tsn fic: when love comes knocking at your door
Title: when love comes knocking at your door
Recipient: for planetabed. I hope you enjoy this! I had a totally different idea for your fic at first, but then the plot bunnies attacked me and this came out. There’s fluff, at least? And also cats.
Characters/Pairing: Andrew/Jesse, mentions of Emma Stone and Carey Mulligan
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7 120
Warnings: possible risk of fluff overdose? And a teeny-tiny bit of angst.
Summary: The Holiday AU. In which Jesse is forced to take a vacation, Andrew is his charming (temporary) neighbor and they fall in love. It’s all quite simple, really.
A/N: Many thanks to emerald_skies for beta <3
You can also read this at AO3
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 3:57 PM
Subject: Fwd: house swapping
Please, at least look at this before saying no. You need a holiday.
Emma
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Carey Mulligan (carey.m@gmail.com)
Date: 2010/12/15
Subject: house swapping
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com )
I saw your advertisement on homeexchange.com and I would be interested in doing a swap with you. I live in Surrey - it’s not a very big house, but it’s comfortable and clean. There is a cat, so I hope you are not allergic. He’s really friendly, though.
I’m attaching a few photos, please let me know if you’re interested. My house is available any time until the end of December.
Cheers,
Carey
__________
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--
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:12 PM
Subject: Re: Fwd: house swapping
I looked and I’m still saying no. No, Emma. NO. Please note that I’m using caps lock. NO. Why would you even think that’s a good idea?
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:17 PM
Subject: answer me these
1. When was the last time you slept more than four hours in a row? You need a break from work.
2. Seriously, why not? Her house is nice and she owns a cat, it’s perfect.
3. Do I need to call your mother?
--
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:26 PM
Subject: Re: answer me these
1. I sleep just enough.
2. Her house looks nice in the four photos she sent. For all you know there are bed bugs and mold on the walls.
3. This is blackmail.
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:30 PM
Subject: (no subject)
1. Don’t think I didn’t see you almost put salt in your coffee today.
2. Even so (and I’m sure it’s a perfectly respectable house anyway), it would only be for two weeks. It’s just a vacation.
3. Yes. I’m calling her right now.
--
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:31 PM
Subject: Re: (no subject)
Fine, Jesus, I’ll consider it.
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:32 PM
Subject: Re: (no subject)
I knew you’d see reason.
---
So it all really happened because Emma talked him into doing the home swapping thing, and Emma could be downright terrifying.
And maybe she was right, maybe he really needed a break. He couldn’t remember the last time he took a day off (probably never, to be honest), but it was fine, he was all right. He hated his job only from time to time, but who didn’t?
Emma had this thing where she walked by his desk and cast him disappointed looks like she wanted to ask why he was still here down to a fine art, though, so eventually Jesse gave in and arranged a two weeks stay in Surrey, starting Sunday.
He exchanged a few emails with Carey - she proved to be really sweet and he stopped dreading the trip so much. She also sent him a picture of her cat, a small, fluffy tabby called Mr. Bingley. Jesse sent her photos of his own cats in exchange and thus they reached mutual understanding.
Time passed quickly and soon it was time for him to leave. He spent all Saturday frantically cleaning his apartment and making sure there was enough cat food for the next two weeks, and almost forgot to pack his bag in the process.
Eventually he was as ready to go as he would ever be and took a cab to the airport, mentally saying goodbye to New York for the next two weeks.
---
There was a car waiting for him outside the airport when he arrived, as Carey promised. The driver - John, one of Carey’s coworkers - was an older man, slightly balding on top. He loaded Jesse’s bag in the trunk and didn’t talk to him much on the way. Jesse was perfectly fine to sit in silence and watch the passing landscapes through the window.
His first thought upon arriving was that the house really looked like something out of a fairytale, complete with a red-tiled roof and a slightly crooked chimney.
The second thought, as he stepped out of the car and right into a snow bank, is that there was a lot of snow. Really a lot.
“Nice winter this year, innit?” John said.
Jesse nodded meekly, wriggling his toes in his shoes. They were already cold. “Sure. Is there always so much snow here?”
“Nah, that’s nothin’," John informed him cheerfully, "Last year you couldn’t even drive down the road.”
“Awesome,” Jesse muttered. He shouldered his bag and thanked John for the ride before trudging along the narrow path to the front door. The key was under a potted plant on the porch and, after a short struggle with the lock, he finally opened the door.
It was - well, magical would probably be the right word for it. It looked exactly like in the pictures, a large couch by the window and two comfortable-looking armchairs next to a shelf packed with books, but the photos couldn’t fully show the atmosphere of the house, the slight smell of tea leaves in the air and this general feeling of coziness.
