Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2013-08-20 11:39 am
ptahrrific) wrote2013-08-20 11:39 am
Entry tags:
Fake News | Jon, Anthony, Killer | PG | Shout*For, Intermission, chapter 2
Title: Shout*For, Intermission, chapter 2/4: Seaside Bar Song
Characters/Pairings: Jon/"Stephen", family, Anthony, Killer, others
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: See series Table of Contents.
Jon juggles awkward and/or truthy relationships with friends and family. When the whole group heads out to the shore for a few days, it just adds the complication of trying to guess which public places he can visit safely. At least Anthony's got his back. (And, increasingly, his merchandise.)
Involves some callbacks to the Stewart-versus-Cramer interview. The song given to Shout*For is Michael Stanley Band's "All I Ever Wanted"; just imagine a more sparkly-pop cover, with lyrics tweaked to fit California in the '10s rather than Ohio in the '80s.
Jon finally got to hear about his brother's summer finance work the next morning, before they were set to leave for the beach.
Technically Larry was talking to Mom, but they were all in the living/dining room (even the cat, clawing at a string Larry was dragging around; only Killer was absent, out on patrol), with Jon tuning his guitar at one of the dining table chairs while the other two talked on the couches. He might not have a head for numbers, but if Jon had one thing going for him, it was the ear to take in a conversation and work on pitch at the same time.
Talking and tuning at the same time was more of a challenge, so although the D string still sounded flat, Jon stopped fiddling with it when he couldn't resist jumping in. "Hang on, so leveraging is when you...pay a fraction of the cost of some stock, but get to control it anyway? So 35-to-1 means you get to control thirty-five times as much as you paid for?"
Before Larry could snark at him, Mom added, "Be nice to your brother, dear."
Larry sighed and gave him a straight answer. "Yeah, that's what it means. And then you're in debt for the rest of the price. It works with other investments too, not just stocks."
"Okay. And that's totally normal? I could call a broker today and spend a million dollars and suddenly have $35 million worth of a thing?" He couldn't actually spend a million right now, but there were plenty of them waiting in his trust fund. Thirty-five million, on the other hand, was still outside the current range of his bank account.
"Only if you wanted to help cause the next market crash," said his brother.
Oh. Jon had been thirteen when the recession started, so obviously he hadn't been paying close attention to financial news, but just going by Larry's explanation now he could see the problem. "Because too many people were leveraging 35-to-1 all at once, and then suddenly somebody realized there wasn't enough actual money left to cover all the debt going around?"
Larry blinked. "Yeah, kind of."
"Well, geez, if I could figure that out, how come none of the geniuses on Wall Street saw it coming?"
"If I knew that, I'd write a thesis on it and graduate early."
"Don't forget, there was also short-selling and price-massaging and plenty of outright lying," their mother added.
Jon vaguely recognized the term short-selling from old Daily Show coverage, but didn't remember what it meant, so Larry got the ego boost of explaining that too.
"And how about you, Jon?" asked Mom eventually. "How are your studies going?"
"Um," said Jon. He was pulling decent grades, but hadn't lost the feeling everyone was going easy on him. "My tutors are all really nice...."
"And making you work hard, I hope? You know I still expect you to get into a good college, especially now that we don't have to worry how we're going to pay for it."
"I'm doing the best I can," Jon assured her. "But, come on, even if I don't have perfect academics, you gotta admit...I have tremendous extracurriculars."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
Jimmy believes customs will not allow me to bring you a sheep
Stephen*Colbert
even if I am willing to pay them A LOT of money
Stephen*Colbert
which I am, btw
Stephen*Colbert
nothing but the best for my BJF
Stephen*Colbert
and it's not like they can't spare some
Stephen*Colbert
look, this is an NZ traffic jam
Stephen*Colbert
Stephen*Colbert
!!
Stephen*Colbert
but alas
Stephen*Colbert
it is not to be.
Stephen*Colbert
I just want it on the record that I did my best.
~*~
"So, this rental you got," said Anthony, helping the Leibowitzes load bags for a three-day stay into the two cars. (Mom would handle hers, carrying Larry and Larry's finally-background-checked girlfriend; Anthony would be driving his own, accompanied by Jon and Killer.) "Is it right on the ocean, or what?"
"There's a street and some dunes in between," said Jon with a shrug. "But you go a couple floors up and it's got the view, and that's what matters, right?"
"No, what matters is that you never, ever tell me how much it costs, so I'm not too paralyzed by the fear of ruining it to walk around inside," Anthony told him. "Thanks again for putting me up, by the way."
"Not at all, man. What are BFFs for?"
Anthony snickered.
"What?" demanded Jon.
"Do yourself a favor. Never unironically use the term 'BFF' around anyone else on this coast," said Anthony with a grin. "Unless you're actively trying to get beat up. Or unless you've had a sex change and turned into an actual girl."
"If I had a sex change I'd have a really high risk of getting beaten up anyway," pointed out Jon.
"Exactly!" Anthony's biceps flexed under his T-shirt as he swung the trunk closed. "So you'd have nothing to lose!"
Jon, who'd already had his wallet out, automatically held out a twenty.
His friend blinked at it. "What's this? Gas money?"
With a start Jon realized what he'd done. It was a reflex. Someone carries your bags...you tip them.
"Yeah," he stammered, trying to cover his embarrassment. "Gas money. Go on, take it."
