Fic: Silent Tango, 1/5
Title: Silent Tango
Fandom: Fake News
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/'Stephen'
Summary: With Stephen back from Iraq, Jon and Stephen struggle to deal with their divorces, their budding relationship, oh, and a telepathic mind link, an assassination attempt and bananas on their breakfasts, too.
Chapter: 1/5
First
First 200 or so words from anais_rhys from Thursday's Open Thread. Used with her permission. Most definitely not for seagullsong because she's getting a swelled head.
****************************************************************************************************
Something was unusual about today. The coffee tasted the same, and still went from 400 degrees to subzero somewhere between the first and third sips. Jon still wore a comfy battered tee into the office that fit snugly around his little belly just like always. His staff came up to him with questions and suggestions and left with grins and new ideas.
There it was again! Jon's brow wrinkled as he tilted his head to this side. A slow buzzing was coming from somewhere and he held out his hand for silence as Wyatt walked up to him with script page.
liberal agenda....unpatriotic...
"Someone's got Fox news on already?"
Wyatt looked confused, "We're the only ones here, Shannon doesn't usually get here for another fifteen minutes."
"Then what-" pinko commie bananas trying to spoil my waffles "...the hell is that noise?"
"Jon?"
Jon turned to look around and suddenly the buzzing voice was coming in and out of focus, getting louder and softer in a rhythmic way almost like...
blueberries and strawberries, maybe with some whipped cream, cut the waffles into little stars Footsteps sounded in the hall and Wyatt and Jon both looked up to see Stephen already in a crisp pinstripe suit and deep red tie, frowning at a paper bag held out in front of him like a soiled tissue.
"Morning, Jon. already have a black friend. has a beard though. maybe if he wore a leather harness Cafe messed up my breakfast, gave me bananas instead of strawberries he could be my bear friend NOOO BEARS SHAKE IT OFF COL-BERT WYATT WOULD ABSOLUTELY NOT LOOK HOT IN LEATHER CHAPS AND A BIKERS CAP FLOGGING ME WITH A-"
"STEPHEN?!" Jon tumbled out of his chair in his haste to get up and looked frantically at Wyatt, who was...looking at Jon like he was crazy. Stephen looked absolutely composed, except for his cocked eyebrow.
"Yes, Jon?" Yes, Jon?
Jon opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"Uh..."
The noise had stopped. So had everyone else. Jon glanced around in a rather paranoid fashion. Wyatt was standing nervously to his left, still clutching the script and probably wondering, (in his vaguely "still-the-newbie" style), if this was normal. Stephen was still standing directly ahead, his un-patriotic potassium rich breakfast starting to turn the bag transparent, threatening to drip on his tapping loafer. Behind him Jon could swear he felt a distinctly British stare on the back of his head over the cubicle divider.
"Jon?"
Jon smiled weakly, "Just wanted to say...your new haircut looks great...Stephen."
Stephen swelled up to his full rhetoric posture. Recognizing it, Wyatt and the rest of the team slipped away, leaving Jon to his fate.
"Of course it looks great! Thank god... This haircut was personally given by the best of the best! And I'm not starting to go bald in front... A general of the U. S. Army! And it doesn't make me look like a bowling pin...To suggest that it was anything less that extraordinary or that it makes my butt look huge...or that I pull it off with anything less that perfect grace would be an insult to our fine fighting troops overseas!"
Jon nodded, attempting to look properly chastised, desperate to slip away to the safety of his office.
"Of course Stephen. I don't know what I was thinking."
Jon quickly turned to make a hasty escape, leaving Stephen to contemplate whether to save his heathenistic meal.
"And it totally doesn't make your butt look big."
****************************************************************************************************
Twenty minutes later Jon Stewart had locked himself in his office and was currently wearing a wobbly circle in his carpet nervously pacing, bordering on a full-on panic attack. He was still babbling and giggling to himself when someone started pounding on his office door.
"Jon! Open the door!"
Almost automatically Jon obediently broke off his re-enactment of the NASCAR 500 to undo the deadlock and opened the door.
Stephen stood square in front of his door, feet spread and hands on his hips, glaring at the offending obstacle between him and his producer.
Jon slammed the door shut again and staggered back several steps just as Stephen blocked the door and strode into the room, frowning.
"Stewart, what's going on with you?!"
"Stay back!" Jon scrambled back to the safety behind his desk, eyeing Stephen like he was a wild and rabid animal that had burst into his office. Taking a deep breath, he managed to speak normally.
"What do you want, Stephen?"
He winced. Somewhat normally. He sounded like he'd been sucking helium.
"I want an apology!"
Jon was startled back to reality. "What?! For what? I just gave you one!"
"And directly proceeded to insult me again!"
"How?!" Jon straightened up, regaining some of his authority.
...By honing in on my major insecurities without my permission...
Stephen floundered a bit, but Jon was too distracted to notice.
"Your mouth didn't move!"
"What are you talking about?" Stephen snapped, "And anyway, you insulted me by...sexually harassing me. In the workplace in front of my...your underlings."
"Stephen, you're sued for sexual harassment every month! You are hardly one to-"
"You are and always have been a sexual predator! Commenting on my physical appearance in a way that can be construed as sexual is a lawsuit worthy offense!"
Jon looked dazed. "You actually read those pamphlets we give you?"
Stephen shrugged. "My lawyers did. And now you're going to buy me breakfast."
