Fic: Nobody New (Jon/John Oliver, Jon/Stephen)
Title: Nobody New
Author: trustingno1
Rating: very mild R. If that.
Wordcount: 954
Pairing: Jon/John Oliver; Jon/Stephen
Summary: But when he's got John bent over his office desk, his hand fisting in the back of his dress shirt, he's close enough
He didn't hire John Oliver because he reminds him of Stephen.
(John cocks his head to the side, before saying, deliberately, "Jon," and Jon glances back down at his script as he nods).
He didn't.
(John shoves one hand in his pocket, blinking - patiently - as he waits for the laughter to subside - and Jon looks out at the audience for a long moment).
He's really nothing like Stephen.
(It's only when Jon cracks up that John's composure falters; his cheeks dimple as he tries not to smile -
- or look as pleased as he is.)
But when he's got John bent over his office desk, his hand fisting in the back of his dress shirt, he's close enough.
(He shuts his eyes).
John somehow always has the presence of mind to clear a space; he wordlessly moves Jon's script out of the way, depresses the click-top on his pens and smoothes his hand over the desktop.
(He never grabs Jon's pen, yanking the cap off with his teeth; never scribbles on the blue script until Jon grabs at his hands, crying, "Stop that!" through his laughter. He never pauses, his brow furrowing; never glances down at the script, and asks, in mock confusion "Is this important?" and Jon never smiles ruefully back at him, until he finally says, simply, "No.")
John silently takes Jon's half-empty coffee mug, places it carefully on the coaster Jon never bothers with, on the other side of the desk.
(He never takes a sip of the tepid coffee; never grimaces exaggeratedly; never smiles - almost shyly - at Jon's revolted laugh - and he never leans in and kisses Jon, his lips wet, before murmuring, wryly, "It's not that bad," and Jon never laughs against his mouth.)
John always remembers to lock the door.
(Jon never pulls back, reluctantly, and protests, "Wait - no - someone could walk in-" and John never leans forward and kisses the underside of his jaw as he tugs Jon's shirt free; never mumbles, "No one will. I promise." - so Jon never sighs and replies, "You can't promise that," even as he helps John out of his jacket, and John never laughs, triumphantly, and adds, gently, "We'll give 'em one hell of a show," before softly kissing his forehead).
John says nothing; he pants, a little too quickly, maybe, through his blocked nose - and when Jon changes his angle slightly, leans forward a little more, John breathes, "Christ Jon," - and Jon starts, and shoves back in harder, his teeth clenched so tightly his jaw already aches.
(He never turns his head to the side to murmur, in time with Jon's jerky thrusts, "Love you, love you, love you,", so Jon never reaches around and squeezes him; never presses a quick kiss to his clothed shoulder and mutters, affectionately, into his neck, "You just love what I'm doing to you.")
John never laughs.
(He never chuckles, so Jon never groans and forces out, a little stiltedly, "You know. You keep laughing? You'll - give me a complex." John never laughs harder, and ribs, gently, "To add to the one you have?" and Jon never huffs in mock irritation.)
John squeezes his own hands tightly, his fingers interlaced.
(He never reaches out for the script that he'll later claim he grabbed by accident; he'll never deliberately crumple it as his right hand grabs the side of the desk until his knuckles are mottled).
John pauses before straightening up again.
(He never cranes his neck and tosses over his shoulder, "Is that all you've got?" so Jon never shoves at him, weakly, and John never laughs and turns in Jon's arms).
John waits for Jon to take a step back, his legs shaky, and clear his throat. "Pull up your pants," he says, simply, his voice low, and John - always a little awkwardly - does.
(He never perches on the desk, grimacing slightly as he settles; never spreads his legs and pulls Jon towards him. He doesn't play, idly, with Jon's tie, and Jon doesn't slowly rub his thighs.)
John fumbles with his zip, his hands trembling slightly. "I'll just-" John jerks his thumb towards the door, his eyes large behind his glasses, and Jon half nods.
(Jon never leans in until his nose brushes John's; never smiles at him, even though he's too close to even focus properly on his face - and he never murmurs, amused, "Don't you have some work to be doing?" John never lifts his chin slightly and kisses him; never pulls back, a little smugly, and replies, "Probably," so Jon never laughs, helplessly.)
John pauses; "I'll see you tomorrow, Jon," he adds, pushing his glasses back up his nose - and something that tastes like stale beer rises up the back of Jon's throat, so he merely nods again.
(He never wraps his arms around Jon's neck - never kisses the corner of his mouth; Jon never says, through his smile, "Get out," and John never snorts in laughter, his legs tightening around Jon's hips, and replies, confidently, "You don't want me to go," and Jon never grins harder and insists, "Yes I do."
"You love me," John never says, so Jon never rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly, before kissing John's temple, and all but mouthing, "I do.")
John closes the door behind him, gently.
(He never glances back at Jon, smirking almost imperceptibly; never winks, exaggeratedly; never blows a kiss - so Jon never groans and waves at him to get out. He never makes a face in response; they never trade easy - almost secretive - grins, and Jon never turns back to his computer smiling).
