jon replied. He gave Stephen one more quick kiss before they exited the dressing room. They looked down the hall both ways before Stephen waved goodbye to Jon.

“Love you, Jon.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

====

"Stopping the Clocks" by emotionalwench

Mon, 13 Oct 2008 05:19:13 GMT

Title: Stopping the Clocks
Author: emotionalwench
Pairings: Jon/Stephen, from Stephen's POV
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: extreme fluff mixed with a bit of angst, male nudity, man-kissing, some swearing
Summary: Stephen sneaks into Jon's hotel room the morning after the 2008 Emmy Awards. No sex, just cuddling galore.
Author's Notes: Here's my second Jon/Stephen fic in only my second or third week of being in the fandom! *grins* I'm actually quite proud of this fic. If I'm allowed to say so, I think it's pretty damn well-written. It took me literally all day to write it, but I think it was worth it since I enjoyed writing it so much. It was a wonderful break from the work I've been doing on my original novel.

Once again, I wouldn't even be writing this without the inspiration from shoebox_addict and her wonderful, extremely addicting fic Recurring Dreams. Thanks so much, hun! And thanks so much to everyone else in the community for not only reading and commenting on my last fic, but also for posting their own amazing stories and fan art! I'm so glad I joined this community. You all are awesome.

Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

Any mention of 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', 'Viacom', any associated entites, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976 and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.

“Come to my hotel room in the morning,” Jon had whispered to Stephen the night that they both won their Emmys. Reaching around discretely, he slipped a copy of his hotel key into Stephen’s pants pocket. “And come early, like around six o’clock.”

“Jon, are you serious?” Stephen whispered back. He fingered the small plastic card in his pocket, shivering with both anticipation and nervousness at what Jon was suggesting. “What will I tell Evie if she wakes up?”

“Tell her…tell her you need some fresh air and that you’re going on a run. I don’t know, figure out something.”

Stephen stared into Jon’s blue eyes, hoping that the way they were whispering to each other wouldn’t look strange to the huge crowds of people surrounding them in the lobby of the Governor’s Ball. God, it was so hard for him to refuse when he looked into those eyes – they were so wide and full of expectation, and looked so loving and…innocent in a way. “Like a goddamn puppy dog,” he’d told Jon once.

“Are you sure we should do that?” Stephen murmured, taking a sip of his champagne. “It seems a bit risky.”

“Of course it’s risky! Everything about what we’ve been doing is risky!” As if to prove his point Jon suddenly looked up and waved to Tina Fey and some of the cast of 30 Rock, a huge friendly grin plastered on his face and a seemingly platonic arm draped casually around Stephen’s shoulders. It was as if he was trying to say, Nope, nothing going on here. Definitely not arranging an early-morning tryst with my male lover. We’re clearly just friends. Move along.

Once Tina’s group had walked out of sight, Jon immediately dropped the fake demeanor and moved closer to Stephen again. “I want to be alone with you,” he said in a low voice. “Even if it’s just for an hour – God, even if it’s just for a few minutes. I know you can’t get away tonight since you’re with your family. Tomorrow morning may be our only chance to be alone before we both have to fly home on separate planes. Do you get me, buddy?”

“I get ya.” Stephen beamed at his best friend, but inside he was positively melting at how desperately Jon wanted to be with him. It took every bit of willpower he had not to kiss him in the middle of the lobby. It was strange, but playing the right-wing character he portrayed almost nightly on his show was far less difficult than pretending to be someone who wasn’t in love with Jon Stewart.

“I’ll be there,” Stephen promised softly. He gave Jon’s wrist a small squeeze before he started moving back towards his wife and daughter, who stood a few yards away. As much as he loved the thrill of planning secret meetings with Jon, he didn’t want to leave his family alone for too long. “Hey, Maddie. Still not tired, sweetie? Ah, you’re a party animal just like your dear old dad.”

* * * * * * *

Thoughts of Jon running constantly through his head, and the high he’d been riding from his Emmy win, kept Stephen from getting much sleep that night. As a result he was still pretty awake when he arose from his hotel bed and began pulling on a tee-shirt and running shorts at five-fifty in the morning.

“Stephen?” his wife muttered, stirring. She squinted at the clock that stood on the nightstand. “God, it’s so early. Why are you up?”

“Ssshhh, honey, don’t get up,” Stephen whispered, putting on his sneakers. “I was too wired to sleep, so I’m going on a run around the hotel. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“A run? You crazy man. You’re going to be so tired when we get to the airport.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane. Just go back to sleep, ‘k? I’ll be back in time for us to check out of the hotel. And don’t worry, I’ve already packed my stuff.” To his relief, Evie nodded and lay back down on the pillows again. As soon as he was certain she was asleep he crept quietly out of the room.

The dawn light was a pale blue, and the air even seemed to smell crisp and clean despite the fact that Los Angeles was notoriously smog-filled. There was a spring in Stephen’s step and he whistled a cheerful tune to himself as he crossed the street to Jon’s hotel, only a few short blocks from his own. He already knew Jon’s room number because they’d shared that information before flying to California, hoping that they might be able to spend some time alone together while on the trip. As apprehensive as he had felt earlier, Stephen was grateful that they were able to make a meeting between them work after all. He also felt glad (with a rush of guilt that he pushed hastily away) that Jon’s wife hadn’t accompanied him – it would have been impossible for them to get together if both their families had been there.

Before long he was standing in front of Jon’s door and sliding the key card through the slot. The light on the slot blinked green, granting him access to the room. He opened the door and tip-toed in as quietly as he could, not sure if Jon was awake yet.

“Jon?” he whispered, stumbling his way through the shadowy room. “Jon, it’s me, I’m here.” The blinds were shut and only a small sliver of light shone through the cracks. But at last he found the bed, where he was greeted with a sight that made him stop in his tracks and put a hand to his mouth – suddenly unable to speak, almost unable to breathe.

Jon was curled up in the middle of the queen-sized bed, completely nude. A small section of the white sheet was stretched thinly across his middle, but his hair-covered legs and arms were peeking out and his chest – soft and not as toned as it once had been, but still strong – was exposed. His head was burrowed into one of the fluffy pillows, his graying hair sticking up every which way, and there was a small, peaceful smile on his sleeping face. What warmed Stephen more than anything, though, was the fact that Jon was clutching one of the other pillows to his stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around it as if it were a lover. Had Jon been dreaming of him, Stephen wondered? The idea that Jon might have missed him so much that he – consciously or unconsciously – had begun spooning the pillow nearly made Stephen’s heart stop beating.

Stephen took slow, deep breaths, unsure whether he even wanted to wake Jon. He would have been content to just stand there for hours, watching his lover sleeping. But he knew that he didn’t have much time, so he reached out and gently shook Jon’s shoulder.

“Jon?” he murmured again. To his surprise the sleepy smile on Jon’s face became suddenly wider, and with his eyes still shut he reached out and grasped Stephen’s hand.

“Good morning,” Jon sighed in a groggy voice, lovingly entwining his fingers into Stephen’s. He finally opened his eyes and turned his head to gaze at the other man. The dark circles that were nearly always under Jon’s eyes were even more pronounced at this early hour, but to Stephen that just made Jon look even more beautiful.

“Morning,” Stephen grinned, massaging Jon’s palm with his thumb. “Were you already awake when I came in here, you sneaky bastard?”

“Maybe.”

Stephen chuckled at Jon’s answer. Then, taking in once more the picture of his lover lying there, he breathed, “You’re naked.” He said it as if he could hardly believe that his eyes were allowed to feast upon such a sight.

“I’m glad you noticed. Why don’t you get naked yourself and join me over here?”

Stephen didn’t need any more convincing than that. He pulled off each article of clothing as if he were breaking free from chains that had held him down for a hundred years, and set his eyeglasses down on the night stand. He slipped into the bed next to Jon, facing him. The flesh around their middles met, and Jon let out a lovely little sigh at this first instance of skin-to-skin contact.

