Something to Talk About, Part II
Something to Talk About
featuring George Clooney
Ari Gold
Don Cheadle
Ryan Gosling
Shia LaBeouf
and Anderson Cooper
With Matt Damon. And some other folks.
Part I
The thing about being single that a lot of people don't seem to realize is that it is not a default state. Single people are not to be pitied or treated like lepers. Single people are not missing out just because they've decided they don't need to deal with someone else pissing all over their toilet seat or giving them insomnia with their snoring or ruining their digestive tract with their stupid dietary requirements. George Clooney is not single because he can't find anyone to be with. He is not single because he's heart-broken or lonely or because his man couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Actually, that last part is true, but that's not why George is single either.
George has been having poker night at his house since before he and Max even had a house to have it in. People come, bring booze and chips, and decompress. At some point George and Don managed to turn poker night into a charity event, but even now, the guys come to George's house to play some cards and drink beer and talk shit.
Mostly they just drink and talk shit.
George had invited Ryan and Shia as well as Don to tonight's poker game, but at the last minute Matt showed up because he was doing press for Imperial Life in the Emerald City and Shia and Ryan cancelled, because they were "going over the script."
George isn't fooled.
"I think Shia's got a crush on Ryan," he says, tossing a few chips onto the coffee table. The chips bounce, roll and clink against one of Matt's empty beer bottles.
"I was wondering about that," Don says, glancing down at his cards.
"I think he's got the fuck-my-costars bug," Matt laughs.
"I think Milo really fucked him up," Don says sagely.
"You weren't even there!" George laughs.
"But I got reports from Matt."
Matt ignores George's glare and looks down at his cards. "George, he might want to think twice about that co-star thing; I'm just saying."
Don burps. "Excuse me. George, remember Matt's Minnie Driver thing?
"I didn't even know you guys then!" Matt protests.
"Word gets around," George agrees.
Don sighs. "Ryan's my boy, but he's intense. He might be too much man for Shia."
"Don't let Shia hear you say that," Matt says. "He'll think it's a dare. Also, I fold."
"Shocking," George mocks.
"Speaking of dares," Matt segues so flawlessly, George doesn't even realize it's happening. "I was on the phone with Ari the other day, and he told me that you were running off to the Sudan with Anderson Cooper and adopting fifteen thousand Ethiopian babies and then he started hyperventilating and I didn't catch the rest."
George pauses mid-card study. "That's totally not true."
"Which part?" Matt and Don parrot.
"I don't need any more kids," George parries, "Shia is enough work."
Don rolls his eyes. "How long have I been trying to get you in touch with Anderson?" he mocks. "'I'm not interested, Don. Two gay men don't have to have sex, Don. He's too old. He's too pretty'."
"Hey, I never said he was too pretty," George interrupts.
Matt laughs. "Far be it from George to be shallow."
"Hey, I can be shallow with the best of them," he protests, tossing three more chips in the pile. "I just don't think I should be shallow with him."
"You like him!" Matt crows in surprise.
"I can't like someone I've only meet once!"
"So why did Lloyd call me for Anderson's work number yesterday?" Matt prods.
"Because Anderson's agreed to shoot footage for Night Crimes the next time he goes to Darfur."
Matt's beer slips in his hand and spills on the floor. "How the hell did you make that one happen?"
Don looks up from his cards. "Yeah, what he said."
"It wasn't me -- it was Ari," George concedes.
Don and Matt share a look. "I'm sorry, it sounded like you said Ari hooked you up with Anderson," Don begins.
"He offered to give his 10% to Save Darfur if Anderson did this."
"So, Ari sold your ass for, what? Two million dollars?" Don concludes before tossing more chips in the pile.
"It sounds that way to me," Matt agrees.
"Ari didn't sell me to anyone," George protests.
"SOLD!" Matt hollers. "Let me go get you a sign to hang around your neck. I can't wait to tell this one-"
George folds his arms. "You can't wait to tell who what?"
"Nobody," Matt corrects hastily. "Nobody at all."
George cuts Matt off. "Did I tell you that we've given you a role in Night Crimes?"
"I'm already working!"
"Too bad. We want you to play the head UN liaison."
"I don't suppose I can say 'no'?"
"No," Don finishes. "You can't."
"You've been watching The Wire too much," Matt nags.
"How else am I supposed to learn how to be a newspaper editor?"
Matt sighs and scrubs at his hair. "You guys suck. Hey, George, does Shia have a drinking problem?" he asks completely changing the topic yet again.
George frowns at his cards. A pair of eights isn't going to cut this. "No, why?"
"Someone said he was in AA."
"He says it's for the role. He's method acting."
"Yeah, well, he gets shot in the movie too, don't let him go to the gun range, okay?"
"I don't let my kids run around in cow costumes, either," Don replies in a sing-song voice. "It sounds like somebody's got some parenting issues."
George folds his hand, and Don grins and shows a handful of nothing.
"I hate you, Cheadle." George bitches. "And the cow thing was for SNL."
"Right. Parents always have excuses for their kids." Don shows his teeth. "You notice that Angie's looking really pregnant lately?"
George scowls. "I really hate you."
Matt snickers. "Hey, don't hate on Don. He's not the one who sold you for two million dollars."
"Just wait until my next film," George bitches. "You're both getting sold. For a dollar. Each."
George isn't the worrying kind of guy. He's really not. What happens happens and he just tries to make sure it doesn't happen to him. Actually, that's a really passive attitude and George isn't passive. George is an activist. He's dissatisfied with the world and he's not going to stop until he makes it better.
It occurs to George during an afternoon coffee break that he has Anderson Cooper's mobile phone number programmed into his Blackberry. He also has Anderson's home number, his office number and the number of the mixing desk at 360 Daily. George isn't really sure how this has happened, if Anderson has been calling him more, or he's been calling Anderson more, or if Lloyd got hold of his phone and programmed in every phone number he could find. George wouldn't really put anything past anyone at this point.
