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As you lay on the sofa, finishing a novel, he sits in the chair, stroking the cat in his lap. He appears to be dozing off as you finally stand to put the book back on the shelf. You lean over him to reach its proper place, and suddenly he reaches up and pulls you into a long, deep kiss. After several seconds that feel like many blissful hours, he lets go.Pleasantly surprised, you ask, “What was that for?”He smiles affectionately up at you, his glasses slightly askew. “The cat seemed like she was getting too full of herself. Thought I’d knock her down a peg or two.”
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You’re perched in front of the mirror hours before the awards show as he peruses his collection of suits, currently only wearing a white tee and boxers. He pulls out two jackets and presents them to you. “Which one?”You blink. “Those are almost exactly the same shade.”He sighs in mock exasperation. “Yes, but this one is the color of the sky at precisely 11:47 PM on a Tuesday, and this one is 3:24 AM the subsequent Wednesday! If you’re going to obstruct my mirror, at least give me some good advice.”You screw up your face, pretending to think hard. “Well… we certainly don’t want them thinking you’re a morning person.”“You’re right. Then they might try to wake me up at the ungodly hour of 7 AM to feed me pancakes in bed,” he says, smirking at you. “I’ll go with 11:47, then.”He hangs up both suits and walks between your slightly spread legs, beginning to kiss you. You kiss back, running your hands through his hair. His hands are on your hips. You’re surprised for a moment; he’s not usually in this kind of mood when he’s getting ready to go out. Then you notice that he’s inching you slowly to the side. “Hey!”
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It’s your second interview with him. You’re pacing in circles backstage, hoping you don’t mess this up. Last time, you kissed. It was a gentle, giddy kind of kiss, and when your eyes met his after you broke apart, you could tell that he felt what you felt, too. The audience screamed their glee, but you barely noticed. His chocolate-colored eyes lavished you with the most intense affection. His mouth, still slightly open, was wearing an enormous smile. You couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the interview. You answered questions well enough, but the whole time your mind was somewhere else. And wherever that was, you were busy feeling his dark hair between your fingers as you pulled him into an even deeper kiss. You start to grin dreamily, thinking back to that moment.You’re so caught up in this memory that you don’t even notice he’s come backstage until he’s right in front of you. You gasp and step back.He smiles kindly, and perhaps with some pleasure that he has this effect. “Welcome back! It’s good to see you.”“Y-you too,” you stammer, managing a nervous grin.“Can’t wait to talk to you out there. Hey, I know we shook hands last time, but what do you want to do this time? I feel our relationship has evolved since then.” He smirks, and you know he’s thinking of the kiss.“Yeah… uh… would a hug be okay?”“Sure!” He seems more than fine with this. You can’t believe your luck. He starts to head back to his desk. “See you out there!”As soon as he leaves, your nerves set in again. You really want something like last time to happen again, but what if you mess up? You don’t want to make it too obvious to his audience what an enormous crush you have on him. Suddenly, you’re hearing your name, and the stage manager is giving you the signal to walk onstage. You try to stroll onstage nonchalantly, but you can’t help but grin widely as Stephen strides toward you with arms outstretched. You hug him tightly, and you can feel him holding you equally close. He breaks the embrace and says, “Right this way!” You make your way to the chair where you sat months ago and spent the better part of ten minutes fantasizing about the man now sitting opposite you.The interview goes by in a blur. You barely even notice what you’re saying; you’re too busy leaning towards him, praying for him to meet your lips halfway. You say his name at every opportunity. You’re not sure why, other than that it feels so right on your lips, and you love the little thrill it gives you.He never kisses you. It’s not, it seems, for lack of desire to. You catch him glancing at your lips sometimes as you speak, and the warmth of his smile cannot be manufactured. There is something in the timbre of his voice, too, that gives him the air of someone resisting temptation. But he never gives in. You’re a little put out as he goes to commercial.He turns to you, and over the audience’s applause, he says, “Thanks again for being here.”Any issue you have with him is immediately forgotten when you see the adoration in his eyes. “Thanks for having me! Wish we could’ve had a repeat of last time, though…” Suddenly, you panic. Is your mic off? Your eyes widen.He sees this, and gives a reassuring chuckle. “Don’t worry. We’re good. And I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t like to be predictable, and I feel like everyone already knows somehow that I’m extremely attracted to you.”You feel as though your heart has climbed to the top of the Ed Sullivan Theater and jumped. You can’t speak. After a moment of stunned silence: “Really?”He nods, blushing. An idea occurs to him. “Hey, if you really want a repeat, take your time leaving your dressing room, okay?” He winks.“Okay!” you say, probably with too much excitement. You stand up, and the audience applauds you offstage.You expect to wait until the end of the show, but not two minutes later, you hear Stephen asking for a break so that he can use the bathroom. Thirty seconds later, he is opening the door to your dressing room, panting a little.“Maybe I should’ve waited longer,” he says between breaths, “but I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” He puts his hand around your waist, pulling you close and dipping you as he gives you a deep, passionate kiss.You know that it could never be long enough to satisfy you, but when he pulls away it feels very abrupt. “I have to go,” he says apologetically.You sigh. “Okay.”“But here.” he grabs a pen and a napkin from the coffee table. He writes down a phone number. “This is my personal number. Use it if you ever need anything. Or if… you know… you just want to talk.”You brighten. “Thank you so much, Stephen.”“So… how about dinner Saturday?” You leave the Ed Sullivan Theater laden with gifts from the show, but you’re certain that you’ve never felt lighter.