For a few moments neither man spoke a single word. They simply wrapped their arms around one another and held each other close, their legs entwined, each of their noses burrowed into the other’s shoulder. Neither one of them needed to say anything; they already knew what the other was thinking and how happy he was. They lived for moments like these, when they could at last be free to express their love in the gestures that they were forced to stifle the rest of the time.

After a minute Stephen exhaled heavily and began planting a trail of kisses across Jon’s shoulder and neck. “You should always be naked when I come and see you,” he said between kisses, smiling. “God, Jon. I couldn’t have asked for a better view when I walked in here. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Jon grinned, turning his head to allow Stephen’s mouth better access to his neck. “Actually, I usually sleep in my boxers at least. But last night I was thinking of you, and I, uh…” Smirking cheekily, he made an O-shape with his thumb and first three fingers, and moved his arm up and down in the universal symbol for jacking off. Stephen let out a loud laugh, his nose still touching Jon’s throat.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. If I could’ve gotten away, I would have gladly come over here and relieved that tension for you myself.”

“Pfff, don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s all I care about. I’m just happy you made the effort to come over here. You could be sleeping right now.”

“Why the hell would I choose sleep over this? Fuck, I would never sleep again in my life if it meant we could be together every morning.”

Jon nodded in agreement and shut his eyes contentedly, leaning his face closer into Stephen’s. For the first time that morning, their lips brushed against each other in a single, sweet kiss.

“You know, I could relieve some of that tension for you now,” Stephen said huskily, looking down at Jon’s crotch. Jon smiled, but to Stephen’s surprise he shook his head.

“Stephen, actually I was thinking we could just…you know…hold each other this morning. Don’t get me wrong, our sex is fantastic – but I get so few chances to just lie in a bed with you. Is that okay? I mean, if you’re dying for me to blow you, I don’t mind––”

“No, no,” Stephen laughed, touched by Jon’s suggestion. “I…I actually think that’s wonderful, Jon. I just want to hold you, too. And it might be better if I don’t go back to my hotel room smelling of sex.”

Jon chortled. “Good thinking, sir. You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Stephen said softly. “We can always fool around in our offices when we get back to New York.”

“And I know we will,” Jon said, arching his brow naughtily and catching Stephen’s lips in another soft kiss. He ran his hands up and down Stephen’s bare back, and Stephen reciprocated by rubbing his foot affectionately against Jon’s leg and squeezing Jon even closer to him. No matter how close they got, it never seemed to be enough. At times like these Stephen wished their bodies could merge into one, the way their hearts had already done.

“Look, the sun’s coming up,” Jon whispered suddenly, propping himself up and reaching out to draw the blinds. “Have we ever watched the sunrise together, babe?”

“I don’t think so,” Stephen murmured as a flood of golden light suddenly filled the room. “I mean, except for parties where we got really drunk and stayed up all night. But that was before we had ever seen each other naked, so I dunno if it counts.”

“Well, let’s make it count now.” Jon sat up lazily in bed and Stephen followed, curling up behind him and spooning him. They both stared wordlessly out the wide hotel window, gazing at the blood-orange sun peeking out between the tall Los Angeles skyscrapers. But Stephen’s gaze was really fixated on Jon – watching the way the sunbeam seemed to make his entire body come alive, from the way his skin tone took on a warmer glow to the way the small hairs on his arms radiated in the light.

“Shit, Jon,” Stephen breathed after a few moments, nuzzling his face in Jon’s salt-and-pepper hair. “You’re even more gorgeous in the sunlight.”

“Uhhh, thanks,” Jon giggled, as if he wasn’t sure whether to take Stephen’s remark as a compliment. “I’m glad you don’t feel you have to make love to me in the dark.”

“Of course not, smartass. You know better. You don’t have to be so self-deprecating all the time.”

“Sure I do. You know you find it endearing.” Stephen rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t say anything in response because he knew that Jon was right.

“Maybe next time we watch the sunrise, we can do it while having sex outside,” Jon said, wrapping Stephen’s arms in his. “We’ll rent a cabin in a forest somewhere, and go in the woods one morning and lay down a blanket and just go at it. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“You and your kinks,” Stephen smiled. “Will we also be role-playing as two lumberjacks?”

“Ha! That would be hot. I knew my creativity would eventually rub off on you.”

Stephen nuzzled against Jon’s shoulder, and felt the most truly happy and at peace than he thought he’d ever felt in his entire life. But at the same time he felt a twinge of sadness in the pit of his stomach. Even though he and Jon could talk about making love in a cabin in the woods, such experiences were more or less closed off to them because they couldn’t escape the reality of their situation: that they were two married men carrying on a covert affair. The best they could hope for were these stolen moments in hotels, in their offices, in their dressing rooms. What they had was wonderful, but they would never be like other couples who didn’t have spouses or the public eye watching over them, who could go on vacations together and not have anyone judge or question it.

It was so strange, Stephen reflected, but a few times he had caught himself almost saying, “Will you marry me?” when he’d been making love with Jon. Once it really did slip out, and when Jon looked at him quizzically Stephen had tried to laugh it off as a joke. But he hadn’t meant it as a joke. It was such a ludicrous thing to say, the marriage laws of the nation notwithstanding. It reflected a desire to be with Jon completely, just the two of them – as if they’d never had wives or children, or television shows that made it impossible for them to come out. To be just two people in love who wanted to spend the rest of their lives with each other.

But both of them had already made vows to other people long ago. Stephen loved Jon and wanted to be with him; yet he also loved his wife and their three children, and the thought of losing them sent sharp spasms of panic to his chest. How could two things that were so true – his love for Jon, and his love for his family – stand in such strict opposition to each other? How and why would God make both realities exist? He was no closer to finding the answer than he had been when he’d first realized he was in love with his best friend.

Stephen suddenly realized that he was close to ruining his morning with Jon by worrying about their situation, so he pushed the negative thoughts away as best he could.

“I know something that’s a better sight than this sunset,” he said, stroking Jon’s cheek. “Than any damn sunset.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Stephen pointed to the large mirror that covered the wall behind the headboard of the bed. There was their life-size reflection staring back at them: two men in their forties, both naked, one with graying hair and one with dark hair that he wouldn’t admit to dyeing, both of them with scratchy five o’clock shadows on their faces and carrying a little more weight around their middles than had been there ten years ago. Almost no one else would have thought that the sight of them was anything special. But when Stephen gazed at himself and Jon tangled up in each other, stomach against back, he knew that it was special, that what they had was lovely and rare.

“We’re beautiful, Jon,” he said, quietly and simply.

“Oh God. Oh, Stephen.” Jon bit his lip and looked as though he was trying to fight back tears from spilling from his eyes. Once again, both men were at a loss for words. They both felt so many complex emotions, both wonderful and heartbreaking, when they were around each other that neither of them could ever express it properly. Jon turned around so that he was facing Stephen again, but this time he positioned himself on his lap and wrapped his legs around Stephen’s middle.

“I never want you to leave,” Jon said, his voice breaking. “I never want this morning to end. Can’t we just…fuck, I don’t know…stop all the clocks in the world? Make everything but us disappear? God, it sounds so trite to say that, it’s such a fucking cliché, but it’s what I want. More than anything. Goddamn it.”

“I know. I know.” Stephen held Jon wordlessly, loving the feeling of the shorter man’s legs wrapped around his waist. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, Jon,” he said at last, breaking the silence, “but if in some bizarro world I was forced to choose between the Emmy I won last night, or hell, any award or accolade I’ve ever gotten, and this morning with you––” There was no need for him to finish his sentence.

