Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2009-08-03 11:14 am
ptahrrific) wrote2009-08-03 11:14 am
Fake News - Puppy Love (3/3)
Title: Puppy Love (3/3)
Rating: PG-13
Contents: Sex talk, panicking Stephen
Characters/pairings: Jon/liberal!"Stephen"
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: The conclusion of this bit of the Liberalverse. Jon has always encouraged Stephen to develop healthy boundaries, but he never expected to find himself outside of them.
(Okay, a little bit of neuroses-and-despair may have slipped into this one. But the ending is happy, never fear.)
There's also some rambling about l!Stephen's characterization, over here.
Puppy Love (Part III)
"Was three dates really too much to ask?"
Stephen looked up from his computer to see Jon leaning on the doorjamb. "Oh! Jon! Hi!" he stammered. "I was just, uh. Emailing my accountant."
Okay, he had more sort of been staring blankly at an empty text field for the past fifteen minutes. But he was getting there.
(Some people liked to rush their business emails, making them all short and clipped and, well, businesslike. Stephen felt it was worth taking the time to fill them out with moving imagery. If the folks in accounting didn't need to take at least half an hour to interpret his messages, it meant he hadn't been poetic enough.)
"Since when would you rather do business than share your feelings?" countered Jon. "Come on, Stephen, talk to me. Is it something I did? Was I trying to take it too slowly?"
"It's not you!" insisted Stephen, avoiding Jon's eyes. "It's not your fault. It isn't."
"Then why won't you tell me?"
"Because..." Stephen squirmed in his chair. "It's embarrassing."
Silence.
Slowly, fearfully, Stephen raised his head, to find the other man staring at him as if he had sprouted antlers.
"You're embarrassed," repeated Jon in disbelief.
"I'm sorry! I tried not to be!"
"No, no, it's...it's okay." Jon swallowed hard. "It's okay...that you're not completely shameless. It's a good thing."
"Are you mad?" asked Stephen anxiously.
He wanted to reassure Jon that it was okay to be angry, that it would be forgiven. Stephen was a firm believer in doing unto others as you would have done unto you — and whenever he let himself get angry, he desperately wanted the object of his anger to forgive him. But that sort of thing always seemed to make Jon twitchier, though Stephen could never understand why.
Anyway, Jon said he was fine, and left before Stephen could think of anything else to apologize for.
"No, Stephen, why would I be mad?" demanded Jon, pacing the length of the office. "I just found out that I am apparently the only person on the planet you won't jump into bed with. What could possibly be upsetting about that?"
The little Stephen on the desk bobbed noncommittally at him.
Jon had thought about yelling at Stephen in person, but it was like slapping a jello mold: you would meet no resistance, make a big mess, and feel lousy about it after. And if he stayed angry regardless, Stephen would probably have offered him sex out of guilt, which was the last thing Jon wanted.
"But I did actually want to sleep with you!" he continued, addressing the bobblehead (leftover from an ad campaign; Jon had picked it up on a whim, and Stephen had been so enchanted when he found out that Jon had known he could never get rid of it). "After you've been asking for it for years! Why stop now?"
The toy gave him a reproachful shake of the head.
"I know, I know," groaned Jon. "I've spent those years saying you should stop making yourself available to everyone and the kitchen sink. But you picked a hell of a time to develop standards."
Yeah, he definitely couldn't say that to Stephen's face. There had to be something pretty serious going on to come between Stephen and sex; it wouldn't do any good if Jon started mocking it.
When had he started to take the other man's affections for granted, anyway? After brushing them off for so long, why was he acting like Stephen had no right to withdraw the offer?
"I'm sorry," said the plastic Stephen.
Jon nearly jumped out of his skin. Then he got a grip and turned around.
"I don't mean to be a cock-tease," continued the flesh-and-blood Stephen, and didn't that hit Jon's lingering sense of entitlement like a bucket of ice water. "I just came over to bring you this."
He held out another gift basket, one that wasn't comically oversized.
"It's regular chocolate this time," he said quickly. "And some flowers. Nothing to creep you out. And you can still come see Barry any time. If you want. I know you might not want anything to do with me, and that would be okay, too."
"I still want to be your friend, Stephen," protested Jon as he hurried over to accept the basket. To his surprise, even on closer inspection, it was completely benign. "If that's not going to freak you out."
"It's not!" exclaimed Stephen. "Not at all! It's just...I know I'm not the easiest person to be friends with."
If it had been anyone else, Jon would have reacted to this with a white lie. But if there was one thing guaranteed to upset Stephen, it was convenient fictions. He wanted the straight truth, even when strict politeness demanded otherwise.
"You're right," said Jon bluntly. "You're not. But I don't care."
Stephen looked like he might melt into a puddle right there on the hardwood floor.
"So if you dumped me because you're afraid you wouldn't be easy enough to date...." continued Jon hesitantly.
