Fic: To the Depth and Breadth and Height
Feb. 23rd, 2014 01:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kribbanFandom: Fake News FPF
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 8500
Author’s Note: For this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fakenews_fanfic 2013 Secret Santa:
Pairing: Jon/"Stephen"
Prompt: They get married! I'll take anything -- the proposal, wedding-planning comedy, bachelor party/ies, the ceremony itself, honeymoon PWP, fic about how they adjust to life as newlyweds, whatever inspires you.
Contents: Non-con roleplay, mention of 9/11, political imagery, supernatural goings-on, sappiness. Wifeless AU. Selective interpretation of canon.
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.
Big thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
michelel72 for the beta job!
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Jon came really close to ruining everything.
It was a weeknight late in January when their channel-surfing landed them on TMZ, where a cheerful host divulged the details of a 72-hour celebrity marriage.
“It’s shameful. How can they devalue the institution of marriage like this?” Stephen’s anger was raw and authentic, welling up from somewhere deep inside of him.
Jon shrugged elegantly. “I don’t know, Stephen. I suspect there may have been a large quantity of booze involved.”
“But you find it disgraceful, don’t you?”
“I think it’s stupid. I think they’ll be wiser in the future. But ultimately it’s no one’s business but theirs."
It was the opening Stephen was ready for. He turned so that he was sitting cross-legged, facing Jon.
“It absolutely is our business! I know you permissivists like to pretend that all life choices are equally valid but you’re wrong about this!”
Jon looked decidedly interested now. He put the TV on mute. “Alright. Tell me where I’m wrong.”
Stephen had read The Conservative Case for Same-Sex Marriage more times than he could remember and had all the relevant quotes memorized.
“The reason couples are encouraged to get married is because the commitment they make to each other provides benefits not just for themselves but for their families and communities. Marriage requires thinking beyond one’s own needs and transforms two individuals into a union based on shared aspirations that contributes to the well-being of society. Marriage must not be taken lightly; it has to be a stable bond between two individuals in a social and economic partnership, or else it won’t benefit either the individuals or their community.” He caught his breath, giddy with certainty. “Jon, I’m right and you’re wrong. Accept it.”
Jon was quiet for a few seconds, a smile on his lips. “You said two individuals, not a man and a woman.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Stay focused, Jon! I’m making a profound moral statement on the importance of marriage and you need to tell me you understand.”
“I understand. I agree even, I just think….” Jon trailed off and he looked at Stephen like something had just occurred to him. “Hey, do you think it would be a good idea for the two of us to get married?”
In the years that followed, Stephen would be proud of how fast he reacted. He leaned forward and clapped a hand over Jon’s mouth. “Shut up!”
His heart was pounding. He’d never been so terrified in his life. “No, Jon”, he articulated carefully and slowly. “ I would not think that it would be a good idea if we were married.”
“Hmpf?”
He squeezed Jon’s jaw a bit more firmly than was necessary. “If I were to respond in any other way, my answer would transform your question into a proposal or pre-proposal, which would make it the most insensitive and unromantic proposal in the history of the world. It wouldn’t matter if it was followed by other proposals because it’s the first one that counts. Once I’ve heard it, I can never un-hear it.”
After Jon had nodded a few times against his hand, Stephen removed it.
Jon held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. “Stephen, I officially retract my last question.”
“Good. And you promise not to use any information gained from asking said question for any future purposes?”
Jon frowned. “Wh- What do you mean?”
“If, hypothetically, one were to be subjected to a marriage proposal it would have to be completely unexpected. And the person doing the proposing couldn’t have any inclination as to whether he or she would receive a yes or a no.”
“Oh, come on, Stephen.”
“Otherwise it’s not a real proposal! It’s just a pre-approved exchange of empty words that convey no meaning that the participants aren’t already aware of! And I know you would never subject me to something like that because you love me and you think I deserve better. Right?”
Jon might have been slow on the uptake, but now his gaze was unwavering. “I wouldn’t. Stephen, I would never.”
Stephen sighed with relief. He had narrowly escaped a destiny no Southern gentleman should ever have to meet. He gave his boyfriend an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
“Good, that’s settled. Now find something we can watch that’s less destructive to society.”
***
During the days that followed, Stephen worried that Jon would break his promise. But his boyfriend made no mention of marriage, weddings, or proposals, and after a few weeks the worry gave way to anticipation.
Then came the first Saturday of March, and Jon had made a reservation for them at an upscale restaurant and was wearing a dress jacket. They were in a private room, so they could talk openly without interruption, he had said.
Stephen wasn’t sure he was ready. But at least Jon had tried to make it nice, and if this was the best he could do then Stephen would grin and bear it.
“Babe, do you remember the screenplay I wrote?”
That was an odd lead-in. Stephen took another sip from his champagne flute (at least it was real Champagne!) and nodded supportively. “Yes, my darling?”
“As you know, I asked some guys to look at it, and one thing led to another and it’s going to be a movie.”
Stephen didn’t have to fake enthusiasm at that. “Really? That’s wonderful!”
Jon looked nervous. He must be getting close to the proposal now. “I know, and the crazy part is that they’re okay with me directing it! I’m not naïve, I know it’s my name they’re after, but it will be a great learning opportunity.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little selfish of you?”
Jon frowned. “What do you mean?”
Stephen picked at his lobster meat with his fork. “The story is set in Iran. Wouldn’t the locations look more realistic if the film was shot in the Middle East?”
Jon looked at him cautiously. “Stephen, it will be. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m taking three months off from the show to go to Jordan. Oliver will substitute for me.”
Time moved very slowly for a while. That was the only reason Stephen could think of why his brain didn’t work for a few moments. His fork fell on the tablecloth with a soft thud.
“You’re going away? When?”
Jon nodded. “I’m leaving the second week in June. I’ll be back in the States in the beginning of September.”
That was the whole summer, including the hiatus that they always spent together.
Stephen’s chest felt a little tighter. “What about the Fourth of July? It’s our turn to be in charge of the grill this year.”
“I know, but don’t you think one of your neighbors can help you? If not, then four months is more than enough notice for them to assign you to another station.”
It all made sense now: the nice food and Champagne to cushion the blow, the private room in case they got into a fight.
“When you said you had something to talk to me about I didn’t expect it to be that I’m going to lose you.” That was good; his voice didn’t sound at all as shaky as it felt.
Jon let out a deep sigh. “Oh come on, that’s not fair. You’re not going to lose me.”
“Not permanently! But for a little while! I will lose you for a little while and it will be hard.”
“We’ve been apart before. You went to New Zealand without me. You went to Iraq without me!”
“I wasn’t gone for three months. Not that I couldn’t handle being away from you for three months, because I totally could.” Stephen could feel the strength coming back in his voice. “It would just be hard.”
A soft smile spread on Jon’s face. “Stephen... I really want to do this.”
And that was that. The film was Jon’s aspiration, and by the virtue of their eventual marriage it was Stephen’s as well.
He reached for Jon’s hand across the table. “Okay, I’ll find someone to replace you. For the grill! Not as my boyfriend!”
Jon wrapped both his hands around Stephen’s. “Aw, thanks, babe.”
Stephen allowed himself to revel in the sensation of Jon’s strong, soft hands. “It’s not your name. I know part of your charm is that you’re always downplaying how amazing you are, but you shouldn’t listen to yourself so much that you start believing it. You fell in love with this story.” Stephen had spent enough nights waiting for Jon to turn off the lights to know that it was true. “And you created a vision for the screen that was compelling enough for them to want to turn it into a movie. Of course they’d want you at the helm.”
Jon shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.”
Stephen pulled his hand free and picked up his champagne flute. “No, Jon, I’m absolutely right. Let’s have a toast.”
Jon picked up his own glass. “What should we toast to?”
Stephen pondered it for a while. “To shared aspirations.”
***
Stephen didn’t know who he was.
He breathed heavily against Jon’s neck and leaned back against the desk, pulling Jon down with his weight.
Perhaps he was a lowly intern, driven into the boss’s office by the fear of withheld credentials.
Maybe he was an innocent young prince, forced into a political marriage and about to learn firsthand what his marital duties entailed.
Or maybe he was himself, back in the days when he was just a correspondent, tearfully promising to do anything Jon asked, anything, if only he would let him keep his job.
Okay, that never happened, but it was a really nice fantasy.
This wasn’t Jon’s kink, but he accepted being an extra in Stephen’s dramatizations, as long as Stephen was calling the shots. Like this.
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
He exposed his neck, a clear cue that he wanted to be kissed there.
“Uh-huh.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. You’re a powerful, important man and your orders cannot be disobeyed.”
He squirmed until Jon’s hand was on his hip and whimpered approvingly.
Since Jon’s return they had fallen back into their old habit of having lunch together at his office.
Stephen had forgotten how nice it was to see his boyfriend during the middle of the day; to catch up and cuddle a little before returning to his own studio. Up until now Jon had stopped him before things got too heated, but today he had grinned and told Stephen to lock the door.
Stephen had been so excited to get to use his office-based scenarios again that he hadn’t been able to pick one. But it didn’t matter; their personal history and the symbolism associated with this room were enough to get all his fires burning.
“What happens in your office is no one’s business. If someone were to come in here by accident, they’d only think that you were taking what was yours to take.” He wet his lips and wondered how much longer it would be until Jon took off his pants. “It would be seen as a private matter, nothing for anyone else to concern themselves with. If we were married, it wouldn’t even be a crime.”
The hand on his fly stilled and before he knew it Jon had moved away from him.
“I can’t do this.”
“Sir?”
“Stephen.”
Stephen moaned. “What’s the matter? Are you not….” he motioned towards Jon’s crotch. “Are you having trouble...?”
Jon exhaled shakily. “You know it’s not true, right? That even if you’re married it’s still rape if you say no.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Jon, don’t tell me that being away for three months has made you forget how this works. I’m only pretending not to want this. Unless I say Liberty Bell, ‘no’ means ‘yes’ and ‘stop’ means ‘please ravage me’. Now, I have to be in the car in twenty minutes, so whatever impulse it is that you’re having, clamp down on it!”