“Of course I believe you. I’d trade it all…” As if he was suddenly realizing how serious they had gotten, Jon changed his tone and laughed, “Whoever decided to put mirrors over the beds in this hotel is a kinky motherfucker. I sure hope it’s not a two-way mirror.”

“If it is, maybe next year we’ll give them a show,” Stephen smirked. “We haven’t exactly demonstrated this morning how wild and crazy we can be when we’re naked and in bed together.”

“No, definitely not. But I wouldn’t change anything.”

What could Stephen do but nod his head and nestle his body even closer against Jon’s? As they cuddled Jon suddenly yawned, and Stephen himself became aware of his own tiredness that was crashing down upon him.

“I think I’m gonna brew some of that coffee that’s sitting on the minibar,” Stephen said, kissing Jon as he reluctantly disentangled himself from their embrace. “You want some?”

“Are you kidding? You know that when you cut me, I bleed Starbucks.” Stephen grinned at Jon, grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and stood up to start brewing their morning beverage. Before long the delicious aroma of coffee filled the small room, and Stephen walked back to the bed carrying two white mugs.

“’ere you go, darling,” he said in a very bad fake English accent as he handed one of the mugs to Jon. In his normal accent he said, “Be careful, it’s hot – just like you.” Jon groaned at Stephen’s cheesy come-on line. Stephen sat down next to him and wrapped one arm around Jon’s shoulders, using his other hand to hold his mug.

“Mmm, thanks, baby,” Jon sighed, gratefully bringing the steaming drink to his lips. “Hey, you called me darling – you’ve never given me a nickname like that before.”

Stephen shrugged and smiled into his coffee cup. “You call me baby all the time, so I think it’s only fair.”

“I wish we had a newspaper,” Jon said wistfully. “Then we could do the crossword together.”

Stephen murmured something in agreement, but he knew that to do the crossword with Jon would be more than a bonding experience – it would be yet another attempt to pretend that they were like any other couple on an early Monday morning, lying in bed, drinking coffee and reading the paper together. And yet, he thought unexpectedly, who was to say that they weren’t like any other couple? Why couldn’t he let them have this one morning? Why could he never spend time with Jon without the thought of their situation hanging over his head like a sword of Damocles?

Stephen’s eyes darted to the clock. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet – he still had plenty of time. Jon had been thinking right to ask him to come over before the sun rose. Stephen set his mug down on the nightstand.

“You stay right where you are,” he said, picking up his shirt off the floor and pulling it over his head. “I’m going downstairs to get us a New York Times. I’ll be right back.”

“You’d better be,” Jon said, flashing Stephen one of those wide grins that was like a gunshot to send his heart racing. Before he left the room to make his way down to the hotel lobby, Stephen smiled back and bent over the bed to give Jon a gentle, lingering kiss.

Reality could wait. Everything but thoughts of himself and Jon together could wait. Stephen sighed peacefully, feeling all the clocks in the world coming to a screeching halt.

FIN.

Part thirty! Milestone!!

Sun, 12 Oct 2008 23:22:38 GMT

Title: Recurring Dreams {part 30: the morning after}
Author: shoebox_addict
Pairing: Jon/Stephen, Stephen/Evie, Jon/Tracey
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, asthma, Paul (sort of), swearing
Author's Notes: Part thirty! Amazing. Thank you to everyone whose support and comments have gotten me this far with this story. I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy! :D Also, the beginning scene with them cuddling and discussing the first time they met is thanks to emotionalwench.
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

Any mention of 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', 'Viacom', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976 and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.

One./Two./Three./Four./Five./Six./Seven./Eight./Nine./ Ten./
Eleven./Twelve./Thirteen./Fourteen./Fifteen./Sixteen./Seventeen./Eighteen./Nineteen./Twenty./
Twenty-one./Twenty-two./Twenty-three./Twenty-four./Twenty-five./
Twenty-six./Twenty-seven./Twenty-eight./Twenty-nine./

"Recurring Dreams" {part 30: the morning after}

Early Monday morning I was awoken by a soft kiss on my temple. Slowly I opened my eyes and turned my head to see Jon, his head resting on my shoulder. His eyes were only half open, I could just barely see their radiating blue color.

"Good morning," I whispered, patting his hands which were still clasped around my middle.

Jon winced slightly and rasped, "Not so loud."

"Yeah, same here," I said, nodding and wincing at the pain in my head. "I should probably...get downstairs."

Jon lifted his head slightly and peered at the clock radio. "It's only eight o'clock. Let's just lay here."

"Okay," I said, giving the matter no thought whatsoever. It felt so wonderful and right to be lying in Jon's arms that I wasn't too eager to leave. And everything was so warm and soft.

"Oh, life is good," muttered Jon into my shoulder. "I have an Emmy and I have a Stephen."

"Aw, Jon," I said. "Thanks for naming the Emmy before me, sheesh."

"Oh, hush up."

"Mmm, you're warm," I murmured, backing up slightly so Jon was pressed closer to me.

"I'm actually getting kind of...too hot. Can we take the blanket off?"

"No," I said. "My feet are cold."

"You don't have to tell me. Come on, I'm overheating. And we don't want that happening with the way my stomach feels."

I sighed exasperatedly and flung the top comforter off of us. "Happy? You little hothouse flower..."

"Hey!" Jon smacked my shoulder. "I resemble that remark."

"Yes you do," I said, smirking. "So, how was last night? I mean, what did you think?"

"It was...interesting, Stephen."

"You didn't like it?"

"I didn't say that. I mean, it was wonderful because it was with you, but...I'm a little sore."

"Oh, poor baby. I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"No, it wasn't you. The whole thing was just...new. If it's all the same to you, I think we should stick with the normal arrangements."

I nodded. "Sounds fine to me."

Sunlight began streaming in through the small slit in the curtains. I shut my eyes against the light. Jon began to press small kisses on my shoulder blade and I couldn't hold back a sigh of contentment. I felt so complete.

"Say, Jon," I said. "Do you remember...the first time we met?"

"The first time? The very first time?" It was obvious he didn't remember it. "Well...would that have been my first day on the job?"

"Nope," I said. "I've got a better memory than you."

"Oh, have you?" said Jon. He started kissing my neck, working his way up to my earlobe. "Well, do tell. What was the first time?"

"Comedy Central...was introducing you to the public. You just got hired...and so did I. And they were...having a press conference. Look, Jon, could you...?"

"What's wrong?" said Jon. He stopped kissing me and propped himself up to look at me.

"If you don't stop doing those things to my ear, we're not going to get through this story until lunchtime."

Jon chuckled softly, his breath blowing on my back. "Sorry, sorry...go on."

"So there you were, young and fresh and being introduced to the public, see? And I said that The Daily Show should 'cover' the press conference. I have no idea why they listened to me, I was just as new as you were. But they let me cover it."

"Let me guess," said Jon. "You walked into the room - and there I was! A figure in a new suit, resplendent with hair that was not yet greyed."

"Cut it out!"

Jon gave a high pitched giggled and pressed his nose into the back of my neck. The gentle gesture made my stomach turn over. "No, no, I remember this now. I do. You asked me if my being hired hurt your chances of getting the host job."

I smiled. So he did remember it. "Yeah...and you said you thought they told you I wasn't funny."

"The very beginning," said Jon in a wistful tone.

"That was so long ago," I mused. "We've changed."

"Mostly around the middle," quipped Jon, poking me in the stomach.

"I beg your pardon!" I exclaimed. Jon didn't answer so I unclasped his hands from around me and wiggled out of his embrace.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"You can't hold what you're going to mock," I said, turning away from him, pretending to pout.

"Oh Lord," said Jon. "You really are the woman."

"Jesus," I moaned. "DJ never should have written that toss."

"Hey, speaking of DJ," said Jon. I smirked, I knew what he was going to say. "What was that all about last night?"