Jesse dropped his bag by the entrance and toed off his shoes before going to explore the house. He found the kitchen quickly. There was a note in a loopy handwriting stuck to the fridge: Hi Jesse! I hope everything’s to your liking. Feel free to eat whatever from the fridge and the cupboards. Love, Carey.
Sure enough, the fridge proved to be full and Jesse suddenly felt bad that the closest things to edible food in his apartment were the cans of cat food and some raw pasta, but he didn’t cook much for himself, usually just ordered some takeout.
He went up the stairs next. The master bedroom was on the right, next to a bathroom. There was also a small guest bedroom and after a short hesitation he decided to dump his stuff there.
The bed looked really comfortable and it was so tempting to just lie down for a few seconds and close his eyes. He’d unpack in a moment.
He lied down on top of the duvet and was out like a light.
---
Jesse woke up to the sun shining in his face. He blinked blearily at the clock on the nightstand; the numbers changed to 9:14 as he watched.
He rolled over, hiding his face in a pillow, wishing he could stay like this forever, because the mattress was soft and Emma was right, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a too long time. But he was still in his clothes from the previous night, the waistline of his jeans digging uncomfortably into his stomach, and he desperately needed a shower, so after a moment he sat up reluctantly. There was an unread message on his phone from Emma to which he responded quickly, assuring her that he’d arrived in one piece and nothing disastrous had happened so far.
He shuffled to the bathroom across the hall (he hadn’t even taken his shoes off before collapsing on the bed, Jesus). After a quick shower he felt much better and he went down to the kitchen to make some breakfast, hopefully edible.
There were eggs in the fridge and after some rummaging he managed to find a frying pan in one of the cupboards and he set out to make an omelet.
As he moved around the kitchen, humming a song from Oklahoma! under his breath, he got the feeling that he was being watched. He turned around to find himself face to face with a cat, perched atop the fridge.
“Mr. Bingley, I presume?” Jesse said, holding out his hand. The cat craned his neck so that Jesse could scratch him behind his ears, and purred softly as Jesse obliged. “You must be hungry,” Jesse decided, turning around to locate the cat’s bowl and some food for him. He found them quickly and soon enough Mr. Bingley was munching happily on his meal.
Jesse busied himself with watching the butter melt in the pan when he heard a scratching noise at the entrance door. There was some shuffling outside, followed by a distinct sound of the lock turning.
It would have been just his luck if somebody decided it was a good idea to try and rob the house while Jesse was inside.
He looked around for something that could be turned into a makeshift weapon. There was a kitchen knife, but, well, no.
The doors opened and he could hear soft footsteps nearing the kitchen. He grabbed the frying pan for lack of a better solution. It felt very much like a move straight out of the Julia Child guide to kicking ass.
A guy around Jesse’s age appeared in the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Jesse. He was tall, with an unruly mop of dark hair. He didn’t look much like a burglar or a serial killer, but Jesse supposed you never knew.
“Oh, bugger!” the stranger exclaimed, his eyes widening comically.
Jesse raised the pan higher. “Um, please don’t rob me? I may look harmless, but I’ve got this really big and heavy frying pan in my hand,” he said. He was secretly proud that his voice didn’t shake at all.
“I’m not-Jesus. Could you please put that down? Who are you?” the man asked.
After a moment of consideration Jesse lowered his arm. “I live here. Um, temporarily. Who are you?”
“Andrew Garfield. I feed Mr. Bingley when Carey isn’t home, but she didn’t tell me somebody would be staying here now. She didn’t tell me to feed the cat, either, but I just assumed. Are you one of her friends?”
“Sort of?” Jesse offered hesitantly. “Technically we haven’t met. We swapped houses, she’s staying at my place.”
“Oh,” Andrew said. “That’s cool. Um, I won’t bother you then, yeah? Have a nice day!” he said, slowly backing out from the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Jesse told him, walking him to the door.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment and eventually Andrew made a flapping gesture with his hand. “So I’ll just. Go,” he said. “Terribly sorry I just barged in here like that, but I really had no idea you’d be here.”
“It’s all right,” Jesse assured him. “Happens to me all the time.”
“Really?” Andrew asked. He cocked his head and frowned at Jesse, like he couldn’t decide if Jesse was just fucking with him. It looked kind of adorable.
“Yes.” Jesse nodded seriously. “Last month it was Woody Allen, he broke into my apartment and then stayed for breakfast.”
Andrew gaped at him like he wasn’t sure if Jesse is a real person and then dissolved into laughter.
“Brilliant,” he said, offering Jesse a toothy grin. “It was nice meeting you.” He paused expectantly.
“Jesse,” Jesse supplied.