Jon shook his head. The lovely flush that had been on his cheeks was gone.
“I’m not talking about roleplay. In a roleplay you can pretend not to be equals without actually believing it, but… sometimes I get the feeling that you do believe it.”
Stephen groaned. “Would it matter if I did? Your self-absorbed liberal guilt wou-”
“It fucking matters!”
Stephen gasped and Jon took a step backwards, as if his own anger scared him. He sank down in the chair they had pushed away a few minutes earlier.
“Stephen, if you don’t feel like we’re equals, or if you think there’s a chance you’ll ever feel obligated to have sex with me that you don’t want to have, I really need to know.”
The tone in his voice was deadly serious. This wasn’t just a normal freak-out. This was about their future marriage.
“Jon, it will literally never be an issue. I’ll always want to have sex with you.”
“Stephen….”
Stephen held up his hand. “But I don’t think I’m obligated to. Yes, with some of the other guys I felt like I had to do things whether I wanted to or not – and I always wanted to! But I’ve never felt that way with you and I never will.”
Even after we’re married, he added silently.
“And if sometimes – very rarely – I defer to your judgment, it’s only because you know more about some things than I do, and because I know you have my best interests at heart. Just like you sometimes defer to my judgment, and should do more often!”
He crossed the small distance between them. “Look at this.” He plucked at the collar of Jon’s shirt. “This color is completely wrong for your complexion.”
Jon looked up at him. His eyes seemed to be younger than the rest of his face. “Are you telling me I should take your word for it?”
Stephen leaned down and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders. Jon’s head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck.
“Please don’t worry.” He used his most comforting voice. “Not about this. I’m as safe with you as I could ever be.”
Jon exhaled sharply and squeezed him tightly. “And you’re not just telling me what I want to hear?”
Stephen sniffed. “You know me, Stewart. I call it like I see it.”
***
He was in a large store with display cases from floor to ceiling. Sale must have been over, because almost all of them were empty, or maybe his subconscious was too lazy to fill in the details. It didn’t matter because there was only one item he was interested in.
“What is it?”
The shopkeeper smiled at him, which was strange considering that she didn’t have a face. “Pretty, isn’t it? It’s a conservative heart. It beats for commitment, responsibility, order, and tradition.”
The heart glowed deep red with golden streaks dancing on the surface. The radiant core turned consistently clockwise but on second glance it appeared to be standing still. The effect was breath taking.
“It’s beautiful. How much is it?”
The shopkeeper laughed. “You don’t need another one, Stephen. That would get you into a world of trouble.”
She pointed to the empty case next to it. “There’s a matching piece you might be interested in. Dark blue with silver streaks; beats for fairness, partnership, respect, and equality. I think it would go great with yours.”
Stephen had to agree. “It sounds like it’s very beautiful.”
She nodded. “It is. Unfortunately I don’t have one in at the moment, but now you know what you’re looking for.”
“You don’t have it? Wow, my subconscious is really falling down on the job.”
She looked at him curiously, and now he saw that she wasn’t a shopkeeper at all.
“Stephen, this isn’t your dream.”
***
“Accepting the Emmy on behalf of The Colbert Report is Stephen Colbert!”
Stephen thought it was a miracle that he didn’t trip over his feet on the way to the podium. When the Emmy was a solid weight in his hand he felt light-headed.
Finally, after all those years, he had the final proof to show that he had broken free from Jon’s shadow.
He couldn’t wait to show it to him.
***
The after-party was amazing.
From the moment he and Emmy walked into the ballroom there was a glass of Champagne in his hand or a hand on his shoulder. Tom and Meredith had offered to help carry Emmy, but Stephen had respectfully declined. They could carry the less important one, if they wanted.
They danced, drank, laughed, and celebrated their amazing achievement. It was only after the third trip to the buffet table that he started to feel a little down.
“Hey.” Meredith put a hand on his arm as they watched Tom snuggle up to his wife. “He would have been here if he could have.”
***
Jon practically threw the door open and pulled Stephen into a wonderfully tight hug.
“Congratulations!”
He had congratulated Stephen on the phone, in text message, and via Skype, but none of those really counted.
Stephen grinned against his neck. “Congratulations for what?”
Jon let him go. He had a huge grin on his face.
“Congratulations for winning the Emmy for Outstanding Variety Show 2013! You guys have had the best show for years, and now it’s official! Oh babe, this is long overdue. Can I see it?”
“Of course!”
Stephen shrugged off his messenger bag and opened it. Emmy had been on her best behavior during the flight and she was just as beautiful as he remembered her. He carefully lifted her out.
“Emmy, this is Jon. You could have ended up living with him but it turns out my show is better so you didn’t have to. Well, technically my show is his show, too, but it’s mostly mine. Jon, this is my Emmy.”
“The inscription looks nice. I’m really happy for you.” Jon pointed towards the dining room. “Listen, the game is almost starting so I have to order the pizza. You can go sit down.”
Stephen’s feet were firmly planted on the floor. “Pizza?” he said faintly. “You’re going to watch a game and order pizza?”
Jon wrung his hands together. “Pizza’s not good?”
Stephen’s heart sank. “I was just under the impression that this occasion would be a cause for celebration. This is what I have worked towards for the last seven years, each of those years with you by my side as my co-executive producer, and now I’ve finally won her for us, and I thought that it would mean something to you. But apparently I was mistaken.”
Jon gave him a sympathetic look. “You wanted a little more pomp and circumstance?”
“Yes!”
“Something more exclusive than TV and take-out? A celebration fitting for the greatest victory of your professional life?”
Stephen sniffed and clutched Emmy to his chest. “Uh-huh.”
Jon nodded. “I see. Something like this?”
He pushed the door to the dining room open.
Stephen gasped.
The dining table had been moved to the middle of the room and was covered by a floor-length cloth. Two large candelabra stood on each side of the table, illuminating the room with the flames from long wax candles.
As he followed Jon, classical music started playing and he realized with a jolt that they weren’t alone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the man of the hour: Stephen Colbert. Stephen, this is the New York Virtuosi.”
Stephen waved nervously. “Nice to meet you.”
The musicians nodded politely but didn’t take further notice of either of them.
There was a serving cart next to the table and it was loaded with trays and pans. Jon pulled out one of the chairs. “Your seat, sir.”
Stephen put Emmy on the table and sat down. There was a vase with a single red rose next to his plate. He looked at the cart.
“Did you hire a chef?”
“Yeah, but I told him I had extensive serving experience and could handle it from here.”
“It’s still a lot you pulled off on short notice.”
Jon’s eyes glittered. “I had a hunch this would be your year.”
It turned out that Jon also had extensive experience opening Champagne bottles. They toasted to Stephen’s win; they ate prawn cocktail, Jerusalem artichoke soup, and Beef Wellington. Jon listened to Stephen’s detailed account of the award show and the after-party, and through it all the string quartet played. Stephen had thought their presence would make him nervous but he was buzzed on Champagne and attention.
When they finished their set and left he was disappointed, but Jon put on some classic guitar music and made coffee. Dessert was Crème Caramel, which was near perfection, and afterwards Stephen was so mellow that he didn’t notice Jon was missing until he returned.
He set down a large, quilt-covered object on the floor next to Stephen.
“You’ll probably keep her at your house most of the time. But if you ever bring her here, well, she deserves a nice place to stand, don’t you think?”
He pulled the quilt off and revealed a wooden pedestal, about five feet tall. “Walnut.”
Stephen was amazed. “You made this? For me?”
Jon nodded. “It’s not perfect. I didn’t manage to hide the screws completely, and there’s a slight discoloration where the sapwood didn’t dye right. See?”
“I think it’s perfect.” Stephen carefully placed Emmy on top of the pedestal. She looked like she was completely comfortable there. “This must have taken you weeks to make.”
Jon smiled. “Like I said; I had a hunch.”
***
Jon didn’t propose. Autumn came and went. Jon’s birthday had the bad taste to coincide with both Hanukkah and Thanksgiving and coordinating it almost gave Stephen an ulcer.
The Christmas decorations were put up, both in New York City and at Stephen’s house, and he started planning for the holiday.
The snow fell.
Jon didn’t propose.
***
“What do you mean you don’t have the energy for it?”
Jon handed him his cup of coffee with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Stephen, I just can’t focus on anything else right now. Can’t you handle it on your own?”
“You realize that I’ve already made a huge concession in agreeing to celebrate Christmas in New York. And in return you promised to defer to my expertise as a Christian. ”
“I know, babe, and I swear I’ll do everything else you ask of me. I’ll decorate, I’ll bake cookies, and I’ll sing carols, anything you want me to do. I just don’t have the energy to go shopping today.”
Stephen sighed. “It will take longer without you.”
Jon seemed to ponder this for a while. “Not necessarily. You could save a lot of time if you go to Hiddentown.”
***
There were several entrances to the shopping district known as Hiddentown, but Stephen took the one he was most familiar with.
It was eerie to be alone in the Report studio. Everyone had left for their Christmas vacation and wouldn’t return until January. A few years ago this would have angered him, but he understood now that his co-workers deserved to have time off with their families.
He rolled his office chair away and crawled under the anchor’s desk. He reached for the familiar button and felt himself sink feet-first into the warm, welcoming abyss.
***
The trees that were planted alongside Main Street were all covered in Christmas lights. Spruce wreaths and tinsel hung from every doorway. Shoppers with rosy cheeks welled in and out of the countless shops.
Stephen immediately felt his Christmas spirit soar.
He secured all items on his shopping list in just under two hours and went in search of a café or restaurant where he could have lunch. But every place he tried sent him away. They were too crowded, were too busy, had run out of human food, or simply refused to serve him without explanation.
Slightly frustrated, but determined not to let it put a damper on his newly won cheer, Stephen decided to go to the one place where he could always count on a friendly welcome.
It wasn’t hard to find even though it had moved since his last visit. The mermaid waved absent-mindedly to him from her sign before she went back to braiding her hair.
He ordered a Bistro Box and a Gingerbread Latte and sank down in a chair next to the window with his bags on the floor next to him. When his name was called, he was surprised to see a familiar face.