"No, it's cool," said Anthony, waving the bill away. "Summer job, remember?"
"From which you're taking a couple days off to hang out with me," Jon reminded him.
"Yeah, so? You're off this week too."
"And I still have three TV commercials currently running, six singles and an album in stores with another available for preorder, and my face on a metric assload of merchandise," said Jon testily. "Listen, the drive over is gonna be about an hour, right?"
Anthony shrugged. "Hour and three minutes, according to my GPS."
"You know how much I'm gonna make in that time?"
"...A hundred dollars?"
Jon folded his arms. "Nine hundred and fifty. Maybe a round thousand if we get all the red lights. A hundred is what I made while we were packing."
"Jonathan Stuart Leibowitz!" cut in his mother's voice, laced with disapproval. "Are you bragging?"
"No!" cried Jon. "I'm trying to get Anthony to live up to the stereotype and take my damn money!"
"Oh! Well, that's different," said Mom sensibly, before aiming her ire straight at his friend. "Young man, if my son let his guests pay for anything on this trip, I would be ashamed. You take that gas money this instant."
Anthony, who had plenty of wiry muscle and at least eight inches on her, folded immediately. "Yes, ma'am."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
JON
Stephen*Colbert
THIS IS A THING THAT EXISTS
Stephen*Colbert
Stephen*Colbert
AND IT IS NOT FOR SALE
Stephen*Colbert
I CANNOT HAVE ONE
Stephen*Colbert
:,((((((
Stephen*Colbert
THE PHILOSOPHERS WERE RIGHT JON
Stephen*Colbert
MONEY CANNOT BUY YOU HAPPINESS
~*~
The car was in the middle of the cruise down 195, ensuring it would be a while before the GPS next cut in to tell them what turn to take, when the radio launched into a familiar opening melody.
"Here I a~am, last of the romantics," crooned Stephen's singing voice from the speakers. Jon's hands twitched with the muscle memory of the chords. "Every time, I get caught in the sway / I'm just a fool~ for a love song / But I wouldn't have it any other way...."
"Great," said Jon, poking at the space-age dashboard. "How do you change channels on this thing?"
"Seriously?" exclaimed Anthony. "This is one of the ones I unironically like!"
"No, it's okay as a song," said Jon. "But the studio recording, there's a part in the third chorus where somebody — can't tell who — snorts when they're taking an in-breath. It sounds terrible."
"It's probably some tiny sound that only you would even notice," Anthony assured him. "Seriously, leave it on."
As if to admonish him, Stephen's voice added, "Baby, just don't say goodnight till the man gets around~ to our~ song / Turn up the ra~di~o till this one's through~..."
Wrapped up in the sound, even at half an octave higher than the range Stephen tended to fall into now, Jon couldn't focus on anything else. This wasn't a great time to lose himself in sexy fantasies, so he tried to focus on something...mundane. Domestic. Maybe a scene with the two of them not even interacting, just doing their own thing in parallel, Leibowitz family style.
It wasn't easy. Stephen was such a shining beacon of energy and attention-seeking, it was hard to imagine working alone in the same room with him unless he was asleep.
But maybe some time he could be reading The Fellowship of the Ring to the dog again (or to...whoever else a guy might read to), while Jon leveled up in Doom. Or surfing Tumblr, while Jon went over scales on the harmonica, and Briar Rose napped in between them. Or on the phone with Jimmy, the dog gnawing on a chew toy at his feet. Jon could occasionally tune in to catch a laugh and a ridiculously out-of-context snippet of conversation, and smile to himself before going back to the Huffington Post....
"Oh, wow, you're right," said Anthony, cutting into Jon's reverie. "That's really blatant. I'm never going to be able to unhear that."
"I know, right?" said Jon. Even though he'd managed to miss the noise this time around. "I don't understand how nobody caught that and made us re-record it. Probably broken the spell for thousands of preteen girls already, when they suddenly realize Shout*For has phlegm."
In the bag at his feet, his phone chirped. He wasn't going to answer, but Anthony said, "Who's texting you? Anybody I've heard of?"
Jon retrieved the phone and tapped in the security code. "Depends. You heard of Lisa Munn?"
~*~
<3 Olivia <3
did not kno u were a Mets fan
<3 Olivia <3
my condolences :(
Jon S.
???
<3 Olivia <3
ur hat, boo
<3 Olivia <3
airport pix now up on Gawker
<3 Olivia <3
lookin sharp in plain grey
<3 Olivia <3
u will make LA's Best Dressed any day now
Jon S.
I'm not a Mets fan, the whole point of that hat was to be misleading
<3 Olivia <3
u sure? b/c the coach just tweeted to offer u free season tix.
Jon S.
The shirt is just the kind of thing I wear when nobody professional is dressing me
Jon S.
Really?
Jon S.
Ok, I guess I'm a Mets fan.
~*~
The view from the spacious townhome's rooftop deck was indeed fabulous, but the heat was like an oven and there was no way to escape the pounding sun. Jon and Anthony ended up camping out on the second-floor balcony, where they got the breeze off the ocean but were protected by the shadow of the third-floor balcony.
Jon's mother made lemonade. Condensation dripped icily down around Jon's hand and puddled on the railing under the glass.
"So you're actually friends with Lisa Munn?" said Anthony. "It's not just PR? What's she really like?"
