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And Now the News
Chapter 1
Miles Henning hated the weatherman with a passion. He sat in his chair glaring across the studio at the man standing by the weather board, his fingers tapping impatiently on top of the wide desk he was sitting behind. God, why him?! He’d thought that this job would be perfect for him when it was offered to him - being a national newscaster on a cable channel that catered to the gay and lesbian communities almost exclusively. They’d offered him the job because Miles was an openly gay man working as a newspaper reporter already. And since he was aware that the newspaper that he’d been working for was about to downsize a fair number of the staff - including him - the job offer had been a Godsend anyway. It had seemed so perfect…
Until he’d arrived for the first day of work at the studio, and had been introduced to his co-workers. That was when he’d gotten his first glimpse of the weatherman, Farley Koninger. To begin with, who named their kid FARLEY?! According to the weatherman, his parents had been big fans of the Hitchcock movie Strangers on a Train, and had named him after the actor Farley Granger. Which had turned out to be rather prophetic, of course, since Farley Granger had turned out to be an admitted bisexual…he’d laughed when he’d said that. No, more like he’d giggled. A high-pitched, grating, sound that drove Miles to distraction, just like everything else about Farley did. Everything.
For one thing, the man was so flaming that they should just douse him in kerosene and light a match. He wore make-up when he felt like it, and glittery clothes, and sometimes dresses or skirts if he were in the mood…But those weren’t the worst of his wardrobe choices. No, that would be the costumes. Farley liked to wear costumes on set to do the weather, usually the fluffier and more glittery the better. So far, he’d appeared as a Catholic school girl, a French maid, a Spring fairy(Lord, had that one been apropos!), the gayest vampire ever since a certain one that sparkled in the sunlight, a baseball player(that might not have been so bad if he hadn’t cracked jokes the whole time about being the world’s best catcher), and an angel complete with a halo and fluffy wings.
Miles gritted his teeth whenever he saw Farley on set. The man was a disgrace! He gave gay men a bad name, playing right into all of the stereotypes and clichés that straight people already had about them. It wasn’t just his wardrobe that drove Miles mad, it was all of his flamboyant gestures and his giggly voice and the artfully waved blonde locks that flowed nearly to his shoulders, often accented by flowers or sparkly barrettes or what have you. But the worst part, for him, was the fact that Farley took great delight in tormenting him relentlessly during each and every broadcast…
The weatherman would flirt with him, bat his eyes at Miles, blow him kisses, and engage in constant sexual innuendo and double entendres whenever he talked to or about Miles. And much to his chagrin, their viewing audience ate all of that crap up. Their news hour had become extremely popular, and the ratings were through the roof. So no matter how many times that he complained to his bosses about the weatherman, they had no intention of firing Farley. They were delighted with the ’banter’ as they put it, and only encouraged Farley in his ridiculous behavior. They’d even given him a raise! Of course, they’d given Miles a raise too, but that was beside the point…
He reached up to rub at his forehead where a headache was forming. Damn the weatherman, and damn him for taking this stupid job in the first place. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t have been happier on unemployment. He’d worked hard all of his life to be taken seriously as a gay man and a journalist, to show himself as a driven and intelligent person without a limp wrist or a lisped word in sight. That someone like Farley could come in and make this supposedly serious news show into a laughingstock, and not only get away with it but also be encouraged in his ridiculous behavior…it was too much for him to swallow. He’d considered quitting, but he had to admit that the salary he was receiving almost made up for the horror of having to deal with his own personal irritant. Almost.
As though he felt the weight of Miles’ eyes on him, Farley turned his head. His laughing blue eyes met a pair of dark-brown ones full of simmering annoyance and anger, and he grinned cheekily. He blew Miles an air kiss, waving his fingers at the newscaster. Then he curtsied, since he was wearing a shepardess costume complete with a crook and a bonnet with a large bow tied under his chin. He even had a stuffed sheep.
Miles’ mouth thinned until his lips nearly disappeared. His nostrils flared slightly, and his fingers clenched at the news sheets lying on the desk in front of him so tightly that the paper crumpled a bit. How he wished that it was Farley’s scrawny neck in his hands, rather than just the news sheets! He wondered what kind of sentence he’d get for choking the weatherman to death on camera. Even if it were a life sentence, he still wasn’t sure that it might not be a good idea. At least it would be peaceful in his jail cell. And he’d be sure to never watch the news again.