"It's not that," insisted Stephen. "It's — it's — oh, Jon, would you keep a secret for me? Even though I know secrets are toxic, and I know I've always said you can share anything about me, at any time, with anyone, so it would be hypocritical of me to go back on that, and—"
Jon cut him off with a raised hand. "I respect your right to privacy, Stephen. Even when you don't."
Stephen managed a nod, though he still looked uncertain.
"It's getting kind of stuffy in here," continued Jon, setting the gift basket aside. "You want to take a walk?"
They ended up crossing the street and strolling through the shady parts of Clinton, trees and walls and plant-covered fences making a thin attempt at disguising the fact that they were in the middle of a city. The illusion only really worked if you actively agreed to buy into it. Stephen never did.
"I'm...selfish, Jon," he admitted.
He waited for the other man to agree, or at least acknowledge that it was a valid perspective. But Jon just watched him, with even, steady attention.
"Maybe you haven't noticed," allowed Stephen. "I mean, you remember how ready I was to share that Emmy with Barry Manilow. And then there's all the charity work I do, for no recognition whatsoever. I mean, I point it out on the show all the time, but that's only to encourage other people to join in."
"I understand."
"But it's all just me trying to compensate. I'm really a very self-centered person."
"Stephen," said Jon hesitantly, "is this something your parents used to tell you?"
"'Used to'?" echoed Stephen, puzzled. "Mom called me a selfish hedonist on the phone just last week."
Jon looked grim. "Have you told her yet that you want to cut down on those calls?"
"Of course I have. What do you think set her off in the first place?"
"You shouldn't put up with that, Stephen," said Jon, his voice very stern.
"No, no, she's right." Before Jon could contradict him again, Stephen plowed on. "I'm trying to fight it, though. I thought I was doing really well, too! Most of the time I don't even mind sharing! It's like I told my wife — back when she still was my wife, I mean — if I had been the one who walked in on her in our bed with another man, I never would have made a fuss about it!"
Jon's eyebrows shot up, but if he had anything to say about that, he kept it to himself.
"But then, the other night, I was doing...that thing that makes you uncomfortable when I talk about it." Stephen normally abhorred self-censorship, but he figured he owed Jon something for being so good to him. "And I was imagining you, but it was different than usual because I knew it was so close to actually happening, and then I realized...."
He focused resolutely on the path under his feet as he forced the words out.
"I couldn't share you, Jon!" he exclaimed. "I hate the thought of other people even kissing you. If anyone else tried to sleep with you, I would want to smash Sweetness over their stupid head. So you see why I have to cut this off now, before I turn into this horrible controlling person that I don't want to be!"
Jon stopped in his tracks.
Don't hide from the consequences of your actions, Stephen ordered himself, dragging his eyes back to meet Jon's face — and staring in utter confusion.
"Are you kidding?" sputtered Jon, voice weak with relief as he tried and failed to hide a smile with his fist. "Is that all? And here you had me worried there was something terrible going on!"
"Of course it's terrible!" protested Stephen, bewildered. "I just confessed that I'm a possessive, jealous hypocrite! How can you be okay with that?"
"Is that what you said?" asked Jon, laughing outright now. "Because all I heard was that you'd like to experiment with monogamy! I know you disapprove, but I promise, it's a perfectly valid lifestyle choice."
"But the restrictions it would put on you...!"
"What restrictions? I wasn't planning on sleeping around in the first place, whether you minded or not. I'm a one-person-at-a-time kind of person."
"Maybe in practice, but in principle it wouldn't be fair, it—"
"My God, Stephen," interrupted Jon, "stop thinking so much, already."
And he dragged Stephen into a kiss.
Jon's mouth was enthusiastic but sloppy, and Stephen could only put up with that for so long before taking over. He was petrified at first of using too much force, but Jon yielded to his control instantly, with the kind of groan that suggested maybe he didn't mind the way Stephen's hands were yanking at his hair, not that delicious throaty groans automatically implied consent to be pushed up against a handy tree while Stephen nipped at his bottom lip—
Jon wrenched his mouth away with a gasp. Stephen froze.
"Dammit," muttered Jon under his breath, jerking his head towards the road. Stephen followed his gaze just in time to see a cell phone vanish into a pocket before the watching figure turned and bolted.
A moment later, it hit him. "Oh, right. You don't like being in tabloids, do you? If you want to stop...."
"Not on your life," said Jon promptly. "But we better take this inside before it goes any further."
The words perked Stephen up at once. "Can we have wild passionate sex over your desk?" he asked hopefully, as they walked back to the studio arm in arm.
"Let's make it wild passionate sex on your bed," said Jon with a laugh. "Fewer splinters."