And the thing is, if George scrolls through his 'Dialed' history, Anderson pops up, well, a lot. Not as much as Ari and Matt, but he's up there with Don and Shia and Richard and Grant. George is talking to Anderson fairly often and only some of it has to do with Night Crimes, which is why George doesn't even blink when his Blackberry vibrates in his hand and 'Anderson' pops up on the screen.
"Yes, Savior of the Free World?" George can't keep the mirth out of his tone.
"Savior of the Free World?" Anderson mocks. "I think there are some people who might have a problem with a 40-year-old gay man as their savior. Plus, I eat pork. I know I'm going to burn for that one."
"Well, I won't tell if you won't tell." George tries to juggle his blackberry and the coffee canister. He doesn't know what time it is, but whatever time it is, it's also coffee time.
"What are you doing?" Anderson asks curiously after George drops a sack of coffee beans loudly in the sink.
"I'm making coffee, so I can stay up and watch my favorite news program, Anderson Cooper 360 Daily. Have you seen it? The anchor is really hot."
There's a silence down the line and for a minute George thinks Anderson's hung up on him. "You watch my show?" Anderson asks.
"I was on your show," George points out. "I couldn't very well say I prefer watching The Daily Show, now could I?"
"Well, you have slept with Jon. I haven't done that yet."
George finally gets a handle on the coffee and his phone and manages to pour enough coffee beans for the next month into the machine. "I notice you said 'yet' there; is there something I should know?"
"Only if you know something I don't."
"I know a lot of things you don't," George quips. "But if I tell you then you won't be surprised when Barack wins the election."
"I've heard you’re a big Barack fan."
George speaks up over the whirring of his coffee maker. "He's my political crush, but don't mention that on-air, because Michelle is sort of possessive."
"I know it's hard to have a crush on those straight married men," Anderson agrees.
George can't help the twisted laugh that escapes. "Even the confused ones cause problems," he says sourly.
"Not everyone is confused," Anderson says after a moment. "Some people know for sure that they want you to come to New York so they can take you to dinner."
George doesn't know what to say. He wants to say yes, but yes always leads to 'no, I'm not really gay' or 'I want kids' or 'let's go to Vermont.'
George isn't anti-commitment; he's just anti-stupidity.
"George?"
"I, uh, wow." George hedges as he looks for his favorite mug, the one with Max's picture on it. It was a Christmas gift Ari and Matt arranged a few years ago.
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a 'wow', Anderson."
"You know, my friends call me Andy."
"I like Anderson. It's very proper and refined."
"It's hard in bed."
George fumbles his mug in the drain board. "You have a lot of practice saying your own name in bed?" George teases.
"You never answered my question about coming to New York."
"I thought our first date was going to be in Darfur." George is digging for time; it's perfectly obvious to both of them.
"George, stop prevaricating," Anderson sighs.
"I don't do commitment," George begins. "I just don't. People get involved and forget how to behave. You're still two separate people. Nothing changes."
Anderson snorts. "I'm pretty sure that people in Nepal know who you are, George. I'm not the Borg; I'm not going to assimilate you. It's just a date."
George finally gets his mug under the coffee maker's spout and fills it up. Crap. He forgot the milk. He likes to put the milk in first.
"Guys like you and I don't date," George tries again, opening the fridge and looking for the milk. Why is there no milk?
"What's that supposed to mean?"
George just took a wrong step. Crap twice. There's no milk either.
George sighs and closes the refrigerator door. "I don't date, okay? I go out with people, we drink and I come home. Alone. End of story. Other people make things messy. They complicate you. And then they leave and you're left wondering what the fuck happened and why you don't want to get up in the morning. It's just not worth it."
"That's -- that’s," Anderson stops. "Do you really feel that way?"
George shrugs. "I don't know."
"Are you trying to save the world so you don't have to save yourself?"
"Now you sound like one of those Christian evangelicals."
"I'm serious."
George snorts mirthlessly. "I know you are."
Anderson sighs again. "I still think you should come to New York and let me take you to dinner."
"Will you promise me mindless sex and not to call in the morning?"
"I don't make promises like that."
"I knew you were too good to be true."
"Don't you think you should give me a chance before you write me off?"
"Ah, the idealism of the young." George takes a sip of his coffee black. It's disgusting. He takes sip another anyway.
"You are so jaded it's sad," Anderson complains. "It's also kind of hot."
"Aren't you glad Ari donated his fee up front?"
"I don't get you, George, but maybe that's the whole point," Anderson says. "I have to go, we have to set up for taping."
"Right."
"I would've done this for free," Anderson says quickly. "Just so you know."
The dial tone covers up George's reply.
The thing with Brad that most people don’t understand (or don't want to understand) is that Brad never promised George anything. George wasn't expecting "forever". Brad was married to Jen, and even if Brad spent more time with George than he did with his wife that was okay. George liked Jen and Jen liked George. They had an understanding. Neither one needed Brad all the time; they just needed to have him enough. And then Angelina came along and fucked up the rotation.
George knows how to share. It's other people that get confused.
"Ari, no," is George's brilliant reply to his Crackberry beeping at him at him in irritation at seven o'clock in the morning. He presumes its Ari, because nobody else calls him this early except for Anderson, and he's probably still mad at George for being himself.
That happens sometimes.
Right now, George's hair isn't even awake. If Shia's in jail again, he's going to have to get comfortable.
"George! It's Jon."
George is mostly asleep and dreaming about taking Max for a walk down Sunset in his favorite boxers. The striped ones with the hole in the thigh. "Jon?"
"Jon Stewart," Jon adds, "we slept together in front of 30 million people."
It takes George a minute, because as much as he likes and respects Jon, they're not calling buddies, they're e-mail buddies. They send each other spam and political articles and sometimes they sleep together for the Oscars, but normally, they just communicate via Blackberry. "How could I forget that, Jon, it was the biggest audience I'd had all year."