“Jesse,” Andrew repeated, still grinning. “Are you going to stay here until New Year’s? I know that’s when Carey gets back.”
“Yes,” Jesse confirmed.
“Great,” Andrew said. “See you around, Jesse!” he called out when he was outside, waving enthusiastically. Jesse waved awkwardly back before he shut the door.
---
Going on a holiday was great, but soon Jesse found himself growing restless. It was unnerving, just sitting around all day with nothing to do except eating and talking to the cat.
He busied himself with simple activities, like cleaning the house (but you could only dust shelves so many times before it stopped being useful and just started getting sad) and occasionally exchanging emails with Emma. He wrote to Carey, telling her that everything was great, but for some reason he didn’t mention Andrew’s visit.
On the third day of his stay he found a cook book. It looked old - the pages were yellowed with age and in a few places there were handwritten notes in the margins. It didn’t look anything like Carey’s handwriting, so Jesse guessed it must have belonged to her mother, or maybe her grandmother.
He flipped idly through the pages until one of the recipes caught his eye. The instructions were relatively simple to follow and he had almost all of the ingredients except for a steak, so after a short hesitation he ventured out to find a grocery store.
It was shockingly cold outside and he wrapped his scarf tight around his neck, burrowing his hands deep in his pockets. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked and for a while it was the only sound he was able to hear. It was so much different than New York, without the constant noise of traffic and sidewalks crowded with people.
Fortunately he found a store soon enough and he ducked inside, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to get warm.
He went straight to the meat display case. The recipe had been quite specific about the kind of steak to choose - firm to the touch, not too moist, red, but not a deep red color. He stared helplessly at the pre-packaged pieces. There were at least five different shades of red, which one was the right one? Did it really matter so much?
He frowned and eventually grabbed the package that was closest to him. He wasn’t going for haute cuisine, so it would have to do.
“Oh no, don’t choose this one!” somebody said behind him and Jesse jumped at least a foot in the air. Andrew materialized next to him. “Hello again,” he said, smiling at Jesse.
“Hi. Were you trying to give me a heart attack just now?” Jesse asked conversationally.
Andrew looked properly chastised. “Sorry. I suppose I should tone down this whole sneaking up on you thing we seem to have going on, right?”
“Probably,” Jesse agreed. He looked down at the steak he was still holding. “So what’s wrong with this?”
“Oh, everything,” Andrew said. “Is this the only thing you need?” he asked and Jesse nodded mutely. “Come on, I’ll show you to the butcher’s, it’s a lot better than what they’ve got here.”
Jesse followed Andrew to the exit, stopping at the till while Andrew paid for his own shopping.
“Come on,” Andrew said, gently touching Jesse’s back and steering him in the right direction. He seemed to have no problem casually touching other people - even strangers he’d only met for a short time a few days earlier. Surprisingly, Jesse found he didn’t mind.
The butcher’s wasn’t far -- in fact, it was just around the corner.
“John!” Andrew exclaimed cheerfully when they entered. Jesse was starting to wonder if Andrew did everything cheerfully. “Pick me a nice flank steak, would you?”
“Sure,” the man behind the counter answered, selecting the meat (it was red. Jesse honestly didn’t see any difference in the redness) and then wrapping it up neatly. “Here you go.”
Andrew waited for him while Jesse paid. “You’re going this way, right?” he asked and fell into step with Jesse.
“That’s right. So, do you and Carey live near each other?” Jesse asked curiously.
“Yeah, we’re neighbours. My home’s just down the road, you probably passed it on the way here.”
Jesse hummed noncommittally and Andrew smiled at him again.
“So where do you live normally?” Andrew asked him.
“In New York,” Jesse replied.
“Awesome. I always wanted to go there, but never had a chance,” Andrew told him wistfully. “Tell me about it.”
“About New York?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah. I only know what it’s like from the movies, you know.”
“Well, I don’t watch a lot of movies, so you’ve got me there,” Jesse told him, smiling.
“But I want to know what it’s really like!” Andrew exclaimed, laughing. “So tell me about the real life there.”
So Jesse told him - about early mornings in New York, about rushing to work every day, about people and cars and buildings in his area. And then he told him how he liked to bike to work, because Andrew hadn’t interrupted him once yet and he seemed genuinely interested in Jesse’s life. When they reached Carey’s house, Jesse was in the middle of telling a story about Emma and Joe, so he just waved for Andrew to come inside when he unlocked the door.
“Your friends seem really nice,” Andrew commented, toeing off his shoes.
“They are. I have no idea why they bother with me,” Jesse said dryly.
“Oh, shush,” Andrew told him. “You're amazing.”