“Mike! I didn’t know you still worked here.”
“Ah, it’s the man upstairs. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.”
“I’ve been busy. It was a woman who took my order, did you guys switch or something?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, Therese went on her break. Union rules, you know.”
Stephen took a sip of the latte. It was Christmas cheer in liquid form. “I didn’t know you were unionized.”
“Yep, for a couple of years now. Jon Stewart helped us with it back in 2013.”
“It’s 2013 now.”
“It is? Huh.” Mike shrugged.
Stephen took his food and went back to his seat. As he ate his meal a steady stream of people passed outside the window. He’d never seen Hiddentown this crowded before, but then again it was the day before Christmas.
Just as he was about to leave, Mike came up to him looking embarrassed.
“I totally forgot I was supposed to give this to you.” He handed Stephen a small velvet box.
It was just the right size. Stephen’s hands trembled as he opened it.
“It’s empty.”
Mike gave him an odd look. “So it is. Don’t worry. There’s a jewelry store not far from here. You could probably find something there that fits.”
Stephen snapped the lid shut. “Did Jon Stewart tell you to give this to me? Was he here?”
Mike shrugged. “Didn’t see him. But if you want to make it to the store, you’d better hurry.”
***
Stephen walked as fast as he could without working up a sweat. If he was going to be proposed to he wanted to look as presentable as possible. If he wasn’t, and the box was just a ploy in some new advertising campaign, well, it wouldn’t hurt to look good.
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t see the man he ran head-first into.
“Whoa, going a little fast there, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry, I – Jason! Sam! What are you doing here?”
“Same thing everyone else is doing: Christmas shopping! The parking is free and we only have to pay the baby sitter for an hour. I call that a bargain!”
Sam gave Stephen one of her non-sarcastic smiles. Perhaps the Christmas cheer had gotten to her as well. “Where are you headed to, cowboy?”
He put his bags down and fished the box out from his jacket pocket. “To the jeweler. Do you know where it is?”
Jason looked at his wife. “There are lots of stores here, but I don’t recall seeing a jewelry store. Did you see one, honey?”
Sam shook her head. “Oooh, but I did see a really cute baker’s shop where they sold these little cupcake molds that looked like they were made for dolls. Or tiny, tiny children.”
Stephen sighed. “Did Jon ask you guys to come here?”
Jason shrugged. “Beats me! Why would he ask us to come here?”
Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t see any reason why he would do that, which he totally didn’t.”
Considering how obnoxious they could be with their interview victims, it was surprising what bad liars they both were.
“Okay, okay, I get that this is some kind of set-up, and I’m not going to ruin it. I just want to know if-” Stephen held up the box. “If there is anything in particular you would suggest I do right now?”
The two of them shared a look and then said in unison: “Have a drink with us.”
***
The first thing Stephen did was to go the bathroom and check that he still looked presentable.
(He did.)
When he returned, Sam and Jason had taken a corner table and were talking to a young woman in a surprisingly tasteful uniform. She gave him a friendly smile.
“Do you need some time to order, sir?”
Stephen sank down into one of the chairs. “That’s it? No special welcome? No meaningful look or cryptic message?
No directions to the jewelry store, for instance?”
She looked nervous. “Welcome to Full House, sir. I can show you today’s special if you like?”
“He’ll also have a Moosehead,” Sam interjected. “Excuse our American friend, he’s just feeling entitled.”
Stephen glared at her menacingly.
The waitress disappeared and soon returned with their beers. After serving them, she lingered a while with her tray.
“I don’t mean to impose, but I know you work with Jon Stewart and I just wanted to tell you how much we all appreciate what he’s done for us.”
Sam looked surprised. “You know Jon?”
“I don’t know him personally, but his support was instrumental during the negotiations between the merchants' association and the unions.”
Sam and Jason looked puzzled. Stephen started tapping his beer glass with his middle finger. “What year is it?”
The waitress looked at her leather wrist watch. “2013. Yes, that’s what I thought. Why?”
“It’s just that you’re the second person today to tell me that Jon Stewart helped make their jobs better. And since I know Jon personally but have never heard a word about this, I’m curious as to when all this world-improving is supposed to have taken place. “
“Well, I started working here four years ago, and that was just when the new rules were being implemented.”
“Four years ago?”
She counted silently and nodded. “Yes, I started in January 2013. A year in the pocket is about three months up top. That’s why some employers used to have 24-hour shifts for non-residents.” She shuddered.
“Are you a non-resident?” Jason asked.
She shook her head. “No, I live here.”
“How long can you stay here?” Sam asked curiously. “I’ve only been down here a couple of times, so I don’t understand a lot about how things work here.”
The waitress didn’t seem to mind talking about it. “Twelve years is the maximum, but I think another two will be enough for me. I’ve been up a couple of times, and it’s really strange. You talk to your friends or your brother or your mom and you realize that even if you get the dates right, you’re still out of synch. A lot more has happened to you than to them.”
Stephen watched the carbon dioxide bubbles in his beer float towards the surface. “Like you’ve had an unusually intense year.“
She looked at him and nodded. “That’s right. Enjoy your drinks.”
The three of them drank their beers and discussed Jon’s secret good deeds and the merits of living full-time in Hiddentown. They were in the middle of debating whether a year-long summer made up for enduring a year-long winter (Jason thought so, Sam and Stephen didn’t) when their waitress returned. She held up a flat piece of burgundy plastic with an image of an old-fashioned building and the text ‘Full House – Hiddentown, NYC’ written on it.
“You get a complimentary placemat for every order over twenty dollars.”
Sam eyed it warily. Stephen shook his head. “Thanks, but I think we’ll pass.”
“Are you sure? It has a map on the back.”
***
Stephen was on the right path.
With the map, finding the jewelry store was easy. All he had to do was follow the street until it divided in two, turn left, turn right at the scoop shop, and walk straight ahead.
He had left his bags with Sam and Jason. If this really was a proposal, he wanted to walk empty-handed into it.
And suddenly: there it was. An old-fashioned sign said Eregion Jewelry and various pieces of gold and silver were on display in the windows. Stephen put the placemat in the nearest trash can, straightened his jacket, and walked inside.
A black-haired girl, barely out of high school, leaned on her elbows on the counter. “Are you Stephen?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Awesome.” She walked around the counter and pulled open a hatch in the wall, revealing a pneumatic tube system. “Give it to me.”
Stephen held on to the box tightly. “I’m… I’m supposed to get a ring.”
“We don’t sell rings here.”
He was so surprised that he almost forgot to be nervous for a second. “You are named after the elven smiths of Eregion, the forgers of the Rings of Power, and you don’t sell rings?”
“I didn’t name the store.” The girl held out her hand. “It’s okay. She’ll know it’s you.”
After a few moments of hesitation, Stephen handed her the box. It vanished up in the tube with a sucking sound.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the reason you’re here. As you no doubt saw on the sign, this store was founded in 1983.That means it’s one of the oldest in the neighborhood.”
Stephen calculated quickly. “One hundred and twenty years old, if I’m correct?”
“Not quite. You see, Hiddentown was really only a couple of blocks back then, and time didn’t move as fast as it does today. The best analogy I’ve been able to come up with is a crack in a soft material. If you apply pressure on it, the crack will deepen and widen, while the surrounding material shifts around it. If no one had been up there,” she pointed upwards, “she wouldn’t have been able to grow.”
Stephen opened his mouth and closed it again. “Oh... you mean.” He snapped his fingers. “You’re talking about the pocket.”
The girl nodded. “Come on. We can talk more on the way.”
***
They climbed stairs that curved gently. When they were almost at the top, they took a break in front of a small window. From this height they could see a large portion of the neighborhood: the shopping district, the parks and ice-covered lakes; the residential area was single-family homes mixed with high-rise buildings.
His guide leaned against the railing. “See, the pocket is sentient, but she doesn’t have an imagination of her own. She needs to feed off of human beings for that. Nowadays she gets a lot of her inspiration from people who live and work here, but the strongest influence has always come from the rupture point.”
Underneath the anchor desk, unseen for God knows how many years, was a yearning, learning rift in reality. It was scary to think of all the people who had sat there, not knowing the world that they were helping shape.
“I guess this explains why Jon has had such a great influence on the community here. He sat on top of the rupture point for years.”
“Oh.” The girl looked surprised and almost embarrassed. “Did you think it was Jon Stewart who did this? I’m sorry; I should have explained it better. The pocket doesn’t feed off of passive people. They have to acknowledge her first. She needs to be seen.”
“Jon sees her. He’s been here lots of times.”
“Only after you showed him. Look, I don’t know either of you, but I do know where the pocket’s allegiances lie.”
She made a sweeping gesture towards the cityscape beneath them. “Stephen, this was all you. Yeah, Jon is one of the people who helped make this neighborhood better, and we’re very grateful for it, but you’re the one who made it grow.”
***
After another few minutes of climbing they reached a large stone door. The girl shook his hand. “I hope you enjoy the experience. It’s been custom-designed for you.”
“Where are you going?” The thought of facing what was behind that door alone was suddenly very scary.
“My shift’s ending so I have to close up the store. It was nice to meet you, Stephen.”
A pretty important detail occurred to him just then. “Wait! If you’re closing down the store, how do I get out afterwards?”
She grinned and started walking down the stairs slowly. “I wouldn’t worry about that part.”
Stephen stood still until the sounds of her footsteps had faded away. None of the adventure novels he had read had prepared him for this moment. There would be no orcs or goblins waiting for him, but something a lot more frightening.
He put his hand on the handle and pressed down. The door swung open with a creaking sound. The darkness was so thick he couldn’t see the size of the room or what it contained, so he put his hand up in front of him and started walking.
It was like being inside a void. The air was completely odorless. There was no echo. He couldn’t even hear his own footsteps.
Suddenly there was light ahead. As he got closer he saw bright dots of color suspended at the height of his eyes.
It looked like someone had thrown a bucketful of gems up in the air. Emerald green, blue sapphire, ruby red, purple amethyst, and a dozen others he had forgotten the names of. They seemed solid, but when he looked closer he saw that that they were just spots of concentrated light.
