ptahrrific: Jon and Stephen, "Believe in the me who believes in you" (fake news)
Erin Ptah ([personal profile] ptahrrific) wrote2012-02-04 23:46

Fake News(/Sherlock): Consulting Pundit + Useful Italian Phrases

Title: Consulting Pundit
Rating: PG (language)
Characters/pairings: Jon, "Stephen"
Disclaimer: Work of parody; work of fiction; the characters aren't mine.

Fusion with the BBC's Sherlock. I also have a vague idea that Olivia Munn gets to be The Woman, who combines pseudolegal activities with strategic nudity in order to blackmail the government to take stronger action against animal abuse. Anyone who wants to take this and run with it is encouraged.




"They've heard of me?"

"Heard of you, admire you, adore you, want to give you awards, have extended offers to procreate with you...they love you. You have influence with these people. They are the makings of your very own angry mob just waiting for you to aim their pitchforks."

"Let's just stick with 'heard of me', okay? Uh...does that mean they're reading my blog?"

"Don't be ridiculous. They're reading my blog."

"I don't know. They could be reading my blog...."

"Stewart, your blog has a four-thousand-word critique of the efficacy of federal programs in reducing economic blah blah blah I haven't even finished this sentence and I'm already bored. And that's not even counting the footnotes! My blog has a giant header in pretty colors that says JON STEWART, CONSULTING PUNDIT, because the folks love good branding, and the top posts all combine names like 'Bill O'Reilly' and 'Brian Williams' with verbs like 'eviscerate' and 'destroy' and 'skullf@#k'. One of us is earning you the adoration of the blogosphere, and it isn't the one who doesn't even know how to use Twitter."


***


Title: Useful Italian Phrases
Rating: PG-13 (language, foreplay)
Characters/pairings: Jon/"Stephen"
Disclaimer: Work of parody; work of fiction; the characters aren't mine.

Taking advantage of Stephen's favorite endearment. With thanks to this vocabulary list.




"There!" snapped Stephen, slamming the last cupboard door as Jon entered the kitchen. (Jon had a sneaking suspicion he'd finished five minutes ago, but held off the final slam until his audience arrived.) "I have put away all the dishes by myself, like a common 99-percenter. Are you happy now?"

"Thrilled," said Jon sincerely. "You've done very well, principessa."

Stephen was still facing the cupboards, but when he went rock-still Jon could perfectly imagine the little twitches around his mouth, the dark intensity in his eyes. "S-say that again."

"You've done well."

"Jo-on. You know wh—"

"—principessa."

A visible shudder ran through Stephen, making him grip the counter and gasp for breath. "Jon...."

"Buona notte," continued Jon in a low voice, sidling forward. A month's worth of lessons hadn't given him much vocabulary, but he was a wizard at faking the accent. "Può parlare più lentamente."

Stephen whipped around, collar loose, hair falling in his face. "I don't know what that means," he said, swallowing.

"Does it matter?" said Jon with a shrug. "Dov'è il bagno? Vuole ballare con me? Principessa."

With a throaty moan Stephen launched himself across the tiles, clutching fistfuls of Jon's shirt and thrusting his hips upward. "Jon, oh God, if that means anything other than 'please do me now', you better tell me soon."

Jon kissed the soft skin just below Stephen's ear. "Il mio aliscafo è pieno di anguille," he murmured, and grabbed Stephen's shoulders just in time to keep his balance as he was hefted roughly up onto the table.