I snorted. "Really...gay old time? That was weak but it was dangerous. Thank God for John Oliver. How did he even get in to the Governor's Ball?"

"I think he got in because he was at least nominated for the writing category and he's part of the crew who won for outstanding show. I frankly don't give a damn as long as he was there to save us from that one."

"Tell me about it." I gave a long yawn and rolled my tongue around my mouth. "Oh, God...I need a toothbrush."

"Yeah," said Jon, rubbing his face. "We should shower."

"Y'know...we should be conserving water," I said. "If we both take the same shower, it won't waste as much."

Jon smirked at me. "That is the weakest proposition I've ever heard."

"But you'll take me up on it?"

"Oh, hell yeah."

We rolled out of the bed on opposite sides and I followed Jon into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and we stepped in together. I, being the taller of the two of us, wrapped my arms around Jon from the back. We stood under the hot stream of water together. Jon's eyes fell closed and he leaned back against me.

"Hey," I said. "Don't fall asleep in the shower, that's dangerous."

"Sorry, sorry," said Jon. "Come on, let's get some actual washing done."

I smirked at him and unwrapped my arms from around him. We scrubbed each other gently and surprisingly chastely. Jon was so sweet. He kept bumping into me as we washed and apologizing. He didn't need to apologize - for anything. I knew he'd been uncomfortable yesterday, out in the public eye with me. I didn't blame him, we were hanging by a very thin thread. One false move and everything could be tugged out from underneath us like an Oriental rug. But he was a good sport. Especially with that Nancy O'Dell interview.

"Thanks, Jon," I said as he leaned down to shut off the shower.

"For what?"

"Everything," I said, smiling at him. Jon sighed and brushed my wet hair back from my forehead.

"I don't need a thank you," he said. "When you love someone, you don't need to be thanked for what you do."

We stood there in the shower, sopping wet and smiling like idiots. I wrapped my arms around him and he leaned his head on my chest. I hugged him tightly, trying to convey all that I felt for him.

We hadn't been standing there for more than thirty seconds when there was a knock at the door. I jumped.

"Holy shit!" I gasped. "Who could that be?"

"Evie?" offered Jon, pulling away from me. "Go on. I'll turn on the shower and pretend I'm still taking one. You just finished yours."

I gave him an appreciative smile and stepped out of the shower in pursuit of a towel. Once found, I wrapped it securely around my waist and called, "Coming!"

I hurried to the door, shutting the bathroom door behind me. I hastily picked up my boxers and laid them on the bed, as though I'd only taken them off for the shower. A quick kick sent Jon's boxers under the bed.

Through the peephole I saw that it was, indeed, Evie. She looked nervous, biting her lip and wringing her hands. She had a pile of clothes in her arms. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Evie, hi!" I said, smiling widely and kissing her.

"Good morning, Stephen," she said. Her eyes widened at the sight of me in just a towel but she relaxed when she heard the shower running. "Jon's in the shower?"

"Yup," I said. "Taking turns."

"Right, right," she said. "I brought you some clothes."

"Thanks, sweetheart," I said. I took the pile of clothes from her and started getting dressed.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked.

I tried not to look as though this question was off-putting. I must not look nervous, I must not look skittish. I pulled on my boxer shorts. "Fine. Not the most comfortable evening but, you know. Jon needed me."

"Uh-huh," said Evie. She seemed very closed off, very distant. I pulled on my socks one by one on the edge of the bed, trying to act normally. "So - did you take the floor?"

"I'm sorry?" I looked up at her and arched an eyebrow.

"Did you sleep on the floor? I mean, you must have given Jon the bed, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, nodding and stepping into my jeans. "I, uh, I actually slept in that chair over there."

"Oh, that sounds awful," said Evie. She seemed to be more at ease once I told her this. Then she noticed my tuxedo lying on the floor in a heap. "This - is how you treat your tuxedo?"

I gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. I was...pretty drunk last night. Sorry about that."

Evie gave me a suspicious sideways glance that I tried to ignore as I pulled on my polo shirt. "How drunk were you, Stephen?"

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at her and she stared right back. I struggled to keep my composure. I opened my mouth, about to give some bullshit answer and just then Jon came out of the bathroom.

"Good morning, Evie," he said, smiling jovially. Evie turned around and gave him a fake smile.

"Good morning, Jon. Stephen, I'll be downstairs."

"See you down there, sweetie," I said. Evie left the room without another word to either of us. And I was left standing there with Jon in nothing but a towel.

"Great!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms up in the air.

"What?" demanded Jon, grasping his towel at the hip as he bent down to retrieve his boxers. "What the fuck happened?"

"I don't know," I moaned, sitting on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. "I don't know if she knows or what the hell...she just seemed really angry and I don't know why."

"Shit," breathed Jon, sitting down next to me.

"We're bad people, Jon. No, I'm a bad person. My wife and my daughter were just two floors below us last night and I fucked you like there was no tomorrow. I'm going to hell."

"You're not...going to hell, Stephen," said Jon. He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed gently. "But you may be in deep shit with your wife. Do you really think she knows?"

I shook my head. "Don't know...I really don't know. Why else would she be so, so, standoff-ish?"

Jon shrugged, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. "Maybe she was just pissed about you getting drunk?"

"Maybe," I said, running a hand through my hair.

"Damn it, Stephen. Did we make a mistake? Is this the slip-up that screws us over?"

"I don't know, Jon," I said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. Jon backed away from me slightly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"No, it's fine, Stephen," he said, standing up to pull on his boxers and discard the towel. "This is...we made a mistake...we shouldn't have...we're still too close to...damn it."

Jon sunk back down on the bed and put a hand to his forehead. We were quiet for a while and I could hear him wheezing softly.

"Jon?" I put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"No, damn it." He shook his head, shrugged my hand off his shoulder, and gasped for breath.

"Oh my God, Jon." I rushed over to where his suitcase lay on the bureau and rummaged around for his inhaler. I could hear him coughing, a horrible hacking cough that made me wince. I turned to check on him and saw that he was on the floor, on all fours, coughing and trying to take ragged gasps of air. I turned back to the suitcase, shoving shirts and pants and shorts out of the way, trying to find the inhaler.

"God damn it!" I exclaimed. "Where the fuck is this thing?"

Jon didn't answer, he couldn't. He was taking short, rapid breaths that weren't doing anything for him. My hands shook and my stomach was tied up in knots as I continued to throw things around the room in search of the inhaler.

Finally, there it was. Hidden away in a front pocket of the luggage. I grabbed it and flew to Jon's side. He was making strange noises in his throat and was slumped against the side of the bed.

"Here, here," I said, holding the inhaler to his lips. I pressed the button and he breathed in as best he could. He gave a feeble cough and gestured weakly for me to press the button once more. I did and he breathed in again, a little stronger this time. His shoulders relaxed as he started taking more even breaths that made it all the way to his lungs.

"Son of a bitch," I breathed, dragging a shaky hand over my face. I touched his shoulder gently. "Are you okay?"

Jon nodded, his eyes closed. "I am now."

His voice was merely a ragged croaking sound that emanated from his throat. I winced, a vice clamped on my heart. I withdrew my hand from his shoulder and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"You realize this is from those three cigarettes you smoked yesterday?"

Again, Jon nodded. He seemed reluctant to talk again. He knew he sounded bad.

"Damn it, Jon. Don't do this to yourself. I beg of you, do not do this to yourself."

Jon took a deep, hearty breath and leaned his head back against the side of the mattress. "I'm so sorry, Stephen."

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your poor, tired lungs. You're killing them Jon, you're killing yourself."

Jon sighed, his eyes still closed. A single tear fell from the corner of his eye and traced a path down to his chin where it disappeared. "That was way too scary."

"Yeah, it was," I said, trying not to cry. "I thought...."

"It felt like I was suffocating," he choked, placing his hand over his mouth.