Rating: PG-13
Contents: Sex talk, panicking Stephen
Characters/pairings: Jon/liberal!"Stephen"
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: The conclusion of this bit of the Liberalverse. Jon has always encouraged Stephen to develop healthy boundaries, but he never expected to find himself outside of them.
(Okay, a little bit of neuroses-and-despair may have slipped into this one. But the ending is happy, never fear.)
There's also some rambling about l!Stephen's characterization, over here.
Puppy Love (Part III)
"Was three dates really too much to ask?"
Stephen looked up from his computer to see Jon leaning on the doorjamb. "Oh! Jon! Hi!" he stammered. "I was just, uh. Emailing my accountant."
Okay, he had more sort of been staring blankly at an empty text field for the past fifteen minutes. But he was getting there.
(Some people liked to rush their business emails, making them all short and clipped and, well, businesslike. Stephen felt it was worth taking the time to fill them out with moving imagery. If the folks in accounting didn't need to take at least half an hour to interpret his messages, it meant he hadn't been poetic enough.)
"Since when would you rather do business than share your feelings?" countered Jon. "Come on, Stephen, talk to me. Is it something I did? Was I trying to take it too slowly?"
"It's not you!" insisted Stephen, avoiding Jon's eyes. "It's not your fault. It isn't."
"Then why won't you tell me?"
"Because..." Stephen squirmed in his chair. "It's embarrassing."
Silence.
Slowly, fearfully, Stephen raised his head, to find the other man staring at him as if he had sprouted antlers.
"You're embarrassed," repeated Jon in disbelief.
"I'm sorry! I tried not to be!"
"No, no, it's...it's okay." Jon swallowed hard. "It's okay...that you're not completely shameless. It's a good thing."
"Are you mad?" asked Stephen anxiously.
He wanted to reassure Jon that it was okay to be angry, that it would be forgiven. Stephen was a firm believer in doing unto others as you would have done unto you — and whenever he let himself get angry, he desperately wanted the object of his anger to forgive him. But that sort of thing always seemed to make Jon twitchier, though Stephen could never understand why.
Anyway, Jon said he was fine, and left before Stephen could think of anything else to apologize for.
"No, Stephen, why would I be mad?" demanded Jon, pacing the length of the office. "I just found out that I am apparently the only person on the planet you won't jump into bed with. What could possibly be upsetting about that?"
The little Stephen on the desk bobbed noncommittally at him.
Jon had thought about yelling at Stephen in person, but it was like slapping a jello mold: you would meet no resistance, make a big mess, and feel lousy about it after. And if he stayed angry regardless, Stephen would probably have offered him sex out of guilt, which was the last thing Jon wanted.
"But I did actually want to sleep with you!" he continued, addressing the bobblehead (leftover from an ad campaign; Jon had picked it up on a whim, and Stephen had been so enchanted when he found out that Jon had known he could never get rid of it). "After you've been asking for it for years! Why stop now?"
The toy gave him a reproachful shake of the head.
"I know, I know," groaned Jon. "I've spent those years saying you should stop making yourself available to everyone and the kitchen sink. But you picked a hell of a time to develop standards."
Yeah, he definitely couldn't say that to Stephen's face. There had to be something pretty serious going on to come between Stephen and sex; it wouldn't do any good if Jon started mocking it.
When had he started to take the other man's affections for granted, anyway? After brushing them off for so long, why was he acting like Stephen had no right to withdraw the offer?
"I'm sorry," said the plastic Stephen.
Jon nearly jumped out of his skin. Then he got a grip and turned around.
"I don't mean to be a cock-tease," continued the flesh-and-blood Stephen, and didn't that hit Jon's lingering sense of entitlement like a bucket of ice water. "I just came over to bring you this."
He held out another gift basket, one that wasn't comically oversized.
"It's regular chocolate this time," he said quickly. "And some flowers. Nothing to creep you out. And you can still come see Barry any time. If you want. I know you might not want anything to do with me, and that would be okay, too."
"I still want to be your friend, Stephen," protested Jon as he hurried over to accept the basket. To his surprise, even on closer inspection, it was completely benign. "If that's not going to freak you out."
"It's not!" exclaimed Stephen. "Not at all! It's just...I know I'm not the easiest person to be friends with."
If it had been anyone else, Jon would have reacted to this with a white lie. But if there was one thing guaranteed to upset Stephen, it was convenient fictions. He wanted the straight truth, even when strict politeness demanded otherwise.
"You're right," said Jon bluntly. "You're not. But I don't care."
Stephen looked like he might melt into a puddle right there on the hardwood floor.
"So if you dumped me because you're afraid you wouldn't be easy enough to date...." continued Jon hesitantly.
"It's not that," insisted Stephen. "It's — it's — oh, Jon, would you keep a secret for me? Even though I know secrets are toxic, and I know I've always said you can share anything about me, at any time, with anyone, so it would be hypocritical of me to go back on that, and—"
Jon cut him off with a raised hand. "I respect your right to privacy, Stephen. Even when you don't."