The one closest to him was yellow topaz and seemed to be vibrating slightly. He reached for it, and the second his finger hit the spot, sounds and sight came rushing towards him.
Jon was leaning back in an armchair, slender and dark-haired, groaning into the Nokia cell phone he was holding up against his ear. “I didn’t tell you the worst of it yet! One of the correspondents is one of those preppy, repressed Dan Quayle contenders. He’s so ignorant it would be amusing if he wasn’t completely obnoxious about it. Yeah…. You could probably do something with it, it’s just….
Stephen pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. A surge of emotion hit him and it took a second for him to realize that it wasn’t his own.
Jon hadn’t felt contempt or disdain for Stephen; he’d been scared. The responsibility of hosting the show frightened him and he worried that he wasn’t good enough.
Stephen thought back on his own first memories of Jon. He’d found his new boss to be polite but withdrawn, tense and trying desperately to hide it.
“What are these? Are they his memories?”
There was only silence. A rose-colored dot vibrated next to him. He touched it.
Despair and terror had given way to numbness and apathy. There was no buzz to be had from drinking, just sedation and a need to piss. Stephen was next to him, cradling his bottle and looking impossibly young and handsome.
“You don’t need to worry about a thing. The President will take care of it. We’ll just swoop in.” He made a sweeping gesture with his free hand. “Bomb the evildoers and be done with it. In and out, and they’ll never hurt us again.”
For the first time in days Jon felt a powerful emotion that wasn’t related to fear of dying.
“I envy you.”
Stephen smiled. “It’s because unlike you, Jon, I have faith. I have faith in America that she will bounce right back. I have faith that the President knows what he’s doing because I voted for him, and I wouldn’t vote for someone if they wouldn’t be a great President. And I have faith that you will find the silver lining in this situation if you only look hard enough. For example, your living room window has an unobstructed view of the Statue of Liberty now. That’s got to help raise the market value of your apartment.”
Jon took a couple of shaky breaths before he started laughing.
Stephen snatched his hand away. “I remember that day. You don’t need to show me things I was there for.”
But he hadn’t known what Jon had felt before. The relief caught up to him and it felt like a gentle wind; the feelings of not being alone, that some things were still the same in the midst of chaos. It was the emotional equivalent of a bear hug.
Stephen reveled in the emotion until it faded. “Okay, I see your point. Show me the next one.”
The emerald dot blinked.
For the next half hour Stephen experienced a selection of Jon’s most intimate emotions. He felt the irritation turn into sympathy and the sympathy evolve into affection. He felt pride when Jon tried to convince their bosses they should give The Report a trial season. He felt delight at late-night texts and silly e-mails. He also felt frustration and disappointment and the levelheaded way Jon was trying to deal with it.
”After all that’s happened, he’s still sticking up for Bush, but I get why. It’s because he values loyalty above everything else, and that’s what I need to focus on. Even if I can’t respect who he’s loyal to, I can respect his loyalty.”
And then, sapphire blue and burning bright, he experienced that passionate night when the edges of familiarity had been stretched. It was odd to feel the attraction to himself, the pleasure Jon took in his moans and the way his body responded, how he thought Stephen smelled good all over and was miles out of his league. How it wasn’t weird at all to have sex with your best friend; that it was like coming home when you didn’t know you had one.
Stephen let that one end on its own, and when the light went out he lingered with his hand in the air for a few seconds before he composed himself.
There was Jon struggling to do a good job during the Writers’ Strike and being deeply impressed by how well Stephen was winging it. There was Jon worrying every day that Stephen was in Iraq. There was Jon in Jordan, exhausted and homesick, watching The Report on his hotel bed and being overcome with admiration.
“He really does love you.”
“I know that!” Stephen yelled. “Don’t you think I know that?” and then… “Wait, are you actually talking to me?”
He looked around the room, half expecting the voice to have a body or at least a point he could focus on.
“But you haven’t experienced it the way he has before.”
“Is that important? That I feel what he feels?”
“It’s how I learned from you. But this collection of moments is a gift, not a lesson.”
Stephen spun around. Of course it was ridiculous to look for her in one spot; she was everywhere.
“A gift from Jon or from you? In either case it was a very thoughtful gift,” he added hurriedly. “I enjoyed it very much.”
“You’re not quite finished yet.”
Suddenly, a light turned on. Stephen squinted, and once his eyes had gotten used to the brightness he saw that the colored dots had faded away and a new one had appeared. It was white like a diamond and had a surface that looked suspiciously like something he had seen once before.
“It’s so much brighter than the others.”
“Yes. Can you think of why?”
Stephen’s breath hitched. “It’s because it hasn’t happened yet.”
“That’s right.”
He felt weak in the knees. “Won’t I… won’t it mess up the timeline if I know what’s going to happen?”
“You won’t be able to recall any details, and besides, the future is always moving. It’s only your future if you choose it. Just be warned that there are parts of it that might hurt.”
Stephen froze with his hand in the air. “Why? Do bad things happen?”
"Bad things happen to everyone, but in your case the worst is behind you. However, it might be overwhelming to experience that much emotion at once.”
Relieved, Stephen nodded. “I can take it. Don’t worry.” He took a deep breath and touched the light with his index finger.
It wasn’t one scene; it was thousands of scenes. They were coming in and out of his field of vision like boats sailing by on a fast river.
There was his house in Montclair, Jon’s summer house, his other summer house, the apartment in New York, and a couple of homes he didn’t recognize.
There were dinners with faceless friends they knew well, trips all over the world, several years of producing the shows and the successful careers that came after.
There were also countless domestic scenes: intense discussions at the breakfast table, watching movies with Stephen draped over him on the couch, being amazed at how frustrating and adorable his husband could be after all these years….
Yeah, those were Jon’s emotions all right, buzzing in the background of each unique scene.
Now he could see America like a map laid out in front of him; every one of their communities thriving as the years were added to each other like the pages of a book. Hiddentown was blooming; it was amazing what could be achieved when creativity was kept in check by common sense regulations. And none of their communities, not even Charleston, was harmed in the slightest by their marriage.
He must have seen all that he was meant to see because the sights and emotions were suddenly pulled away, like he had been woken hastily from a dream.
Then he felt it: the vast, endless depth of Jon’s love.
He was too small to contain it.
It filled up every corner of his mind and tugged at the seams of his soul in all directions.
A life’s worth of affection, admiration, and trust, each fragment of emotion woven together in an endless thread that wouldn’t break until its maker was dead.
There was nowhere to hide. He couldn’t fight it. All he could do was be loved.
It was excruciating.
Gradually he could feel his hands over his eyes and his feet on the floor as the room came into focus once again. The light was gone, but the overall darkness had lifted.
“Don’t take it away!” he cried. “I want to feel it again!”
“You will. One bit at a time, like you were meant to.”
He wiped his eyes. “I need to see him! I need to tell him I understand.”
He was probably red-eyed and messed up, but it didn’t matter. The only thing he cared about was holding Jon and vowing he would be strong in the ways Jon couldn’t, that he’d be everything he needed and more.
He closed his eyes. “Please, please, I’m ready.”
Everything was quiet. For a few seconds he thought she hadn’t heard him, but then he felt cool air against his face and realized that the floor underneath him was no longer smooth. He opened his eyes and saw Christmas lights in the branches of a tree. There was a descending staircase in front of him, just a dozen or so steps, and at the foot of it a small crowd had gathered.
Standing in front of the others was Jon, looking handsome in his coat and scarf.
A small part of Stephen wanted to run down and throw himself into his boyfriend’s arms, but he had waited this long, and he wanted to see it to the end.
He started making his descent slowly, painfully aware that Jon was looking at him the whole time. He kept his eyes downcast, ostensibly for the purpose of watching his steps, but in reality to postpone breaking down. When he was firmly on the ground, Jon smiled warmly at him.
“Hi, babe. I’m not going to promise I won’t be sentimental or fall back on any clichés, because I don’t have a whole lot of experience writing proposals, and I just might.” A small ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
Jon continued, a little more confidently. “So I’m just going to say you make my life brighter and better. You help me see things I can’t see on my own, whether it’s the side of an argument or a rupture in space that contains a secret world. You’re my best friend and the last great love of my life.” He pointed towards the audience. “It’s not a cliché if it’s true, people.”
There was another soft ripple of laughter, but he never took his eyes off Stephen. “You’re it for me,” he said softly. “And I never want to take that lightly.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an elegant white ring with three small stones in discreet settings: a ruby, a diamond, and a sapphire.
“Stephen, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Suddenly it felt like the year of waiting had been worth it. The tears that he had managed to hold back fell freely from Stephen’s eyes. He nodded. “I think it would be a great idea!”
Jon’s face broke into a huge smile. He found Stephen’s left hand and carefully slipped the ring on his finger. It fit perfectly.
They kissed passionately for a long time.
When the applause died down, Stephen broke the kiss to throw his arms around Jon and they hugged each other tightly while the crowd dispersed around them.
“Congratulations!”
Jason slapped Stephen on the back. “Do you want your bags now, or?”
Stephen cuddled into Jon’s embrace and held out his hand for Sam to examine. “No, but you can give them to my fiancé.”
“Ooh, this is a nice ring. That I absolutely had no part in selecting,” Sam said cheekily. “But the patriotic touch is a little risky. The casual observer might be confused as to whether you’re married to Jon or to America!”
Stephen sighed happily and flexed his fingers. “It’s –“
“It’s both,” Jon said with a smile. “He’ll be married to me, but our marriage will benefit America.”
***
The Birch Road Fourth of July committee delegated all party tasks according to a rotating schedule with one exception: for the last couple of years, the barbecue duty had been assigned to the Colbert-Stewarts. The reason for this was simple: the Colbert-Stewarts were an exceptionally efficient team that expedited the orders quickly with a minimum of complaints.
If any residents had disagreed with the committee’s decision, they kept it to themselves. The party guests were always pleased with their food, and the funds that had previously been reserved for emergency pizza were added to the beer-and-fireworks budget.