“We’re on the air in two minutes, Miles!” one of the crew called, and he looked away from Farley deliberately and ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down. He faced the camera and also smoothed down the crumpled news sheets, and at the last moment straightened his tie. He schooled his face into a serious expression, with no traces of the annoyance or anger that he felt showing through. When the red light came on, he spoke in as smooth, pleasant voice: “Good morning, I’m Miles Henning and this is the News for today. In International News, a devastating earthquake struck early this morning in New Zealand, causing millions of dollars of damage in the and around the city of Christchurch. People are still missing, and rescue workers are digging through the rubble looking for survivors….”
He finished his newscast forty-five minutes later, and closed his teeth tightly together as he said in the same pleasant tone of voice: “And here’s our weatherman Farley Koninger, to tell us what the national weather is going to look like for the rest of the day.”
The camera cut to Farley, who waved cheerfully at it. “Hi, folks! As you can see, I’m dressed like Little Bo Peep today. Thanks to the viewer who sent me this costume, Dale Candlin of New York City. I’m wearing it to give everybody a little taste of Spring, even though we’re stuck firmly in the doldrums of winter. All of these horrible winter storms…” he wrinkled his nose, “I’m sure that everybody is tired of the cold and snow by now! But at least Miles has me to keep him warm,” he added, shooting a sloe-eyed sideways look at the man across the studio. “Unlike all of the poor people of New England, who are bracing for yet another winter pile up. Speaking of ‘piling up’ - remember to bring the fuzzy blankets tonight, Miles!” and he gaily blew the newscaster another air kiss. “Anyway, on to the weather…”
Farley chattered on, his slender hands flitting across the weather board to show areas that could expect winter storms, icy rains, or high winds. He darted around like a butterfly in his stupid costume, his belled skirt swirling up to reveal ruffled knickers. Miles had to admit(VERY begrudgingly), that Farley was good at his job. He was, in fact, one of the most accurate weathermen on TV. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to read the weather and know exactly what kind would be happening where. If only he weren’t such a flaming idiot, Miles would have a good deal of respect for him…
Oh, God, he’d gotten distracted and his name had come up again! He focused as Farley said happily: “Miles is such a gorgeous stud, isn’t he? It almost makes your day to be able to get up in the morning and see his face on the TV! I know it makes my day to come to the studio and work with him. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t get my morning dose of Miles! Anyway, that’s the weather for the day, and everybody out there stay safe and warm! Goodbye, everybody, see you tomorrow!” and he waved at the camera while smiling brightly.
The camera was turned off, and the director nodded at both of them. “Good job, guys, as usual! See you tomorrow!”
Miles shoved his chair back and strode out of the studio, heading for his dressing room. “Hey, Miles, wait!” he heard Farley shrill, but he didn’t slow his step. He didn’t want to talk to the weatherman right now - oh, hell, he never wanted to talk to the weatherman. He heard running footsteps, and the soft scuff of patent leather shoes on the floor. The weatherman appeared beside him, turning that sunny smile on him. “You shouldn’t just run out of here,” he murmured. “You should stay so we can talk!”
“We have nothing whatsoever to talk about,” Miles replied cuttingly. “Besides, I think that you talk enough for both of us when you’re on camera.”
Farley shook his head. “But Miles,” he whined, making the newsman wince and grit his teeth again. “You should learn to relax! You take life too seriously,” he remarked chidingly.
Miles took in a deep breath and tried to control yet another urge to strangle the weatherman. “So I should dress like an idiot and bounce around like a child who’s eaten too much sugar all the time? I don’t think so,” he replied acidly.
“It might do you some good,” Farley said stoutly. “You’re going to die of a heart attack if you don’t get rid of some of your stress.”
“I’d love to, but committing murder is even more stressful,” Miles said coldly. “Not to mention the prison sentence that goes along with that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date,” he said as politely as he could manage, pausing at the door of his dressing room.
“With who? It isn’t a cute guy, is it?” Farley asked suspiciously.
“That’s none of your business,” Miles told him severely. “Goodbye, Farley. I wish I could say that for good, but barring that at least I don’t have to see you again until tomorrow.” and he stepped into the dressing room and shut the door on Farley’s face, which had fallen at his harsh words.
He ruthlessly suppressed a twinge of guilt over the weatherman’s crestfallen expression, reminding himself sharply that he didn’t even like Farley and that the man drove him crazy. Then he went to change into a more casual suit to go and meet his sister for lunch(although it pleased him a good deal that Farley thought that he was meeting a cute guy for lunch, and not just his sibling) to discuss their plans for their parents’ upcoming thirtieth wedding anniversary, which his sister was mostly planning but which she insisted on him having some kind of input in. He had no idea why, that kind of thing didn’t interest him at all. He had a sneaking suspicion it was because he was gay, so she assumed that he liked shopping and parties and fashion. That annoyed him, although not as much as being around Farley did. Nothing else in the world annoyed him quite as much as Farley Koninger.
