Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2011-06-04 01:04 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2011-06-04 01:04 pm
Fake News: Eight Roads Converged
Title: Eight Roads Converged
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Liberal!"Stephen"/Beck!Jon, happy!"Stephen"/Beck!Jon, "Stephen"/Beck!Jon, real!Stephen/Jon, real!Stephen/Beck!Jon, Jon/"Stephen", Wyatt
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement. Characters belong to the Report. Names of real people are used in a fictitious context, and all dialogue, actions, and content are products of the author's imagination only.
Ficlets written for a series of requests: what happens when people from various fakenews AUs cross paths. Featuring the liberalverse, the happy!verse, Jon's Beck incarnation, and the universe where Wyatt hosts the 11:30 timeslot.
Done again in Ten Roads Converged.
For politicette, liberal!"Stephen"/Beck!Jon meet happy!"Stephen"/Beck!Jon
*****
Someone opens the door to the coatroom, and Jon and Stephen spring guiltily apart.
"It's not what it looks like!" exclaims Stephen.
"Give me five minutes with a chalkboard and I'll prove it!" adds Jon.
"No, no, it's okay!" says the newcomer. "Didn't mean to interrupt! I just left something in my coat. You can keep going, I don't mind."
He walks right past them without a second glance, separating the hangers until he finds a double-breasted coat in a subdued red that sets off his shirt. The charms on his phone jingle when he pulls it out of the front pocket, then he skips—skips!—away.
Jon stares after him. "I didn't know you came in pink."
*
Pink Stephen's eyes sparkle when they come over to his table. He's unmistakable now that Stephen's paying attention, even though he's short-haired and clean-shaven. "You are a me! I thought you might be, but you were busy, so I didn't want to pry. Ooh, is this your Jon? He's just like mine! He's so cute, isn't he? Come and sit! Can I play with your hair?"
"Of course!" Stephen takes a seat and leans on the tabletop, the better to let his counterpart fuss with his thick shoulder-length locks. "Completely reasonable request. I don't understand why people on the subway always get so upset when I ask."
The other Jon, meanwhile, stands, and the two size each other up. They're nearly identical: greying hair, thick glasses, small and slightly pudgy frames, powder-blue shirts with stiff collars. They even twitch in the same rhythm.
"Your Stephen looks like a hippie," says Other Jon.
"Be nice," chides Pink Stephen. "I think he looks like a pretty shampoo commercial."
"He's not 'my' Stephen in the first place," snaps Jon. "Why would I be in a relationship with a...a progressive?"
Other Jon's lip wobbles. "I didn't mean to insult you! It's just...I love my alternate counterparts so much. And I fear for them."
The two Jons fall into a soulful embrace. Stephen stares. He's about to say what's on his mind, when he remembers that his other selves aren't necessarily as sexually liberated as he is.
"Would you be mad if I invited your Jon into a threesome?" he asks.
"Nope," says Pink Stephen. "Would you be mad if I started braiding?"
*****
Forraven_hoodoo: "Stephen"/Beck!Jon meet regular Stephen/Jon
*****
After three or four false starts, Other Stephen finally stops laughing. He wipes the tears from his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and shows no sign of starting back up again.
Good. Because frankly, it was getting kind of obnoxious.
Other Jon just shakes his head. "My god, what have we wrought?"
"Hey!" snaps Stephen, squeezing Jon's hand tighter (for the moral support, of course, in a totally patriotic and non-gay way). "Keep your secular progressive mouth off my God."
That sets Other Stephen off again. Even Other Jon starts giggling, while Other Stephen throws back his head and howls with mirth.
Stephen turns helplessly to Jon for explanation. The look Jon gives him in return says, my friend, there are not enough chalkboards in the world.
*****
Forw_thit: regular!Stephen/Beck!Jon meet regular!Jon/"Stephen Colbert"
*****
"Wow," said Jon, flopping down on his soft warm bed, which he had assumed at least five times in the past twenty-four hours that he would never see again. "That sure was an epic, dramatic, universe-spanning adventure. Probably our most epic one yet."
"Uh-huh," agreed Stephen, kicking off his shoes.
Odd. Normally at this point Stephen looked more triumphant. He wasn't even gloating over the inevitable breaking of Jon's most recent decree that he had had it, this was it, he was done with this adventuring thing once and for all.