"Yeah, and I don't want to see it happening again," a third voice pipes up, and George sits up and looks around his bedroom in confusion. He's pretty damn sure he didn't bring anybody home last night but as you get older you tend to forget things.
"Jon, am I talking to your imaginary friend?"
"Stephen, stop scaring the A-lister," Jon chides. George collapses back onto his pillows.
"Is this Stephen Colbert, who speaks the gospel of truthiness?" George prods and there's a giggle down the line.
"Oh my god!" Jon protests right in George's ear. "Did you just giggle like a schoolgirl?"
"No," Stephen asserts, "I giggled like a fan of George 'Hunka-hunka Burnin' Love' Clooney. You know that's what we call you in the writer's room, right?"
"Not that we have any writers," Jon disseminates.
"I thought you were going to fix that, Clooney," Stephen complains.
"Boys, boys, boys." George really feels like a parent at the moment. "As much as I'd like to send you both to your rooms, or maybe each other's room, to what do I owe the pleasure at," a glance at his alarm clock," seven-eighteen in the morning?"
"I told you it was too early," Jon protests.
"It's never too early for justice!" Stephen retorts.
George chuckles. "Do I want to know what justice you're dispensing, or am I supposed to find out on tonight's Daily Show?"
"Well, that depends," Jon begins and George shakes his head even though nobody can see it.
"That depends on what?"
"On when you're going to make an honest man out of Andy," Stephen offers.
"That depends on when I'm going to do what to who?" George has to sit up. He can't have this conversation on his back; it's too confusing and his brain can't process anything.
"You and Anderson," Stephen says drolly. "Don't pretend like you're not playing 'hide the salami' with Mr. Vanderbilt. We know all about your wily Hollywood ways."
"And what ways would those be, Stephen?" Jon asks.
"Yeah, what ways are those?" George repeats.
Stephen doesn't miss a beat. "I don't know, but if you got Jon in bed on TV then there must be some of them somewhere."
"Are you still mad at me for that?" Jon and George speak at the same time and say the exact same thing. It's weird.
"JINX!" Stephen says excitedly, which is followed by some scuffling down the phone line. "And yes, Jon is mine; I called dibs. You can have Andy."
"Actually," Jon pipes up, "We'll give you Andy free of charge, but you have to promise to take good care of him."
"And feed him daily."
"And take him for walks."
"He gets really cranky if you don't take him out every day and then he pees on the carpet."
There's a pause, and then Jon speaks up again. "I think that's too much information, Stephen."
"You're probably right," Stephen agrees.
"Anyway, we just wanted to make sure that you know that we know what you're doing."
"What exactly am I doing?" George asks bemusedly.
"Like you need tips, Clooney!" Stephen mocks. "You can draw me some diagrams when you come on the show next week."
"Next week? I have to go to India next week."
"India will still be there in two weeks!"
"I thought he was going to be on my show next week!" Jon protests.
"You can have him afterwards." Stephen is all magnanimity. "You know I don't like sloppy seconds."
"That's not what you said earlier!"
"Would it matter if I said I had no idea what you two are talking about?" George interrupts.
"NO!" Jon and Stephen reply in tandem.
"Okay then," George offers helplessly. "I'll see you next week."
"We'll see you next week," Jon says, "and don't forget to leave a nightlight on for Andy in the hallway. Sometimes he gets lost."
George is still staring at his Blackberry long after Jon and Stephen have hung up.
George doesn't date. He doesn't actually know anyone who does. Even when he was younger, he didn’t date, he just sort of ended up in relationships. When was twenty, he was dating women who were thirty. When he was thirty he was married. At forty he was divorced and back to dating people who were thirty. At forty-six, he still dates people who are thirty. George just prefers people in their thirties. Thirtysomethings have lost the arrogance of teenagers, the idealization of twentysomethings and they've not yet reached the fuck-you bitterness of forty-plus.
Anderson Cooper is 40. He's entirely too old for George now; it's bound to end in disaster.
George hasn't talked to Anderson in six days. It's the longest they've gone without talking since George walked into Katsu-ya and realized Anderson looks fifteen times better in person than he does on TV, which is no small feat.
George isn't lonely; he just wants someone to talk to. He keeps working and working to make the world a better place, but he wants someone to make it better for.
"I was thinking that we should go to Darfur on our second date," George says by way of greeting when Anderson picks up his phone.
There's a pause and for a minute George's worried that he dialed the 360 Daily mixing desk by mistake. "Who is this?" Anderson asks and George snorts.
"It's George, Anderson. That kinky guy who wants to see you in your flak jacket."
"You know, I get a lot of fan mail involving my flak jacket," Anderson points out. "Is there something particular about it that gets you excited or do you just like war zones?"
George laughs. "No, mostly I just like looking at your arms in it. You have very nice arms."
"The last time I saw you, I was wearing a sweater."
"I told you I watch the show," George chides softly. "If you're going to take me out, you're going to have to learn to listen to what I say."
"Deaf people listen to what you say, George. I'm sure I can tune you out every now and then and get the highlight reel later."
"Not if you want to take me to dinner, you won't."
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
George can't help snorting. "You're amusing. Much more so than I thought you'd be."
"Why, because I report the news?'
"No, because people have been trying to give me your number for months now." Technically, it's been years. Since George was still with Brad -- Ari never liked Brad -- but Anderson doesn't need to know that.
"Maybe they're onto something. You should give me a chance."
"Why would you want to run around with some mixed-up actor like me? Don't you know that actors are notoriously dysfunctional and narcissistic?"
It's Anderson's turn to snort loudly. "You've obviously never grown up in New York society."
"Are you saying you might be able to teach me a thing or two?'
"Maybe, if you gave me a chance."