"Well, she's Olivia to her friends," said Jon, trying to come up with things that were true but still relatively safe. "She's...fun. Really driven about her work, but she's great to kick back and relax with. Got a wicked sense of humor. And yeah, she's really close with Stephen, but me and Jimmy are friends with her too."
"That's so cool. Any chance you could introduce us?"
Jon raised his eyebrows. "Seriously, dude? You're already planning out how to hit on her? What would Huma think?"
"Huma understands that we all get a list," said Anthony airily. "If she had a chance to fool around with what's-his-face from Twilight, I would be completely understanding. Likewise, if I struck up a conversation with...with Olivia Munn, and she happened to find me strangely intriguing, who could blame me for whatever happened next?"
"You do understand that this is never going to happen," said Jon.
"Hey, a guy can dream, can't he? Besides, it's not like she's actually spoken for, is it? I mean, her whole thing with Stephen Col-bert, that's totally bearding. Right?"
Jon grimaced, and took a gulp of lemonade to avoid having to answer.
"If you can't tell me, I get it," added Anthony. "But just for the record, I'm not judging. If your friend's gay, I think it's terrible he's not allowed to just say so. And as soon as your Disney contracts are up, I hope he finds himself a fantastic guy with a huge dick who will love him for the sparkly butterfly he is."
Jon's whole face went hot. Pressing the cold glass against the side of his neck, he stammered, "If, completely hypothetically, Stephen was flamingly gay, I am sure he'd appreciate the sentiment."
~*~
Jon S.
Heard one of our songs on the radio today, thought of you :)
Stephen*Colbert
so you wouldn't have thought of me at all if you hadn't put the radio on??
Jon S.
no, I just mentioned that as an example.
Jon S.
It's more like:
Jon S.
Had lunch, thought of you
Jon S.
Packed up the car, thought of you
Jon S.
Looked at the sky, thought of you
Jon S.
Breathed, thought of you
Jon S.
Etc.
Stephen*Colbert
nice save, sir <3
~*~
Evening found them all in the same room again. Jon's mother was reading a paperback novel. His brother and the girlfriend were on the loveseat, engrossed in a laptop and a tablet respectively, but with their knees pressed together the whole time. Jon kept catching sight of them and feeling green with envy.
And then there was him and Anthony, watching TDS and MMC like old times, laughing at the same lines, joking during the commercials.
"Brian's trying to get me booked on the show for the promo tour," he remarked during the Moment of Zen. "Not as a regular guest, just to do a short bit and then drop the name of the album, that kind of thing."
"You're kidding," said Anthony. "You might get to be on the show? And you're just telling me this now? How much else have you been you holding out on me?"
The words felt like a rock dropped into the pit of Jon's stomach. He made an extra effort to breathe from the diaphragm, and the tension softened a little. "Well, I...."
"Yeah?"
"I haven't mentioned that he's also trying to get Stephen on this show," said Jon, as the glitter and lights and scrolling LED glitz of the MMC intro blasted onto the screen. "And I really hope that works out, whether mine does or not, because Stephen would probably kill me if I got on and he didn't. He's always wanted to, y'know...meet Miley Cyrus."
"Don't blame him," said Anthony dreamily.
Jon shoved him with an elbow. "What, now you're into cougars too?"
"Oh, come on. This is a universal desire. There are coma patients who want to meet Miley Cyrus."
"I guess."
The boom camera swung in over the C-shaped desk, iconic host beaming as the audience cheered.
"Although now that I think about it," said Jon absently, "I'm not sure if Stephen understands that she does the show in-character."
~*~
Jon S.
Wanted to ask something, no pressure, you can def. say no if you'd rather not.
Jon S.
I haven't talked to mom yet, still working up to it
Jon S.
can I also tell Anthony?
~*~
"Grab the shopping list," Jon ordered Anthony halfway through the afternoon. "We're making an A&P run."
His family was down at the beach: a stretch of badge-access ocean sand swarming with hundreds of people who were ready to spend the day doing nothing in particular. He had sworn up and down that he didn't mind them going, that he was glad to stay in the rental with the air-conditioning and the not-being-mobbed. Anthony had volunteered to stay with him, and for a while Halo had kept them occupied.
But by now the cabin fever had gotten too much for Jon to stand. Which was why he pulled on sandals and sunglasses, asked if he could borrow one of Anthony's hats, and then, hesitantly, asked if he could maybe borrow the car keys.
(Next summer he was springing for a luxury resort. Twice the price, but they came with private beaches, and could deliver the food straight to your room.)
"Learner's permit, seriously?" said Anthony as they cruised down the grid of sleepy peninsula streets, Jon in the driver's seat and Killer in the back. "You're gonna be seventeen in like a month."
"Three months," corrected Jon. "And I've got all my hours in! I'm gonna take the test as soon as I get back in-state. Listen, if you only had the roads around LA to practice on, you'd have taken forever to get this far too."
In the grand tradition of beachgoing shoppers, Anthony sauntered into the store bare-chested. Jon and Killer had both brought shirts: grey for Jon, a terrifyingly loud Hawaiian print for his bodyguard. Jon was torn between feeling annoyed that they were both going to draw attention, and hopeful that they would draw any attention off of him, the way a sugar-water trap keeps bees from landing in your soda.
His lingering anxiety melted to a whisper as they filled the cart with no interruptions. Frozen burgers and hot dogs, ketchup and mustard, fresh grapes and strawberries, his mom's favorite brand of wine cooler (Killer would be paying), a quarter pound each of the types of cheese Larry's girlfriend had requested (Anthony ordered at the deli), ice cream and a full ensemble of toppings.