I sighed. "Remember that next time you get a stupid craving."

Jon nodded, his lips pressed firmly together as he held back sobs that threatened to burst forth. I took him in my arms and held him close, rubbing his back gently. When he pulled away, Jon wiped his eyes and shook his head again.

"I'm really sorry about that. I'll be better from now on, I promise. No more cigarettes."

I nodded. "I'm sorry it took this to make you see. But I'm glad you see now."

"I'm lucky you were here," he said, touching my cheek every so slightly. I smiled. "Now, you'd better get back to your wife."

"Yeah, I'd better," I said reluctantly. I helped Jon up from the floor and he sunk onto the bed, still sounding a little winded. "Are you gonna be all right?"

"Yeah," said Jon, nodding. "I'll be fine. Just go, please."

"All right." I nodded and picked up my tuxedo from the floor. "I'll see you later. Give me a call."

"Got it," said Jon, pointing at me. "I'll see you on the plane."

"Of course! See you then."

"See you, Stephen."

Before I left, I leaned down, cupped his face and kissed him softly. He smiled at me when I broke away and motioned me toward the door.

"I'm going, I'm going!" With one last look at Jon, I left the hotel room.

******

His tuxedo was lying on the floor. Why was it just flung on the floor like that? I tried to tell myself it was because he'd just taken a shower and that's just where he had tossed it.

He came to the door in just a towel. Why hadn't he gotten dressed yet? Jon was in the shower so Stephen's shower must have ended a while ago.

Had both pillows on the bed looked tousled? Could a person really sleep in a chair like the one in that hotel room?

I chased these thoughts around our hotel room, pacing back and forth.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

I turned to see Maddie stepping out of the bathroom with wet hair. I smiled at her, trying to hide my anxiety.

"Nothing, honey. Nothing's wrong. Say, are you hungry?"

"A little," said Maddie, shrugging.

"Why don't you run downstairs and get some food for your father and me. And bring something for yourself too, sweetheart."

Maddie sighed and rolled her eyes. "All right."

I thanked her as she left the room and continued my pacing and frantic thinking.

******

Once inside our room, I slumped against the door, my hands shaking with fear. I had really thought I was about to lose Jon for good. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to regain my composure.

"Oh, you're back," said Evie as she came out of the bathroom. "What took you so -- Stephen? What's the matter?"

She hurried to my side as my knees almost buckled underneath me. "What's wrong?" she demanded, a deeply concerned look on her face.

I took a deep breath. "Jon just had a really bad asthma attack."

"Oh my God." Evie covered her mouth in surprise. "Is he all right? Does he need an ambulance or something?"

"No," I said. running a hand through my still damp hair. "He's fine...luckily I found his inhaler before he...passed out or something."

"Thank God he's okay," said Evie, hugging me tightly.

"I was so scared," I whispered, leaning into her soft hair.

"I know," said Evie, rubbing my back. "It's okay, Jon's fine."

I nodded and sniffed loudly. I was not going to cry on my wife's shoulder about almost losing my lover. What we did last night was bad enough, I wasn't going to let it get that far.

"Where's Maddie?" I said, pulling away from Evie.

"She wanted to go downstairs to get us some of the delicious Continental breakfast they offer here at the hotel," explained Evie, grinning.

"You sent her down there, didn't you?"

"Perhaps," she said. "I'm glad we brought her along. She was telling me last night how much she enjoyed it."

"That's great," I said, beaming. "She wasn't too...upset or anything about my...condition last night?"

"Stephen, she knows that people get drunk sometimes at parties after they've won awards. She's more mature than we think."

"Paul Giamatti didn't scare her?"

"No, Stephen! She told me she was fine, honestly."

"I was gonna tell him to shut up," I said. "He was swearing left and right. But somehow...the words never made it to my mouth."

"It's fine," said Evie, kissing me softly. "I missed you last night."

I gulped. "I missed you too."

I could almost feel a web of lies being spun around me as I stood there, smiling at her and feeding her false information. How long could I do this? How long could I keep up the act? How long could I live a secret life?

Our plane left for New York that afternoon. Steve came out to see us off which was very nice of him considering he had a hangover of his own.

"I don't know what it's gonna take," he said. "But we will get you out here to visit us sometime. Through hell or high water, we will all have a relaxing weekend, damn it!"

I chuckled and wrapped Steve in a hug. "Maybe around Christmas time? Thanks, Steve."

"What for?" Steve cocked his eyebrow at me.

I didn't say any more. I couldn't with Evie standing right there. I just winked at him and said, "Thanks."

He smiled and nodded, understanding that I meant to thank him for keeping our secret and being so cooperative. I was so glad we'd decided to tell him.

"See you, Steve," said Jon, giving him a firm handshake. "Hope we can have you on the show again soon."

"I love coming, you know it," said Steve, grinning. "Actually, things are in motion for a sequel to Get Smart so...I'll probably see you soon enough."

"Great!" said Jon.

The loudspeaker announced that our flight was leaving so we had to get going. Steve kissed Evie's cheek and gave Maddie a hug and we were off. The plane ride was horribly awkward. I sat between Evie and Jon, trying to act as normal as possible. We made small talk, discussing the awards and such. Evie didn't seem to suspect anything but I was very conscious of the things I couldn't say. Or do. When I felt the urge to put my hand on Jon's, I touched Evie's instead.

When we landed in New York, we said goodbye and went our separate ways. On the car ride home I tried to ignore how much I missed Jon already.

******

"Daddy's home!"

I barely had time to drop my suitcase before Nathan attached himself to my leg. "H-hey, you!" I picked him up and spun him around. "I missed you so much."

"Missed you too, daddy," he said, placing a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

Tracey smiled and walked over to kiss me, deep and long. I gasped slightly when she pulled away from me.

"Hey," she said. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head slightly but raised my eyebrows to signal that we shouldn't talk about it right now. She nodded and took Nathan from me.

"What were you gonna tell daddy, Nathan?" said Tracey, smiling at him and tickling his stomach.

"Con-gatch-u-lations," said Nathan, smiling.

My eyes teared up and I kissed his cheek. "Thank you so much, Nathan."

Nathan chewed on his finger and looked down bashfully. Tracey chuckled. "He practiced just for you. Congratulations, sweetie."

She wrapped an arm around me and kissed me again. "Thanks."

"Hey, Nathan," said Tracey, setting him down on the floor. "Why don't you go and play with your Power Rangers?"

"O-kay," said Nathan, toddling off to his bedroom. Once he was gone, Tracey turned to me.

"What's the matter?" she said.

"I had a...a pretty bad asthma attack just before we left L.A.," I said, grimacing at the look of concern on her face.

"Well...are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine now," I said. "Stephen was there so he, uh, he gave me my inhaler just in time."

"Thank God for that," said Tracey. She placed her hand gently on my cheek. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I know, sweetie. You don't have to say it."

She stared at me for a moment longer before enveloping me in a hug. I held tightly to her, guilt erupting inside me for making her feel like this...especially when she didn't know what had gone on behind her back.

I kissed her hair gently. "How was your weekend?"

"Drab," sighed Tracey, kissing me. "I'm glad you're home too."

"Same here."

******

Monday was family day. I didn't have to report into the office even once we were back from L.A. so we all spent the day together. It was a glorious day, all sun and blue skies too. We played board games together and had a big family dinner. It was nice. Evie seemed to have set aside any strange suspicions she'd had that morning at the hotel and Maddie wouldn't shut up about how great the Emmys had been.

That night in bed, Evie snuggled up to me and kissed me gently. "You were really scared for Jon, weren't you?"

"Hmm?"

"When he had his asthma attack. You were really scared, weren't you?"

I sighed. "Yes, I was. It was pretty frightening to see him so....it was awful."

"I bet," she said, caressing my cheek gently. "You love him, don't you?"