****************************************************************************************************
Ten minutes later Jon was being pulled out of Stephen's chauffeur driven limo to stand in front of...'Aunt Sally's All-American 24 Hour Diner' in a part of New York he didn't even know existed.
Stumbling to keep up with Stephen headed inside, passing a sheet of notebook paper taped to the inside of the window that declared "All Meals Made With Cholesterol And LOVE."
The place was surprisingly clean and busy, with the first of the lunch hour rush beginning to filter in, but Stephen stepped directly up to the hostess and demanded a booth.
It hardly seemed necessary. From the moment he had stepped inside a waitress had raised an alarm and the half dozen people that had been waiting to be seated were now staring at them with mixtures of awe and hostility.
Stephen was immediately given a booth, his own waitress and assurances that whatever he wanted would be made without delay to his exacting specifications.
Pulling his coat off Jon looked around the 50s diner straight from the 80s.
"I take it you've been here before?"
Stephen nodded, sipping at his coffee as soon as their beaming waitress had finished pouring it. "Once or twice a month. Good Freedom Fries."
"Of Course."
"Hi there! I'm Tina, your waitress! If I can just say, Mr. Colbert it's an honor to serve you! What can I get y'all?! On the house, of course!"
Jon blinked and wondered if she was capable of a sentence not ending with a exclamation point.
Stephen ordered for both of them and their food was delivered within minutes, piping hot and accurate down to the miniature American flag skewering his cheeseburger.
By the time Stephen had devoured his and most of Jon's lunch Jon was feeling a little calmer. Stephen was acting perfectly normal, the voices had stopped and he was showing no other signs of a psychotic break. Maybe he'd just needed to get out of the office. Sighing in contentment Jon gazed out the window at the guy arguing with the meter cop.
Now what's he thinking about? Why can't he talk to fill silence like a normal person?
"Hmmm?"
Jon glanced up and suddenly realized Stephen had been talking for the past ten minutes. Something about a house fly and a murder...
Stephen looked annoyed. "Honestly Jon, I don't know why you don't see how important this truly is..."
"Sorry, sorry," Jon smiled. "I'm listening, really."
"Good, because this isn't just about my views, it's about what's fair and decent in American Society today and how this is is putting the President up on a pedestal above the law..."
Jon glazed over a bit after he figured out what Stephen was on about and started thinking about this afternoon's show. Namely, how he was going to get today's guest to be interesting...It wasn't as if the woman was an entertainer, or even a politician, she'd written a diet book for god sakes! Stephen's voice pulled him out of his funk.
"...Ask her why she's trying to wipe out the classic status symbol of wealth and prosperity in ancient cultures in America. Then you can get into a debate about Obesity or whatever it is you people are on about these days."
"Ask who? The waitress?"
Stephen frowned. "No. Why aren't you paying attention Jon?"
"I thought we were talking about Obama and the Fly?"
"I changed subjects ages ago. Where were you? And for that matter, why were you acting so weird this morning?"
Taking a deep breath Jon tensed, then relaxed. "Honestly?"
Stephen just looked at him.
"I was hearing voices."
Stephen looked away, apparently bored. "Is that all, Jon? Really? I hear voices all the time I don't freak out about it. Well, except that one time that Sweetness told me to-"
Jon cut him off. "Really, Stephen. This is serious. I could be having a mental collapse!"
Stephen eyed him, apparently sizing him up. "All right. What did the voices tell you?"
Jon laughed. "You know what, forget it."
Stephen refused. "No. You made a big deal of this. What did the voices tell you?"
Jon sighed. "They sounded like...well...like one of your rants. About the waffles this morning. Something about the bananas and communists..."
Stephen tensed. Oh my god you're a mind reader.
Taking a sip of coffee, Jon muttered, "No, I'm not a mind reade-."
Both men froze, Jon's coffee halfway to his lips, Stephen's hands fisted on the table.
Oh My God this is bad HE can read my mind this is not good not good at all of all the people in the world He can read my mind he can read it right now he read it this morning what did I think this morning? Did he get the part about how I thought about the leather and-
Jon cleared his throat loudly and Stephen instantly relaxed, falling back into talking mode.
"Why would anyone want to read my mind, Stewart? I can understand fascination with me as I am a national symbol but reading my thoughts would seem completely redundant as I take it as my duty to say whatever comes to my mind and announce it to the world..."
His face and voice were completely relaxed, but his fists remained clenched and his posture rigid. When Jon blinked he caught flashes of...something.
nothing...have to think nothing
WHY HIM?!
What's he know?
Bad, Bad, BAD, Col-bert...
Stephen began to shake, and Jon automatically reached over to place a hand over one of his, but Stephen jerked away and leapt to his feet.
"What are you doing?"
Mumbling something under his breath Jon apologized.
He just seemed so vulnerable...why was he so worried?
"I don't know what you're talking about, Stewart. I am not worried and I do not look vulnerable!"
Jon stood up. "Stephen..."
Stephen was shaking violently now, and still talking.
"Shouldn't have allowed you to talk me into this lunch meeting if you're going to make ridiculous claims and assault me..."
Jon raised his voice. "Stephen."
no no no no no no no no no no no no no no bad dream no no no no no wake up! nonono
Stephen!
Stephen stopped talking and looked at Jon.
"Yes, Jon?"
"I didn't say anything."