So, I wrote this several weekends ago, and I had partaken in a little bit of Mary Jane myself. So feel free to judge, but realize why this is so cracky. So whatever. Have fun.
PS- Apparently, in my head, if you're a Scottish man, you like to make out with other Scottish men. Obviously, guys.
Craig Ferguson leaned into the small concave that featured the only outdoor window in his dressing room. Carefully maneuvering his hands and his head, he leaned forward just out the open window and carefully took another hit of the joint.
Though he was very strict and serious about his alcohol consumption (or lack thereof) after his intervention almost 20 years ago, and he had finally quit smoking cigarettes 10 years ago, he would partake in the occasional hit of his old friend Mary Jane. Pot had never been a problem with him. While he smoked like a chimney and found himself piss-drunk every day for the first part of his life, he found marijuana had never triggered the same addictive part of his personality, nor had it ever manifested itself in some life-depreciating way. So, every now and again, he'd roll a joint, lean out his dressing room window, and take a clandestine moment to enjoy something that hadn't jeopardized his life.
Not that everyone on his team didn't know he smoked once in a while, he just had no desire to reek of the stuff when he started recording the show in two hours, and he certainly did not want a repeat of the not-too-distance event when he discovered the fire alarm to be much more sensitive than previously thought.
Loud footsteps approached his end of the outside hallway, and he quickly debated whether to hold onto the joint or quickly toss it out the window and endure the assistant producer's questions as to why his window was wide open in the middle of winter and how he possibly could still be undressed before rehearsal. Whether it was his usual tenacity or simply a deep desire to get a little more high, Craig held strong and tried to hold his arm out the window while looking as inconspicuous as possible.
Craig heard three knocks on the door. Instinctively, he tossed the joint into the wind, although he wasn't entirely thrilled with his split-second reaction before he had even asked who was at the door. Of course it wasn't any of the producers or his family, they always burst in without any notice. Most of the production team would still be occupying with working through kinks and setting up pre-show.
Curious, he worked up his best falsetto and cheerfully sang, "Who is it?"
A warm, familiar voice from the other side of the door replied in an equally gay, sing-song voice, "It's Ewan!"
A wave of joy and nostalgia washed over Craig; he hadn't seen Ewan since they taped his interview almost five months earlier. Usually they kept in better contact, but with hectic schedules they inevitably had to postpone their usual visits. Craig quickly shut the window and practically leapt towards the dressing room door, stopping just a few feet in front of it to ruffle his hair and make sure he wasn't wearing anything too embarrassing. He determined jeans and a David Bowie t-shirt to be a lucky choice, thanking the heavens he hadn't been fooling around and put on some sort of 80s dress. He reached for the doorknob, turning it slowing and calmly open the door.
"Hello, darling," he attempted to say cheekily, although the delight from seeing a dear friend quickly spread to his smile.
"Hello, sweetheart," Ewan countered. He flashed a charming but subtle smile that could have easily gotten any women into his bed before grinning ear to ear and letting out a quick giggle.
They both broke into laughter and Ewan stepped into the dressing room to give his old friend a hug.
"Now what are you doing here, you cheeky devil? I thought you were going to be shooting in Montreal for another month, at least!" Craig clapped his friend on the backed and ushered him into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him.
"Shooting ended last weekend, and I just got back to L.A. today. Got a few weeks before I have to be in London for the play." Craig though Ewan did look a little more tired than his usual energetic self. Hollywood could take a toll even on him every once in a while.
"I must ask," Craig smugly enquired, "how did filming that final sex scene with Angelina Jolie go?"
"Oh I'll tell you, she's a witch, that one. Demanded we shoot 14 times because the choreography wasn't to her liking." He chuckled and sat down in one the chairs lined up by the long mirrored wall. "I think she was just jealous that I seemed to be getting more attention from the guy running camera two than she was." Ewan grinned mischievously.
Craig hazily wandered over the chair behind the desk across from Ewan and lazily slouched into it. He started to wonder if letting anyone into his dressing room after he had smoked was a clever idea. As dearly and closely as he loved his friend, a bit of paranoia took over and his now cloudy mind worried that he wasn't acting himself around his friend.
Ewan noticed that Craig's attention had drifted off the mirror he was sitting in front of, and politely enquired, "Craig, are you feeling yourself?"
Craig immediately sat up and exclaimed, "I've just smoked a joint and I fear I'm not myself at the moment." For a moment, they sat in silence, looking at each other, hoping to read some sort of reaction. Suddenly, Ewan burst into a fit of laughter, and Craig immediately followed suit.
Attempted to stifle his laughter, Ewan choked out, "I've just smoked after I got out of the airport," he broke into more laughter, and then finished, "I had to smoke five fags on my way over to cover the smell!"
They both grinned like idiots and questioned themselves why they ever doubted each other for a moment. Ewan stood, what seemed like suddenly to Craig, and walked over the where he was seated behind the desk. Just when Craig was beginning to question what was going on, Ewan sat down straddling his lap. Ewan giggled.
Craig giggled back, "I must say, I didn't expect this to happen but I'm certainly not saying anything against it."
"Oh good," Ewan grinned, "because I don't plan on sitting anywhere else for the time being." He learned forward and got very close to Craig's left ear.
"You know, I've missed you terribly these past five months."
Turned-on by Ewan's antics and tickled by the fact Ewan had also realized it had been five months, Craig leaned back into the chair and beamed as he shut his eyes. Clearly, some bizarre events were currently taking place, but he didn't pride himself in being right-minded enough to try and figure out what they actually meant.
"You realize, I have to be in the studio for dress in five min-" Ewan cut him off by forcing his lips on Craig's.
For a moment, nothing happened. Both remained still, lips pressed together, neither man daring to take a breath. Briefly taking a moment to assess the situation, Craig decided not to second-guess himself in such a state of mind, and allowed his tongue to trace Ewan's bottom lip. Ewan's mouth parted, and for the briefest of moments, their tongues clashed and twisted and Craig had remembered how good it felt to plainly kiss someone.
Then, a knock on the door, and they frantically pulled apart. Ewan leapt (very spryly, Craig noted) out of his lap and over the corner of the desk. Craig learned forward in his chair and tried his very hardest to not look stoned, or like he'd just been ferociously snogging someone. Ewan tried to casually lean against the side of the desk but ended up knocking over a cup of pencils and pens. The door opened.
'Of course it'd be Michael,' Craig thought. He tried to hide the grimace on his face with a cheap smile, and Ewan tried to innocently pick up pencils off the ground.
"What are you guys doing in here? Craig, you had to be in the studio 3 minutes ago. We're recording in 2 hours, for Christ's sake!" Per usual, Michael was unhappy with him.
"Ewan and I were working on the sketch for tonight." Craig gave Michael his biggest shit-eating grin.
Michael was not pleased. "Craig, how many times have I told you? You need to tell me before we add sketches to the show! I'm going to have to reorder the shooting time and check in the with lighting crew and pull Betty from costumes to get you prepared…" he muttered to himself as he walked out the door.
Craig grinned out Ewan, one that was happily reciprocated by his friend.
"Well, I better get out there. I don't want Michael to make me have another conference with corporate." He stood up from his chair, grabbed his snake mug, and headed to the door.
"Have a good show," Ewan called from behind him, "…sweetie."
Craig turned at the door and beamed at him. "I will, love.'
'Maybe tonight won't be so shitty," Craig thought. "Also, smoke more. With Ewan."