Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jon moved sheepishly to sit beside Stephen. Stephen studiously ignored him.

Jon waited ‘til everyone else was laughing at some inane joke and leaned over… only to realize he was leaning into Stephen’s wonky ear. He tapped Stephen on the shoulder timidly and, after making him sweat for a moment longer, Stephen finally gave in.

“What do you want, Jon?”

“You’re… you’re mad, aren’t you?”

Stephen turned his attention back to the stage. “Of course not. Why would I possibly be mad at you?” he asked sardonically.

Jon swallowed hard. Stephen was going to make him work for forgiveness this time. “B— Because I rejected you in front of hundreds of people?”

“Actually it was thousands, Jon, or it will be. But you know, whatever.”

Stephen’s expression was calm, relaxed. He gazed attentively at the stage, smiling periodically and laughing where appropriate, looking for all the world like a happy, slightly tipsy man. Only the tone of his voice suggested hurt, irritation, betrayal.

Jon wondered which one was the act and which was the truth.

It disturbed him that he couldn’t tell with Stephen anymore.

He wondered if that was because they had been apart for so long, or because all this time Stephen had been an even better actor than Jon had thought, and had just been going easy on Jon.

Neither possibility boded well for their relationship after this.

Jon leaned a little closer to Stephen, needing to be sure Stephen heard him, but wary of making a scene, knowing that the cameras would be cutting to them again soon and that Stephen’s wife was right behind them, studiously pretending not to be watching their every move.

“Stephen…” he trailed off, close to giving up, until he caught Stephen nod nearly imperceptibly.

He was listening.

Jon plowed on. “You know me, Stephen. You know I can’t… even if I want to, I can’t just… in front of everyone, I physically can’t help—”

Without warning Stephen turned quickly to look at him, eyes flashing. “I know. You never could. You always flinch away, and you leave me looking like a perv who can’t restrain himself in front of everyone!”

Jon huffed. “Then stop trying to ki—”

“I can’t!”

Jon startled at that.

He and Stephen stared at each other for a long, tense, entirely too honest moment.

Jon spoke first, quietly. “So… you’re saying you kind of are a perv who can’t restrain himself?”

For a few terrifying seconds Jon feared his quip had wildly missed the mark. Then Stephen’s mouth turned up at the edges, just slightly. Just enough.

“I guess I am, yeah,” Stephen said softly. “At least when it comes to you.”

Jon could feel his face and neck flush. He grinned shyly. “You know… I could try to make it up to you.”

Something dark and exquisite flashed in Stephen’s eyes. “Tonight?”

Jon nodded, peering up at him.

“It’s been a long time since we…” Stephen murmured. He licked his lips, and Jon couldn’t help following the movement.

“I know,” Jon replied, “but I want to… apologize. For tonight.”

He held Stephen’s gaze, didn’t dare glance back to see Evie’s reaction to all this. Stephen did, though, asking a wordless question of his wife and apparently receiving the answer he wanted.

He turned back to Jon, granting him the full thousand-watt smile. It had been a while since Jon had seen it directed at him. It still made his breath catch.

“Evie says it’s okay,” Stephen said unnecessarily. “Tracey?”

Jon ducked his head. “Actually… um… I already got her permission that— if I wanted to— and if you weren’t doing anything after the show… If it just happened—”

Jon felt Stephen’s large hand cover his own and looked up to find what was surely the world’s most self-satisfied smirk plastered across Stephen’s face.

“You waaaant me,” Stephen sing-songed, voice low in Jon’s ear. “You want to kiiiiiiss me, and take me to a hoteeeeel to get me aloooone and have seeeee—”

“All right, enough of that!” Jon whispered furiously, trying to contain his laughter and failing miserably. “And take your hand out of my lap before somebody sees!”

Stephen did as he was bidden, leaning back against his own chair and putting a sizable amount of space between them, and that was when the camera caught them - giggling to themselves like naughty children, too giddily happy to even be grateful that everyone else seemed to be laughing at something, too.

Jon knew Stephen would keep an appropriate distance for the rest of the night. After all, he’d already gotten more than he’d expected out of his shenanigans tonight.

Unless, of course, he’d planned the whole thing - fight and all - in order to convince Jon to sleep with him.

If Jon was honest with himself, that was probably what happened. But he didn’t care.

Just as Stephen had known that he wouldn’t.