Stephen managed a nod, though he still looked uncertain.
"It's getting kind of stuffy in here," continued Jon, setting the gift basket aside. "You want to take a walk?"
They ended up crossing the street and strolling through the shady parts of Clinton, trees and walls and plant-covered fences making a thin attempt at disguising the fact that they were in the middle of a city. The illusion only really worked if you actively agreed to buy into it. Stephen never did.
"I'm...selfish, Jon," he admitted.
He waited for the other man to agree, or at least acknowledge that it was a valid perspective. But Jon just watched him, with even, steady attention.
"Maybe you haven't noticed," allowed Stephen. "I mean, you remember how ready I was to share that Emmy with Barry Manilow. And then there's all the charity work I do, for no recognition whatsoever. I mean, I point it out on the show all the time, but that's only to encourage other people to join in."
"I understand."
"But it's all just me trying to compensate. I'm really a very self-centered person."
"Stephen," said Jon hesitantly, "is this something your parents used to tell you?"
"'Used to'?" echoed Stephen, puzzled. "Mom called me a selfish hedonist on the phone just last week."
Jon looked grim. "Have you told her yet that you want to cut down on those calls?"
"Of course I have. What do you think set her off in the first place?"
"You shouldn't put up with that, Stephen," said Jon, his voice very stern.
"No, no, she's right." Before Jon could contradict him again, Stephen plowed on. "I'm trying to fight it, though. I thought I was doing really well, too! Most of the time I don't even mind sharing! It's like I told my wife — back when she still was my wife, I mean — if I had been the one who walked in on her in our bed with another man, I never would have made a fuss about it!"
Jon's eyebrows shot up, but if he had anything to say about that, he kept it to himself.
"But then, the other night, I was doing...that thing that makes you uncomfortable when I talk about it." Stephen normally abhorred self-censorship, but he figured he owed Jon something for being so good to him. "And I was imagining you, but it was different than usual because I knew it was so close to actually happening, and then I realized...."
He focused resolutely on the path under his feet as he forced the words out.
"I couldn't share you, Jon!" he exclaimed. "I hate the thought of other people even kissing you. If anyone else tried to sleep with you, I would want to smash Sweetness over their stupid head. So you see why I have to cut this off now, before I turn into this horrible controlling person that I don't want to be!"
Jon stopped in his tracks.
Don't hide from the consequences of your actions, Stephen ordered himself, dragging his eyes back to meet Jon's face — and staring in utter confusion.
"Are you kidding?" sputtered Jon, voice weak with relief as he tried and failed to hide a smile with his fist. "Is that all? And here you had me worried there was something terrible going on!"
"Of course it's terrible!" protested Stephen, bewildered. "I just confessed that I'm a possessive, jealous hypocrite! How can you be okay with that?"
"Is that what you said?" asked Jon, laughing outright now. "Because all I heard was that you'd like to experiment with monogamy! I know you disapprove, but I promise, it's a perfectly valid lifestyle choice."
"But the restrictions it would put on you...!"
"What restrictions? I wasn't planning on sleeping around in the first place, whether you minded or not. I'm a one-person-at-a-time kind of person."
"Maybe in practice, but in principle it wouldn't be fair, it—"
"My God, Stephen," interrupted Jon, "stop thinking so much, already."
And he dragged Stephen into a kiss.
Jon's mouth was enthusiastic but sloppy, and Stephen could only put up with that for so long before taking over. He was petrified at first of using too much force, but Jon yielded to his control instantly, with the kind of groan that suggested maybe he didn't mind the way Stephen's hands were yanking at his hair, not that delicious throaty groans automatically implied consent to be pushed up against a handy tree while Stephen nipped at his bottom lip—
Jon wrenched his mouth away with a gasp. Stephen froze.
"Dammit," muttered Jon under his breath, jerking his head towards the road. Stephen followed his gaze just in time to see a cell phone vanish into a pocket before the watching figure turned and bolted.
A moment later, it hit him. "Oh, right. You don't like being in tabloids, do you? If you want to stop...."
"Not on your life," said Jon promptly. "But we better take this inside before it goes any further."
The words perked Stephen up at once. "Can we have wild passionate sex over your desk?" he asked hopefully, as they walked back to the studio arm in arm.
"Let's make it wild passionate sex on your bed," said Jon with a laugh. "Fewer splinters."
no subject
...oh, Stephen. (You know everything's right when you still elicit that response, huh? =P)
I have to second (third? whatever) the, "Of course! This Stephen has mommy issues!" sentiment. That makes absolutely perfect sense.
Gah, I love this 'verse. And this story, of course. Good stuff all around.
no subject
I totally did not plan the mommy issues thing. It just sort of happened. (Symmetry!)
♥