Jesse had no idea what to say to that. He was pretty sure even his freckles were blushing.
“But you were telling me about Emma,” Andrew said, unfazed. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“What? No. Oh my God, no. I, um, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jesse stammered out, flustered. He went into the kitchen and Andrew followed him. “How about you?”
“No girlfriend,” Andrew told him. “No boyfriend, either.”
“Oh,” Jesse said quietly. “Do you want some tea?” he asked, because he was smooth like that.
“Sure,” said Andrew. “What were you going to make for dinner?”
“Here,” Jesse replied, showing Andrew the cooking book, still open on the recipe.
“Is this--?” Andrew asked, flipping the book to look at the cover. “Oh, yes. Carey got this book from me,” he explained at Jesse’s puzzled look. “It belonged to my Gran.”
Jesse poured water into a kettle and left it to boil. Then he took out a cutting board and started preparing the necessary ingredients. He sliced the bell peppers without too much trouble, but when he started chopping the onion, Andrew made this pained sound in the back of his throat and moved him aside decidedly.
“I can’t watch this without constantly fearing for your fingers,” he told him, going to the sink and washing his hands. “Please set the table or something.”
He cut the rest of the vegetables deftly, with sure movements. He moved quickly, like somebody who was used to spending a lot of time in the kitchen.
Jesse wasn’t going to complain, given that the things he really knew how to cook were limited to spaghetti and, well, more spaghetti.
He made two cups of tea and sets them on the table. Then he took out two plates out of a cupboard and placed them next to the steaming cups.
Andrew cast a quick look at him and said, “Oh, I wouldn’t like to impose on you.”
“Andrew,” Jesse told him levelly. “You’re basically making my dinner, the least I could do is to invite you.”
“Well, if you put it like that,” Andrew said. “All right, then.” He scooped all the ingredients into a deep pan and stirred them together. Jesse waited patiently, content with just watching Andrew. It was peaceful and startlingly domestic.
“Ta-da!” Andrew said very seriously when he was done, putting a generous amount on Jesse’s plate and then doing the same for himself.
It looked delicious and if Jesse hadn’t been feeling hungry before, the sight of the food would have been more than enough to make him. He dug in.
They talked a little while eating. Andrew discovered that Jesse didn’t watch TV much - he didn’t even own a TV set - and, much to Andrew’s chagrin, wasn’t even familiar with the masterpiece that was Doctor Who, so Andrew threatened to subject him to a watching marathon. Jesse agreed without much thought on the matter.
“So,” Andrew said, putting his fork down. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”
“I have a very exciting day with Mr. Bingley planned,” Jesse deadpanned. “We’re going to take over the world.”
“I’m sure Mr. Bingley would make a perfect cat for an evil overlord,” Andrew laughed. Mr. Bingley chose this moment to come out of his hiding place and rub against Andrew’s ankles.
“It’s all a part of the plan,” Jesse said seriously. “A ruse to lull you into a false sense of security.”
“I’m sure Mr. Bingley will forgive me if I kidnap you for one day,” Andrew said. “I’ll come pick you up in the afternoon, all right?”
“Where are we going?” Jesse asked suspiciously.
“I can’t tell you!” Andrew protested. “It’s a surprise.”
Jesse looked up at him in alarm. “I don’t like surprises,” he grumbled.
“You’ll like this one,” Andrew promised, undeterred. “See you tomorrow!”
---
The next day Jesse was both nervous and excited in an equal measure. Andrew showed up on his doorstep ten minutes past two, brushing snowflakes from his hair.
“It’s snowing,” Jesse observed.
“You have amazing deductive reasoning skills,” Andrew told him. “Now come on, Sherlock, we’re going out.” He grabbed Jesse’s hat from the rack, shoving it unceremoniously onto Jesse’s head.
They walked close to each other, Andrew a half step before Jesse, leading the way. They passed Andrew’s house on the way - it was a small cottage, not unlike Carey’s.
Jesse slipped on a patch of ice, flailing out, and Andrew caught him by the arm, helping him regain his footing. He didn’t let go of him, holding his elbow lightly. Jesse felt like he was going into a sensory overload, ridiculously aware of Andrew touching him through at least three layers of clothing.
After about ten minutes of walking in companionable silence they stopped in front of a small restaurant. Andrew gestured for Jesse to come inside, opening the door for him.
“I hope you haven’t eaten anything yet,” said Andrew, holding out a hand to take Jesse’s coat. He hanged it with his own jacket and showed Jesse to a small, secluded table in the corner. A waiter showed up as soon as they were seated, giving Andrew a bright smile.
“Do you mind if I order?” Andrew asked and Jesse gestured for him to go ahead. “I hope you’re okay with lasagna, then.”