"What?" I panicked, the hairs stood up on the back of my neck and I almost stood up and ran.

"You love him," she said, smiling. "He's like the brothers you lost."

"Right," I said, trying to hide my relief. "That's right. That's....exactly what it is."

I thought I saw Evie's eyes narrow ever so slightly but the moment passed and she just smiled at me. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Goodnight," I said. When she turned over and snuggled into her pillow for the night, I was left to stare at the ceiling and ponder what had just happened. Had she been hoping I'd confess? Did she know there was anything to confess at all?

Thank God I had work the next day. These thoughts were torturing me and I was glad of something else to think about for a distraction. After quite a lengthy and boisterous celebration of our Emmy - as though the after parties hadn't been enough - writing began. We had loads of stories to harvest from newspapers and all the news networks. Of course the first order of business for my character was to flaunt the Emmy win. We took care of most of the news stories before lunch.

Regrettably, there was no time to even call up Jon and ask him to lunch. I had to eat a quick sandwich at my desk and then get right back to work. I was sure it was the same deal over at The Daily Show but I was longing to hear Jon's voice. I'd finished my sandwich and had a few minutes to spare before we were all due back in the conference room. My fingers hovered over the receiver but before I could pick it up, it rang. I jumped slightly and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Paul says you're not talking to him."

"What? No hello?" I grinned at the voice on the other end of the line. Amy Sedaris didn't need to say hello. I could always recognize her voice - and Paul's. We'd worked together for so long that they had begun to feel like family members. My first replacements for those I'd lost. There had never been "hellos" between us. There didn't need to be. There'd never been "goodbyes" either, for that matter.

"Shut up, Colbert," said Amy, deliberately pronouncing the 'T' at the end of my name. "Again? You're not talking to him...again, Stephen? What is it this time? Did he rub you the wrong way? Did he say something wrong while you were in bed? What the hell is it?"

"Amy," I said, silencing her before she really got going. "I'm in love with Jon."

She waited a beat before voicing her disbelief. "Stewart?!"

"Ye-es..."

"Geez, you really have a thing for short guys you work with, huh?"

"Stuff it," I said.

"Come on, what happened with Paul?"

I took a deep breath. How should I go about this? Paul was Amy's friend too, they had dated for a short time in Second City. Did she need to know all the gory details? Well, we'd never held back before. "He raped me."

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line. Undoubtedly, Amy was trying to figure out how she should react to this little tidbit.

Finally she said, "Is that what you call it now? I recall you calling it a quick fuck, a roll in the hay....never rape. What the hell happened, Stephen?"

"Things...changed, Amy."

"What...things?" asked Amy, mimicking my hesitant tone.

"Paul has been really weird ever since the audiobook was finished. I - I don't love him."

"Anymore?"

"I don't know if I ever did, Amy. A lot of stuff has...changed."

"Oh...poor Paul."

"Poor Paul?" I exclaimed. "He's the one who pinned me down in my office and blackmailed me!"

"Is that another word for--?"

"No!" I cut her off. "He actually blackmailed me."

"Holy Moses," muttered Amy. "What about?"

I sighed. "About Jon."

"Ohhh...Evie doesn't know about that?"

"Of course not! Evie still doesn't know about Paul."

"Holy crap!" I winced. Of course, she was right to be shocked. "Sounds like the kind of thing you'd tell your spouse."

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes. What would Amy know about spouses?

"Well...I'll give Paul a call and you two can straighten it out."

"No!" I looked up in time to see a frightened intern jump just outside my door. I lowered my voice. "Amy, don't. I don't want to straighten it out."

"But...but...you always straightened it out before."

"That was before. We grew up, Amy. Like I said, things have changed."

"I know - it's all Jon's fault."

"What?"

"He gave you that stupid show. Congrats, by the way, on that...Emmy thing."

I snorted. "Thanks. And it wasn't Jon. It was the natural progression of time."

"Time - ha!" I pulled the phone away from my ear slightly at Amy's outburst. "Time's an asshole. If it knew anything, it'd know the three of us should never...grow apart."

I sighed. It hurt to hear her sound so...disappointed in me. Amy was usually so upbeat so whenever she dealt with something serious like this, it made me uncomfortable. "We haven't...have we?"

"Yeah," she said sadly. "Face it, Stephen. We're all different now. We've gone our separate ways. We did grow up."

"Well, shit," I said, giving a heavy sigh. "I didn't expect to have a crushing realization this afternoon. If I'd known you were calling, I'd have penciled it in."

Amy chuckled half-heartedly. "It's been a long time coming, I think, Stephen. I understand. So - you're in love with Jon?"

I didn't try to steer her back to the more serious issue at hand. I didn't want to talk about it anymore and it was clear she didn't want to either.

"Yes, I am," I said.

"Well how did this happen?"

I leaned back in my desk chair and told her the story, from the very beginning with all the dreams. We may have grown apart physically over the years but I still felt very close to Amy emotionally. She was like the sister closer to my own age I'd never had. I wasn't uncomfortable telling her about us.

"Well paint me blue and call me a Smurf," said Amy, when I had finished. "Sounds like you're pretty happy."

"We are," I said.

"But how long do you think you can hide it? I mean, it's not like back in the day when you were unattached anyway so it didn't matter if you fooled around with Paul. You're married...with children."

"You don't have to remind me," I said. "I honestly don't know. We're just...trying our hardest to make it work."

"Do you still love Evie?"

"Yes, I do," I said. Amy snorted. "No, really, I do. I know it sounds like a bunch of crap but I love them both."

"Whatever you say," said Amy. She didn't sound convinced. "I won't blow the whistle on ya. Who else knows?"

As I rattled off the list of our confidantes - Steve, Allison, all the correspondents at Jon's show, DJ and, unfortunately, Ryan Seacrest - it hit me how many people knew. It had originally been such a clandestine thing. It hadn't bothered me when John Oliver and Steve knew. But suddenly it seemed like everyone in our sphere was in on the secret. It was a sobering thought - with each new person who discovered us, we came that much closer to having our cover blown entirely.

"Wow," said Amy. "Did I not get the letter?"

"Shut up," I said. "We're...managing. I'll admit, though, that it seems like Evie has her radar up lately. We may have to cool it down a bit."

"Just be careful, Stephen," warned Amy. "I don't want to read about you in the morning paper unless it's for something like your Emmy."

"Thanks for being concerned, Amy," I said. "You see? We haven't grown apart! We can still talk."

"It'll never be the three of us again. Will it?"

"Probably not," I said. It hurt to say it but I didn't want to give her false hope. We'd never be the way we used to be, not after all that had happened with Paul. "You can still talk to Paul, I don't mind."

"Jesus - I'm the go-between with two friends who are fighting. It's middle school all over again. Why don't you talk to him?"

"Please, Amy. Don't make me. I really don't want to make amends. As soon as we do, he'll be coming around here again."

Amy sighed on the other end of the line. "Suit yourself. I'm sorry this had to happen."

"Don't blame me. Talk to Paul about it. Look, Amy, I have a meeting to go to and I'm already ten minutes late."

"I understand. Talk to you later, Stephen."

"Always," I said. "Thanks for listening."

"Always," said Amy, mimicking me. "Bye-bye."

"Bye, Amy." I hung up the phone and took a moment to recover from the unexpected call. Amy had caught me off guard by merely calling and I certainly couldn't have predicted her knowing about my issues with Paul.

"Stephen?"

I looked up, startled from my thoughts. Allison was standing in the doorway. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Sorry about that."

"Something wrong?" she asked as I followed her down the hall.

"No," I said. "Just a call from an old friend that snuck up on me."

