Being Rahm Emanuel by Semmi

Author's Note: Written for Yuletide 2008. I happened to get the prompt two days after I'd joined the LJ community rahmbamarama and fallen head over heals in love with Rahm Emanuel and the idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone even though it refused to be executed the way I wanted it. Anyway, I don't own Studio 60 since if I did there would have been 100% more Tom, Cal, and Jack all of whom are fabulous. Warning, lots of swearing since well it's Rahm.


Tom burst into Matt's office gripping a script looking half furious and half terrified although a look of satisfaction flitted over his face when Matt, who had been leaning back in his chair, tumbled backwards at the sudden intrusion.

"Matt, you know I can't actually say fuck on the air right?" Tom asked after Matt's head popped back up and he sent a 'and you want what now?' look at Tom.

"We'll figure something out later, don't worry about that."

"Ok but how am I supposed to be Rahm fucking Emanuel without the fucking?"

"Well the network certainly won't allow that on the air."

Tom paused to glare at the interruption and then continued as if it hadn't happened. "It seems wrong. And just how enthused are the President-elect and his chief of staff going to be about Studio 60 implying that they're sleeping together? I mean, you do know they're both married and have kids right?"

"Really Tom? Because I sit here in this office and have no knowledge of the outside world." Matt stood up and pointed at the door. "Out, show to finish. Get over it, you're playing Rahm Emanuel for the next 4 years because guess where the comedy is? Hint: it's not with the President-elect that everyone loves, at least not yet. Just be glad you're not spending the next 4 years as John McCain and being subjected to tired jokes about your age."

"I'd like to think you're a bit more creative than that."

"Well, yeah. Now go, I'll edit out the fucking."

"Then there wouldn't be a sketch anymore."



"SIM, help," Tom demanded storming into the dressing room. "How the fuck am I supposed to be Rahm fucking Emanuel? He'll eat my fucking face if I fuck this up."

Simon Stiles raised an eyebrow at the storm of swearing coming from Tom "good wholesome boy from middle America" Jeter. Tom, noticing the look, blushed. "I'm trying to get into character," he mumbled.

"Yeah because Rahm fucking Emanuel would mumble."

Tom sprawled over a couch in Simon's dressing room. "You have it easy, all hope and change and Yes We Can! Matt goes eloquent and funny for you and everyone loves you and then I jump in and-" Tom thrust the script at Simon, "look!"

"Yeah yeah, I've read the script, I am in the sketch too, you know," Simon said, pushing it away and sitting down next to Tom. "What's the issue, Tommy? Not like you haven't spent the last forever playing Bush and we know you don't care about making fun of the government since otherwise you wouldn't be working here."

Tom looked a little uncomfortable as he repositioned himself so that he was curled up to Simon on the couch, calming down a bit as Simon put his arm around him and drew him in closer. "Well the thing is…remember when I was with the Obama campaign while they were in Ohio?

"You mean those weeks when I didn't get to have sex? I vaguely remember those."

Tom punched Simon lightly in the arm. "How many times do I have to tell you, satisfying your libido is not more important than the next president of this country and I really didn't want to spend the next 4 years getting makeup put on me to age me to what I'm sure would be decrepit levels as the years went on because in the US 72 is code for 150."

"Yeah and that doesn't matter now since guess what? He didn't win and you don't have to play McCain and Harry doesn't have to play Sarah Palin or Tina Fey playing Palin and I actually get to be involved in the political sketches. Weren't we talking about how you're scared to play Rahm Emanuel?"

"Well I'm glad we've found out the reason people in this studio cared about the election. People got better roles if the democrats won. And I'm not scared," Tom finished defensively. "I just…I may have…I don't want to make Rahm Emanuel mad and have him come after me," Tom half whined, half wailed while burying his face into Simon's shoulder.

Simon stared amusedly at him, "Have you been spending too much time on the internet again? What have I told you about that? You know I've heard he's really pretty nice right?"

"Uh huh."

"And if you spend enough time playing him well, he might even send you one of those cheesecakes."


"So you're scared because?"

"He's Rahm fucking Emanuel. Haven't you been listening?"

Simon laughed and lifted Tom's head off his shoulder and gave him a quick kiss. "You'll be fine. You're an actor remember? Just act like it's you and me acting like we're running the country."

Tom gave a satisfied sigh and a small smile as he recalled that night before moaning softly again as he remembered the problem. Finally he mumbled into Simon's shoulder, "They may have had their own acting like they're running the country play time."

And that got Simon's attention. "You mean, Obama and, and they, and wait what?"

"Uh huh, do you see my problem? I mean, Obama was all charming when I walked in on and they didn't actually say they were-," Tom blushed again and Simon couldn't help but smile at how despite being a major TV star, having lived in Hollywood for years and been in a relationship with a black man for the last couple of years, Tom still blushed like a little girl from a small town, "but it was pretty clear if you know the signs, and I know the signs." He said the last in a slightly deeper voice that made Simon shiver a little.

"We can minimize the closeness and Rahm Emanuel really won't fuck you up, I promise."

The transformation was amazing, from shy blushing insecure boy to confident TV star. "Well maybe I wouldn't mind so much, I mean have you seen the man?"

Simon rolled his eyes, "I don't need to hear that. Let's go talk to Matt and get this sketch fixed," he said, getting up and then pulling Tom up and giving him a quick kiss.

"It's not like we can keep all the fucking in the sketch anyway."