"You know, I think I'm starting to get used to this," admitted Jon. "I'm even kind of looking forward to the next one. Well, not the carnivorous alien flowers, or the teleporting dragons, or the exploding slime-beasts...but you know what I mean. And it could be fun if we ran into those alternate versions of us again...."
"Oh, sure!" yelled Stephen, landing on the end of the bed and peeling off his socks. "You can't stand adventuring, complain about it all the time, then suddenly a sexy new version of me shows up and you can't wait to run off and save civilizations with him!"
"A sexy—? Stephen, are you jealous? That's absurd. You look exactly the same."
"It's not just about looks!" Stephen pounded the mattress for emphasis. "I saw how you two acted! It took us years to even be friends with each other, but him you barely had to meet before you were laughing, and joking, and touching...touching, Jon!"
Jon sat up on his elbows. "Well, geez, do you think maybe we would've hooked up sooner if you hadn't started off determined to loathe me? And it's not like we were feeling each other up, was it? Handshakes, pats on the back, the odd hug—friendly stuff, all of it. He seemed like he didn't get that enough. You saw how prickly his own Jon was."
"And that's supposed to help? That just makes it more likely that he'll come running as soon as you dump me for him!"
"Aw, Stephen, it's not like that. I swear, it's not. Come here."
He swung his legs off the edge of the bed; Stephen scooted over to his side, and Jon put an arm around his shoulders.
"I love you. Even when we're arguing about something, I still love you. And he's not you. He's a nice guy, I'd be glad to have him as a friend, but you're the one that I want."
Stephen sniffled. "You promise?"
"I promise."
Another sniffle. "Jon? You've got a bit of slime-beast behind your ear."
Jon snorted. "I'm not surprised. Want to join me in the shower?"
As Stephen helped him undress, Jon told himself not to feel guilty. What had happened between him and the other Stephen—it was only because they had been trapped in the witch-king's oubliette, alone in the dark with nothing but each other. It hadn't meant anything.
Stephen probably wouldn't even want to know. Truthiness had been his idea, after all.
*****
Foraybara_max: "Stephen" meets Wyatt from a 'verse where Larry & Wyatt were always the hosts of the shows.
*****
Stephen has got to get someone to take a look at his desk. That's the third time this month he's gone down to get a latte and come up in the wrong universe.
Luckily, it looks mostly normal, except for the porcupine burrow in place of the eagle's nest. His alternate self is even already there, pinstriped hoodie and all, tidying up the bookshelf. "Hey!" he yells, waving. "Your desk is malfunctioning. Come give me a hand with the—"
The guy in the hoodie turns, startled, and Stephen chokes on his next words. He doesn't see race (neither do his other selves, which is how he and Coruberu-san assumed their plot to switch places for the day would be a lot more successful than it actually was), but he does see truthiness, and this guy doesn't have it.
"Stephen!" says Not Truthy Guy, giving him a dreamy smile. Or possibly a hung-over one. "What are you doing here? We're not filming a 'my white friend' segment this week."
"What do you mean? It's my studio!" Stephen slaps the top of the desk. "Says so right here. 'C' for..."
"...'Cenac'!" finishes Not Truthy Guy. Stephen recognizes him now: one of Jon's latest sidekicks. The one who always looks hung over. "Oh, I get it, the transdimensional doohickey's busted again. Dude, look up."
Stephen raises his eyes skyward. Ponderous silver letters spelling out THE CENAC AGENDA hover over his head.
"This doesn't make sense," he stammers, ducking aside. Not that the title looks ready to fall and crack his skull, but you never can tell with these not-his sets. "Why would Jon give you a show? You don't have gravitas!"
"Which John are we talking about? The British one, the Jewish one, or the one who doesn't blink?"
"The Jewish one!"
A sleepy smile breaks over Cenac's face. "Aww, really? You're from a world where Jon Stewart hosts Tyler Perry's House of Daily Show? That's adorable. Next you're going to tell me John McCain's the president."
Stephen breathes a sigh of relief. At least one thing is constant in this crazy mixed-up world, even if it's one of the things he likes least about his own. "Nope. We got Barack Hates America—excuse me, Barack Hussein Obama."
"Oh, sweet. I voted for that guy in the primaries. I mean, we all knew Norton was going to win, but I thought he deserved the recognition anyway."
"Norton?" repeats Stephen, feeling lightheaded.
"Yeah, Eleanor Holmes Norton. Why, what's she doing in your universe?"