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No one knows that you’re together. Not yet, anyway. He has his reasons for wanting to keep it secret, of course. He’s waiting for the right time, he keeps saying. His and your friends all know, but they keep tight-lipped out of respect for the privacy of your relationship. After all, he is supposed to be commenting on the news, not being a part of it. And the revelation that notable bachelor Stephen Colbert has had a secret significant other for almost a year would not exactly fly under the radar.You suppose that this is why you have never appeared on his show. Your chemistry and over-casual banter with one another might be a little too revealing to the world. Of course, you might be imagining that. After all, your show just started getting popular, so maybe it just wasn’t exciting enough for his booking people to come to you. His whole staff knows, of course, so they might not have invited you on because they know how quiet he likes to keep it.But you’re about ready to let the world know. You’re tired of not being able to be romantic in public, of watching him forlornly attending big events on his own, of not even being able to tell your family who you’re dating. You wake up one morning next to him to discover an email on your phone from your producer saying that you will be interviewing on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert about the upcoming season of your show. An ecstatic smile spreads across your face. Surely this means that he is ready to let everyone know?You set your phone down on your nightstand and roll over to him, waking him up with a soft kiss on the cheek. As his eyes open blearily, he grins. “I don’t know what I did to ever deserve you.”Unable to keep from smiling, you reply, “Well, why don’t you give it some thought and get back to me during our interview on Thursday?”His eyes widen in surprise. “What?!”Your smile falters. “You mean you didn’t okay your people booking me?”“No! Your people must have reached out to mine. I… didn’t give the upcoming guest list a thorough look before signing off on it.” He blushes slightly.“Well, that seems as good a time as any to tell everyone our secret,” you say slyly, your smile returning.He gets out of bed and begins getting dressed for work. “Not yet.”“Why not?” You’ve heard this too many times. “When is the ‘right time,’ Stephen?”“Look, it’ll be soon, okay? I promise. This is just as hard for me as it is for you.” He has stopped actually dressing and is now just pacing around the room in his boxers and a half-buttoned shirt, stopping occasionally in front of the mirror to attempt to tame his hair. “We can’t do it during this interview. You’re probably set as the first guest, and this would overshadow whatever is next.”“Well, if we can’t do it on Thursday, then at least give me a concrete date. No more vagueness.”He stops and meets your eyes. He sighs. “Okay. That’s reasonable. I’ve been putting this off for too long. How about… two weeks from today?”You blink. You didn’t expect him to give in so easily. He must not have been lying when he said that this was hard for him, too. “Fine. I’m putting this in my calendar. If there is no paparazzi outside our door in two weeks, I’m going to be mad.”Any evidence that you had just been in a disagreement melts from his face as he smiles. he climbs back into bed to kiss you tenderly. He pulls back. “I love you.”Your heart swells. You know he will follow through on this. “I love you too.” And, thus mollified, you settle back into bed and doze off while he finishes getting dressed. For the next few days, you hardly see each other. He is doing his show, and you are doing press for yours. Your only interactions consist of you returning home late each night (through the back door of the house so no one sees anything), undressing, and climbing into bed where he is already sound asleep. You snuggle close to him anyway; his body feels like home. When you wake, he is always gone already. You are looking forward to this interview, if not to reveal to the world that the two of you are dating, then at least to be able to spend some time with him while you’re both awake. Finally, the day arrives. You wake up early so you can catch him before he leaves. When your eyes shoot open to the sound of your alarm clock, he is just getting out of bed. He glances at you as you shut off the alarm. “You know,” he says as he moves around the room, getting ready, “when you sleep so close, you take away all my motivation to get out of bed.”You smile sweetly. “Well, me sleeping that close is my only motivation to get through any given day, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”He chuckles. “Fair enough.”