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
Any mention of 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', 'Viacom', any associated entites, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976 and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.
Author: trustingno1
Rating: very mild R. If that.
Wordcount: 954
Pairing: Jon/John Oliver; Jon/Stephen
Summary: But when he's got John bent over his office desk, his hand fisting in the back of his dress shirt, he's close enough
He didn't hire John Oliver because he reminds him of Stephen.
(John cocks his head to the side, before saying, deliberately, "Jon," and Jon glances back down at his script as he nods).
He didn't.
(John shoves one hand in his pocket, blinking - patiently - as he waits for the laughter to subside - and Jon looks out at the audience for a long moment).
He's really nothing like Stephen.
(It's only when Jon cracks up that John's composure falters; his cheeks dimple as he tries not to smile -
- or look as pleased as he is.)
But when he's got John bent over his office desk, his hand fisting in the back of his dress shirt, he's close enough.
(He shuts his eyes).
John somehow always has the presence of mind to clear a space; he wordlessly moves Jon's script out of the way, depresses the click-top on his pens and smoothes his hand over the desktop.
(He never grabs Jon's pen, yanking the cap off with his teeth; never scribbles on the blue script until Jon grabs at his hands, crying, "Stop that!" through his laughter. He never pauses, his brow furrowing; never glances down at the script, and asks, in mock confusion "Is this important?" and Jon never smiles ruefully back at him, until he finally says, simply, "No.")
John silently takes Jon's half-empty coffee mug, places it carefully on the coaster Jon never bothers with, on the other side of the desk.
(He never takes a sip of the tepid coffee; never grimaces exaggeratedly; never smiles - almost shyly - at Jon's revolted laugh - and he never leans in and kisses Jon, his lips wet, before murmuring, wryly, "It's not that bad," and Jon never laughs against his mouth.)
John always remembers to lock the door.
(Jon never pulls back, reluctantly, and protests, "Wait - no - someone could walk in-" and John never leans forward and kisses the underside of his jaw as he tugs Jon's shirt free; never mumbles, "No one will. I promise." - so Jon never sighs and replies, "You can't promise that," even as he helps John out of his jacket, and John never laughs, triumphantly, and adds, gently, "We'll give 'em one hell of a show," before softly kissing his forehead).
John says nothing; he pants, a little too quickly, maybe, through his blocked nose - and when Jon changes his angle slightly, leans forward a little more, John breathes, "Christ Jon," - and Jon starts, and shoves back in harder, his teeth clenched so tightly his jaw already aches.
(He never turns his head to the side to murmur, in time with Jon's jerky thrusts, "Love you, love you, love you,", so Jon never reaches around and squeezes him; never presses a quick kiss to his clothed shoulder and mutters, affectionately, into his neck, "You just love what I'm doing to you.")
John never laughs.
(He never chuckles, so Jon never groans and forces out, a little stiltedly, "You know. You keep laughing? You'll - give me a complex." John never laughs harder, and ribs, gently, "To add to the one you have?" and Jon never huffs in mock irritation.)
John squeezes his own hands tightly, his fingers interlaced.
(He never reaches out for the script that he'll later claim he grabbed by accident; he'll never deliberately crumple it as his right hand grabs the side of the desk until his knuckles are mottled).
John pauses before straightening up again.
(He never cranes his neck and tosses over his shoulder, "Is that all you've got?" so Jon never shoves at him, weakly, and John never laughs and turns in Jon's arms).
John waits for Jon to take a step back, his legs shaky, and clear his throat. "Pull up your pants," he says, simply, his voice low, and John - always a little awkwardly - does.
(He never perches on the desk, grimacing slightly as he settles; never spreads his legs and pulls Jon towards him. He doesn't play, idly, with Jon's tie, and Jon doesn't slowly rub his thighs.)
John fumbles with his zip, his hands trembling slightly. "I'll just-" John jerks his thumb towards the door, his eyes large behind his glasses, and Jon half nods.
(Jon never leans in until his nose brushes John's; never smiles at him, even though he's too close to even focus properly on his face - and he never murmurs, amused, "Don't you have some work to be doing?" John never lifts his chin slightly and kisses him; never pulls back, a little smugly, and replies, "Probably," so Jon never laughs, helplessly.)
John pauses; "I'll see you tomorrow, Jon," he adds, pushing his glasses back up his nose - and something that tastes like stale beer rises up the back of Jon's throat, so he merely nods again.
(He never wraps his arms around Jon's neck - never kisses the corner of his mouth; Jon never says, through his smile, "Get out," and John never snorts in laughter, his legs tightening around Jon's hips, and replies, confidently, "You don't want me to go," and Jon never grins harder and insists, "Yes I do."
"You love me," John never says, so Jon never rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly, before kissing John's temple, and all but mouthing, "I do.")
John closes the door behind him, gently.
(He never glances back at Jon, smirking almost imperceptibly; never winks, exaggeratedly; never blows a kiss - so Jon never groans and waves at him to get out. He never makes a face in response; they never trade easy - almost secretive - grins, and Jon never turns back to his computer smiling).
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
Any mention of 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', 'Viacom', any associated entites, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976 and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.