"Okay, well, then do you think you could come down here and let me into your building, because I've been sitting outside in this car for the last thirty minutes trying to figure out how I got to New York in the first place and I could really use some help here."
There's a pause. A long pause. For a moment, George thinks Anderson hung up on him. "You’re here?" Anderson speaks up eventually. "Downstairs?"
"Uh, yeah." George is so smooth. He has no idea what he's doing. Apart from that UN thing.
"There's no point in me asking how you got my address, is there?"
"Your people have spoken."
"Oh, god. You spoke to Jon?"
"Something like that."
"Okay, fine. I'll be there in five minutes."
There's the disconnect of Anderson hanging up and then George is sitting in the back of the Town Car waiting and he has absolutely no idea what the hell he's doing. He doesn't need a boyfriend. He doesn't want children. He has no idea how he's supposed to make this work with Anderson, but at the very least he can --
The knock on the window jars George out of his thoughts, and he leans forward to roll down the window. Anderson is on the curb in a tee-shirt and sweatpants. He looks damn hot considering it's, like, 30 degrees outside.
"Didn't you mother teach you not to leave the house without a coat?" George mocks.
Anderson makes a face. He is not amused. He reaches inside the car and opens the door. George just smirks and slides over to give him some room to get in the car, but not too much.
Anderson smells good, like soap and fabric softener and coffee. "So, you're here to see me?" Anderson asks, powering up the window to cut the draft before turning to George.
"I thought we'd been through this already," George says with a smile. He doesn't even realize he's taking off his coat until he's handed it over to Anderson.
Anderson looks at the coat for a moment before taking it and pulling it around himself. "People are going to talk."
George shrugs. "That's all people do. They talk. That's all you do, too; people pay you to talk."
"Yes, but I don't talk about me."
"Well, would you prefer to talk about me?"
Anderson settles back into the seat. "No, I'd prefer to talk about your cause."
"What if you're my cause too?" The words escape before George knows they're on the tip of his tongue, and Anderson's entire demeanor changes.
"I'd heard you were good," Anderson sits up, "but this is seriously impressive. Especially with all your writers on strike."
George sighs and rubs his forehead. "Yeah, writing your own material is a bitch."
He looks up when Anderson pulls his hand away from his face. "Are you serious?" Anderson's scrutiny in person is a thousand times more intense than anything George sees on CNN.
"I can't promise you anything," George hedges. "I'm not great with commitment. I don't do well with ultimatums, and I'm not looking for another kid either."
"But people change," Anderson points out. "Sometimes they even change their minds."
George thinks about Brad and Matt and how George has been fine being alone. This thing with Anderson isn't about being alone or being lonely; it's about having someone else by his side. He doesn't need Anderson, but he might like him all the same.
He's not sure if he kisses Anderson or Anderson kisses him, but they meet somewhere in the middle, somewhere where kisses taste like coffee and a morning screwdriver. It's not a bad way to go through life.
"So," George says after their first kiss.
"So," Anderson parrots.
"I think the best first date is the one where we go to Darfur and put ourselves in imminent danger and then go to my place in Lake Como and have really hot, life-affirming sex. How does that sound to you?" George offers.
Anderson's smile makes George's chest feel tight in a good way. Not the way it did when things always went wrong before. Not like with Brad. "Did you bring your passport?"
George laughs. "I never leave home without it. You never know when you might want to whisk your prize-winning journalist lover off to a dangerous location to shoot footage for your next Oscar-winning movie."
Anderson just rolls his eyes and nods towards the car door. "C'mon, Mr. Clooney, if we're going to save the world, I at least need to pack some underwear."
We're going save the world.
Yeah, George likes the sound of that. It's a hard, dirty business saving the world; it'll be nice to have someone else along with he and Don and Ryan and Shia and everyone else who's taking part.
"I don't think underwear is necessary to save the world," George protests as he follows Anderson's out the car. Sadly, with George's coat on, Anderson's ass is completely obstructed from George's eyes.
Anderson pauses on the curb and George almost walks right into him. "I said I was going to pack my underwear," Anderson explains in a low tone, "I never said anything about wearing it."
George smiles beatifically. "Oh, Mr. Cooper, I think you and I are going to go far."
To: maxismypig@smokehouse.com
From: ari.gold@mga.com
Subject: YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!
Blind Item from eonline.com
Which two twenty-something Oscar nominees have been doing more than just "rehearsing" the script for their upcoming film together? One of these nominees didn't come out of the closet as much as he blew the doors off, and the other nominee, well, who wouldn't want to sleep with him? I'd write his name on my notebook any day! We wonder how their director is going to feel about yet another on-set romance overshadowing one of his films.
Clooney and Cooper to Save World
Actor and Journalist travel to Sudan to film for Night Crimes
A-list actor and humanitarian George Clooney has just returned from a trip to the war-torn Darfur region of the Sudan with prize-winning journalist Anderson Cooper. Clooney recruited Cooper to help him shoot footage for his new film Night Crimes, which stars Oscar-winner Don Cheadle and Oscar-nominees Ryan Gosling and Shia LaBeouf.
The film, which centers around three reporters working in Darfur, including one war veteran (Gosling) and one Americanized-refugee (Cheadle), has been hotly tipped as the Oscar front runner when it comes out next winter, despite not having filmed one inch of footage.
Clooney is directing the piece, which is also being executive produced by Clooney and Matt Damon.
When asked about his involvement in a Hollywood production, Cooper simply said, "The war in the Sudan has been going on a long time. Too long. I'm just trying to do what I can to help."
"If you can change the way one person thinks," Clooney added, "then you can change the world."
-The End-
Happy Birthday ethrosdemon. I hope you liked the story; I definitely enjoyed writing it. I would also like to thank Stephen Colbert for being awesome and Anderson Cooper for being the only man for George.