Halfway down the dessert aisle, Anthony exclaimed "Stop!" and slid back the glass door on his side of the cart. Framed by a puff of freezing air, he pulled out a box of popsicles...featuring cartoons of a smiling Jon, Stephen, Jimmy, and Tucker between the logo and the product photo. "We've gotta get these."
Jon hid a smirk behind his fist. "Don't feel obligated."
"No, I mean, we've gotta get them because they're hilarious! Are you on any other food right now? Please say you are."
"We did a yogurt commercial a while ago, but I don't know if they ever tied it in with the product," said Jon, marshaling his memories. "Oh! We did a photoshoot for some Nabisco ads more recently. We might be on the Oreos or something."
(Most of what Jon remembered from that photoshoot was Stephen licking cream out of the sample Oreos. He did it by holding the cookies vertically and running his tongue along the sweet crevice between the two halves. The photographer had finally ordered him to stop, and he'd had a minor sexual identity crisis later on when Jimmy explained what it looked like.)
Anthony grinned. "Back to the snack aisle!"
When at last they approached the checkout line, their pile of groceries was topped by two boxes of Chips Ahoy! plastered with a photo of Shout*For smiling, and enthusiastically labeled You Could Win VIP Tickets! "If by some crazy chance you win this, you're giving it away," he muttered. "Any time you want to see a concert, I will buy you the ticket myself."
"Could I give it away to Huma?" asked Anthony.
Jon rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. "If you want to invite Huma to a concert, I'll buy her ticket too."
The two of them got out in front of the cart as they pulled into a checkout line. While the woman ahead of them finished paying for her chips and soda, Jon pointedly avoided looking at the tabloids, but Anthony had no such hesitation. "Lisa Munn Diet Disaster! Can't Stop Losing Weight," he narrated. "Jon Stewart's Secret Girlfriend...."
A pointed punch in the arm from Jon convinced him to shut up.
Halfway through bagging things up, there was a pause in the rhythmic beeping of items being scanned. Jon looked up to see if they'd finished already...but no, the cashier was just looking at him, then at the photo on the Chips Ahoy! package, then at him again.
"Problem with the chips?" asked Jon. Not his wittiest moment.
"No problem!" stammered the cashier. Stray curves of hair kept falling out of her ponytail into her face. "You're...I don't want to bother you, but aren't you..." She pointed to Jon's face on the photo. "This guy?"
"Nope," said Jon. "I am in a Shout*For cover band, though. We do impersonations. Look us up some time."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
is Anthony an it-getter?
Jon S.
Yeah.
~*~
"Don't give me that look!" snapped Jon. Killer wasn't authorized to outright stop him from going anywhere, and for once Jon had no intention of being swayed by his gaze of deepest disapproval. "We were fine at the A&P. We'll be fine here too. I want my fudge and skeeball, dammit!"
"Your bodyguard can't pat down everyone on the boardwalk," pointed out Larry's girlfriend. She'd been the last one out of the post-beach shower, and still had her hair up in a towel.
"I'm not inviting all of them home!"
"The others could buy some fudge and bring it back for you," offered his mother halfheartedly.
"Mo-om!" protested Jon.
She sighed. "Just a suggestion. They can certainly make sure someone else goes up and pays for everything, though. No sense drawing you to the cashiers' attention if you don't have to."
"And it'll be dark," added Jon, plying Killer again. "And nobody's gonna know to look for me."
"And they'll all stay together," put in his mother. "You'll keep an eye on your brother, won't you, Larry?"
"Mo-om!" protested Larry.
When both Killer and Mom glared at him, he groaned and caved. "Fine! We'll babysit."
Their mother smiled brightly. "You kids have fun."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
ok
~*~
Down in New Zealand, not long afterward.
Stephen and Jimmy waved and blew kisses to everyone who had stayed to the end of the signing event, then ducked through the flurries to the waiting limo. They had drawn a respectable crowd. It was good to know that even here in the future, and on the wrong side of the planet where the seasons were backwards, there were people with the sophisticated taste to be Shout*For fans.
Almost everything was good here, frankly. Stephen had Jimmy with him, and he had his favorite sister, and the entire Hobbit research team had been forced to admit that he was the world's foremost Middle-earth expert, and he was millions of miles away from Ned. If he could find some way to bring Jon and his puppy, he would have wanted to stay here forever.
Speaking of which...Stephen checked his phone. Still nothing new from Jon. He shoved it back in the pocket of his coat and sighed a long, dramatic sigh.
"Anything wrong?" asked Jimmy.
"What? No, no, everything's just peachy," said Stephen. "Except for the tiny little detail that yesterday I gave Jon permission to talk to two different people about me, and I haven't heard a word out of him since!" A terrible thought struck him. "What if his mom doesn't like me, Jimmy? What am I going to do?"
"Of course she'll like you," said Jimmy automatically. "How long has it been since you've heard from Jon?"
Stephen pouted. "Two whole hours."
"What? But you said...."
"It was a couple hours ago here, but it was yesterday afternoon there." Stephen had explained this time-travel business to Jimmy at least four times already. Sometimes his BFF was really slow on the uptake.
Jimmy, who had been idly browsing on his own phone, suddenly did a double-take at the screen. "Probably just got other things on his mind," he said, handing it to Stephen. "Whatever he's doing...I mean, was doing yesterday...it's got him trending on Twitter."