Stephen faints.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Liberal!"Stephen"/Beck!Jon, happy!"Stephen"/Beck!Jon, "Stephen"/Beck!Jon, real!Stephen/Jon, real!Stephen/Beck!Jon, Jon/"Stephen", Wyatt
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement. Characters belong to the Report. Names of real people are used in a fictitious context, and all dialogue, actions, and content are products of the author's imagination only.
Ficlets written for a series of requests: what happens when people from various fakenews AUs cross paths. Featuring the liberalverse, the happy!verse, Jon's Beck incarnation, and the universe where Wyatt hosts the 11:30 timeslot.
Done again in Ten Roads Converged.
politicette, liberal!"Stephen"/Beck!Jon meet happy!"Stephen"/Beck!JonSomeone opens the door to the coatroom, and Jon and Stephen spring guiltily apart.
"It's not what it looks like!" exclaims Stephen.
"Give me five minutes with a chalkboard and I'll prove it!" adds Jon.
"No, no, it's okay!" says the newcomer. "Didn't mean to interrupt! I just left something in my coat. You can keep going, I don't mind."
He walks right past them without a second glance, separating the hangers until he finds a double-breasted coat in a subdued red that sets off his shirt. The charms on his phone jingle when he pulls it out of the front pocket, then he skips—skips!—away.
Jon stares after him. "I didn't know you came in pink."
*
Pink Stephen's eyes sparkle when they come over to his table. He's unmistakable now that Stephen's paying attention, even though he's short-haired and clean-shaven. "You are a me! I thought you might be, but you were busy, so I didn't want to pry. Ooh, is this your Jon? He's just like mine! He's so cute, isn't he? Come and sit! Can I play with your hair?"
"Of course!" Stephen takes a seat and leans on the tabletop, the better to let his counterpart fuss with his thick shoulder-length locks. "Completely reasonable request. I don't understand why people on the subway always get so upset when I ask."
The other Jon, meanwhile, stands, and the two size each other up. They're nearly identical: greying hair, thick glasses, small and slightly pudgy frames, powder-blue shirts with stiff collars. They even twitch in the same rhythm.
"Your Stephen looks like a hippie," says Other Jon.
"Be nice," chides Pink Stephen. "I think he looks like a pretty shampoo commercial."
"He's not 'my' Stephen in the first place," snaps Jon. "Why would I be in a relationship with a...a progressive?"
Other Jon's lip wobbles. "I didn't mean to insult you! It's just...I love my alternate counterparts so much. And I fear for them."
The two Jons fall into a soulful embrace. Stephen stares. He's about to say what's on his mind, when he remembers that his other selves aren't necessarily as sexually liberated as he is.
"Would you be mad if I invited your Jon into a threesome?" he asks.
"Nope," says Pink Stephen. "Would you be mad if I started braiding?"
For
raven_hoodoo: "Stephen"/Beck!Jon meet regular Stephen/Jon*****
After three or four false starts, Other Stephen finally stops laughing. He wipes the tears from his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and shows no sign of starting back up again.
Good. Because frankly, it was getting kind of obnoxious.
Other Jon just shakes his head. "My god, what have we wrought?"
"Hey!" snaps Stephen, squeezing Jon's hand tighter (for the moral support, of course, in a totally patriotic and non-gay way). "Keep your secular progressive mouth off my God."
That sets Other Stephen off again. Even Other Jon starts giggling, while Other Stephen throws back his head and howls with mirth.
Stephen turns helplessly to Jon for explanation. The look Jon gives him in return says, my friend, there are not enough chalkboards in the world.
For
w_thit: regular!Stephen/Beck!Jon meet regular!Jon/"Stephen Colbert"*****
"Wow," said Jon, flopping down on his soft warm bed, which he had assumed at least five times in the past twenty-four hours that he would never see again. "That sure was an epic, dramatic, universe-spanning adventure. Probably our most epic one yet."
"Uh-huh," agreed Stephen, kicking off his shoes.
Odd. Normally at this point Stephen looked more triumphant. He wasn't even gloating over the inevitable breaking of Jon's most recent decree that he had had it, this was it, he was done with this adventuring thing once and for all.
"You know, I think I'm starting to get used to this," admitted Jon. "I'm even kind of looking forward to the next one. Well, not the carnivorous alien flowers, or the teleporting dragons, or the exploding slime-beasts...but you know what I mean. And it could be fun if we ran into those alternate versions of us again...."