Later that night after taping, I wondered if I should go and meet Jon in his dressing room. I hadn't talked to him all day. For that matter, I hadn't talked to him since Monday afternoon. I was missing him fiercely but something inside me said it would look very fishy if I didn't come home tonight. Evie was definitely on the lookout for strange things going on with me. If I went out for "drinks" again, I don't think she'd be very happy or apt to listen to some BS story.

It took all the strength I had to keep walking rather than turn the corner to head toward Jon's office. It was tough. I didn't even look down the street, as if one glimpse would make me lose my resolve. I couldn't even call him to tell him I wasn't coming. Hearing his voice would make me want to go too badly. I was weak.

I drove home and rushed upstairs to make love to Evie, banishing guilt from my mind all the while.

******

My dressing room was very empty. Aside from me, it was very empty, indeed. And I was painfully aware of this fact as I jerked off on the couch. Stephen had never shown up. It was nine o'clock and I was aching with desire so I had to take matters into my own hands. No pun intended.

When I was finished, I dialed Stephen's cell phone number and waited as it rang. He didn't pick up, the phone re-routed me to voicemail.

"Hi, Stephen," I said after the tone. "Um...it's Jon. I miss you. Um, I don't know why you didn't show up tonight. I was just kind of wondering where you were. Um, I mean, I understand completely, whatever it is. I just...miss you, that's all. Sorry I was so busy today. Um, we could have had lunch but, um, lots of stuff was going on. So, um, give me a call, please? Love you, bye."

I hung up and turned off my phone. As I made my way out of the office and onto the street, the familiar itching sensation in my chest gnawed at me. I wanted a cigarette. Before, having Stephen made me want one and now not having Stephen made me want one. I hailed a cab quickly, climbed in and told him my address. As we drove, I shut my eyes tight and tried to remember how awful, how terrifying my asthma attack had felt.

I don't know if it did the trick but before I knew it, we were at my building and then I was in my apartment and I wasn't thinking about cigarettes anymore.

Unfortunately, I was still thinking about Stephen.

A/N: I'm worried that I'm starting to fall into a rut and I've got a big paper due this week - ergo - any and all suggestions will be met with cookies. :)

"No, You're Not Seeing Things" (part 1)

Thu, 09 Oct 2008 21:26:26 GMT

A Fake News Fanfic by Fluffyblackcat
Rating: PG-13 for . . . well, probably everything.
Pairing: None at the moment
Premise: When reality starts wearing thin, simple choices can have strange and far-reaching consequences. Even with the help of the most classified (and underfunded) division of the DHS, it’s going to be impossible to keep all of them at bay.
Warning: Blood, theories on the nature of reality, OCs, etc. Basically, if you want cute, slashy fluff, run away now.

Disclaimer: 100% Fiction. Not intended to represent actual reality in any way. All copyrighted material referenced is property of its legal owner(s).

“The nightmares concur with the flashbacks.
The scene is set for confusion, the conflict oppresses.”
- Project 86, “Numb”

Prologue
Yesterday, between 7 and 8 pm EST:
"Anything happen while I was gone?" Garvin asked as he crossed the hotel room and sat down next to Myers, taking care not to disturb the four laptops set up on the bed.
"Nothing much," she replied. "No monsters leaping out of invisible portals to other worlds and eating people on the streets."
"So the metadimensional instability's still generalized," Garvin translated.
“That’s what I said. Only I said it in Normal Human, not Alien Technobabble.”
“Even if I’m not human, which I’m not sure I believe, I’d be a chameleonic metacreature, not an alien,” Garvin said patiently as he picked up one of the laptops and started clicking through a series of images that would look like weather radar to the average observer.
Myers rolled her eyes, then leaned in to look at the screen. "You can see the instability getting worse around the Broadway theaters late yesterday evening," she said, pointing, "but it never reached a critical level. I can see why reality is weak around here -- all the theaters, TV studios, writers, actors, people with big dreams -- but I would have thought this city would be full of portals by now with all that going on."
Garvin shrugged. "Reality is resilient. People have to be totally wrapped up in something really mind-bending to create a zone where anything more than ideas can cross over, even in conditions like this." He switched to the most current image. "Wait a second. I see a red spot."
Myers looked over his shoulder. "Doesn't seem familiar," she said.
"I've got the location mapped. As soon as the street view loads, we'll know what this is."

"This is the Colbert Report!" Stephen declared. The audience erupted in wild applause as the title sequence rolled, and he leaned back, closed his eyes and basked in it, using their unqualified admiration to tap into the unqualified arrogance of his on-air character. He sat up just before the titles came to an end and graciously acknowledged the audience for giving him his due praise, then dismissed them with an imperious wave of his hand. "Nation," he announced, "This has been another historic week in the presidential campaign . . . "