Characters/Pairings: Jon/"Stephen", family, Anthony, Killer, others
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: See series Table of Contents.
Jon juggles awkward and/or truthy relationships with friends and family. When the whole group heads out to the shore for a few days, it just adds the complication of trying to guess which public places he can visit safely. At least Anthony's got his back. (And, increasingly, his merchandise.)
Involves some callbacks to the Stewart-versus-Cramer interview. The song given to Shout*For is Michael Stanley Band's "All I Ever Wanted"; just imagine a more sparkly-pop cover, with lyrics tweaked to fit California in the '10s rather than Ohio in the '80s.
Jon finally got to hear about his brother's summer finance work the next morning, before they were set to leave for the beach.
Technically Larry was talking to Mom, but they were all in the living/dining room (even the cat, clawing at a string Larry was dragging around; only Killer was absent, out on patrol), with Jon tuning his guitar at one of the dining table chairs while the other two talked on the couches. He might not have a head for numbers, but if Jon had one thing going for him, it was the ear to take in a conversation and work on pitch at the same time.
Talking and tuning at the same time was more of a challenge, so although the D string still sounded flat, Jon stopped fiddling with it when he couldn't resist jumping in. "Hang on, so leveraging is when you...pay a fraction of the cost of some stock, but get to control it anyway? So 35-to-1 means you get to control thirty-five times as much as you paid for?"
Before Larry could snark at him, Mom added, "Be nice to your brother, dear."
Larry sighed and gave him a straight answer. "Yeah, that's what it means. And then you're in debt for the rest of the price. It works with other investments too, not just stocks."
"Okay. And that's totally normal? I could call a broker today and spend a million dollars and suddenly have $35 million worth of a thing?" He couldn't actually spend a million right now, but there were plenty of them waiting in his trust fund. Thirty-five million, on the other hand, was still outside the current range of his bank account.
"Only if you wanted to help cause the next market crash," said his brother.
Oh. Jon had been thirteen when the recession started, so obviously he hadn't been paying close attention to financial news, but just going by Larry's explanation now he could see the problem. "Because too many people were leveraging 35-to-1 all at once, and then suddenly somebody realized there wasn't enough actual money left to cover all the debt going around?"
Larry blinked. "Yeah, kind of."
"Well, geez, if I could figure that out, how come none of the geniuses on Wall Street saw it coming?"
"If I knew that, I'd write a thesis on it and graduate early."
"Don't forget, there was also short-selling and price-massaging and plenty of outright lying," their mother added.
Jon vaguely recognized the term short-selling from old Daily Show coverage, but didn't remember what it meant, so Larry got the ego boost of explaining that too.
"And how about you, Jon?" asked Mom eventually. "How are your studies going?"
"Um," said Jon. He was pulling decent grades, but hadn't lost the feeling everyone was going easy on him. "My tutors are all really nice...."
"And making you work hard, I hope? You know I still expect you to get into a good college, especially now that we don't have to worry how we're going to pay for it."
"I'm doing the best I can," Jon assured her. "But, come on, even if I don't have perfect academics, you gotta admit...I have tremendous extracurriculars."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
Jimmy believes customs will not allow me to bring you a sheep
Stephen*Colbert
even if I am willing to pay them A LOT of money
Stephen*Colbert
which I am, btw
Stephen*Colbert
nothing but the best for my BJF
Stephen*Colbert
and it's not like they can't spare some
Stephen*Colbert
look, this is an NZ traffic jam
Stephen*Colbert
Stephen*Colbert
!!
Stephen*Colbert
but alas
Stephen*Colbert
it is not to be.
Stephen*Colbert
I just want it on the record that I did my best.
~*~
"So, this rental you got," said Anthony, helping the Leibowitzes load bags for a three-day stay into the two cars. (Mom would handle hers, carrying Larry and Larry's finally-background-checked girlfriend; Anthony would be driving his own, accompanied by Jon and Killer.) "Is it right on the ocean, or what?"
"There's a street and some dunes in between," said Jon with a shrug. "But you go a couple floors up and it's got the view, and that's what matters, right?"
"No, what matters is that you never, ever tell me how much it costs, so I'm not too paralyzed by the fear of ruining it to walk around inside," Anthony told him. "Thanks again for putting me up, by the way."
"Not at all, man. What are BFFs for?"
Anthony snickered.
"What?" demanded Jon.
"Do yourself a favor. Never unironically use the term 'BFF' around anyone else on this coast," said Anthony with a grin. "Unless you're actively trying to get beat up. Or unless you've had a sex change and turned into an actual girl."
"If I had a sex change I'd have a really high risk of getting beaten up anyway," pointed out Jon.
"Exactly!" Anthony's biceps flexed under his T-shirt as he swung the trunk closed. "So you'd have nothing to lose!"
Jon, who'd already had his wallet out, automatically held out a twenty.
His friend blinked at it. "What's this? Gas money?"
With a start Jon realized what he'd done. It was a reflex. Someone carries your bags...you tip them.
"Yeah," he stammered, trying to cover his embarrassment. "Gas money. Go on, take it."
"No, it's cool," said Anthony, waving the bill away. "Summer job, remember?"
"From which you're taking a couple days off to hang out with me," Jon reminded him.
"Yeah, so? You're off this week too."