Who in their right mind would have a problem with that?
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 8500
Author’s Note: For this prompt at
fakenews_fanfic 2013 Secret Santa:Pairing: Jon/"Stephen"
Prompt: They get married! I'll take anything -- the proposal, wedding-planning comedy, bachelor party/ies, the ceremony itself, honeymoon PWP, fic about how they adjust to life as newlyweds, whatever inspires you.
Contents: Non-con roleplay, mention of 9/11, political imagery, supernatural goings-on, sappiness. Wifeless AU. Selective interpretation of canon.
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.
Big thank you to
michelel72 for the beta job! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Jon came really close to ruining everything.
It was a weeknight late in January when their channel-surfing landed them on TMZ, where a cheerful host divulged the details of a 72-hour celebrity marriage.
“It’s shameful. How can they devalue the institution of marriage like this?” Stephen’s anger was raw and authentic, welling up from somewhere deep inside of him.
Jon shrugged elegantly. “I don’t know, Stephen. I suspect there may have been a large quantity of booze involved.”
“But you find it disgraceful, don’t you?”
“I think it’s stupid. I think they’ll be wiser in the future. But ultimately it’s no one’s business but theirs."
It was the opening Stephen was ready for. He turned so that he was sitting cross-legged, facing Jon.
“It absolutely is our business! I know you permissivists like to pretend that all life choices are equally valid but you’re wrong about this!”
Jon looked decidedly interested now. He put the TV on mute. “Alright. Tell me where I’m wrong.”
Stephen had read The Conservative Case for Same-Sex Marriage more times than he could remember and had all the relevant quotes memorized.
“The reason couples are encouraged to get married is because the commitment they make to each other provides benefits not just for themselves but for their families and communities. Marriage requires thinking beyond one’s own needs and transforms two individuals into a union based on shared aspirations that contributes to the well-being of society. Marriage must not be taken lightly; it has to be a stable bond between two individuals in a social and economic partnership, or else it won’t benefit either the individuals or their community.” He caught his breath, giddy with certainty. “Jon, I’m right and you’re wrong. Accept it.”
Jon was quiet for a few seconds, a smile on his lips. “You said two individuals, not a man and a woman.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Stay focused, Jon! I’m making a profound moral statement on the importance of marriage and you need to tell me you understand.”
“I understand. I agree even, I just think….” Jon trailed off and he looked at Stephen like something had just occurred to him. “Hey, do you think it would be a good idea for the two of us to get married?”
In the years that followed, Stephen would be proud of how fast he reacted. He leaned forward and clapped a hand over Jon’s mouth. “Shut up!”
His heart was pounding. He’d never been so terrified in his life. “No, Jon”, he articulated carefully and slowly. “ I would not think that it would be a good idea if we were married.”
“Hmpf?”
He squeezed Jon’s jaw a bit more firmly than was necessary. “If I were to respond in any other way, my answer would transform your question into a proposal or pre-proposal, which would make it the most insensitive and unromantic proposal in the history of the world. It wouldn’t matter if it was followed by other proposals because it’s the first one that counts. Once I’ve heard it, I can never un-hear it.”
After Jon had nodded a few times against his hand, Stephen removed it.
Jon held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. “Stephen, I officially retract my last question.”
“Good. And you promise not to use any information gained from asking said question for any future purposes?”
Jon frowned. “Wh- What do you mean?”
“If, hypothetically, one were to be subjected to a marriage proposal it would have to be completely unexpected. And the person doing the proposing couldn’t have any inclination as to whether he or she would receive a yes or a no.”
“Oh, come on, Stephen.”
“Otherwise it’s not a real proposal! It’s just a pre-approved exchange of empty words that convey no meaning that the participants aren’t already aware of! And I know you would never subject me to something like that because you love me and you think I deserve better. Right?”
Jon might have been slow on the uptake, but now his gaze was unwavering. “I wouldn’t. Stephen, I would never.”
Stephen sighed with relief. He had narrowly escaped a destiny no Southern gentleman should ever have to meet. He gave his boyfriend an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
“Good, that’s settled. Now find something we can watch that’s less destructive to society.”
***
During the days that followed, Stephen worried that Jon would break his promise. But his boyfriend made no mention of marriage, weddings, or proposals, and after a few weeks the worry gave way to anticipation.
Then came the first Saturday of March, and Jon had made a reservation for them at an upscale restaurant and was wearing a dress jacket. They were in a private room, so they could talk openly without interruption, he had said.
Stephen wasn’t sure he was ready. But at least Jon had tried to make it nice, and if this was the best he could do then Stephen would grin and bear it.
“Babe, do you remember the screenplay I wrote?”
That was an odd lead-in. Stephen took another sip from his champagne flute (at least it was real Champagne!) and nodded supportively. “Yes, my darling?”
“As you know, I asked some guys to look at it, and one thing led to another and it’s going to be a movie.”
Stephen didn’t have to fake enthusiasm at that. “Really? That’s wonderful!”
Jon looked nervous. He must be getting close to the proposal now. “I know, and the crazy part is that they’re okay with me directing it! I’m not naïve, I know it’s my name they’re after, but it will be a great learning opportunity.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little selfish of you?”
Jon frowned. “What do you mean?”
Stephen picked at his lobster meat with his fork. “The story is set in Iran. Wouldn’t the locations look more realistic if the film was shot in the Middle East?”
Jon looked at him cautiously. “Stephen, it will be. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m taking three months off from the show to go to Jordan. Oliver will substitute for me.”
Time moved very slowly for a while. That was the only reason Stephen could think of why his brain didn’t work for a few moments. His fork fell on the tablecloth with a soft thud.
“You’re going away? When?”
Jon nodded. “I’m leaving the second week in June. I’ll be back in the States in the beginning of September.”
That was the whole summer, including the hiatus that they always spent together.
Stephen’s chest felt a little tighter. “What about the Fourth of July? It’s our turn to be in charge of the grill this year.”
“I know, but don’t you think one of your neighbors can help you? If not, then four months is more than enough notice for them to assign you to another station.”
It all made sense now: the nice food and Champagne to cushion the blow, the private room in case they got into a fight.
“When you said you had something to talk to me about I didn’t expect it to be that I’m going to lose you.” That was good; his voice didn’t sound at all as shaky as it felt.
Jon let out a deep sigh. “Oh come on, that’s not fair. You’re not going to lose me.”
“Not permanently! But for a little while! I will lose you for a little while and it will be hard.”
“We’ve been apart before. You went to New Zealand without me. You went to Iraq without me!”
“I wasn’t gone for three months. Not that I couldn’t handle being away from you for three months, because I totally could.” Stephen could feel the strength coming back in his voice. “It would just be hard.”
A soft smile spread on Jon’s face. “Stephen... I really want to do this.”
And that was that. The film was Jon’s aspiration, and by the virtue of their eventual marriage it was Stephen’s as well.
He reached for Jon’s hand across the table. “Okay, I’ll find someone to replace you. For the grill! Not as my boyfriend!”
Jon wrapped both his hands around Stephen’s. “Aw, thanks, babe.”
Stephen allowed himself to revel in the sensation of Jon’s strong, soft hands. “It’s not your name. I know part of your charm is that you’re always downplaying how amazing you are, but you shouldn’t listen to yourself so much that you start believing it. You fell in love with this story.” Stephen had spent enough nights waiting for Jon to turn off the lights to know that it was true. “And you created a vision for the screen that was compelling enough for them to want to turn it into a movie. Of course they’d want you at the helm.”
Jon shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.”
Stephen pulled his hand free and picked up his champagne flute. “No, Jon, I’m absolutely right. Let’s have a toast.”
Jon picked up his own glass. “What should we toast to?”
Stephen pondered it for a while. “To shared aspirations.”
***
Stephen didn’t know who he was.
He breathed heavily against Jon’s neck and leaned back against the desk, pulling Jon down with his weight.
Perhaps he was a lowly intern, driven into the boss’s office by the fear of withheld credentials.
Maybe he was an innocent young prince, forced into a political marriage and about to learn firsthand what his marital duties entailed.
Or maybe he was himself, back in the days when he was just a correspondent, tearfully promising to do anything Jon asked, anything, if only he would let him keep his job.
Okay, that never happened, but it was a really nice fantasy.
This wasn’t Jon’s kink, but he accepted being an extra in Stephen’s dramatizations, as long as Stephen was calling the shots. Like this.
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
He exposed his neck, a clear cue that he wanted to be kissed there.
“Uh-huh.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. You’re a powerful, important man and your orders cannot be disobeyed.”
He squirmed until Jon’s hand was on his hip and whimpered approvingly.
Since Jon’s return they had fallen back into their old habit of having lunch together at his office.
Stephen had forgotten how nice it was to see his boyfriend during the middle of the day; to catch up and cuddle a little before returning to his own studio. Up until now Jon had stopped him before things got too heated, but today he had grinned and told Stephen to lock the door.
Stephen had been so excited to get to use his office-based scenarios again that he hadn’t been able to pick one. But it didn’t matter; their personal history and the symbolism associated with this room were enough to get all his fires burning.
“What happens in your office is no one’s business. If someone were to come in here by accident, they’d only think that you were taking what was yours to take.” He wet his lips and wondered how much longer it would be until Jon took off his pants. “It would be seen as a private matter, nothing for anyone else to concern themselves with. If we were married, it wouldn’t even be a crime.”
The hand on his fly stilled and before he knew it Jon had moved away from him.
“I can’t do this.”
“Sir?”
“Stephen.”
Stephen moaned. “What’s the matter? Are you not….” he motioned towards Jon’s crotch. “Are you having trouble...?”
Jon exhaled shakily. “You know it’s not true, right? That even if you’re married it’s still rape if you say no.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Jon, don’t tell me that being away for three months has made you forget how this works. I’m only pretending not to want this. Unless I say Liberty Bell, ‘no’ means ‘yes’ and ‘stop’ means ‘please ravage me’. Now, I have to be in the car in twenty minutes, so whatever impulse it is that you’re having, clamp down on it!”
