This takes place a while ago, back when Stephen Colbert was still a correspondent on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Although it still seems like yesterday. Sigh. This is RPS, though I don't think it's very far off from Jon and Stephen's actual relationship. Not that they're romantically involved in real life. Or whatever.
Anyways, I don't own them. Obviously. Their beautiful wives do.
Jon never really let his insecurities get to him. Not that anyone knew of, anyway. However, on this particular Tuesday morning, he awoke in absolute contempt of his hair. As if he had somehow, in his slumber, ran through all of those little things that he didn't like about himself and concluded that his hair was number one on the list. After all, it seemed that he could essentially cover up everything else. He could put on a nice, carefully cut suit and not have to worry about his less than trim frame. He didn't at all mind the smile lines at the corners of his mouth; in fact, he took pride in the fact that their mere existence was a result of his now happy, content life. And as much as it seemed to provide the most fodder for the staff's incessant jokes, Jon could deal with his height. He simply hated his hair.
Tracey had reassured him earlier that morning, "I like your hair a lot, sweetie". For some reason, it has less weight than a certain, handsome coworker.
"I'm sure it evokes jealousy in old Jewish women everywhere… Really draws in an older demographic," Stephen quipped in an especially playful manner. And Stewart had actually thought the man was going to give him a compliment without it being at his expense. Any other day, Jon would have laughed it off; chuckling and suggesting Colbert actually do his job. Today seemed to be the exception. Jon was too exhausted to force a laugh, even to put on the old "cute, Colbert, but I'm having a long day" façade and go on his way. He didn't have the energy to think of a creative yet tactful solution to deal with the joke, so he just stood there, staring hopelessly into Stephen's eyes.
Stephen must have sensed his desperation, the pent-up sadness in Jon's eyes, because his expression shifted from happy and carefree to serious and concerned in a matter of seconds.
"Really, Jon, I like your hair."
No response.
"I like it a lot."
Stephen hesitantly raised his hand, and then, as almost as he had made some final, important decision, reached up and ran his hand through Jon's silvery hair. Of course, few people enjoyed the graying of their hair, though Stephen had always thought the silvery streaks that ran from his temples made Jon look wise, regal. He analyzed his thoughts. Was he about to think, handsome, attractive?
Jon held his gaze for a few moments, not quite sure when Stephen was going to break his classic deadpan and shuffle off with a goofy grin on his face. Probably just another gay joke, Jon reassured himself. That was their "thing," after all; making all sorts of innuendos, creating undertones and overtones, using imagery as much as possible. The writers just ate it up; so did the audience (he couldn't even imagine what kind of stuff that inspired on the internet).
However, Stephen hadn't shot out some witty remark, or made a ridiculous face. In fact, it almost seemed like his face had inched closer to Jon's.
"Fuck off Stephen, I'm not in a particularly good mood today," Jon suddenly huffed, swatting Stephen's hand away from his head. "Just… sorry." He turned on his heels and strode off in the direction of his office, leaving a confused and concerned Stephen standing in the middle of the hallway.
Jon knew he was acting like a child. He knew from the moment he woke up and felt "off" that his day would consist of pouting, sulking, and an unwelcome amount of facetious remarks to his staff. He'd tried his best to stay stowed away in his office, his usually open door firmly shut. He knew that, eventually, he would have to meet with the writers and review today's material for dress rehearsal. One of the perks of being a producer was that he could stall meetings, although unfortunately, not indefinitely.
He heard a hard knock on his door and knew right away that it could be a number of people. Any of the other producers, telling him to get his ass into gear, or perhaps a writer, attempting to politely enquire when the production meeting would be taking place. It could be his secretary, asking him for the fifth time that morning if he wanted a latte. As if a latte would remedy his foul mood.
"Yes?" Jon inquired rather shortly. He saw the doorknob turn and wondered whether he had enough energy to be angry at someone for having the audacity to enter his office without his permission. He decided that he'd let it go. Just like a cartoon, the top of a head and a pair of big brown eyes just barely peeked out from behind the door. Jon sighed.
"Do you require something, Stephen?" Stephen proceeded to fully step out from behind the door and took a step into Jon's office.
"Yes, I require an audience with Jon Stewart," Stephen jested, though he certainly wasn't being his quirky over-the-top self. Jon rubbed his temples and then motioned to him to come in. Stephen shut the door and sat in the chair in front of Jon's desk.
"I'm sorry about before," Jon started before Stephen could say anything. He felt guilty for being so terse with his co-worker and friend before. "Things have been… off… today." He looked down at his desk and realized how much of a dick he'd been all morning.
"I actually came to apologize to you, Jon," Stephen replied whole-heartedly. "No one likes a joke at their expense when they're having a shitty day." Jon looked up at Stephen, who looked genuinely sorry. "Is it anything, err—appropriate—for discussion in the workplace?"
Jon had to crack a smile. You certainly couldn't tell from his accent, but Colbert always had an odd sense of Southern courtesy that tickled Jon. People on the East Coast didn't bother with that type of manners and discretion, and especially not people from the City. Suddenly, Jon felt foolish for acting so superficial as to impose his funky attitude on his completely innocent staff.
"It's stupid." Jon didn't want to admit to Stephen that he exploded at him over a bad hair day. Stephen would definitely damage his opinion of him, and as selfish as it was, it pained Jon to think of losing Stephen's respect.
"You wanna take a short respite to the roof, seeing that the producers will most likely get here in the next five minutes to kick your ass?" Stephen's idea sounded pretty nice. Perhaps a bit of fresh air before moving forward with the day would do him good.
"Why not?' Jon surrendered, and a gleeful Mr. Colbert jumped up from his chair and led Jon out of his office.
After a less than publicized slip past the "roof access prohibited" sign and a speedy climb up the access stairs, Jon and Stephen found themselves leaning against what can only be described as a concrete "structure". Jon took a slow, deep breath in. The air was crisp but tasted like smog. He coughed.
"I guess this is as fresh as city air can get," Stephen responded.
"We were probably better off standing by an air conditioner in the studio," Jon replied, fairly serious.
They both took a moment, taking in the roof tops of the surrounding buildings in Hell's Kitchen. Most of them had been shabby warehouses, but were converted into all sorts of upscale offices and studios once downtown Manhattan began to overflow with people and money.
Suddenly, Jon felt the strong compulsion to be frank with his friend and exclaimed, "I'm upset because I'm having a bad hair day!"
Stephen turned to Jon, utilizing extraordinary control of his eyebrows, and gave him a very perplexed look. Then he burst out into a fit of laughter. Jon felt like an idiot, and his grumpy disposition began to return, full swing.
"Haven't you ever had an bad day?" Jon yelled defensively. Stephen caught his breath and gave Jon a sheepish smile.
"Everybody does!" He tried to stifle his laughter. Jon stood there, confused and a bit peeved.
"Stephen, I have absolutely no idea why you just went into a fit over that." Stephen took a step towards him and gave a small shrug.
"I find it funny, because, well…" Stephen smiled and tried to explain himself to his boss, "Jon, you've got incredibly sexy hair."
Beat.
"Seriously." And with that Stephen pressed his lips to Jon's, and the whole city seemed to stand still.