"And I still have three TV commercials currently running, six singles and an album in stores with another available for preorder, and my face on a metric assload of merchandise," said Jon testily. "Listen, the drive over is gonna be about an hour, right?"
Anthony shrugged. "Hour and three minutes, according to my GPS."
"You know how much I'm gonna make in that time?"
"...A hundred dollars?"
Jon folded his arms. "Nine hundred and fifty. Maybe a round thousand if we get all the red lights. A hundred is what I made while we were packing."
"Jonathan Stuart Leibowitz!" cut in his mother's voice, laced with disapproval. "Are you bragging?"
"No!" cried Jon. "I'm trying to get Anthony to live up to the stereotype and take my damn money!"
"Oh! Well, that's different," said Mom sensibly, before aiming her ire straight at his friend. "Young man, if my son let his guests pay for anything on this trip, I would be ashamed. You take that gas money this instant."
Anthony, who had plenty of wiry muscle and at least eight inches on her, folded immediately. "Yes, ma'am."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
JON
Stephen*Colbert
THIS IS A THING THAT EXISTS
Stephen*Colbert
Stephen*Colbert
AND IT IS NOT FOR SALE
Stephen*Colbert
I CANNOT HAVE ONE
Stephen*Colbert
:,((((((
Stephen*Colbert
THE PHILOSOPHERS WERE RIGHT JON
Stephen*Colbert
MONEY CANNOT BUY YOU HAPPINESS
~*~
The car was in the middle of the cruise down 195, ensuring it would be a while before the GPS next cut in to tell them what turn to take, when the radio launched into a familiar opening melody.
"Here I a~am, last of the romantics," crooned Stephen's singing voice from the speakers. Jon's hands twitched with the muscle memory of the chords. "Every time, I get caught in the sway / I'm just a fool~ for a love song / But I wouldn't have it any other way...."
"Great," said Jon, poking at the space-age dashboard. "How do you change channels on this thing?"
"Seriously?" exclaimed Anthony. "This is one of the ones I unironically like!"
"No, it's okay as a song," said Jon. "But the studio recording, there's a part in the third chorus where somebody — can't tell who — snorts when they're taking an in-breath. It sounds terrible."
"It's probably some tiny sound that only you would even notice," Anthony assured him. "Seriously, leave it on."
As if to admonish him, Stephen's voice added, "Baby, just don't say goodnight till the man gets around~ to our~ song / Turn up the ra~di~o till this one's through~..."
Wrapped up in the sound, even at half an octave higher than the range Stephen tended to fall into now, Jon couldn't focus on anything else. This wasn't a great time to lose himself in sexy fantasies, so he tried to focus on something...mundane. Domestic. Maybe a scene with the two of them not even interacting, just doing their own thing in parallel, Leibowitz family style.
It wasn't easy. Stephen was such a shining beacon of energy and attention-seeking, it was hard to imagine working alone in the same room with him unless he was asleep.
But maybe some time he could be reading The Fellowship of the Ring to the dog again (or to...whoever else a guy might read to), while Jon leveled up in Doom. Or surfing Tumblr, while Jon went over scales on the harmonica, and Briar Rose napped in between them. Or on the phone with Jimmy, the dog gnawing on a chew toy at his feet. Jon could occasionally tune in to catch a laugh and a ridiculously out-of-context snippet of conversation, and smile to himself before going back to the Huffington Post....
"Oh, wow, you're right," said Anthony, cutting into Jon's reverie. "That's really blatant. I'm never going to be able to unhear that."
"I know, right?" said Jon. Even though he'd managed to miss the noise this time around. "I don't understand how nobody caught that and made us re-record it. Probably broken the spell for thousands of preteen girls already, when they suddenly realize Shout*For has phlegm."
In the bag at his feet, his phone chirped. He wasn't going to answer, but Anthony said, "Who's texting you? Anybody I've heard of?"
Jon retrieved the phone and tapped in the security code. "Depends. You heard of Lisa Munn?"
~*~
<3 Olivia <3
did not kno u were a Mets fan
<3 Olivia <3
my condolences :(
Jon S.
???
<3 Olivia <3
ur hat, boo
<3 Olivia <3
airport pix now up on Gawker
<3 Olivia <3
lookin sharp in plain grey
<3 Olivia <3
u will make LA's Best Dressed any day now
Jon S.
I'm not a Mets fan, the whole point of that hat was to be misleading
<3 Olivia <3
u sure? b/c the coach just tweeted to offer u free season tix.
Jon S.
The shirt is just the kind of thing I wear when nobody professional is dressing me
Jon S.
Really?
Jon S.
Ok, I guess I'm a Mets fan.
~*~
The view from the spacious townhome's rooftop deck was indeed fabulous, but the heat was like an oven and there was no way to escape the pounding sun. Jon and Anthony ended up camping out on the second-floor balcony, where they got the breeze off the ocean but were protected by the shadow of the third-floor balcony.
Jon's mother made lemonade. Condensation dripped icily down around Jon's hand and puddled on the railing under the glass.
"So you're actually friends with Lisa Munn?" said Anthony. "It's not just PR? What's she really like?"
"Well, she's Olivia to her friends," said Jon, trying to come up with things that were true but still relatively safe. "She's...fun. Really driven about her work, but she's great to kick back and relax with. Got a wicked sense of humor. And yeah, she's really close with Stephen, but me and Jimmy are friends with her too."
"That's so cool. Any chance you could introduce us?"