Jon shook his head. The lovely flush that had been on his cheeks was gone.
“I’m not talking about roleplay. In a roleplay you can pretend not to be equals without actually believing it, but… sometimes I get the feeling that you do believe it.”
Stephen groaned. “Would it matter if I did? Your self-absorbed liberal guilt wou-”
“It fucking matters!”
Stephen gasped and Jon took a step backwards, as if his own anger scared him. He sank down in the chair they had pushed away a few minutes earlier.
“Stephen, if you don’t feel like we’re equals, or if you think there’s a chance you’ll ever feel obligated to have sex with me that you don’t want to have, I really need to know.”
The tone in his voice was deadly serious. This wasn’t just a normal freak-out. This was about their future marriage.
“Jon, it will literally never be an issue. I’ll always want to have sex with you.”
“Stephen….”
Stephen held up his hand. “But I don’t think I’m obligated to. Yes, with some of the other guys I felt like I had to do things whether I wanted to or not – and I always wanted to! But I’ve never felt that way with you and I never will.”
Even after we’re married, he added silently.
“And if sometimes – very rarely – I defer to your judgment, it’s only because you know more about some things than I do, and because I know you have my best interests at heart. Just like you sometimes defer to my judgment, and should do more often!”
He crossed the small distance between them. “Look at this.” He plucked at the collar of Jon’s shirt. “This color is completely wrong for your complexion.”
Jon looked up at him. His eyes seemed to be younger than the rest of his face. “Are you telling me I should take your word for it?”
Stephen leaned down and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders. Jon’s head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck.
“Please don’t worry.” He used his most comforting voice. “Not about this. I’m as safe with you as I could ever be.”
Jon exhaled sharply and squeezed him tightly. “And you’re not just telling me what I want to hear?”
Stephen sniffed. “You know me, Stewart. I call it like I see it.”
***
He was in a large store with display cases from floor to ceiling. Sale must have been over, because almost all of them were empty, or maybe his subconscious was too lazy to fill in the details. It didn’t matter because there was only one item he was interested in.
“What is it?”
The shopkeeper smiled at him, which was strange considering that she didn’t have a face. “Pretty, isn’t it? It’s a conservative heart. It beats for commitment, responsibility, order, and tradition.”
The heart glowed deep red with golden streaks dancing on the surface. The radiant core turned consistently clockwise but on second glance it appeared to be standing still. The effect was breath taking.
“It’s beautiful. How much is it?”
The shopkeeper laughed. “You don’t need another one, Stephen. That would get you into a world of trouble.”
She pointed to the empty case next to it. “There’s a matching piece you might be interested in. Dark blue with silver streaks; beats for fairness, partnership, respect, and equality. I think it would go great with yours.”
Stephen had to agree. “It sounds like it’s very beautiful.”
She nodded. “It is. Unfortunately I don’t have one in at the moment, but now you know what you’re looking for.”
“You don’t have it? Wow, my subconscious is really falling down on the job.”
She looked at him curiously, and now he saw that she wasn’t a shopkeeper at all.
“Stephen, this isn’t your dream.”
***
“Accepting the Emmy on behalf of The Colbert Report is Stephen Colbert!”
Stephen thought it was a miracle that he didn’t trip over his feet on the way to the podium. When the Emmy was a solid weight in his hand he felt light-headed.
Finally, after all those years, he had the final proof to show that he had broken free from Jon’s shadow.
He couldn’t wait to show it to him.
***
The after-party was amazing.
From the moment he and Emmy walked into the ballroom there was a glass of Champagne in his hand or a hand on his shoulder. Tom and Meredith had offered to help carry Emmy, but Stephen had respectfully declined. They could carry the less important one, if they wanted.
They danced, drank, laughed, and celebrated their amazing achievement. It was only after the third trip to the buffet table that he started to feel a little down.
“Hey.” Meredith put a hand on his arm as they watched Tom snuggle up to his wife. “He would have been here if he could have.”
***
Jon practically threw the door open and pulled Stephen into a wonderfully tight hug.
“Congratulations!”
He had congratulated Stephen on the phone, in text message, and via Skype, but none of those really counted.
Stephen grinned against his neck. “Congratulations for what?”
Jon let him go. He had a huge grin on his face.
“Congratulations for winning the Emmy for Outstanding Variety Show 2013! You guys have had the best show for years, and now it’s official! Oh babe, this is long overdue. Can I see it?”
“Of course!”
Stephen shrugged off his messenger bag and opened it. Emmy had been on her best behavior during the flight and she was just as beautiful as he remembered her. He carefully lifted her out.
“Emmy, this is Jon. You could have ended up living with him but it turns out my show is better so you didn’t have to. Well, technically my show is his show, too, but it’s mostly mine. Jon, this is my Emmy.”
“The inscription looks nice. I’m really happy for you.” Jon pointed towards the dining room. “Listen, the game is almost starting so I have to order the pizza. You can go sit down.”
Stephen’s feet were firmly planted on the floor. “Pizza?” he said faintly. “You’re going to watch a game and order pizza?”
Jon wrung his hands together. “Pizza’s not good?”
Stephen’s heart sank. “I was just under the impression that this occasion would be a cause for celebration. This is what I have worked towards for the last seven years, each of those years with you by my side as my co-executive producer, and now I’ve finally won her for us, and I thought that it would mean something to you. But apparently I was mistaken.”
Jon gave him a sympathetic look. “You wanted a little more pomp and circumstance?”
“Yes!”
“Something more exclusive than TV and take-out? A celebration fitting for the greatest victory of your professional life?”
Stephen sniffed and clutched Emmy to his chest. “Uh-huh.”
Jon nodded. “I see. Something like this?”
He pushed the door to the dining room open.
Stephen gasped.
The dining table had been moved to the middle of the room and was covered by a floor-length cloth. Two large candelabra stood on each side of the table, illuminating the room with the flames from long wax candles.
As he followed Jon, classical music started playing and he realized with a jolt that they weren’t alone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the man of the hour: Stephen Colbert. Stephen, this is the New York Virtuosi.”
Stephen waved nervously. “Nice to meet you.”
The musicians nodded politely but didn’t take further notice of either of them.
There was a serving cart next to the table and it was loaded with trays and pans. Jon pulled out one of the chairs. “Your seat, sir.”
Stephen put Emmy on the table and sat down. There was a vase with a single red rose next to his plate. He looked at the cart.
“Did you hire a chef?”
“Yeah, but I told him I had extensive serving experience and could handle it from here.”
“It’s still a lot you pulled off on short notice.”
Jon’s eyes glittered. “I had a hunch this would be your year.”
It turned out that Jon also had extensive experience opening Champagne bottles. They toasted to Stephen’s win; they ate prawn cocktail, Jerusalem artichoke soup, and Beef Wellington. Jon listened to Stephen’s detailed account of the award show and the after-party, and through it all the string quartet played. Stephen had thought their presence would make him nervous but he was buzzed on Champagne and attention.
When they finished their set and left he was disappointed, but Jon put on some classic guitar music and made coffee. Dessert was Crème Caramel, which was near perfection, and afterwards Stephen was so mellow that he didn’t notice Jon was missing until he returned.
He set down a large, quilt-covered object on the floor next to Stephen.
“You’ll probably keep her at your house most of the time. But if you ever bring her here, well, she deserves a nice place to stand, don’t you think?”
He pulled the quilt off and revealed a wooden pedestal, about five feet tall. “Walnut.”
Stephen was amazed. “You made this? For me?”
Jon nodded. “It’s not perfect. I didn’t manage to hide the screws completely, and there’s a slight discoloration where the sapwood didn’t dye right. See?”
“I think it’s perfect.” Stephen carefully placed Emmy on top of the pedestal. She looked like she was completely comfortable there. “This must have taken you weeks to make.”
Jon smiled. “Like I said; I had a hunch.”
***
Jon didn’t propose. Autumn came and went. Jon’s birthday had the bad taste to coincide with both Hanukkah and Thanksgiving and coordinating it almost gave Stephen an ulcer.
The Christmas decorations were put up, both in New York City and at Stephen’s house, and he started planning for the holiday.
The snow fell.
Jon didn’t propose.
***
“What do you mean you don’t have the energy for it?”
Jon handed him his cup of coffee with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Stephen, I just can’t focus on anything else right now. Can’t you handle it on your own?”
“You realize that I’ve already made a huge concession in agreeing to celebrate Christmas in New York. And in return you promised to defer to my expertise as a Christian. ”
“I know, babe, and I swear I’ll do everything else you ask of me. I’ll decorate, I’ll bake cookies, and I’ll sing carols, anything you want me to do. I just don’t have the energy to go shopping today.”
Stephen sighed. “It will take longer without you.”
Jon seemed to ponder this for a while. “Not necessarily. You could save a lot of time if you go to Hiddentown.”
***
There were several entrances to the shopping district known as Hiddentown, but Stephen took the one he was most familiar with.
It was eerie to be alone in the Report studio. Everyone had left for their Christmas vacation and wouldn’t return until January. A few years ago this would have angered him, but he understood now that his co-workers deserved to have time off with their families.
He rolled his office chair away and crawled under the anchor’s desk. He reached for the familiar button and felt himself sink feet-first into the warm, welcoming abyss.
***
The trees that were planted alongside Main Street were all covered in Christmas lights. Spruce wreaths and tinsel hung from every doorway. Shoppers with rosy cheeks welled in and out of the countless shops.
Stephen immediately felt his Christmas spirit soar.
He secured all items on his shopping list in just under two hours and went in search of a café or restaurant where he could have lunch. But every place he tried sent him away. They were too crowded, were too busy, had run out of human food, or simply refused to serve him without explanation.
Slightly frustrated, but determined not to let it put a damper on his newly won cheer, Stephen decided to go to the one place where he could always count on a friendly welcome.
It wasn’t hard to find even though it had moved since his last visit. The mermaid waved absent-mindedly to him from her sign before she went back to braiding her hair.
He ordered a Bistro Box and a Gingerbread Latte and sank down in a chair next to the window with his bags on the floor next to him. When his name was called, he was surprised to see a familiar face.
