(no subject)
Title: Unlikely Beginnings
Fandom: The Daily Show
Characters: Rob Corddry/Ed Helms
Prompt: Writer's Choice: What If?
Word Count: 1,724
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: For garbarella, whom is my sekrit wifey. This is an AU; she wanted me to write them meeting in college instead.
I had thought things were set in stone.
See, it happens all the time. Someone buys a space in one of the many dorms of my university and for some reason or another, they never show up. It is the dream of every dorm-sharer. With the lack of a dorm roommate, you have a two-person room to yourself.
It finally happened to me this year. Two weeks have passed by with no sign of anyone to take up the bed next to mine. After two straight years of having the worst roommates ever, I figure this is karma finally being kind to me.
I was obviously wrong.
By the third week I was relatively confident the room was mine and began to act as such.
This apparently was a mistake, because the day after I put the beds together a knock at my door sounded.
Imagine my surprise when the person behind it was a thin, medium-sized man with black glasses and messy hair. In his arms were boxes that suspiciously looked as though they contained items to move in.
It was the labels on them such as ‘electronics’ and ‘clothes’ that really tipped me off.
“Hi,” he said and I noticed his arms were literally shaking from the exertion of carrying the two aforementioned boxes. I figured he wanted me to grab one, but the puzzlement of the strange guy at my door prevented me from moving. “A-Are you Robert Corddry?”
I haven’t been called Robert since I was eleven. “That’s Rob, and yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”
“Your new roommate,” he explained. “Can you--?”
He motioned to his boxes and I sighed, grabbing one. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I have the paper here somewhere,” he put down his box and fished out a crumpled looking paper out of his pocket. He handed it over before returning back to pulling his stuff inside.
There it was, as he had said. And so began the semester I had with Ed Helms.
At first, there was little common ground. He was relatively reserved-nice, but quiet. And me, well, I was being a jerk on purpose. I know, it isn’t his fault I thought I was getting my own room, but somehow it made it so easy to blame him for my disappointment.
There were days were hardly spoke even when we were in the same room together nearly all day.
When we did talk, it would be curt and rushed. After a month passed, he seemed to get the hint and left me alone completely, opting to silently move about the room like some sort of unwanted specter. I ignored him for the most part, only acknowledging him when people asked about him.
“He’s just some geek,” I’d explain quietly and most of them would nod, understanding.
Of course, things evolve. Things evolved sometimes abruptly. What changed things started one fall night, after a stint of drinking with a friend of mine. It was only a bit away from campus, so I was all set to walk it. Of course, this was an immensely bad idea for two reasons.
One, I was coming out of a mostly gay oriented bar. Did I mention I liked guys? Yeah.
Two, it was three A.M. in Boston near a few other non-gay oriented bars.
When I was first approached by the two guys I shall name Asshole One and Two. I didn’t think much of it until the first fist flew. Nimbly dodging it, I realized only then that trouble was brewing. The guys were built enough to worry me; I knew I could fight, but only to a certain extent.
“Faggot,” Asshole One said, and even in my slightly panic-stricken mind I could not help but wonder why these guys couldn’t at least be a little original with their hate speak.
“I don’t want any trouble guys,” I said, holding my hands up. The buzz of alcohol wasn’t helping my situation much as I stumbled back, looking for a way out.
“He doesn’t want any trouble, hear that?” One asked Two, who snickered.
At this point, I came to realize I just might die in the most cliché death ever. It somehow even made it worse. The second one, a stout, grizzled man, did another punch. Surprisingly limber, I couldn’t dodge it and was hit hard. Flying back, I automatically felt and tasted blood. That one punch had busted my lip wide open. The first one, taller and undoubtedly stronger, grabbed me roughly and held me against him.
Being punched while being held in that way hurt like a bitch. I won’t lie. By the fourth hit my body throbbed in pain, one of my eyes already swelling to the point I couldn’t see out of it.
“You two have about 2 minutes to run.”
The voice made the two stop and I felt the grip tighten as the man turned his head. I couldn’t see who it was. I didn’t care who it was, as long as the person could make them stop. Hopes were dashed when I heard them both laughing, a clear signal that the person likely could not help me much.