“Sure,” Jesse said. “Are you trying to live up to your last name?”
Andrew stared at him and then burst out laughing. “I didn’t think of the parallels,” he admitted. “But it’s good, you’ll see. It’s chef’s speciality,” he said, exchanging a look with the waiter, who smiled back at him. Jesse frowned, feeling like he was missing something.
“Coming right up,” the waiter said, disappearing behind swing doors, presumably leading to the kitchen.
“You know, when you said you were going to take me somewhere, I wasn’t exactly expecting a dinner,” Jesse told Andrew after a moment of silence.
“Do you mind?” Andrew asked, blushing slightly.
“No,” Jesse rushed in. “It’s, um, it’s very nice of you. Do you come here often?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Andrew said with a laugh. “I own this place,” he admitted.
“Oh,” Jesse said. “That makes sense, actually.”
The food was delicious, which came as no surprise to Jesse at this point. Andrew brushed off Jesse’s attempt to pay - “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s on the house” - and afterwards he walked Jesse home. He lingered on the doorstep and Jesse was about to invite him in when Andrew smiled in that disarming way of his and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Sure,” Jesse said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Andrew rocked on his heels, making an aborted gesture with his hands and then stuffing them deep in his pockets. “All right. Goodnight, then.”
“Night,” Jesse said. He looked at Andrew, who was staring back at him as if he was contemplating something. Then he made a step closer and Jesse tilted his head up in order not to break the eye contact. He held his breath, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.
Andrew’s gaze was fixed on Jesse’s mouth and Jesse was pretty sure something in his brain just disconnected, because he literally wasn’t able to move. He was going to explode from all the tension if something didn’t happen soon.
Then Andrew seemed to have shaken himself out of the trance or something, because he dropped his hands (when did they go up to Jesse’s shoulders?) and stepped back. He coughed, bowing his head down and shuffled his feet.
“Right,” he said, carefully looking anywhere but at Jesse. “So, I’ll, ah, I’ll be going, then. See you.”
“Bye,” Jesse said, dumbfounded. He went inside the house, switching the light on.
Jesse didn’t have a single fucking clue where this whole thing was going. He was sure that Andrew was going to-but no, he must have misread this somehow. He was reading into things that weren’t there, for sure.
And besides, the whole thought that Andrew might have wanted something more than just friendship with Jesse - might have wanted Jesse - was ridiculous. Andrew had his whole life here, and Jesse was going back to New York soon. It just didn’t make any sense.
---
Despite the certain awkwardness of the previous evening, Andrew still became a permanent fixture in Jesse’s life. They spent almost every day in each other’s company, whenever Andrew wasn’t busy at work. He also made true on his promise to introduce Jesse to Doctor Who and showed up on his doorstep with a few DVDs in hand, half-dragging Jesse to the living room and not having any of his protests. (“You will see the light, Jesse! I promise you.”)
After a few episodes in, Jesse was forced to grudgingly admit that the show was pretty good. Andrew didn't let him hear the end of it for the rest of the evening.
More often than not, though, they just wound up sitting on the couch together, at Jesse’s or Andrew’s house, talking about nothing in particular and eating cookies baked by Andrew (they were delicious). Jesse hadn’t felt so content in a long time.
---
Time passed quickly and, before Jesse noticed, it was almost the end of his vacation.
They arranged to meet at Andrew’s house that day as Jesse was getting ready to leave. Andrew said he wanted to show him one more thing in the village and try as he might, Jesse hadn’t been able to make Andrew let him in on the secret.
Andrew opened the door wearing his coat and a pair of gray mittens. His neck was enveloped in an enormous scarf.
“That scarf looks like a boa constrictor,” Jesse remarked. “It’s going to eat your face.”
“Shut up,” Andrew told him good-naturedly. “It’s warm.”
He led Jesse down the road, in the opposite way than the village. Gradually it because more narrow, turning into a winding path going into a small forest.
“The place I want to show you is just up this hill,” said Andrew, gesturing in the right direction. “Be careful not to trip over anything, it can be tricky when the path is covered by snow.”
Fortunately they didn’t have a long way to go and Jesse managed to cover it without maiming himself in any way.
“Come here,” Andrew said, hurrying forward and dragging Jesse with him by the hand to a lone bench on the hilltop, facing an opening in the trees. “Look.”
Jesse could see why Andrew wanted to show him the view; the whole village sprawled out before them. It was already dark outside and the only light was coming from the moon and the colorful Christmas lights decorating the houses and reflecting in the snow. It looked like something straight out of a Christmas card.
They stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the view. Then Andrew turned to the bench, brushing the snow off it. “Do you want to sit down?” he asked.