“Mike! I didn’t know you still worked here.”
“Ah, it’s the man upstairs. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.”
“I’ve been busy. It was a woman who took my order, did you guys switch or something?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, Therese went on her break. Union rules, you know.”
Stephen took a sip of the latte. It was Christmas cheer in liquid form. “I didn’t know you were unionized.”
“Yep, for a couple of years now. Jon Stewart helped us with it back in 2013.”
“It’s 2013 now.”
“It is? Huh.” Mike shrugged.
Stephen took his food and went back to his seat. As he ate his meal a steady stream of people passed outside the window. He’d never seen Hiddentown this crowded before, but then again it was the day before Christmas.
Just as he was about to leave, Mike came up to him looking embarrassed.
“I totally forgot I was supposed to give this to you.” He handed Stephen a small velvet box.
It was just the right size. Stephen’s hands trembled as he opened it.
“It’s empty.”
Mike gave him an odd look. “So it is. Don’t worry. There’s a jewelry store not far from here. You could probably find something there that fits.”
Stephen snapped the lid shut. “Did Jon Stewart tell you to give this to me? Was he here?”
Mike shrugged. “Didn’t see him. But if you want to make it to the store, you’d better hurry.”
***
Stephen walked as fast as he could without working up a sweat. If he was going to be proposed to he wanted to look as presentable as possible. If he wasn’t, and the box was just a ploy in some new advertising campaign, well, it wouldn’t hurt to look good.
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t see the man he ran head-first into.
“Whoa, going a little fast there, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry, I – Jason! Sam! What are you doing here?”
“Same thing everyone else is doing: Christmas shopping! The parking is free and we only have to pay the baby sitter for an hour. I call that a bargain!”
Sam gave Stephen one of her non-sarcastic smiles. Perhaps the Christmas cheer had gotten to her as well. “Where are you headed to, cowboy?”
He put his bags down and fished the box out from his jacket pocket. “To the jeweler. Do you know where it is?”
Jason looked at his wife. “There are lots of stores here, but I don’t recall seeing a jewelry store. Did you see one, honey?”
Sam shook her head. “Oooh, but I did see a really cute baker’s shop where they sold these little cupcake molds that looked like they were made for dolls. Or tiny, tiny children.”
Stephen sighed. “Did Jon ask you guys to come here?”
Jason shrugged. “Beats me! Why would he ask us to come here?”
Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t see any reason why he would do that, which he totally didn’t.”
Considering how obnoxious they could be with their interview victims, it was surprising what bad liars they both were.
“Okay, okay, I get that this is some kind of set-up, and I’m not going to ruin it. I just want to know if-” Stephen held up the box. “If there is anything in particular you would suggest I do right now?”
The two of them shared a look and then said in unison: “Have a drink with us.”
***
The first thing Stephen did was to go the bathroom and check that he still looked presentable.
(He did.)
When he returned, Sam and Jason had taken a corner table and were talking to a young woman in a surprisingly tasteful uniform. She gave him a friendly smile.
“Do you need some time to order, sir?”
Stephen sank down into one of the chairs. “That’s it? No special welcome? No meaningful look or cryptic message?
No directions to the jewelry store, for instance?”
She looked nervous. “Welcome to Full House, sir. I can show you today’s special if you like?”
“He’ll also have a Moosehead,” Sam interjected. “Excuse our American friend, he’s just feeling entitled.”
Stephen glared at her menacingly.
The waitress disappeared and soon returned with their beers. After serving them, she lingered a while with her tray.
“I don’t mean to impose, but I know you work with Jon Stewart and I just wanted to tell you how much we all appreciate what he’s done for us.”
Sam looked surprised. “You know Jon?”
“I don’t know him personally, but his support was instrumental during the negotiations between the merchants' association and the unions.”
Sam and Jason looked puzzled. Stephen started tapping his beer glass with his middle finger. “What year is it?”
The waitress looked at her leather wrist watch. “2013. Yes, that’s what I thought. Why?”
“It’s just that you’re the second person today to tell me that Jon Stewart helped make their jobs better. And since I know Jon personally but have never heard a word about this, I’m curious as to when all this world-improving is supposed to have taken place. “
“Well, I started working here four years ago, and that was just when the new rules were being implemented.”
“Four years ago?”
She counted silently and nodded. “Yes, I started in January 2013. A year in the pocket is about three months up top. That’s why some employers used to have 24-hour shifts for non-residents.” She shuddered.
“Are you a non-resident?” Jason asked.
She shook her head. “No, I live here.”
“How long can you stay here?” Sam asked curiously. “I’ve only been down here a couple of times, so I don’t understand a lot about how things work here.”
The waitress didn’t seem to mind talking about it. “Twelve years is the maximum, but I think another two will be enough for me. I’ve been up a couple of times, and it’s really strange. You talk to your friends or your brother or your mom and you realize that even if you get the dates right, you’re still out of synch. A lot more has happened to you than to them.”
Stephen watched the carbon dioxide bubbles in his beer float towards the surface. “Like you’ve had an unusually intense year.“
She looked at him and nodded. “That’s right. Enjoy your drinks.”
The three of them drank their beers and discussed Jon’s secret good deeds and the merits of living full-time in Hiddentown. They were in the middle of debating whether a year-long summer made up for enduring a year-long winter (Jason thought so, Sam and Stephen didn’t) when their waitress returned. She held up a flat piece of burgundy plastic with an image of an old-fashioned building and the text ‘Full House – Hiddentown, NYC’ written on it.
“You get a complimentary placemat for every order over twenty dollars.”
Sam eyed it warily. Stephen shook his head. “Thanks, but I think we’ll pass.”
“Are you sure? It has a map on the back.”
***
Stephen was on the right path.
With the map, finding the jewelry store was easy. All he had to do was follow the street until it divided in two, turn left, turn right at the scoop shop, and walk straight ahead.
He had left his bags with Sam and Jason. If this really was a proposal, he wanted to walk empty-handed into it.
And suddenly: there it was. An old-fashioned sign said Eregion Jewelry and various pieces of gold and silver were on display in the windows. Stephen put the placemat in the nearest trash can, straightened his jacket, and walked inside.
A black-haired girl, barely out of high school, leaned on her elbows on the counter. “Are you Stephen?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Awesome.” She walked around the counter and pulled open a hatch in the wall, revealing a pneumatic tube system. “Give it to me.”
Stephen held on to the box tightly. “I’m… I’m supposed to get a ring.”
“We don’t sell rings here.”
He was so surprised that he almost forgot to be nervous for a second. “You are named after the elven smiths of Eregion, the forgers of the Rings of Power, and you don’t sell rings?”
“I didn’t name the store.” The girl held out her hand. “It’s okay. She’ll know it’s you.”
After a few moments of hesitation, Stephen handed her the box. It vanished up in the tube with a sucking sound.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the reason you’re here. As you no doubt saw on the sign, this store was founded in 1983.That means it’s one of the oldest in the neighborhood.”
Stephen calculated quickly. “One hundred and twenty years old, if I’m correct?”
“Not quite. You see, Hiddentown was really only a couple of blocks back then, and time didn’t move as fast as it does today. The best analogy I’ve been able to come up with is a crack in a soft material. If you apply pressure on it, the crack will deepen and widen, while the surrounding material shifts around it. If no one had been up there,” she pointed upwards, “she wouldn’t have been able to grow.”
Stephen opened his mouth and closed it again. “Oh... you mean.” He snapped his fingers. “You’re talking about the pocket.”
The girl nodded. “Come on. We can talk more on the way.”
***
They climbed stairs that curved gently. When they were almost at the top, they took a break in front of a small window. From this height they could see a large portion of the neighborhood: the shopping district, the parks and ice-covered lakes; the residential area was single-family homes mixed with high-rise buildings.
His guide leaned against the railing. “See, the pocket is sentient, but she doesn’t have an imagination of her own. She needs to feed off of human beings for that. Nowadays she gets a lot of her inspiration from people who live and work here, but the strongest influence has always come from the rupture point.”
Underneath the anchor desk, unseen for God knows how many years, was a yearning, learning rift in reality. It was scary to think of all the people who had sat there, not knowing the world that they were helping shape.
“I guess this explains why Jon has had such a great influence on the community here. He sat on top of the rupture point for years.”
“Oh.” The girl looked surprised and almost embarrassed. “Did you think it was Jon Stewart who did this? I’m sorry; I should have explained it better. The pocket doesn’t feed off of passive people. They have to acknowledge her first. She needs to be seen.”
“Jon sees her. He’s been here lots of times.”
“Only after you showed him. Look, I don’t know either of you, but I do know where the pocket’s allegiances lie.”
She made a sweeping gesture towards the cityscape beneath them. “Stephen, this was all you. Yeah, Jon is one of the people who helped make this neighborhood better, and we’re very grateful for it, but you’re the one who made it grow.”
***
After another few minutes of climbing they reached a large stone door. The girl shook his hand. “I hope you enjoy the experience. It’s been custom-designed for you.”
“Where are you going?” The thought of facing what was behind that door alone was suddenly very scary.
“My shift’s ending so I have to close up the store. It was nice to meet you, Stephen.”
A pretty important detail occurred to him just then. “Wait! If you’re closing down the store, how do I get out afterwards?”
She grinned and started walking down the stairs slowly. “I wouldn’t worry about that part.”
Stephen stood still until the sounds of her footsteps had faded away. None of the adventure novels he had read had prepared him for this moment. There would be no orcs or goblins waiting for him, but something a lot more frightening.
He put his hand on the handle and pressed down. The door swung open with a creaking sound. The darkness was so thick he couldn’t see the size of the room or what it contained, so he put his hand up in front of him and started walking.
It was like being inside a void. The air was completely odorless. There was no echo. He couldn’t even hear his own footsteps.
Suddenly there was light ahead. As he got closer he saw bright dots of color suspended at the height of his eyes.
It looked like someone had thrown a bucketful of gems up in the air. Emerald green, blue sapphire, ruby red, purple amethyst, and a dozen others he had forgotten the names of. They seemed solid, but when he looked closer he saw that that they were just spots of concentrated light.