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And Now the News
Chapter 1
Miles Henning hated the weatherman with a passion. He sat in his chair glaring across the studio at the man standing by the weather board, his fingers tapping impatiently on top of the wide desk he was sitting behind. God, why him?! He’d thought that this job would be perfect for him when it was offered to him - being a national newscaster on a cable channel that catered to the gay and lesbian communities almost exclusively. They’d offered him the job because Miles was an openly gay man working as a newspaper reporter already. And since he was aware that the newspaper that he’d been working for was about to downsize a fair number of the staff - including him - the job offer had been a Godsend anyway. It had seemed so perfect…
Until he’d arrived for the first day of work at the studio, and had been introduced to his co-workers. That was when he’d gotten his first glimpse of the weatherman, Farley Koninger. To begin with, who named their kid FARLEY?! According to the weatherman, his parents had been big fans of the Hitchcock movie Strangers on a Train, and had named him after the actor Farley Granger. Which had turned out to be rather prophetic, of course, since Farley Granger had turned out to be an admitted bisexual…he’d laughed when he’d said that. No, more like he’d giggled. A high-pitched, grating, sound that drove Miles to distraction, just like everything else about Farley did. Everything.
For one thing, the man was so flaming that they should just douse him in kerosene and light a match. He wore make-up when he felt like it, and glittery clothes, and sometimes dresses or skirts if he were in the mood…But those weren’t the worst of his wardrobe choices. No, that would be the costumes. Farley liked to wear costumes on set to do the weather, usually the fluffier and more glittery the better. So far, he’d appeared as a Catholic school girl, a French maid, a Spring fairy(Lord, had that one been apropos!), the gayest vampire ever since a certain one that sparkled in the sunlight, a baseball player(that might not have been so bad if he hadn’t cracked jokes the whole time about being the world’s best catcher), and an angel complete with a halo and fluffy wings.
Miles gritted his teeth whenever he saw Farley on set. The man was a disgrace! He gave gay men a bad name, playing right into all of the stereotypes and clichés that straight people already had about them. It wasn’t just his wardrobe that drove Miles mad, it was all of his flamboyant gestures and his giggly voice and the artfully waved blonde locks that flowed nearly to his shoulders, often accented by flowers or sparkly barrettes or what have you. But the worst part, for him, was the fact that Farley took great delight in tormenting him relentlessly during each and every broadcast…
The weatherman would flirt with him, bat his eyes at Miles, blow him kisses, and engage in constant sexual innuendo and double entendres whenever he talked to or about Miles. And much to his chagrin, their viewing audience ate all of that crap up. Their news hour had become extremely popular, and the ratings were through the roof. So no matter how many times that he complained to his bosses about the weatherman, they had no intention of firing Farley. They were delighted with the ’banter’ as they put it, and only encouraged Farley in his ridiculous behavior. They’d even given him a raise! Of course, they’d given Miles a raise too, but that was beside the point…
He reached up to rub at his forehead where a headache was forming. Damn the weatherman, and damn him for taking this stupid job in the first place. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t have been happier on unemployment. He’d worked hard all of his life to be taken seriously as a gay man and a journalist, to show himself as a driven and intelligent person without a limp wrist or a lisped word in sight. That someone like Farley could come in and make this supposedly serious news show into a laughingstock, and not only get away with it but also be encouraged in his ridiculous behavior…it was too much for him to swallow. He’d considered quitting, but he had to admit that the salary he was receiving almost made up for the horror of having to deal with his own personal irritant. Almost.
As though he felt the weight of Miles’ eyes on him, Farley turned his head. His laughing blue eyes met a pair of dark-brown ones full of simmering annoyance and anger, and he grinned cheekily. He blew Miles an air kiss, waving his fingers at the newscaster. Then he curtsied, since he was wearing a shepardess costume complete with a crook and a bonnet with a large bow tied under his chin. He even had a stuffed sheep.
Miles’ mouth thinned until his lips nearly disappeared. His nostrils flared slightly, and his fingers clenched at the news sheets lying on the desk in front of him so tightly that the paper crumpled a bit. How he wished that it was Farley’s scrawny neck in his hands, rather than just the news sheets! He wondered what kind of sentence he’d get for choking the weatherman to death on camera. Even if it were a life sentence, he still wasn’t sure that it might not be a good idea. At least it would be peaceful in his jail cell. And he’d be sure to never watch the news again.