Jesse nodded mutely, collapsing on the bench. “It’s beautiful here,” he said quietly, not wanting to spoil the peaceful moment.
“Yeah. Sometimes I come here just to think, you know?” Andrew said. “It’s always so quiet here.”
“That’s nice. I never have the time to do anything like that. Not that you can find many views like that in New York. But even if you could, I’m always busy with something.”
“So, what exactly is it that you do?” Andrew asked him.
“I’m an accountant in a law firm,” Jesse said.
Andrew gave him a surprised look. “Really? I mean, I’m sure you’re really good at that, but it’s not really what I pictured you doing.”
“What did you think I did?” Jesse asked him curiously.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Andrew replies. “But you do seem kind of an academic type, you know? You could be, I don’t know, a university professor.”
“I wanted to be a writer,” Jesse admitted quietly. “When I graduated from college, I thought that was what I would do.”
Andrew looked at him, leaning slightly into Jesse’s side. “So why didn’t you?”
Jesse stared off into distance. “I guess I never got the chance. You have to be strong, you know, to make a name for yourself. So maybe I wasn’t strong enough.” He shrugged.
“Oh, Jesse,” Andrew whispered.
“What? It’s not like I regret this, you know,” Jesse said. “I have a job I’m good at and I’m doing fine.”
Andrew didn’t reply, just looked at him sadly.
“What,” Jesse repeated. “Oh God, stop looking at me like that. You look like a sad baby deer, stop that.”
Andrew laughed, leaning forward and burrowing his hand in the crook of Jesse’s neck. “You’re ridiculous,” he gasped.
“Your face is ridiculous,” Jesse told him. Andrew just laughed harder.
---
“You’re staying here for New Year’s Eve, right?” Andrew asked him when they walked back to his house.
“Yes,” Jesse confirmed. “My flight is scheduled for Saturday afternoon.”
“Brilliant,” Andrew said. “You have to come to my house, I’ll make us something to eat and we’ll celebrate.”
“All right,” Jesse agreed.
---
Andrew did make them something to eat. A lot of somethings.
“I’m stuffed,” Jesse said, leaning back in his chair. “Why is this so delicious?”
“Because I’m an awesome cook,” Andrew remarked proudly. “Do you want seconds?” he asked innocently.
Jesse moaned quietly. “God, no. I’m not going to be able to move after this.”
“It’s all a part of my evil plan to make you stay here forever,” Andrew told him. Jesse mock-glared at him.
They counted the seconds to midnight and Andrew made a toast.
“To the New Year,” he said solemnly. “And to new friendships.”
Jesse nodded, clinking his glass against Andrew’s and let Andrew hug him tight, wishing he didn’t have to let go.
---
Jesse’s bag was sitting by the door, ready to go. Andrew promised he’d drop in to say goodbye once again before Jesse had to leave, so all that was left to do was wait for him.
There was a soft knock at the door and Jesse got up from the couch to open it. Andrew was inside, beaming at him, but there was a sad edge to his smile. He engulfed Jesse in a hug as soon as he stepped inside.
“You absolutely must visit one day,” said Andrew, squeezing Jesse tight.
“Okay,” Jesse said softly. “You could come, too. I’ll show you around New York.”
“Maybe,” Andrew told him, releasing him and stepping back. His gaze fell on Jesse’s luggage. “When do you need to leave?”
“Soon,” Jesse said. “The taxi should be here any moment.”
“Shame you can’t stay any longer,” Andrew said sadly. He was actually pouting.
“Yeah,” Jesse agreed. “But vacations have to end some time.” He reached out to tug at Andrew’s sleeve, his fingers trailing across Andrew’s wrist softly. They stood next to each other in the corridor in silence for a few moments. Then Andrew looked at Jesse and took a step closer, deliberately.
“So, I may be reading this wrong,” he said, looking Jesse in the eyes. “But I may not, so I’m just going to take my chance on it and you’re leaving, so if I’m wrong we can just never speak about it again.”
Jesse wasn’t sure he followed until Andrew leaned in, closing the last few inches between them and pressed a kiss to Jesse’s mouth.
Jesse froze in place, because it was Andrew’s mouth on his and was it really happening and holy shit. He was too shocked to respond and by the time he gathered enough mental capability to move, Andrew straightened, taking a step back. Jesse stared at him open-mouthed.
Andrew coughed. “All right,” he said quietly, seemingly more to himself than Jesse. He waited a moment and when Jesse didn’t say anything he looked down on the floor. “Have a good flight, Jesse,” Andrew told him before turning on his heel and going out.
“Wait, Andrew, I-” Jesse said, shaking out of his stupor, but Andrew was already gone.