The one closest to him was yellow topaz and seemed to be vibrating slightly. He reached for it, and the second his finger hit the spot, sounds and sight came rushing towards him.
Jon was leaning back in an armchair, slender and dark-haired, groaning into the Nokia cell phone he was holding up against his ear. “I didn’t tell you the worst of it yet! One of the correspondents is one of those preppy, repressed Dan Quayle contenders. He’s so ignorant it would be amusing if he wasn’t completely obnoxious about it. Yeah…. You could probably do something with it, it’s just….
Stephen pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. A surge of emotion hit him and it took a second for him to realize that it wasn’t his own.
Jon hadn’t felt contempt or disdain for Stephen; he’d been scared. The responsibility of hosting the show frightened him and he worried that he wasn’t good enough.
Stephen thought back on his own first memories of Jon. He’d found his new boss to be polite but withdrawn, tense and trying desperately to hide it.
“What are these? Are they his memories?”
There was only silence. A rose-colored dot vibrated next to him. He touched it.
Despair and terror had given way to numbness and apathy. There was no buzz to be had from drinking, just sedation and a need to piss. Stephen was next to him, cradling his bottle and looking impossibly young and handsome.
“You don’t need to worry about a thing. The President will take care of it. We’ll just swoop in.” He made a sweeping gesture with his free hand. “Bomb the evildoers and be done with it. In and out, and they’ll never hurt us again.”
For the first time in days Jon felt a powerful emotion that wasn’t related to fear of dying.
“I envy you.”
Stephen smiled. “It’s because unlike you, Jon, I have faith. I have faith in America that she will bounce right back. I have faith that the President knows what he’s doing because I voted for him, and I wouldn’t vote for someone if they wouldn’t be a great President. And I have faith that you will find the silver lining in this situation if you only look hard enough. For example, your living room window has an unobstructed view of the Statue of Liberty now. That’s got to help raise the market value of your apartment.”
Jon took a couple of shaky breaths before he started laughing.
Stephen snatched his hand away. “I remember that day. You don’t need to show me things I was there for.”
But he hadn’t known what Jon had felt before. The relief caught up to him and it felt like a gentle wind; the feelings of not being alone, that some things were still the same in the midst of chaos. It was the emotional equivalent of a bear hug.
Stephen reveled in the emotion until it faded. “Okay, I see your point. Show me the next one.”
The emerald dot blinked.
For the next half hour Stephen experienced a selection of Jon’s most intimate emotions. He felt the irritation turn into sympathy and the sympathy evolve into affection. He felt pride when Jon tried to convince their bosses they should give The Report a trial season. He felt delight at late-night texts and silly e-mails. He also felt frustration and disappointment and the levelheaded way Jon was trying to deal with it.
”After all that’s happened, he’s still sticking up for Bush, but I get why. It’s because he values loyalty above everything else, and that’s what I need to focus on. Even if I can’t respect who he’s loyal to, I can respect his loyalty.”
And then, sapphire blue and burning bright, he experienced that passionate night when the edges of familiarity had been stretched. It was odd to feel the attraction to himself, the pleasure Jon took in his moans and the way his body responded, how he thought Stephen smelled good all over and was miles out of his league. How it wasn’t weird at all to have sex with your best friend; that it was like coming home when you didn’t know you had one.
Stephen let that one end on its own, and when the light went out he lingered with his hand in the air for a few seconds before he composed himself.
There was Jon struggling to do a good job during the Writers’ Strike and being deeply impressed by how well Stephen was winging it. There was Jon worrying every day that Stephen was in Iraq. There was Jon in Jordan, exhausted and homesick, watching The Report on his hotel bed and being overcome with admiration.
“He really does love you.”
“I know that!” Stephen yelled. “Don’t you think I know that?” and then… “Wait, are you actually talking to me?”
He looked around the room, half expecting the voice to have a body or at least a point he could focus on.
“But you haven’t experienced it the way he has before.”
“Is that important? That I feel what he feels?”
“It’s how I learned from you. But this collection of moments is a gift, not a lesson.”
Stephen spun around. Of course it was ridiculous to look for her in one spot; she was everywhere.
“A gift from Jon or from you? In either case it was a very thoughtful gift,” he added hurriedly. “I enjoyed it very much.”
“You’re not quite finished yet.”
Suddenly, a light turned on. Stephen squinted, and once his eyes had gotten used to the brightness he saw that the colored dots had faded away and a new one had appeared. It was white like a diamond and had a surface that looked suspiciously like something he had seen once before.
“It’s so much brighter than the others.”
“Yes. Can you think of why?”
Stephen’s breath hitched. “It’s because it hasn’t happened yet.”
“That’s right.”
He felt weak in the knees. “Won’t I… won’t it mess up the timeline if I know what’s going to happen?”
“You won’t be able to recall any details, and besides, the future is always moving. It’s only your future if you choose it. Just be warned that there are parts of it that might hurt.”
Stephen froze with his hand in the air. “Why? Do bad things happen?”
"Bad things happen to everyone, but in your case the worst is behind you. However, it might be overwhelming to experience that much emotion at once.”
Relieved, Stephen nodded. “I can take it. Don’t worry.” He took a deep breath and touched the light with his index finger.
It wasn’t one scene; it was thousands of scenes. They were coming in and out of his field of vision like boats sailing by on a fast river.
There was his house in Montclair, Jon’s summer house, his other summer house, the apartment in New York, and a couple of homes he didn’t recognize.
There were dinners with faceless friends they knew well, trips all over the world, several years of producing the shows and the successful careers that came after.
There were also countless domestic scenes: intense discussions at the breakfast table, watching movies with Stephen draped over him on the couch, being amazed at how frustrating and adorable his husband could be after all these years….
Yeah, those were Jon’s emotions all right, buzzing in the background of each unique scene.
Now he could see America like a map laid out in front of him; every one of their communities thriving as the years were added to each other like the pages of a book. Hiddentown was blooming; it was amazing what could be achieved when creativity was kept in check by common sense regulations. And none of their communities, not even Charleston, was harmed in the slightest by their marriage.
He must have seen all that he was meant to see because the sights and emotions were suddenly pulled away, like he had been woken hastily from a dream.
Then he felt it: the vast, endless depth of Jon’s love.
He was too small to contain it.
It filled up every corner of his mind and tugged at the seams of his soul in all directions.
A life’s worth of affection, admiration, and trust, each fragment of emotion woven together in an endless thread that wouldn’t break until its maker was dead.
There was nowhere to hide. He couldn’t fight it. All he could do was be loved.
It was excruciating.
Gradually he could feel his hands over his eyes and his feet on the floor as the room came into focus once again. The light was gone, but the overall darkness had lifted.
“Don’t take it away!” he cried. “I want to feel it again!”
“You will. One bit at a time, like you were meant to.”
He wiped his eyes. “I need to see him! I need to tell him I understand.”
He was probably red-eyed and messed up, but it didn’t matter. The only thing he cared about was holding Jon and vowing he would be strong in the ways Jon couldn’t, that he’d be everything he needed and more.
He closed his eyes. “Please, please, I’m ready.”
Everything was quiet. For a few seconds he thought she hadn’t heard him, but then he felt cool air against his face and realized that the floor underneath him was no longer smooth. He opened his eyes and saw Christmas lights in the branches of a tree. There was a descending staircase in front of him, just a dozen or so steps, and at the foot of it a small crowd had gathered.
Standing in front of the others was Jon, looking handsome in his coat and scarf.
A small part of Stephen wanted to run down and throw himself into his boyfriend’s arms, but he had waited this long, and he wanted to see it to the end.
He started making his descent slowly, painfully aware that Jon was looking at him the whole time. He kept his eyes downcast, ostensibly for the purpose of watching his steps, but in reality to postpone breaking down. When he was firmly on the ground, Jon smiled warmly at him.
“Hi, babe. I’m not going to promise I won’t be sentimental or fall back on any clichés, because I don’t have a whole lot of experience writing proposals, and I just might.” A small ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
Jon continued, a little more confidently. “So I’m just going to say you make my life brighter and better. You help me see things I can’t see on my own, whether it’s the side of an argument or a rupture in space that contains a secret world. You’re my best friend and the last great love of my life.” He pointed towards the audience. “It’s not a cliché if it’s true, people.”
There was another soft ripple of laughter, but he never took his eyes off Stephen. “You’re it for me,” he said softly. “And I never want to take that lightly.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an elegant white ring with three small stones in discreet settings: a ruby, a diamond, and a sapphire.
“Stephen, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Suddenly it felt like the year of waiting had been worth it. The tears that he had managed to hold back fell freely from Stephen’s eyes. He nodded. “I think it would be a great idea!”
Jon’s face broke into a huge smile. He found Stephen’s left hand and carefully slipped the ring on his finger. It fit perfectly.
They kissed passionately for a long time.
When the applause died down, Stephen broke the kiss to throw his arms around Jon and they hugged each other tightly while the crowd dispersed around them.
“Congratulations!”
Jason slapped Stephen on the back. “Do you want your bags now, or?”
Stephen cuddled into Jon’s embrace and held out his hand for Sam to examine. “No, but you can give them to my fiancé.”
“Ooh, this is a nice ring. That I absolutely had no part in selecting,” Sam said cheekily. “But the patriotic touch is a little risky. The casual observer might be confused as to whether you’re married to Jon or to America!”
Stephen sighed happily and flexed his fingers. “It’s –“
“It’s both,” Jon said with a smile. “He’ll be married to me, but our marriage will benefit America.”
***
The Birch Road Fourth of July committee delegated all party tasks according to a rotating schedule with one exception: for the last couple of years, the barbecue duty had been assigned to the Colbert-Stewarts. The reason for this was simple: the Colbert-Stewarts were an exceptionally efficient team that expedited the orders quickly with a minimum of complaints.
If any residents had disagreed with the committee’s decision, they kept it to themselves. The party guests were always pleased with their food, and the funds that had previously been reserved for emergency pizza were added to the beer-and-fireworks budget.
Who in their right mind would have a problem with that?