“We’re on the air in two minutes, Miles!” one of the crew called, and he looked away from Farley deliberately and ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down. He faced the camera and also smoothed down the crumpled news sheets, and at the last moment straightened his tie. He schooled his face into a serious expression, with no traces of the annoyance or anger that he felt showing through. When the red light came on, he spoke in as smooth, pleasant voice: “Good morning, I’m Miles Henning and this is the News for today. In International News, a devastating earthquake struck early this morning in New Zealand, causing millions of dollars of damage in the and around the city of Christchurch. People are still missing, and rescue workers are digging through the rubble looking for survivors….”
He finished his newscast forty-five minutes later, and closed his teeth tightly together as he said in the same pleasant tone of voice: “And here’s our weatherman Farley Koninger, to tell us what the national weather is going to look like for the rest of the day.”
The camera cut to Farley, who waved cheerfully at it. “Hi, folks! As you can see, I’m dressed like Little Bo Peep today. Thanks to the viewer who sent me this costume, Dale Candlin of New York City. I’m wearing it to give everybody a little taste of Spring, even though we’re stuck firmly in the doldrums of winter. All of these horrible winter storms…” he wrinkled his nose, “I’m sure that everybody is tired of the cold and snow by now! But at least Miles has me to keep him warm,” he added, shooting a sloe-eyed sideways look at the man across the studio. “Unlike all of the poor people of New England, who are bracing for yet another winter pile up. Speaking of ‘piling up’ - remember to bring the fuzzy blankets tonight, Miles!” and he gaily blew the newscaster another air kiss. “Anyway, on to the weather…”
Farley chattered on, his slender hands flitting across the weather board to show areas that could expect winter storms, icy rains, or high winds. He darted around like a butterfly in his stupid costume, his belled skirt swirling up to reveal ruffled knickers. Miles had to admit(VERY begrudgingly), that Farley was good at his job. He was, in fact, one of the most accurate weathermen on TV. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to read the weather and know exactly what kind would be happening where. If only he weren’t such a flaming idiot, Miles would have a good deal of respect for him…
Oh, God, he’d gotten distracted and his name had come up again! He focused as Farley said happily: “Miles is such a gorgeous stud, isn’t he? It almost makes your day to be able to get up in the morning and see his face on the TV! I know it makes my day to come to the studio and work with him. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t get my morning dose of Miles! Anyway, that’s the weather for the day, and everybody out there stay safe and warm! Goodbye, everybody, see you tomorrow!” and he waved at the camera while smiling brightly.
The camera was turned off, and the director nodded at both of them. “Good job, guys, as usual! See you tomorrow!”
Miles shoved his chair back and strode out of the studio, heading for his dressing room. “Hey, Miles, wait!” he heard Farley shrill, but he didn’t slow his step. He didn’t want to talk to the weatherman right now - oh, hell, he never wanted to talk to the weatherman. He heard running footsteps, and the soft scuff of patent leather shoes on the floor. The weatherman appeared beside him, turning that sunny smile on him. “You shouldn’t just run out of here,” he murmured. “You should stay so we can talk!”
“We have nothing whatsoever to talk about,” Miles replied cuttingly. “Besides, I think that you talk enough for both of us when you’re on camera.”
Farley shook his head. “But Miles,” he whined, making the newsman wince and grit his teeth again. “You should learn to relax! You take life too seriously,” he remarked chidingly.
Miles took in a deep breath and tried to control yet another urge to strangle the weatherman. “So I should dress like an idiot and bounce around like a child who’s eaten too much sugar all the time? I don’t think so,” he replied acidly.
“It might do you some good,” Farley said stoutly. “You’re going to die of a heart attack if you don’t get rid of some of your stress.”
“I’d love to, but committing murder is even more stressful,” Miles said coldly. “Not to mention the prison sentence that goes along with that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date,” he said as politely as he could manage, pausing at the door of his dressing room.
“With who? It isn’t a cute guy, is it?” Farley asked suspiciously.
“That’s none of your business,” Miles told him severely. “Goodbye, Farley. I wish I could say that for good, but barring that at least I don’t have to see you again until tomorrow.” and he stepped into the dressing room and shut the door on Farley’s face, which had fallen at his harsh words.
He ruthlessly suppressed a twinge of guilt over the weatherman’s crestfallen expression, reminding himself sharply that he didn’t even like Farley and that the man drove him crazy. Then he went to change into a more casual suit to go and meet his sister for lunch(although it pleased him a good deal that Farley thought that he was meeting a cute guy for lunch, and not just his sibling) to discuss their plans for their parents’ upcoming thirtieth wedding anniversary, which his sister was mostly planning but which she insisted on him having some kind of input in. He had no idea why, that kind of thing didn’t interest him at all. He had a sneaking suspicion it was because he was gay, so she assumed that he liked shopping and parties and fashion. That annoyed him, although not as much as being around Farley did. Nothing else in the world annoyed him quite as much as Farley Koninger.
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