“Hey, would it be okay if I rode over with you today?” you ask, sitting up. “You’re pretty much my only destination today.”He pauses. “You would be pretty early, but I guess you know everyone.” He is referring to the office parties he has held at his house. You’re fairly certain that his colleagues liked you, so being early will hopefully not be a problem.Twenty minutes later, you’re both being driven to the Ed Sullivan Theater. You thought you would be bored waiting around until your interview, but you ushered to the wings of the stage in what feels like barely any time at all. You suddenly realize that you’re extremely nervous. It occurs to you that not only is this your first interview with Stephen, it is also your first interview on late night. At least he’s not an unknown entity; in a lot of ways, this might be the best way to start.All too soon, you hear him announce your name to the audience. It always gives you a little thrill to hear him say your name, but the sound of him announcing it with enthusiasm to a packed room gives you a different kind of excitement. You walk onstage with a newfound burst of confidence and greet him with a hug that you both ensure is an appropriate length. He gestures towards your chair, and he follows you to the desk.You are immediately more comfortable here than you thought you would be. Perhaps it is because he is smiling at you in the genuine way he does at home, not with the fake joviality you can sometimes catch him using with guests who bore him. Or maybe it’s just your stage charisma kicking in. Or maybe a bit of both.You find it hard to keep a straight face at some points in the interview, and so, it seems does he. It seems so silly that the two of you are acting as if you barely know each other when he routinely cooks you dinner before you go to bed together. You both fight not to break, though you seem to be more successful. Even with fairly unfunny questions, you can see a stupid, adoring smile inching across his face when he asks them. It becomes a game of you seeing how much you can get him to break. This must be a bizarre interview to the audience; they are certainly laughing enough, but half of it is because the both of you are acting so strange from their perspective.At one point, you somehow find yourself talking about your sleeping habits. You’re not sure how you got on the subject, but suddenly you spot a chance to further the game. “I go to bed late a lot because I’m very much a night owl. It drives my boyfriend crazy.”Stephen’s eyes are suddenly full of trepidation. He knows what he must ask next, even if he doesn’t want to. “Oh? I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone.”You smile dreamily. “I certainly am! Ask me his name.”He hesitates.“Ask me my boyfriend’s name, Stephen!” you repeat cheerily.Unable to hide a little of the nervousness in his voice, he asks, “What is your boyfriend’s name?”“I’m not telling you.” This elicits a laugh from the audience, and the combination of the joke and the relief of your not revealing your relationship finally makes Stephen fully burst into laughter.The interview ends, and you go back to your dressing room to get your things. You decide to head home without waiting for him. It’s a Thursday, which means taping for tonight’s and tomorrow’s shows, and you’re exhausted from all of the pent-up nerves finally being let out. You take a taxi home. You try to wait up for him by reading a book in bed, but fall asleep without even finishing the first page. You wake up too early the next morning. Something strange is going on. Why does your phone keep going off? You roll over groggily to check it. It is full of missed calls and texts from just about everybody in your life, all wanting to know the same thing: how long have you been dating Stephen Colbert?Your stomach drops. Suddenly you’re all too awake. You shake Stephen awake. “Sorry. I’m just really stressed.” You show him your phone. “I know our interview was weird, but was I that obvious? I really didn’t mean to reveal…” You trail off at the sight of the sly smile on his face.He assumes a faux-concerned face. “I may have let slip to last night’s audience that we were seeing each other. I asked them politely not to tell anyone, but…” That’s all he manages to get out before you are on top of him, kissing the man who everyone now knows is yours and yours alone.