BIG LOVE to antheia for listening to me babble and not letting the bastards grind her down and special thanks to anybody who's ever sent me a link to anything George-related ever.
featuring George Clooney
Ari Gold
Don Cheadle
Ryan Gosling
Shia LaBeouf
and Anderson Cooper
With Matt Damon. And some other folks.
Part I
The thing about being single that a lot of people don't seem to realize is that it is not a default state. Single people are not to be pitied or treated like lepers. Single people are not missing out just because they've decided they don't need to deal with someone else pissing all over their toilet seat or giving them insomnia with their snoring or ruining their digestive tract with their stupid dietary requirements. George Clooney is not single because he can't find anyone to be with. He is not single because he's heart-broken or lonely or because his man couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Actually, that last part is true, but that's not why George is single either.
George has been having poker night at his house since before he and Max even had a house to have it in. People come, bring booze and chips, and decompress. At some point George and Don managed to turn poker night into a charity event, but even now, the guys come to George's house to play some cards and drink beer and talk shit.
Mostly they just drink and talk shit.
George had invited Ryan and Shia as well as Don to tonight's poker game, but at the last minute Matt showed up because he was doing press for Imperial Life in the Emerald City and Shia and Ryan cancelled, because they were "going over the script."
George isn't fooled.
"I think Shia's got a crush on Ryan," he says, tossing a few chips onto the coffee table. The chips bounce, roll and clink against one of Matt's empty beer bottles.
"I was wondering about that," Don says, glancing down at his cards.
"I think he's got the fuck-my-costars bug," Matt laughs.
"I think Milo really fucked him up," Don says sagely.
"You weren't even there!" George laughs.
"But I got reports from Matt."
Matt ignores George's glare and looks down at his cards. "George, he might want to think twice about that co-star thing; I'm just saying."
Don burps. "Excuse me. George, remember Matt's Minnie Driver thing?
"I didn't even know you guys then!" Matt protests.
"Word gets around," George agrees.
Don sighs. "Ryan's my boy, but he's intense. He might be too much man for Shia."
"Don't let Shia hear you say that," Matt says. "He'll think it's a dare. Also, I fold."
"Shocking," George mocks.
"Speaking of dares," Matt segues so flawlessly, George doesn't even realize it's happening. "I was on the phone with Ari the other day, and he told me that you were running off to the Sudan with Anderson Cooper and adopting fifteen thousand Ethiopian babies and then he started hyperventilating and I didn't catch the rest."
George pauses mid-card study. "That's totally not true."
"Which part?" Matt and Don parrot.
"I don't need any more kids," George parries, "Shia is enough work."
Don rolls his eyes. "How long have I been trying to get you in touch with Anderson?" he mocks. "'I'm not interested, Don. Two gay men don't have to have sex, Don. He's too old. He's too pretty'."
"Hey, I never said he was too pretty," George interrupts.
Matt laughs. "Far be it from George to be shallow."
"Hey, I can be shallow with the best of them," he protests, tossing three more chips in the pile. "I just don't think I should be shallow with him."
"You like him!" Matt crows in surprise.
"I can't like someone I've only meet once!"
"So why did Lloyd call me for Anderson's work number yesterday?" Matt prods.
"Because Anderson's agreed to shoot footage for Night Crimes the next time he goes to Darfur."
Matt's beer slips in his hand and spills on the floor. "How the hell did you make that one happen?"
Don looks up from his cards. "Yeah, what he said."
"It wasn't me -- it was Ari," George concedes.
Don and Matt share a look. "I'm sorry, it sounded like you said Ari hooked you up with Anderson," Don begins.
"He offered to give his 10% to Save Darfur if Anderson did this."
"So, Ari sold your ass for, what? Two million dollars?" Don concludes before tossing more chips in the pile.
"It sounds that way to me," Matt agrees.
"Ari didn't sell me to anyone," George protests.
"SOLD!" Matt hollers. "Let me go get you a sign to hang around your neck. I can't wait to tell this one-"
George folds his arms. "You can't wait to tell who what?"
"Nobody," Matt corrects hastily. "Nobody at all."
George cuts Matt off. "Did I tell you that we've given you a role in Night Crimes?"
"I'm already working!"
"Too bad. We want you to play the head UN liaison."
"I don't suppose I can say 'no'?"
"No," Don finishes. "You can't."
"You've been watching The Wire too much," Matt nags.
"How else am I supposed to learn how to be a newspaper editor?"
Matt sighs and scrubs at his hair. "You guys suck. Hey, George, does Shia have a drinking problem?" he asks completely changing the topic yet again.
George frowns at his cards. A pair of eights isn't going to cut this. "No, why?"
"Someone said he was in AA."
"He says it's for the role. He's method acting."
"Yeah, well, he gets shot in the movie too, don't let him go to the gun range, okay?"
"I don't let my kids run around in cow costumes, either," Don replies in a sing-song voice. "It sounds like somebody's got some parenting issues."
George folds his hand, and Don grins and shows a handful of nothing.
"I hate you, Cheadle." George bitches. "And the cow thing was for SNL."
"Right. Parents always have excuses for their kids." Don shows his teeth. "You notice that Angie's looking really pregnant lately?"
George scowls. "I really hate you."
Matt snickers. "Hey, don't hate on Don. He's not the one who sold you for two million dollars."
"Just wait until my next film," George bitches. "You're both getting sold. For a dollar. Each."
George isn't the worrying kind of guy. He's really not. What happens happens and he just tries to make sure it doesn't happen to him. Actually, that's a really passive attitude and George isn't passive. George is an activist. He's dissatisfied with the world and he's not going to stop until he makes it better.
It occurs to George during an afternoon coffee break that he has Anderson Cooper's mobile phone number programmed into his Blackberry. He also has Anderson's home number, his office number and the number of the mixing desk at 360 Daily. George isn't really sure how this has happened, if Anderson has been calling him more, or he's been calling Anderson more, or if Lloyd got hold of his phone and programmed in every phone number he could find. George wouldn't really put anything past anyone at this point.