“Why? What are you gonna do?” Two asked and gave me a kick for good measure. I leaned down, shuddering as the hit reverberated from my stomach to the rest of my body.
“The cops will be here very soon. If you don’t want trouble, I suggest you leave. Now.”
“You’re bluffing.” One scoffed. “Go grab him, we’ll shut him up too.”
The sirens sounded. I could feel One freeze, then let me go abruptly. I crumpled to the ground, too wasted and in pain to keep myself up. “What do we do?” Two asked.
“Let’s get out of here. You got lucky this time. Fucking faggot.”
They ran. I managed to turn onto my back, staring upward. I could still feel the blood oozing from my lip. With my good eye, I focused on a new face; the one that saved me.
Thing was, it wasn’t so new. “Rob, Rob, are you okay?”
“Ed?” I murmured, wearily.
“Come on, we need to get you out of here before they realize I didn’t actually call the cops.”
I was never so happy to see him.
With a good amount of stumbling, he half-dragged me to our room and dumped me onto my bed. With effort I sat up, my head pounding, the disgusting taste of blood still in my mouth. Ed disappeared for a moment before returning with a few items. He sat on my bed, directly in front of me.
“Here, put this on your eye,” he handed over an ice pack he must have stolen from the first aid kit. I took it and placed it on the bad one quietly. “Doing okay?”
“Besides the fact I nearly got the shit beat out of me, I’m not too bad,” I responded sarcastically, but quickly retracted it a bit. “Thanks to you. Though, you really shouldn’t have…”
“Stepped in? Couldn’t let my roommate get ripped apart,” he replied calmly, dunking a small cloth into water. “Head up.” I lifted my chin and he peered closely at my lip. “Doesn’t look like it needs stitches.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
It was a pointed question. He dabbed slowly at the still-bleeding wound on my face, obviously trying to not hurt me much. “Because I like you.”
“What?”
“You seem surprised.”
He sounded amused. I tilted my head slightly, looking at him with my good eye. “I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you.”
“I know.”
“I’ve treated you like garbage.”
He washed the blood off the cloth before returning to cleaning it. “Mmhmm.”
“And you’re saying you like me.” The logic didn’t add up for me.
He stopped a moment, looking me over. “People aren’t always how they portray themselves to be. I had a feeling you’re that type of person.”
Him saying that actually made me feel even worse about things.
“Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything in return,” he said with a shrug, returning to tending to me.
The events of that night, combined with a good amount of others bring us to now. Now includes us an entirely different semester later where we opted to stay as roommates. Now has us on my bed in only our boxers after a particularly amazing bout of sex.
Yes, with each other. Funny how things change.
I grin a bit as he nestles closer to me, his head fitting in under my jaw. He breathes in deeply and I affectionately run a hand through his hair.
“Fuck, that was good,” he murmurs with a contented sigh. I smirk, still idly playing with his hair.
“I hope we didn’t break your glasses,” I reply, glancing around thoughtfully.
“You’ve put them through worse, I’m sure they’re fine. Though, try not to rip them off my face so quickly. I know we were in one of that cliché heat of passion moments, but I think you almost took my ears in the process."
“Noted,” I nod.
The alarm clock near the bed suddenly sprang to life, making an incessant ringing noise. Ed cringes a big, burying his head against my chest.
“Time to get up,” I murmur.
“Don’t want to,” he grumbled, crossly.
“Finals are coming up. You might miss something.”
I hate making sense. I would rather lie with him all day as well, to be honest. He sighs, seeing my point, and slowly untangles himself from me. I watch as he gets off the bed and starts to search for halfway decent clothes. I watch him as he moves around slowly, nearly tripping over the many random objects on the floor.
“Can’t believe it’s the end of the semester.”
This is not a good time for the talk. I can’t believe I started it.
“Yeah. Back to my old one once the last class is over here.”
Please stay. I would say that, but it’s incredibly selfish of me. “Don’t go.”
Oops.
“You know I can’t.”
I do know. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
He grins and shakes his head. “It’s okay. I bet we’ll cross paths again after this. We’re in the same business, after all.”
It seemed unlikely, but I smile anyway. “…Yeah, maybe.”