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It is eleven o’clock. The power is out. Snow is silently laying siege to the house as the two of you sit up reading. The flickering light of the candles lends a particular cozy warmth to the room even though most of it is still blanketed in darkness.Not a word has been spoken for many hours. On your last date night, the two of you went to the bookstore and each picked out something they thought the other would like. Now you are reading them silently, fully engrossed as you sit shoulder to shoulder on the couch. You are reveling in each sentence, wondering what each word meant to him when his clever brown eyes considered it. All of his favorite books are prose that read like poetry. There is such purpose in every syllable, just as there is in everything he does.Your head begins to droop slightly. You are starting to get sleepy. Suddenly, you find your face has met his shoulder. You feel him chuckle, but neither of you moves. Slowly, you begin to drift off. You vaguely feel him pull the book out of your hands and place it on the coffee table so that it will not disturb you. He kisses the top of your head. “Is it time for bed?”You want to say no, to do anything to stay in this moment forever, but you reluctantly nod your head.He starts to get up, but you grab the sleeve of his tee shirt. “Can we just sleep here tonight?” you ask groggily.He smiles affectionately. “Of course.” He blows out all of the candles and lays back on the couch. You move on top of him, giving him one last peck on the lips before laying your head on his chest. You fall asleep to the quiet sounds of his breath.
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You push open the door with a sigh, a satisfying exhaustion sweeping up to greet you as you take in the familiar surroundings of your apartment.It is your birthday. He hates when it falls on a weekday, because it means he isn’t able to pamper you all day. Secretly, you are grateful for this. Not because he doesn’t know exactly how to make a day perfect, but because you feel like you don’t deserve all of this affection he thrusts upon you. You know he loves you, but you don’t see how it could warrant everything he does for you.As though on cue, he comes around the corner from the kitchen, carrying two plates stacked high with pancakes. wearing nothing but an apron with a picture of a perfectly muscled torso covering his belly. His expression, one of deep concentration, breaks into a manic grin when he sees you.“Hey! Perfect timing. Would you mind getting into pajamas and getting into bed?”You look at your watch, confused. “It’s only 8:00. Kind of an early night, isn’t it?”He only smiles wider. “Trust me. You’ll see.” You slowly lower your bag to the floor. Growing impatient, he sets the plates on the table by the door and grabs you by the shoulders. The warmth and strength of his hands as he steers you toward the bedroom only makes you more tired and less resistant to the sleepiness creeping over you.He guides you into the bedroom. You look back at him reluctantly. “Just humor me,” he says with such a look of boyish excitement on his face that you sigh and relent.“Fine.” You begin to take off your clothes. Rather than watch as he sometimes does, drinking in every inch of the body that completes him, he rushes out of the room.You finish changing and get into bed, pulling the covers over you. You impatiently wait for several minutes, hearing various clattering and clinks from the kitchen.Finally, he returns to the room. He is still wearing his stupid apron, and is now carrying a tray with two plates of beautifully fluffy pancakes, two glasses of orange juice, and a bottle of syrup.He sits the tray on your lap as he carefully gets onto the bed, straddling your legs. “Happy birthday, love.” His smile is no longer crazy. It is the softest warmest thing you have ever seen, radiating the affection of its owner. You break into a smile. You were right to humor him. He always knows exactly what makes you feel good, and the smell of pancakes combined with his weight on your legs certainly does that. “Thank you, Stephen.”He pulls a fork out of the pocket of his apron and presents it to you as though he is a knight presenting his sword. You take it with a giggle. You stab into a pancake and tear away a piece. You move it towards his face slowly until he gets the idea and opens his mouth.You watch him chew, savoring everything about him. A contented grin spreads across your face. He looks at you with a hint of bashfulness, seemingly unsure of what you're thinking. Finally swallowing, he asks, “What?”You move the tray aside and pull him down into a perfect, passionate kiss. The fingers of one hand weave into his thick hair while the other presses him as tightly against you as possible. He is kissing back, his hands brushing softly against your cheeks as your bodies desperately try to meld into one.After seeming eons of nirvana, he breaks the kiss. Still sitting astride your legs, arms planted on either side of your shoulders, he looks down at you and says, “Okay, time to get dressed!”You are once again befuddled. “I already have my pajamas on.”“No, now it’s time to get ready to start the day!”You stare at him, nonplussed.“Look, we both had work all day, so I thought I’d move the entire timetable of festivities that would usually happen on a weekend to tonight. Stage one is already complete!” The manic grin is back.“That sounds great, except that I have work tomorrow.” “That’s odd, because that’s not what your boss told me when I called her this afternoon.”You stare at him for a few silent seconds. How did you get this lucky?Enough. Why waste time asking things like that? There is a man in front of you whose smug smile needs to be kissed off his face. You get back to it.