And the thing is, if George scrolls through his 'Dialed' history, Anderson pops up, well, a lot. Not as much as Ari and Matt, but he's up there with Don and Shia and Richard and Grant. George is talking to Anderson fairly often and only some of it has to do with Night Crimes, which is why George doesn't even blink when his Blackberry vibrates in his hand and 'Anderson' pops up on the screen.
"Yes, Savior of the Free World?" George can't keep the mirth out of his tone.
"Savior of the Free World?" Anderson mocks. "I think there are some people who might have a problem with a 40-year-old gay man as their savior. Plus, I eat pork. I know I'm going to burn for that one."
"Well, I won't tell if you won't tell." George tries to juggle his blackberry and the coffee canister. He doesn't know what time it is, but whatever time it is, it's also coffee time.
"What are you doing?" Anderson asks curiously after George drops a sack of coffee beans loudly in the sink.
"I'm making coffee, so I can stay up and watch my favorite news program, Anderson Cooper 360 Daily. Have you seen it? The anchor is really hot."
There's a silence down the line and for a minute George thinks Anderson's hung up on him. "You watch my show?" Anderson asks.
"I was on your show," George points out. "I couldn't very well say I prefer watching The Daily Show, now could I?"
"Well, you have slept with Jon. I haven't done that yet."
George finally gets a handle on the coffee and his phone and manages to pour enough coffee beans for the next month into the machine. "I notice you said 'yet' there; is there something I should know?"
"Only if you know something I don't."
"I know a lot of things you don't," George quips. "But if I tell you then you won't be surprised when Barack wins the election."
"I've heard you’re a big Barack fan."
George speaks up over the whirring of his coffee maker. "He's my political crush, but don't mention that on-air, because Michelle is sort of possessive."
"I know it's hard to have a crush on those straight married men," Anderson agrees.
George can't help the twisted laugh that escapes. "Even the confused ones cause problems," he says sourly.
"Not everyone is confused," Anderson says after a moment. "Some people know for sure that they want you to come to New York so they can take you to dinner."
George doesn't know what to say. He wants to say yes, but yes always leads to 'no, I'm not really gay' or 'I want kids' or 'let's go to Vermont.'
George isn't anti-commitment; he's just anti-stupidity.
"George?"
"I, uh, wow." George hedges as he looks for his favorite mug, the one with Max's picture on it. It was a Christmas gift Ari and Matt arranged a few years ago.
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a 'wow', Anderson."
"You know, my friends call me Andy."
"I like Anderson. It's very proper and refined."
"It's hard in bed."
George fumbles his mug in the drain board. "You have a lot of practice saying your own name in bed?" George teases.
"You never answered my question about coming to New York."
"I thought our first date was going to be in Darfur." George is digging for time; it's perfectly obvious to both of them.
"George, stop prevaricating," Anderson sighs.
"I don't do commitment," George begins. "I just don't. People get involved and forget how to behave. You're still two separate people. Nothing changes."
Anderson snorts. "I'm pretty sure that people in Nepal know who you are, George. I'm not the Borg; I'm not going to assimilate you. It's just a date."
George finally gets his mug under the coffee maker's spout and fills it up. Crap. He forgot the milk. He likes to put the milk in first.
"Guys like you and I don't date," George tries again, opening the fridge and looking for the milk. Why is there no milk?
"What's that supposed to mean?"
George just took a wrong step. Crap twice. There's no milk either.
George sighs and closes the refrigerator door. "I don't date, okay? I go out with people, we drink and I come home. Alone. End of story. Other people make things messy. They complicate you. And then they leave and you're left wondering what the fuck happened and why you don't want to get up in the morning. It's just not worth it."
"That's -- that’s," Anderson stops. "Do you really feel that way?"
George shrugs. "I don't know."
"Are you trying to save the world so you don't have to save yourself?"
"Now you sound like one of those Christian evangelicals."
"I'm serious."
George snorts mirthlessly. "I know you are."
Anderson sighs again. "I still think you should come to New York and let me take you to dinner."
"Will you promise me mindless sex and not to call in the morning?"
"I don't make promises like that."
"I knew you were too good to be true."
"Don't you think you should give me a chance before you write me off?"
"Ah, the idealism of the young." George takes a sip of his coffee black. It's disgusting. He takes sip another anyway.
"You are so jaded it's sad," Anderson complains. "It's also kind of hot."
"Aren't you glad Ari donated his fee up front?"
"I don't get you, George, but maybe that's the whole point," Anderson says. "I have to go, we have to set up for taping."
"Right."
"I would've done this for free," Anderson says quickly. "Just so you know."
The dial tone covers up George's reply.
The thing with Brad that most people don’t understand (or don't want to understand) is that Brad never promised George anything. George wasn't expecting "forever". Brad was married to Jen, and even if Brad spent more time with George than he did with his wife that was okay. George liked Jen and Jen liked George. They had an understanding. Neither one needed Brad all the time; they just needed to have him enough. And then Angelina came along and fucked up the rotation.
George knows how to share. It's other people that get confused.
"Ari, no," is George's brilliant reply to his Crackberry beeping at him at him in irritation at seven o'clock in the morning. He presumes its Ari, because nobody else calls him this early except for Anderson, and he's probably still mad at George for being himself.
That happens sometimes.
Right now, George's hair isn't even awake. If Shia's in jail again, he's going to have to get comfortable.
"George! It's Jon."
George is mostly asleep and dreaming about taking Max for a walk down Sunset in his favorite boxers. The striped ones with the hole in the thigh. "Jon?"
"Jon Stewart," Jon adds, "we slept together in front of 30 million people."
It takes George a minute, because as much as he likes and respects Jon, they're not calling buddies, they're e-mail buddies. They send each other spam and political articles and sometimes they sleep together for the Oscars, but normally, they just communicate via Blackberry. "How could I forget that, Jon, it was the biggest audience I'd had all year."