Fandom: The Daily Show
Characters: Rob Corddry/Ed Helms
Prompt: Writer's Choice: What If?
Word Count: 1,724
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: For garbarella, whom is my sekrit wifey. This is an AU; she wanted me to write them meeting in college instead.
I had thought things were set in stone.
See, it happens all the time. Someone buys a space in one of the many dorms of my university and for some reason or another, they never show up. It is the dream of every dorm-sharer. With the lack of a dorm roommate, you have a two-person room to yourself.
It finally happened to me this year. Two weeks have passed by with no sign of anyone to take up the bed next to mine. After two straight years of having the worst roommates ever, I figure this is karma finally being kind to me.
I was obviously wrong.
By the third week I was relatively confident the room was mine and began to act as such.
This apparently was a mistake, because the day after I put the beds together a knock at my door sounded.
Imagine my surprise when the person behind it was a thin, medium-sized man with black glasses and messy hair. In his arms were boxes that suspiciously looked as though they contained items to move in.
It was the labels on them such as ‘electronics’ and ‘clothes’ that really tipped me off.
“Hi,” he said and I noticed his arms were literally shaking from the exertion of carrying the two aforementioned boxes. I figured he wanted me to grab one, but the puzzlement of the strange guy at my door prevented me from moving. “A-Are you Robert Corddry?”
I haven’t been called Robert since I was eleven. “That’s Rob, and yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”
“Your new roommate,” he explained. “Can you--?”
He motioned to his boxes and I sighed, grabbing one. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I have the paper here somewhere,” he put down his box and fished out a crumpled looking paper out of his pocket. He handed it over before returning back to pulling his stuff inside.
There it was, as he had said. And so began the semester I had with Ed Helms.
At first, there was little common ground. He was relatively reserved-nice, but quiet. And me, well, I was being a jerk on purpose. I know, it isn’t his fault I thought I was getting my own room, but somehow it made it so easy to blame him for my disappointment.
There were days were hardly spoke even when we were in the same room together nearly all day.
When we did talk, it would be curt and rushed. After a month passed, he seemed to get the hint and left me alone completely, opting to silently move about the room like some sort of unwanted specter. I ignored him for the most part, only acknowledging him when people asked about him.
“He’s just some geek,” I’d explain quietly and most of them would nod, understanding.
Of course, things evolve. Things evolved sometimes abruptly. What changed things started one fall night, after a stint of drinking with a friend of mine. It was only a bit away from campus, so I was all set to walk it. Of course, this was an immensely bad idea for two reasons.
One, I was coming out of a mostly gay oriented bar. Did I mention I liked guys? Yeah.
Two, it was three A.M. in Boston near a few other non-gay oriented bars.
When I was first approached by the two guys I shall name Asshole One and Two. I didn’t think much of it until the first fist flew. Nimbly dodging it, I realized only then that trouble was brewing. The guys were built enough to worry me; I knew I could fight, but only to a certain extent.
“Faggot,” Asshole One said, and even in my slightly panic-stricken mind I could not help but wonder why these guys couldn’t at least be a little original with their hate speak.
“I don’t want any trouble guys,” I said, holding my hands up. The buzz of alcohol wasn’t helping my situation much as I stumbled back, looking for a way out.
“He doesn’t want any trouble, hear that?” One asked Two, who snickered.
At this point, I came to realize I just might die in the most cliché death ever. It somehow even made it worse. The second one, a stout, grizzled man, did another punch. Surprisingly limber, I couldn’t dodge it and was hit hard. Flying back, I automatically felt and tasted blood. That one punch had busted my lip wide open. The first one, taller and undoubtedly stronger, grabbed me roughly and held me against him.
Being punched while being held in that way hurt like a bitch. I won’t lie. By the fourth hit my body throbbed in pain, one of my eyes already swelling to the point I couldn’t see out of it.
“You two have about 2 minutes to run.”
The voice made the two stop and I felt the grip tighten as the man turned his head. I couldn’t see who it was. I didn’t care who it was, as long as the person could make them stop. Hopes were dashed when I heard them both laughing, a clear signal that the person likely could not help me much.