Chapter 1: Number 0367
It was raining lightly as Jon walked into the building where The Daily Show and The Colbert Report had their studios. Inside, people were already rushing around, discussing news items, trying out jokes, and getting their second or third cups of coffee. A few of them said hello in passing. They knew not to ask Jon for input this early in the day. Of course, they usually didn't need to. The writers were good, and they knew the kind of material he wanted.
Jon unlocked his office, hung up his jacket, closed his door, and stopped. He suddenly had a feeling that something dangerous was right behind him. He told himself it was probably nothing, but the sensation was too strong to be overruled by logic. After a few seconds of trying unsuccessfully to work up the courage to just turn around, he edged over to the wall and pressed his back against it. The feeling was stronger now, and it seemed to be related to something in the main part of his office.
Keeping his back to the wall, Jon scooted to the end of the entryway and craned his neck to see out into the room. It didn't look like there was anything wrong, but the tense, cold dread was still there. A sudden sensation of falling swept through him, disappearing as fast as it hit. When his head stopped spinning, he realized he was breathing hard and gripping the wall. Aside from that, everything now seemed normal and unthreatening.
He stood up slowly and scanned the office again, looking for anything out of place. Only one thing caught his attention: the trash can by the end of his desk had been knocked over. He took a step forward, intending to simply pick up the can, and stopped when he saw a pair of feet in mud-caked shoes sticking out from behind his desk.
"Hello?" he said.
There was no answer.
"I can see you back there," he added, raising his voice slightly.
Still no response.
Jon cautiously walked toward the desk and peered around it. The first thing he felt was relief that all the horrors that had piled into his head as he crossed the room had been purely imaginary. Immediately after that came the realization that there was in fact an unconscious man sprawled on the floor behind his desk, followed very quickly by the fact that this man was seriously hurt. His shirt was soaked with blood on the left side, and his right hand covered most of the area, as if he has been trying to stop the bleeding before he passed out.
Jon stepped around the desk and knelt to feel for a pulse on the man's wrist. This allowed him to see the man’s face for the first time, and for the third time in two minutes, he froze, unable to do anything but try to wrap his mind around the situation. It was one thing to find a stranger bleeding on your office floor. It was another thing to find a friend. But, Jon thought, even that was entirely different than finding yourself bleeding on your office floor.
Of course, it couldn’t actually be him; it was just someone who looked like him, or at least like Jon assumed he would look if he had survived a plane wreck and spent the next three weeks fighting off wolves as he hiked to the nearest road or something. The man’s clothes were dirty and torn, his hair a limp, shaggy mess, and he had a short, scruffy beard.
His concern more urgent now, Jon pressed his fingers against the inside of the man's wrist. The skin felt too warm, and the pulse too rapid, but at least the man was alive. Jon tried to remember if there was anything you were supposed to do in this sort of situation, aside from calling 911 and trying to stop the bleeding. He couldn’t think of anything.
As he reached for his phone, he heard a knock on the door. He went to answer it as he made the call, hoping he could persuade whoever it was to help him with this situation.
When he opened the door, he saw four people standing there, all dressed in serious black suits of the sort usually associated with government agents. Two of them were tall men, one blond and goateed, the other dark-haired and clean-shaven. They both looked strong enough to pick Jon up with one hand. The others were less intimidating -- a lovely young woman with a businesslike expression and a slender young man who seemed intensely interested in a gadget he was fiddling with. The blond man plucked the phone out of Jon’s hand just as the dispatcher answered.
"Sorry," he said into the phone, "I must have hit the emergency button by mistake." He ended the call and handed the phone back to Jon, who was staring at him, trying once again to figure out what the hell was going on. "Where is he?" the agent asked.
"Uh, in here. Other side of the desk," Jon said. "How -- how did you know about this?"
"Long story, no time," the blond man said.
They pushed past Jon into the room, and the woman headed straight for the figure behind the desk. The smaller man dropped his bag on the already-overloaded couch and started rummaging in it. The blond man strolled toward the desk, taking a good look around the room as he did so. “My name is Riley, and these are my fellow agents, Myers, Garvin, and Miller,” he said, gesturing in turn toward the woman, the smaller man, and the dark-haired man who was now guarding the door. “We’re a federal investigation team.”
“Why federal?” Jon asked, watching as Myers opened her medical kit and began tending to the injured man. “Wouldn’t this be an NYPD thing?”
Riley smiled and shook his head, as if Jon had said something funny. “This situation isn’t as simple as it looks.”
“Did you notice anything unusual when you first came in?” Garvin asked, glancing up from the screen of the device he had pulled from his bag. “Any odd sensations, unexplained sounds, anything like that?”
“I did feel like there was something dangerous in here,” Jon replied, “But I got dizzy for a second and the feeling was gone when it passed.”
Garvin nodded. “Not surprising.” He went back to whatever he was doing with his gadget.
“So what the hell’s going on here?” Jon demanded.
“What do you know so far?” Riley asked Garvin.
“It’s definitely a three hundred. Which one I’m not sure, but it looks a lot like seven-six,” Garvin said, not taking his eyes off his equipment.
“It feels like seven-six to me,” Riley replied. “Go ahead and contact Crazy and his people. We’ll need a full guard, as low-profile as possible.” He turned to Jon. “We don’t usually tell people this, but in your situation, you need to know what’s happening. First, there are thousands of versions of this world in existence. They branch off from each other like a tree when world-changing events occur. Number 0376 is a recent split, about six weeks old, and it’s extremely dangerous. With me so far?”
“Yeah,” Jon said, his voice tinged with skepticism.
“Second,” Riley began, taking a deep breath, “I know this sounds totally insane, but there are a lot of malevolent beings in other worlds that want to wipe out the human race. They’re what inspired our mythology about things like vampires and goblins and the water kelpie. They show up on Earth now and then and kill as many people as they can before someone drives them off. About six weeks back, they made an organized attack. We won the fight here, but it was a big enough event that another Earth reality split off -- one where they won. That’s what 376 is, and if they find out there’s a portal between the two, we could be in really deep shit.”
“Riley,” Myers interrupted, “I think you need to deal with this.” She was kneeling next to the injured man, whose shirt she had cut away. There were three gashes in his side, two of which had gone all the way down to the cartilage and bone of his ribcage. “I’m fairly sure there’s some internal injury. It looks like he was pretty banged up even before this,” Myers said as Riley took off his suit jacket and knelt next to her.
“You’ll have to excuse me a minute,” Riley said to Jon as he rolled up his sleeves.
“So, wait a second, if he’s from another reality, could he be another version of me?” Jon asked.
Riley paused, considering the idea, then nodded. “The two of you are basically the same person,” he said. “He’s likely to have a very different outlook on things, though, considering 376 had a major earthquake in New York nearly a month ago and from what we heard, the creatures have taken over what’s left of the city.” Riley laid his hands and forearms on the other Jon’s chest and crouched over him.
“What are you doing?” Jon asked.
Riley didn’t answer, and after a couple seconds of silence, Myers spoke up. “He hates to talk about it, but he can heal people.”
“You’re kidding,” Jon said. He blinked. He could have sworn he had just seen Riley flicker, as if he was on a reel of film that had slipped.
Riley exhaled heavily and slowly straightened up. Myers handed him an antiseptic wipe, and he started cleaning the blood off his left forearm.
Jon stared. The gashes in the other Jon’s side were gone -- not simply healed over, but totally gone, as if they had never happened. The only evidence they had existed at all was the blood that had soaked his clothes and pooled on the floor. “What -- how -- how did you do that?” he stammered.
“I’m not sure exactly how it works, but it’s related to some other abilities I have,” Riley answered. “And don’t bother asking about those, because we have more important things to talk about. Where were we?”
“You were telling me how my office is the evil twin of the wardrobe from Narnia or something,” Jon said.
“Actually, it’s not just your office,” Garvin said. “It’s a larger area of unstable reality that extends throughout the whole building, maybe a bit further. Portals won’t open very consistently because it’s too big for a stable one to form, but when they do happen, they could be anywhere in the zone of instability.”
“So my building is the evil twin of the wardrobe from Narnia,” Jon said.
Garvin shrugged. “If it helps you to think of it that way,” he said.
There was a knock at the door. Miller opened it a few inches. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I need to talk to Jon,” said a voice from the doorway.
Miller turned to look at Riley. “It’s Colbert.”
Riley looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Let him in. He needs to be part of this.”
Miller stepped back and let Stephen in. Jon could see the confusion on his friend’s face as he noticed the other agents in the office. “Am I interrupting something?” Stephen asked.
“No,” Riley said. “I was sort of hoping you would show up. It may make this whole thing a bit easier.”
“What thing?” asked Stephen, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.
Riley nodded to Jon. “This is your show, Mr. Stewart.”
“Why me?” Jon asked.
“Trying to explain things helps you understand them better,” Riley said with a half smile.
“Okay,” Jon said, taking a deep breath as he tried to organize his thoughts. “These guys tell me there are tons of alternate versions of Earth, and new ones branch off ours when important events happen. There are also all kinds of monsters trying to destroy the human race. There was a big secret fight with those monsters about six weeks ago, and this is the reality where humans won. There’s some kind of weird thing going on right now where at any moment, a portal to the reality where the monsters won could open up somewhere in this building.”
Stephen nodded thoughtfully. “So do we have a team of wizards or superheroes to defend us, or are we in such a desperate situation that it will reveal our hidden superpowers?”
A snort of stifled laughter erupted in the entryway. They turned to see Miller, his hand covering his mouth and his shoulders shaking helplessly as he tried not to laugh out loud.
Riley shot him a perturbed look. “You can stop,” he said. “All of you,” he added, glaring at Garvin and Myers, who were both smiling as if they found the situation amusing. “We are not,” Riley continued, “the type of people who prance around in skin-tight uniforms and fancy robotic armor, no matter how fun you think it would be.”
“Why not?” Stephen said. “It would really amp up the comedy. I know it feels like a cheap laugh, but it can work really well if you do it right.”
That got a derisive chuckle from Riley, who shook his head in disbelief.
“Stephen,” Jon said, “This isn’t supposed to be funny.”
He motioned for Stephen to come look behind the desk. Myers had done an admirable job of cleaning up most of the blood, and she was now checking her patient’s blood pressure. Stephen seemed taken aback at the sight; he had obviously been unaware of the man behind the desk.
“Does he look familiar?” Jon asked.
Stephen turned to Jon. “He’s not your brother, is he?” he asked anxiously.
“No,” Jon said gravely. “That’s me. From that other reality.”
Stephen looked back and forth between the two of them a few times. “How do you know for sure?” he asked.
Jon ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said, “but I am sure.”
“He’s waking up,” Riley said without looking.

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A/N: If you'd like to see more, please comment!
It may take a while (seeing as I have tickets for both TDS & TCR next week, followed by at least 1 day of whitewater kayaking for the Bridge Day celebration), but I'm currently working on the second chapter. Beyond that, how complicated the story gets depends on how much people want to read.