"Yeah, and I don't want to see it happening again," a third voice pipes up, and George sits up and looks around his bedroom in confusion. He's pretty damn sure he didn't bring anybody home last night but as you get older you tend to forget things.
"Jon, am I talking to your imaginary friend?"
"Stephen, stop scaring the A-lister," Jon chides. George collapses back onto his pillows.
"Is this Stephen Colbert, who speaks the gospel of truthiness?" George prods and there's a giggle down the line.
"Oh my god!" Jon protests right in George's ear. "Did you just giggle like a schoolgirl?"
"No," Stephen asserts, "I giggled like a fan of George 'Hunka-hunka Burnin' Love' Clooney. You know that's what we call you in the writer's room, right?"
"Not that we have any writers," Jon disseminates.
"I thought you were going to fix that, Clooney," Stephen complains.
"Boys, boys, boys." George really feels like a parent at the moment. "As much as I'd like to send you both to your rooms, or maybe each other's room, to what do I owe the pleasure at," a glance at his alarm clock," seven-eighteen in the morning?"
"I told you it was too early," Jon protests.
"It's never too early for justice!" Stephen retorts.
George chuckles. "Do I want to know what justice you're dispensing, or am I supposed to find out on tonight's Daily Show?"
"Well, that depends," Jon begins and George shakes his head even though nobody can see it.
"That depends on what?"
"On when you're going to make an honest man out of Andy," Stephen offers.
"That depends on when I'm going to do what to who?" George has to sit up. He can't have this conversation on his back; it's too confusing and his brain can't process anything.
"You and Anderson," Stephen says drolly. "Don't pretend like you're not playing 'hide the salami' with Mr. Vanderbilt. We know all about your wily Hollywood ways."
"And what ways would those be, Stephen?" Jon asks.
"Yeah, what ways are those?" George repeats.
Stephen doesn't miss a beat. "I don't know, but if you got Jon in bed on TV then there must be some of them somewhere."
"Are you still mad at me for that?" Jon and George speak at the same time and say the exact same thing. It's weird.
"JINX!" Stephen says excitedly, which is followed by some scuffling down the phone line. "And yes, Jon is mine; I called dibs. You can have Andy."
"Actually," Jon pipes up, "We'll give you Andy free of charge, but you have to promise to take good care of him."
"And feed him daily."
"And take him for walks."
"He gets really cranky if you don't take him out every day and then he pees on the carpet."
There's a pause, and then Jon speaks up again. "I think that's too much information, Stephen."
"You're probably right," Stephen agrees.
"Anyway, we just wanted to make sure that you know that we know what you're doing."
"What exactly am I doing?" George asks bemusedly.
"Like you need tips, Clooney!" Stephen mocks. "You can draw me some diagrams when you come on the show next week."
"Next week? I have to go to India next week."
"India will still be there in two weeks!"
"I thought he was going to be on my show next week!" Jon protests.
"You can have him afterwards." Stephen is all magnanimity. "You know I don't like sloppy seconds."
"That's not what you said earlier!"
"Would it matter if I said I had no idea what you two are talking about?" George interrupts.
"NO!" Jon and Stephen reply in tandem.
"Okay then," George offers helplessly. "I'll see you next week."
"We'll see you next week," Jon says, "and don't forget to leave a nightlight on for Andy in the hallway. Sometimes he gets lost."
George is still staring at his Blackberry long after Jon and Stephen have hung up.
George doesn't date. He doesn't actually know anyone who does. Even when he was younger, he didn’t date, he just sort of ended up in relationships. When was twenty, he was dating women who were thirty. When he was thirty he was married. At forty he was divorced and back to dating people who were thirty. At forty-six, he still dates people who are thirty. George just prefers people in their thirties. Thirtysomethings have lost the arrogance of teenagers, the idealization of twentysomethings and they've not yet reached the fuck-you bitterness of forty-plus.
Anderson Cooper is 40. He's entirely too old for George now; it's bound to end in disaster.
George hasn't talked to Anderson in six days. It's the longest they've gone without talking since George walked into Katsu-ya and realized Anderson looks fifteen times better in person than he does on TV, which is no small feat.
George isn't lonely; he just wants someone to talk to. He keeps working and working to make the world a better place, but he wants someone to make it better for.
"I was thinking that we should go to Darfur on our second date," George says by way of greeting when Anderson picks up his phone.
There's a pause and for a minute George's worried that he dialed the 360 Daily mixing desk by mistake. "Who is this?" Anderson asks and George snorts.
"It's George, Anderson. That kinky guy who wants to see you in your flak jacket."
"You know, I get a lot of fan mail involving my flak jacket," Anderson points out. "Is there something particular about it that gets you excited or do you just like war zones?"
George laughs. "No, mostly I just like looking at your arms in it. You have very nice arms."
"The last time I saw you, I was wearing a sweater."
"I told you I watch the show," George chides softly. "If you're going to take me out, you're going to have to learn to listen to what I say."
"Deaf people listen to what you say, George. I'm sure I can tune you out every now and then and get the highlight reel later."
"Not if you want to take me to dinner, you won't."
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
George can't help snorting. "You're amusing. Much more so than I thought you'd be."
"Why, because I report the news?'
"No, because people have been trying to give me your number for months now." Technically, it's been years. Since George was still with Brad -- Ari never liked Brad -- but Anderson doesn't need to know that.
"Maybe they're onto something. You should give me a chance."
"Why would you want to run around with some mixed-up actor like me? Don't you know that actors are notoriously dysfunctional and narcissistic?"
It's Anderson's turn to snort loudly. "You've obviously never grown up in New York society."
"Are you saying you might be able to teach me a thing or two?'
"Maybe, if you gave me a chance."