Jon raised his eyebrows. "Seriously, dude? You're already planning out how to hit on her? What would Huma think?"
"Huma understands that we all get a list," said Anthony airily. "If she had a chance to fool around with what's-his-face from Twilight, I would be completely understanding. Likewise, if I struck up a conversation with...with Olivia Munn, and she happened to find me strangely intriguing, who could blame me for whatever happened next?"
"You do understand that this is never going to happen," said Jon.
"Hey, a guy can dream, can't he? Besides, it's not like she's actually spoken for, is it? I mean, her whole thing with Stephen Col-bert, that's totally bearding. Right?"
Jon grimaced, and took a gulp of lemonade to avoid having to answer.
"If you can't tell me, I get it," added Anthony. "But just for the record, I'm not judging. If your friend's gay, I think it's terrible he's not allowed to just say so. And as soon as your Disney contracts are up, I hope he finds himself a fantastic guy with a huge dick who will love him for the sparkly butterfly he is."
Jon's whole face went hot. Pressing the cold glass against the side of his neck, he stammered, "If, completely hypothetically, Stephen was flamingly gay, I am sure he'd appreciate the sentiment."
~*~
Jon S.
Heard one of our songs on the radio today, thought of you :)
Stephen*Colbert
so you wouldn't have thought of me at all if you hadn't put the radio on??
Jon S.
no, I just mentioned that as an example.
Jon S.
It's more like:
Jon S.
Had lunch, thought of you
Jon S.
Packed up the car, thought of you
Jon S.
Looked at the sky, thought of you
Jon S.
Breathed, thought of you
Jon S.
Etc.
Stephen*Colbert
nice save, sir <3
~*~
Evening found them all in the same room again. Jon's mother was reading a paperback novel. His brother and the girlfriend were on the loveseat, engrossed in a laptop and a tablet respectively, but with their knees pressed together the whole time. Jon kept catching sight of them and feeling green with envy.
And then there was him and Anthony, watching TDS and MMC like old times, laughing at the same lines, joking during the commercials.
"Brian's trying to get me booked on the show for the promo tour," he remarked during the Moment of Zen. "Not as a regular guest, just to do a short bit and then drop the name of the album, that kind of thing."
"You're kidding," said Anthony. "You might get to be on the show? And you're just telling me this now? How much else have you been you holding out on me?"
The words felt like a rock dropped into the pit of Jon's stomach. He made an extra effort to breathe from the diaphragm, and the tension softened a little. "Well, I...."
"Yeah?"
"I haven't mentioned that he's also trying to get Stephen on this show," said Jon, as the glitter and lights and scrolling LED glitz of the MMC intro blasted onto the screen. "And I really hope that works out, whether mine does or not, because Stephen would probably kill me if I got on and he didn't. He's always wanted to, y'know...meet Miley Cyrus."
"Don't blame him," said Anthony dreamily.
Jon shoved him with an elbow. "What, now you're into cougars too?"
"Oh, come on. This is a universal desire. There are coma patients who want to meet Miley Cyrus."
"I guess."
The boom camera swung in over the C-shaped desk, iconic host beaming as the audience cheered.
"Although now that I think about it," said Jon absently, "I'm not sure if Stephen understands that she does the show in-character."
~*~
Jon S.
Wanted to ask something, no pressure, you can def. say no if you'd rather not.
Jon S.
I haven't talked to mom yet, still working up to it
Jon S.
can I also tell Anthony?
~*~
"Grab the shopping list," Jon ordered Anthony halfway through the afternoon. "We're making an A&P run."
His family was down at the beach: a stretch of badge-access ocean sand swarming with hundreds of people who were ready to spend the day doing nothing in particular. He had sworn up and down that he didn't mind them going, that he was glad to stay in the rental with the air-conditioning and the not-being-mobbed. Anthony had volunteered to stay with him, and for a while Halo had kept them occupied.
But by now the cabin fever had gotten too much for Jon to stand. Which was why he pulled on sandals and sunglasses, asked if he could borrow one of Anthony's hats, and then, hesitantly, asked if he could maybe borrow the car keys.
(Next summer he was springing for a luxury resort. Twice the price, but they came with private beaches, and could deliver the food straight to your room.)
"Learner's permit, seriously?" said Anthony as they cruised down the grid of sleepy peninsula streets, Jon in the driver's seat and Killer in the back. "You're gonna be seventeen in like a month."
"Three months," corrected Jon. "And I've got all my hours in! I'm gonna take the test as soon as I get back in-state. Listen, if you only had the roads around LA to practice on, you'd have taken forever to get this far too."
In the grand tradition of beachgoing shoppers, Anthony sauntered into the store bare-chested. Jon and Killer had both brought shirts: grey for Jon, a terrifyingly loud Hawaiian print for his bodyguard. Jon was torn between feeling annoyed that they were both going to draw attention, and hopeful that they would draw any attention off of him, the way a sugar-water trap keeps bees from landing in your soda.
His lingering anxiety melted to a whisper as they filled the cart with no interruptions. Frozen burgers and hot dogs, ketchup and mustard, fresh grapes and strawberries, his mom's favorite brand of wine cooler (Killer would be paying), a quarter pound each of the types of cheese Larry's girlfriend had requested (Anthony ordered at the deli), ice cream and a full ensemble of toppings.