Jesse had a plane to catch in less than three hours.
---
“You’re sulking,” Emma told him, stopping at his desk when she was passing by.
“I’m not,” Jesse said, glancing at her before burrowing himself in a stack of papers again. “I’m working. Now go away.”
“Yes, you are. You are like the most sulky person ever. Even your curls are sulking. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.”
“Nothing,” Jesse said with a shrug.
Emma scoffed. “I’ll sic Justin on you if you don’t tell me right this minute.”
“What’s with you and those threats all the time?” Jesse asked, frowning. “I’m pretty sure this constitutes as blackmail. I could sue you, Mr. Fincher would take my case.”
Emma flipped him off. “No, he wouldn’t. But really, Jesse,” she said, growing more serious, “talk to me, please. You’ve been miserable ever since you came back from England - yes, you were, don’t even try to give me this bullshit,” she said, interrupting his half-hearted attempt to protest.
Jesse contemplated the pen in his hand. “Will you leave me alone if I tell you?”
“Sure,” Emma said.
Jesse eyed her suspiciously. “Are you lying?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Now spill.”
Jesse sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve met someone,” he said to the ceiling.
“I knew it!” Emma clapped her hands. “It’s Andrew, right?”
Jesse gaped at her. “How do you know about Andrew?”
“I’ve been talking to Carey,” Emma admitted, not looking ashamed of herself at all. “She says Andrew is sulking, too.”
“It’s not like I could change anything, Emma!” Jesse said impatiently, pushing off his desk and getting up to his feet. “He lives on the other side of a fucking ocean and it just wouldn’t work out.”
“Why not?” Emma asked. Jesse supposed she wasn’t going to let go that easily.
“How could it? He’s got his whole life there and the long distance thing would stop working after a while.”
“You could always move there,” Emma suggested quietly.
Jesse frowned. “Are you kidding? I’ve got a job here, I can’t just throw my whole life away-”
“Jesse,” she interrupted him. “Your job is your whole life here and you don’t even like it.”
“That’s not true!” Jesse protested.
“Yes. Yes, it is,” Emma told him solemnly.
“I have friends here,” Jesse said, fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs. “I have you.”
“And you’re going to have me no matter where you live,” said Emma, coming up to him and hugging him hard. “But you could have so much more than that if you just tried.”
“I’ve only known him for two weeks,” Jesse tried to protest meekly.
Emma laid a hand on his shoulder, making him look her in the eyes. “Tell me you think it’s not worth the risk and I’ll let it go.”
Jesse wanted to say that. He desperately wanted to cling to something in his life that was constant and sure, and his job was one of those things. Moving out would mean throwing it all away, and he was scared just to think about it.
But he remembered the way Andrew looked at him, the way he smiled at everything Jesse had said, and he wanted that, too. And he was tired of being scared.
“I did something really stupid, didn’t I?” he told Emma dryly.
“Hell yes, you did,” she replied.
“All right,” he nodded to himself.
“Awesome,” Emma said. “Now fix it.”
---
“I quit,” Jesse said, fidgeting awkwardly in the doorway to Sorkin’s office.
“I wondered when you’d do that,” Sorkin told him. “Good luck in whatever it is that you want to do.”
---
He booked the earliest flight he could find. It felt very much like the craziest and most impulsive decision in his life so far and, amazingly, he wasn’t freaking out at all.
Later he wouldn’t even be able to remember the flight and the whole ride to Andrew’s house, it all felt like it passed so quickly.
When he stood in front of Andrew’s gate he suddenly felt nervous, for the first time since talking to Emma. He pushed it and it gave in easily, opening with a creak that sounded too loud in Jesse’s ears. He covered the distance to the door in a few quick steps, steeling himself mentally before knocking twice.
Nothing happened.
He loitered on the porch for a while longer. That was one thing he didn’t actually take into consideration - what he would do if Andrew wasn’t home.
Well, it wasn’t like he had any pressing matters to attend to, so he supposed waiting for Andrew to show up couldn’t hurt.
He lasted ten minutes before the cold crept into his bones, making him shiver. He wished Andrew would hurry up.
As if fulfilling his wish, he heard the snow crunching under somebody’s feet and then Andrew rounded the corner. He didn’t notice Jesse right away, not looking up from the ground until he reached the door.
“Jesse?” Andrew said, startled. “What are you doing here?”
“You kissed me,” Jesse got out. His teeth were clattering from cold. “And I quit my job. I’m so sorry.”
“Come inside,” Andrew told him, opening the door. “You’re not making any sense. Jesus, how long have you been waiting outside?”
“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “Ten minutes? But I forgot my gloves.”