"Okay, well, then do you think you could come down here and let me into your building, because I've been sitting outside in this car for the last thirty minutes trying to figure out how I got to New York in the first place and I could really use some help here."
There's a pause. A long pause. For a moment, George thinks Anderson hung up on him. "You’re here?" Anderson speaks up eventually. "Downstairs?"
"Uh, yeah." George is so smooth. He has no idea what he's doing. Apart from that UN thing.
"There's no point in me asking how you got my address, is there?"
"Your people have spoken."
"Oh, god. You spoke to Jon?"
"Something like that."
"Okay, fine. I'll be there in five minutes."
There's the disconnect of Anderson hanging up and then George is sitting in the back of the Town Car waiting and he has absolutely no idea what the hell he's doing. He doesn't need a boyfriend. He doesn't want children. He has no idea how he's supposed to make this work with Anderson, but at the very least he can --
The knock on the window jars George out of his thoughts, and he leans forward to roll down the window. Anderson is on the curb in a tee-shirt and sweatpants. He looks damn hot considering it's, like, 30 degrees outside.
"Didn't you mother teach you not to leave the house without a coat?" George mocks.
Anderson makes a face. He is not amused. He reaches inside the car and opens the door. George just smirks and slides over to give him some room to get in the car, but not too much.
Anderson smells good, like soap and fabric softener and coffee. "So, you're here to see me?" Anderson asks, powering up the window to cut the draft before turning to George.
"I thought we'd been through this already," George says with a smile. He doesn't even realize he's taking off his coat until he's handed it over to Anderson.
Anderson looks at the coat for a moment before taking it and pulling it around himself. "People are going to talk."
George shrugs. "That's all people do. They talk. That's all you do, too; people pay you to talk."
"Yes, but I don't talk about me."
"Well, would you prefer to talk about me?"
Anderson settles back into the seat. "No, I'd prefer to talk about your cause."
"What if you're my cause too?" The words escape before George knows they're on the tip of his tongue, and Anderson's entire demeanor changes.
"I'd heard you were good," Anderson sits up, "but this is seriously impressive. Especially with all your writers on strike."
George sighs and rubs his forehead. "Yeah, writing your own material is a bitch."
He looks up when Anderson pulls his hand away from his face. "Are you serious?" Anderson's scrutiny in person is a thousand times more intense than anything George sees on CNN.
"I can't promise you anything," George hedges. "I'm not great with commitment. I don't do well with ultimatums, and I'm not looking for another kid either."
"But people change," Anderson points out. "Sometimes they even change their minds."
George thinks about Brad and Matt and how George has been fine being alone. This thing with Anderson isn't about being alone or being lonely; it's about having someone else by his side. He doesn't need Anderson, but he might like him all the same.
He's not sure if he kisses Anderson or Anderson kisses him, but they meet somewhere in the middle, somewhere where kisses taste like coffee and a morning screwdriver. It's not a bad way to go through life.
"So," George says after their first kiss.
"So," Anderson parrots.
"I think the best first date is the one where we go to Darfur and put ourselves in imminent danger and then go to my place in Lake Como and have really hot, life-affirming sex. How does that sound to you?" George offers.
Anderson's smile makes George's chest feel tight in a good way. Not the way it did when things always went wrong before. Not like with Brad. "Did you bring your passport?"
George laughs. "I never leave home without it. You never know when you might want to whisk your prize-winning journalist lover off to a dangerous location to shoot footage for your next Oscar-winning movie."
Anderson just rolls his eyes and nods towards the car door. "C'mon, Mr. Clooney, if we're going to save the world, I at least need to pack some underwear."
We're going save the world.
Yeah, George likes the sound of that. It's a hard, dirty business saving the world; it'll be nice to have someone else along with he and Don and Ryan and Shia and everyone else who's taking part.
"I don't think underwear is necessary to save the world," George protests as he follows Anderson's out the car. Sadly, with George's coat on, Anderson's ass is completely obstructed from George's eyes.
Anderson pauses on the curb and George almost walks right into him. "I said I was going to pack my underwear," Anderson explains in a low tone, "I never said anything about wearing it."
George smiles beatifically. "Oh, Mr. Cooper, I think you and I are going to go far."
To: maxismypig@smokehouse.com
From: ari.gold@mga.com
Subject: YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!
Blind Item from eonline.com
Which two twenty-something Oscar nominees have been doing more than just "rehearsing" the script for their upcoming film together? One of these nominees didn't come out of the closet as much as he blew the doors off, and the other nominee, well, who wouldn't want to sleep with him? I'd write his name on my notebook any day! We wonder how their director is going to feel about yet another on-set romance overshadowing one of his films.
Clooney and Cooper to Save World
Actor and Journalist travel to Sudan to film for Night Crimes
A-list actor and humanitarian George Clooney has just returned from a trip to the war-torn Darfur region of the Sudan with prize-winning journalist Anderson Cooper. Clooney recruited Cooper to help him shoot footage for his new film Night Crimes, which stars Oscar-winner Don Cheadle and Oscar-nominees Ryan Gosling and Shia LaBeouf.
The film, which centers around three reporters working in Darfur, including one war veteran (Gosling) and one Americanized-refugee (Cheadle), has been hotly tipped as the Oscar front runner when it comes out next winter, despite not having filmed one inch of footage.
Clooney is directing the piece, which is also being executive produced by Clooney and Matt Damon.
When asked about his involvement in a Hollywood production, Cooper simply said, "The war in the Sudan has been going on a long time. Too long. I'm just trying to do what I can to help."
"If you can change the way one person thinks," Clooney added, "then you can change the world."
-The End-
Happy Birthday ethrosdemon. I hope you liked the story; I definitely enjoyed writing it. I would also like to thank Stephen Colbert for being awesome and Anderson Cooper for being the only man for George.
BIG LOVE to antheia for listening to me babble and not letting the bastards grind her down and special thanks to anybody who's ever sent me a link to anything George-related ever.