Seacrest Out
Title: Seacrest Out
Pairing: Anderson Cooper/Ryan Seacrest
Rating: PG
Summary: They're in the closet. (But what else is new?)
Author's Note: Written for the fakenews_fanfic Secret Santa 2008. ( x-posted there)
Anderson can barely move his body in the small area. Every time he tries to tilt his head, he keeps hitting a shelf that is located directly above. He never seems to learn his lesson though. After the tenth time of trying to reposition himself, his arm accidentally hits a row of janitorial supplies, causing numerous bottles of Windex to come crashing down.
"So, I guess a broom closet wasn't the best location for a make-out session."
Anderson glances at the man next to him. How is he supposed to answer that question? He shrugs and mutters, "Well, considering that you and I are barely intoxicated, we can't really pull off the 'we were drunk' excuse."
"We can always blame it on Kathy," is Ryan's response.
Anderson thinks this over. "No, we can't."
"And why not? She's the perfect scapegoat."
Anderson eyes the locked door as he tries to ignore Ryan's probing eyes. Why does Ryan Seacrest get to sit on an upturned bucket? Anderson has to sit on the cold linoleum.
"We made a bet," Anderson simply answers.
Ryan stares at him. Anderson looks nervous. He keeps looking around the closet as if there's another way out.
"What bet?" Ryan wonders out loud. He sits on the floor calmly, watching Anderson in slight amusement. Ryan starts to think that this broom closet is Anderson's worst nightmare compared to being stuck in a combat zone.
"It's none of your business, Seacrest."
"Does it involve any homosexual acts?"
"What? No!"
Anderson is starting to look much more antsier than usual. Ryan smiles to himself. He's hit the nail on the head. This is just perfect.
"You know, Anderson, it's okay to come out of the closet nowadays."
"I doubt it. The door's locked," Anderson notes as he rattles the doorknob for the hundredth time.
"No, it's not."
"Are we still talking about my being in the closet metaphorically or physically?"
"You've admitted it! So you really are in the closet!" Ryan quips.
"Please stop with the wisecracking and help me figure out a way to open the door," Anderson almost pleads.
"We could always call Kathy."
"For the last time, we're not calling that crazy woman! Or anyone else we know for that matter."
"Afraid they'll discover you in the closet, Anderson? I've never seen you this fidgety before."
Anderson sighs loudly in irritation. He starts to pound on the door, shouting for help.
"No one's here, you know. It's a few hours past midnight."
"There has to be someone here!"
"It's a catch 22. If someone finds us and lets us out, then what are they going to think? And if no one finds us..." Ryan adds, "We could always call Kathy."
"We're not calling-"
"Done and done," says Ryan as he pulls out his phone and dials the number.
"I'm not even going to ask why you have her number."
"You see, Kathy and I made a bet for the new year."
"What bet?"
He flashes a mysterious smile and winks.
Pairing: Anderson Cooper/Ryan Seacrest
Rating: PG
Summary: They're in the closet. (But what else is new?)
Author's Note: Written for the fakenews_fanfic Secret Santa 2008. ( x-posted there)
Anderson can barely move his body in the small area. Every time he tries to tilt his head, he keeps hitting a shelf that is located directly above. He never seems to learn his lesson though. After the tenth time of trying to reposition himself, his arm accidentally hits a row of janitorial supplies, causing numerous bottles of Windex to come crashing down.
"So, I guess a broom closet wasn't the best location for a make-out session."
Anderson glances at the man next to him. How is he supposed to answer that question? He shrugs and mutters, "Well, considering that you and I are barely intoxicated, we can't really pull off the 'we were drunk' excuse."
"We can always blame it on Kathy," is Ryan's response.
Anderson thinks this over. "No, we can't."
"And why not? She's the perfect scapegoat."
Anderson eyes the locked door as he tries to ignore Ryan's probing eyes. Why does Ryan Seacrest get to sit on an upturned bucket? Anderson has to sit on the cold linoleum.
"We made a bet," Anderson simply answers.
Ryan stares at him. Anderson looks nervous. He keeps looking around the closet as if there's another way out.
"What bet?" Ryan wonders out loud. He sits on the floor calmly, watching Anderson in slight amusement. Ryan starts to think that this broom closet is Anderson's worst nightmare compared to being stuck in a combat zone.
"It's none of your business, Seacrest."
"Does it involve any homosexual acts?"
"What? No!"
Anderson is starting to look much more antsier than usual. Ryan smiles to himself. He's hit the nail on the head. This is just perfect.
"You know, Anderson, it's okay to come out of the closet nowadays."
"I doubt it. The door's locked," Anderson notes as he rattles the doorknob for the hundredth time.
"No, it's not."
"Are we still talking about my being in the closet metaphorically or physically?"
"You've admitted it! So you really are in the closet!" Ryan quips.
"Please stop with the wisecracking and help me figure out a way to open the door," Anderson almost pleads.
"We could always call Kathy."
"For the last time, we're not calling that crazy woman! Or anyone else we know for that matter."
"Afraid they'll discover you in the closet, Anderson? I've never seen you this fidgety before."
Anderson sighs loudly in irritation. He starts to pound on the door, shouting for help.
"No one's here, you know. It's a few hours past midnight."
"There has to be someone here!"
"It's a catch 22. If someone finds us and lets us out, then what are they going to think? And if no one finds us..." Ryan adds, "We could always call Kathy."
"We're not calling-"
"Done and done," says Ryan as he pulls out his phone and dials the number.
"I'm not even going to ask why you have her number."
"You see, Kathy and I made a bet for the new year."
"What bet?"
He flashes a mysterious smile and winks.