Halfway down the dessert aisle, Anthony exclaimed "Stop!" and slid back the glass door on his side of the cart. Framed by a puff of freezing air, he pulled out a box of popsicles...featuring cartoons of a smiling Jon, Stephen, Jimmy, and Tucker between the logo and the product photo. "We've gotta get these."
Jon hid a smirk behind his fist. "Don't feel obligated."
"No, I mean, we've gotta get them because they're hilarious! Are you on any other food right now? Please say you are."
"We did a yogurt commercial a while ago, but I don't know if they ever tied it in with the product," said Jon, marshaling his memories. "Oh! We did a photoshoot for some Nabisco ads more recently. We might be on the Oreos or something."
(Most of what Jon remembered from that photoshoot was Stephen licking cream out of the sample Oreos. He did it by holding the cookies vertically and running his tongue along the sweet crevice between the two halves. The photographer had finally ordered him to stop, and he'd had a minor sexual identity crisis later on when Jimmy explained what it looked like.)
Anthony grinned. "Back to the snack aisle!"
When at last they approached the checkout line, their pile of groceries was topped by two boxes of Chips Ahoy! plastered with a photo of Shout*For smiling, and enthusiastically labeled You Could Win VIP Tickets! "If by some crazy chance you win this, you're giving it away," he muttered. "Any time you want to see a concert, I will buy you the ticket myself."
"Could I give it away to Huma?" asked Anthony.
Jon rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. "If you want to invite Huma to a concert, I'll buy her ticket too."
The two of them got out in front of the cart as they pulled into a checkout line. While the woman ahead of them finished paying for her chips and soda, Jon pointedly avoided looking at the tabloids, but Anthony had no such hesitation. "Lisa Munn Diet Disaster! Can't Stop Losing Weight," he narrated. "Jon Stewart's Secret Girlfriend...."
A pointed punch in the arm from Jon convinced him to shut up.
Halfway through bagging things up, there was a pause in the rhythmic beeping of items being scanned. Jon looked up to see if they'd finished already...but no, the cashier was just looking at him, then at the photo on the Chips Ahoy! package, then at him again.
"Problem with the chips?" asked Jon. Not his wittiest moment.
"No problem!" stammered the cashier. Stray curves of hair kept falling out of her ponytail into her face. "You're...I don't want to bother you, but aren't you..." She pointed to Jon's face on the photo. "This guy?"
"Nope," said Jon. "I am in a Shout*For cover band, though. We do impersonations. Look us up some time."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
is Anthony an it-getter?
Jon S.
Yeah.
~*~
"Don't give me that look!" snapped Jon. Killer wasn't authorized to outright stop him from going anywhere, and for once Jon had no intention of being swayed by his gaze of deepest disapproval. "We were fine at the A&P. We'll be fine here too. I want my fudge and skeeball, dammit!"
"Your bodyguard can't pat down everyone on the boardwalk," pointed out Larry's girlfriend. She'd been the last one out of the post-beach shower, and still had her hair up in a towel.
"I'm not inviting all of them home!"
"The others could buy some fudge and bring it back for you," offered his mother halfheartedly.
"Mo-om!" protested Jon.
She sighed. "Just a suggestion. They can certainly make sure someone else goes up and pays for everything, though. No sense drawing you to the cashiers' attention if you don't have to."
"And it'll be dark," added Jon, plying Killer again. "And nobody's gonna know to look for me."
"And they'll all stay together," put in his mother. "You'll keep an eye on your brother, won't you, Larry?"
"Mo-om!" protested Larry.
When both Killer and Mom glared at him, he groaned and caved. "Fine! We'll babysit."
Their mother smiled brightly. "You kids have fun."
~*~
Stephen*Colbert
ok
~*~
Stephen and Jimmy waved and blew kisses to everyone who had stayed to the end of the signing event, then ducked through the flurries to the waiting limo. They had drawn a respectable crowd. It was good to know that even here in the future, and on the wrong side of the planet where the seasons were backwards, there were people with the sophisticated taste to be Shout*For fans.
Almost everything was good here, frankly. Stephen had Jimmy with him, and he had his favorite sister, and the entire Hobbit research team had been forced to admit that he was the world's foremost Middle-earth expert, and he was millions of miles away from Ned. If he could find some way to bring Jon and his puppy, he would have wanted to stay here forever.
Speaking of which...Stephen checked his phone. Still nothing new from Jon. He shoved it back in the pocket of his coat and sighed a long, dramatic sigh.
"Anything wrong?" asked Jimmy.
"What? No, no, everything's just peachy," said Stephen. "Except for the tiny little detail that yesterday I gave Jon permission to talk to two different people about me, and I haven't heard a word out of him since!" A terrible thought struck him. "What if his mom doesn't like me, Jimmy? What am I going to do?"
"Of course she'll like you," said Jimmy automatically. "How long has it been since you've heard from Jon?"
Stephen pouted. "Two whole hours."
"What? But you said...."
"It was a couple hours ago here, but it was yesterday afternoon there." Stephen had explained this time-travel business to Jimmy at least four times already. Sometimes his BFF was really slow on the uptake.
Jimmy, who had been idly browsing on his own phone, suddenly did a double-take at the screen. "Probably just got other things on his mind," he said, handing it to Stephen. "Whatever he's doing...I mean, was doing yesterday...it's got him trending on Twitter."
no subject
All of Jon's thoughts about Stephen are really sweet, even the sexual thoughts.
no subject
Jon's a good kid. Doesn't mean he's not an average teenage boy, too.