"Oh, sure!" yelled Stephen, landing on the end of the bed and peeling off his socks. "You can't stand adventuring, complain about it all the time, then suddenly a sexy new version of me shows up and you can't wait to run off and save civilizations with him!"
"A sexy—? Stephen, are you jealous? That's absurd. You look exactly the same."
"It's not just about looks!" Stephen pounded the mattress for emphasis. "I saw how you two acted! It took us years to even be friends with each other, but him you barely had to meet before you were laughing, and joking, and touching...touching, Jon!"
Jon sat up on his elbows. "Well, geez, do you think maybe we would've hooked up sooner if you hadn't started off determined to loathe me? And it's not like we were feeling each other up, was it? Handshakes, pats on the back, the odd hug—friendly stuff, all of it. He seemed like he didn't get that enough. You saw how prickly his own Jon was."
"And that's supposed to help? That just makes it more likely that he'll come running as soon as you dump me for him!"
"Aw, Stephen, it's not like that. I swear, it's not. Come here."
He swung his legs off the edge of the bed; Stephen scooted over to his side, and Jon put an arm around his shoulders.
"I love you. Even when we're arguing about something, I still love you. And he's not you. He's a nice guy, I'd be glad to have him as a friend, but you're the one that I want."
Stephen sniffled. "You promise?"
"I promise."
Another sniffle. "Jon? You've got a bit of slime-beast behind your ear."
Jon snorted. "I'm not surprised. Want to join me in the shower?"
As Stephen helped him undress, Jon told himself not to feel guilty. What had happened between him and the other Stephen—it was only because they had been trapped in the witch-king's oubliette, alone in the dark with nothing but each other. It hadn't meant anything.
Stephen probably wouldn't even want to know. Truthiness had been his idea, after all.
For
aybara_max: "Stephen" meets Wyatt from a 'verse where Larry & Wyatt were always the hosts of the shows.*****
Stephen has got to get someone to take a look at his desk. That's the third time this month he's gone down to get a latte and come up in the wrong universe.
Luckily, it looks mostly normal, except for the porcupine burrow in place of the eagle's nest. His alternate self is even already there, pinstriped hoodie and all, tidying up the bookshelf. "Hey!" he yells, waving. "Your desk is malfunctioning. Come give me a hand with the—"
The guy in the hoodie turns, startled, and Stephen chokes on his next words. He doesn't see race (neither do his other selves, which is how he and Coruberu-san assumed their plot to switch places for the day would be a lot more successful than it actually was), but he does see truthiness, and this guy doesn't have it.
"Stephen!" says Not Truthy Guy, giving him a dreamy smile. Or possibly a hung-over one. "What are you doing here? We're not filming a 'my white friend' segment this week."
"What do you mean? It's my studio!" Stephen slaps the top of the desk. "Says so right here. 'C' for..."
"...'Cenac'!" finishes Not Truthy Guy. Stephen recognizes him now: one of Jon's latest sidekicks. The one who always looks hung over. "Oh, I get it, the transdimensional doohickey's busted again. Dude, look up."
Stephen raises his eyes skyward. Ponderous silver letters spelling out THE CENAC AGENDA hover over his head.
"This doesn't make sense," he stammers, ducking aside. Not that the title looks ready to fall and crack his skull, but you never can tell with these not-his sets. "Why would Jon give you a show? You don't have gravitas!"
"Which John are we talking about? The British one, the Jewish one, or the one who doesn't blink?"
"The Jewish one!"
A sleepy smile breaks over Cenac's face. "Aww, really? You're from a world where Jon Stewart hosts Tyler Perry's House of Daily Show? That's adorable. Next you're going to tell me John McCain's the president."
Stephen breathes a sigh of relief. At least one thing is constant in this crazy mixed-up world, even if it's one of the things he likes least about his own. "Nope. We got Barack Hates America—excuse me, Barack Hussein Obama."
"Oh, sweet. I voted for that guy in the primaries. I mean, we all knew Norton was going to win, but I thought he deserved the recognition anyway."
"Norton?" repeats Stephen, feeling lightheaded.
"Yeah, Eleanor Holmes Norton. Why, what's she doing in your universe?"
Stephen faints.
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I don't think I have the heart to write an expanded version of #3, but if someone did, I'd love to read it.
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Btw, what did you think of the fic I wrote for your prompt? Were you pleased?
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Agh, I am in eighty-tabs-open mode right now, and keep losing track of fics in the chaos. I saw it; I liked it; I will leave a proper comment shortly!
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And thank you :D