The One Where They Tried A Real Date
Fandom: Fakenews
Characters: Andy/John Oliver
Description: A gift for the gorgeous _lady_vanilla_ , based on her wonderful prompt "Tell me the story of when Andy and John tried once and once only to go on a Proper Real Not-Kidding Date, and the chaos and hilarity that ensued." I did not follow your prompt properly. I fail. Featuring almost bonus point getting Chris Addison (he doesn't do exactly what you asked, but he's there...), because I was listening to the Department.
Disclaimer: I think it's just generally accepted that I'm delusional.
To: Chris From: Ollie 5.40pm
do any of my clothes not make me look like a colourblind homeless person?
To: Chris A. Babyface From: The Mighty Zaltzman 5.52pm
Renting transport and I'm trying for a) horse b) hummer limo c) griffin, search surprisingly unsuccessful
To: Chris From: Ollie 5.58pm
taking your silence as condemnation. going to buy new shirt. all your fault.
To: Chris A. Babyface From: The Mighty Zaltzman 6.07
I need a rhyme for "toblerone"
To: Chris From: Ollie 6.24pm
shop assistant looks like a meercat and i don't understand what shes saying
To: Chris From: Ollie 6.24pm
help
To: Chris From: Ollie 6.29pm
I should not be allowed to interact with people. please tell andy i am dead.
To: Chris A. Babyface From: The Mighty Zaltzman 6.50pm
Fuck rhymes. And fuck you for banning me from punnage. You give bad advice.
To: Chris From: Ollie 7.20pm
your tactical avoidance of replying will not work. you're in this whether you like it or not
To: Chris A. Babyface From: The Mighty Zaltzman 7.32pm
I looked up the cricket. I owe you twenty.
To: Chris From: Ollie 7.41pm
apparently there is no middle ground between marry-me flowers and sorry-I-fucked-your-sister flowers
To: Chris A. Babyface From: The Mighty Zaltzman 8.16pm
Are frills a strictly female domain?
To: JOliver, To: Andy Z. From: Mr Addison 8.19pm
my inbox looks like a date movie co-written by Lewis Carroll and Hunter S. Thompson what the fuck is going on? Also wasn't your reservation for 7
To: JOliver, To: Andy Z. From: Mr Addison 8.23pm
Swearing into my answering machine distinctly unhelpful. Have called taxi for you. Now fuck off and get laid.
There had been plans, John thought wistfully, and they had been good plans. A nice restaurant first, with proper food and wine and no getting thrown out for discussing Queen Victoria's sex life too loudly, then on to a film or just to a bar to drink and chat and wind their way home for the one part they actually had practiced before. Not too much to ask, he'd thought. Just a bit of... of normality, to help him muddle through this strange arrangement they'd fallen into so easily.
"Not what you had in mind, eh?" Andy shot him a sympathetic glance, uncharacteristically quiet. John stared back for a moment, and Andy just had begun to look nervous when he gave in, grinning and burying his face in Andy's neck.
"Eating take-out in a park at midnight with you in black tie and me with a black eye? Not really."
"We haven't got into a fight since that time in Edinburgh, where I started the gig with that bit on football..."
"That wasn't a fight, that was us running away from large Scottish men."
"John, thank y-"
John cut him off with a shove, pushing him back on the bench and half-clambering into his lap, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He didn't know if Andy had heard what particular racial slur had made John punch a guy twice his size, but from the look on his face as he'd pulled John out of there, he'd had a pretty good idea. He didn't want to be thanked for that. It went without saying. You weren't much of a friend - more than a friend, and ironically this time that wasn't the problem - if you didn't. Or maybe it was just dependable old British repression speaking. Whatever it was, Andy seemed to understand, because he pulled John closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"So, really... black tie?"
Andy shrugged sheepishly. "I may have gone a bit overboard there. It was just you wanted the whole Real Date thing..."
"Oh no, Andy, don't think I can't hear those capitals. I didn't - when I said I wanted a real date, just, I don't know, something normal. I didn't mean I wanted you to be Mr Darcy."
"Well we have a bit of a problem then, because Colin Firth is exactly what I was going for. Bridget Jones version, of course, I'm not unreasonable."
"I make a terrible Renee Zellweger."
"Yeah, this is all your fault."
"I knew I should have gone with the wig, I just didn't have the balls."
"Let me check that..."
"Oh no, you did not just use that line!"
Andy's smile was a promise of more to come, so John shut him up with a kiss. Breaking apart, eyes locked, Andy broke the silence. "The typical date," he began, slowly moving forward so that it was John who was looking up at him, "has an optimum conclusion. I would go so far as to say..." he paused to get a firm grip on John's lapels, "... that it is the best part..." John was incredibly still, eyes wide, and looking into them Andy seemed to loose his train of thought. He blinked, then like an epiphany had hit declared "...and the part we are best at! So, really, the only part worth worrying about." John's assent, while non-verbal, was perfectly and dramatically clear.
John never would work out how they got back to Andy's flat, but somehow they managed it. As they tumbled through the door in a mess of limbs his one coherent thought was that this had definitely been worthwhile. Andy, pulling his hair out of his face and grinning down, appeared to have similar thoughts, and as one they gave up entirely on making it to the bed, hitting the floor with a thud and taking half a table with them.
"Are you- "
"I'mfinedon'tfuckingstopOHhhh..."
"Hello? Anyone? Ringing to see how things went on this ridiculous..."
"What the fuck?" John jerked at the sound of the answering machine going off, and then started to laugh as Chris' voice floated into the room. "Shit, we need to thank him some time, the interrupting cun-"
This time it was John who was cut off with a kiss, a bruising bite that let him know where his full attention should be directed. He was only too pleased to oblige.
"...not answering in a sobbing mess so I can safely assume you are getting it oonnnnn! Boom chka chka wah wahhwww..."
It wasn't exactly normal, John decided as Andy pulled his pants off to Chris' gleeful if crackly imitation of a porn soundtrack, but normal would never have suited them anyway.