“Why? What are you gonna do?” Two asked and gave me a kick for good measure. I leaned down, shuddering as the hit reverberated from my stomach to the rest of my body.
“The cops will be here very soon. If you don’t want trouble, I suggest you leave. Now.”
“You’re bluffing.” One scoffed. “Go grab him, we’ll shut him up too.”
The sirens sounded. I could feel One freeze, then let me go abruptly. I crumpled to the ground, too wasted and in pain to keep myself up. “What do we do?” Two asked.
“Let’s get out of here. You got lucky this time. Fucking faggot.”
They ran. I managed to turn onto my back, staring upward. I could still feel the blood oozing from my lip. With my good eye, I focused on a new face; the one that saved me.
Thing was, it wasn’t so new. “Rob, Rob, are you okay?”
“Ed?” I murmured, wearily.
“Come on, we need to get you out of here before they realize I didn’t actually call the cops.”
I was never so happy to see him.
With a good amount of stumbling, he half-dragged me to our room and dumped me onto my bed. With effort I sat up, my head pounding, the disgusting taste of blood still in my mouth. Ed disappeared for a moment before returning with a few items. He sat on my bed, directly in front of me.
“Here, put this on your eye,” he handed over an ice pack he must have stolen from the first aid kit. I took it and placed it on the bad one quietly. “Doing okay?”
“Besides the fact I nearly got the shit beat out of me, I’m not too bad,” I responded sarcastically, but quickly retracted it a bit. “Thanks to you. Though, you really shouldn’t have…”
“Stepped in? Couldn’t let my roommate get ripped apart,” he replied calmly, dunking a small cloth into water. “Head up.” I lifted my chin and he peered closely at my lip. “Doesn’t look like it needs stitches.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
It was a pointed question. He dabbed slowly at the still-bleeding wound on my face, obviously trying to not hurt me much. “Because I like you.”
“What?”
“You seem surprised.”
He sounded amused. I tilted my head slightly, looking at him with my good eye. “I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you.”
“I know.”
“I’ve treated you like garbage.”
He washed the blood off the cloth before returning to cleaning it. “Mmhmm.”
“And you’re saying you like me.” The logic didn’t add up for me.
He stopped a moment, looking me over. “People aren’t always how they portray themselves to be. I had a feeling you’re that type of person.”
Him saying that actually made me feel even worse about things.
“Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything in return,” he said with a shrug, returning to tending to me.
The events of that night, combined with a good amount of others bring us to now. Now includes us an entirely different semester later where we opted to stay as roommates. Now has us on my bed in only our boxers after a particularly amazing bout of sex.
Yes, with each other. Funny how things change.
I grin a bit as he nestles closer to me, his head fitting in under my jaw. He breathes in deeply and I affectionately run a hand through his hair.
“Fuck, that was good,” he murmurs with a contented sigh. I smirk, still idly playing with his hair.
“I hope we didn’t break your glasses,” I reply, glancing around thoughtfully.
“You’ve put them through worse, I’m sure they’re fine. Though, try not to rip them off my face so quickly. I know we were in one of that cliché heat of passion moments, but I think you almost took my ears in the process."
“Noted,” I nod.
The alarm clock near the bed suddenly sprang to life, making an incessant ringing noise. Ed cringes a big, burying his head against my chest.
“Time to get up,” I murmur.
“Don’t want to,” he grumbled, crossly.
“Finals are coming up. You might miss something.”
I hate making sense. I would rather lie with him all day as well, to be honest. He sighs, seeing my point, and slowly untangles himself from me. I watch as he gets off the bed and starts to search for halfway decent clothes. I watch him as he moves around slowly, nearly tripping over the many random objects on the floor.
“Can’t believe it’s the end of the semester.”
This is not a good time for the talk. I can’t believe I started it.
“Yeah. Back to my old one once the last class is over here.”
Please stay. I would say that, but it’s incredibly selfish of me. “Don’t go.”
Oops.
“You know I can’t.”
I do know. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
He grins and shakes his head. “It’s okay. I bet we’ll cross paths again after this. We’re in the same business, after all.”
It seemed unlikely, but I smile anyway. “…Yeah, maybe.”