#**geantwortet meme

[operaticflair]

“You, me, PJ’s, bed. PJ’s are totally optional, by the way.”

Gideon still couldn’t help his face flushing. “What would t’he alternative be, hmm?” He knew the answer, but his fingers were already reaching for his PJ’s. “Want to watch a show toget’her and make out like teenagers?” He was joking....mostly. There was something about being with Rafael that made him so happy, he just wanted to kiss him all the time, honestly. 

[operaticflair]

"oh, god, my ex is here."

Gideon corralled them both so he could look where Zak had been without making it obvious he was staring. “What do you want to do, Schatz? Do we need to avoid him for the duration? Or is t’his just a warning for potential impending awkward conversations? 

[operaticflair]

“Just one more kiss—okay, one more—just one mo—”

With each kiss, Gideon responded, but by the third one he was all but giggling against Sonny’s lips, “Liebling, I’ve got to go on television in five minutes, go stand behind t’he cameras!” There was a seat with the man’s name on it, one of the stipulations he’d put in the contract for this interview. Afterwards, he was going to surprise Sonny with dinner at a restaurant he’d been talking about going to for ages--one Gideon’s star power could secure a table for two in. 

[operaticflair]

‘ for once in my life i want to be surrounded by people that i don’t feel like i need to impress. ’

Gideon blinked at him for a moment before his face softened, smiled, “Would you believe I k’now what you’re talking about, perhaps better t’han most people would realize?” The other man hadn’t shown any signs that he recognized him, probably thought he was just a stranger with an inviting face and a kind smile, it wouldn’t have been the first time, really. “You don’t need to impress me, for sure.” 

[operaticflair]

‘ please don’t go. ’

Gideon’d been asked to headline a charity event for an American political campaign, and that was actually a first for him. His manager hadn’t really had to do much once he mentioned the name of the man who was running--Cohen. Of course Gideon agreed, thinking it high time for the United States to have a Jewish President.  The gala had been wonderful, one of the nicest private gigs he’d done, really, and he was in top form. 

And then he’d actually met Zak. What had started as a private meeting turned into drinking at the table long after most everyone else had gone home, save the staffers for the campaign. Gideon was elated to be able to converse in Yiddish with him, keeping their conversation even more secret, at least in his own mind. He was smiling and on his fourth glass of wine since sitting, and it was late, his manager was blowing up his phone, trying to get him home for the flight in the morning, but as he made to leave, ‘Please don’t go.”

“Mr. Cohen,” his voice was gentle, and he reached a hand out to take Zak’s, smiling, “I can stay as long as you need. T’he flight’s international, I’ll sleep in the air.”