“Here,” said Andrew, throwing a warm blanket Jesse’s way. “Wrap yourself up, I’ll make you something to drink.”
“But I need to talk to you,” Jesse protested, catching the blanket and sitting on the couch.
“You will,” Andrew promised. “After I make sure you’re not going to freeze to death.” He disappeared into the kitchen. Jesse could hear him moving things around, the clatter of a ceramic mug against a counter and the sound of water being boiled. Andrew emerged a short while later, carrying a steaming beverage and a plate of homemade cookies on a tray.
“Drink,” he said, pushing the mug into Jesse’s hand. Jesse took it with gratitude, feeling the warmth seep into his body.
“You said you wanted to talk,” Andrew told him after a few moments. “So, talk.”
“Yes,” Jesse said. “I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. When I was leaving, you kissed me, and I didn’t kiss you back. I didn’t expect that and I freaked out and--”
“Did you fly all the way from the States just to tell me that?” Andrew interrupted him. He didn’t sound pleased - he sounded almost mad, which was not what Jesse was expecting. “Because you really didn’t need to do that. I can take the clue, all right?”
He was taking this the wrong way, Jesse realized. “No!” he exclaimed. “Andrew, you don’t understand, please-”
“No, I get it, Jesse, you’re not interested in me this way, and it’s fine, really.” Andrew looked so sad that Jesse just wanted to hug him and never let him go.
“No, but I am!” Jesse rushed in to say. Andrew looked up at him at that. “And I should’ve kissed you back then, but I didn’t, and I’m so sorry.”
“Okay,” Andrew said quietly. “Okay,” he repeated, getting up from the couch and crossing the room to stand by the mantle. Jesse held his breath, waiting. “You still could, you know,” Andrew told him after a while.
“What?” Jesse asked, breathless.
“You could. Kiss me back,” Andrew said, looking at Jesse again.
Jesse put his mug down on the floor and all but lunged at Andrew, tangling his fingers in Andrew’s hair, kissing him firmly on the mouth. It was sloppy and their mouths didn’t line up right, and it was the best kiss in Jesse’s life, because Andrew kissed him back with all his might.
---
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesseisenberg@gmail.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Tue, Dec 20, 2011 at 6:17 PM
Subject: New Year’s Eve
Will you visit on New Year’s Eve? Carey says you’re welcome to stay in her guest bedroom for as long as you wish.
Andrew says to tell you he says hi.
Jesse
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesseisenberg@gmail.com)
Date: Tue, Dec 20, 2010 at 6:33 PM
Subject: Re: New Year’s Eve
Of course I will! I’ll send you the itinerary when I buy a ticket. Tell Andrew hi from me, too.
---
“Why do I need to wear a suit?” Jesse complained, just an edge of whine creeping into his voice. “I look like an undertaker.”
Andrew brushed the invisible lint off Jesse’s shoulder and straightened his lapels. “Shh. You look smashing in a suit,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Jesse shrugged. Andrew looked really hot in his shiny black tie and a black shirt. Next to him, Jesse felt so… ordinary in his pinstriped white shirt.
“Stop thinking grumpy thoughts,” Andrew told him, bringing his arms around Jesse’s waist and resting his chin on Jesse’s shoulder. “You are perfect.”
Jesse blushed, raising his hands and digging his fingers into Andrew’s back. “You too,” he said quietly. They stood like that for a minute, neither of them wanting to move.
Then the doorbell rang. Andrew sighed, pressing a light kiss to Jesse’s temple.
Jesse smiled, ducking his head. “Okay. Are we done having a moment?”
Andrew smacked his arm, pretending to be offended. “Yes, you jackass. I’ll get the door, finish getting ready.”
Jesse caught Andrew before he went down the stairs, kissing him hard.
“The guests are waiting,” Andrew whispered against Jesse’s lips.
“Whatever,” said Jesse. “Happy New Year, Andrew.”
“Yeah,” Andrew agreed. “It will be.”
-end-
Recipient: for planetabed. I hope you enjoy this! I had a totally different idea for your fic at first, but then the plot bunnies attacked me and this came out. There’s fluff, at least? And also cats.
Characters/Pairing: Andrew/Jesse, mentions of Emma Stone and Carey Mulligan
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7 120
Warnings: possible risk of fluff overdose? And a teeny-tiny bit of angst.
Summary: The Holiday AU. In which Jesse is forced to take a vacation, Andrew is his charming (temporary) neighbor and they fall in love. It’s all quite simple, really.
A/N: Many thanks to emerald_skies for beta <3
You can also read this at AO3
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 3:57 PM
Subject: Fwd: house swapping
Please, at least look at this before saying no. You need a holiday.
Emma
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Carey Mulligan (carey.m@gmail.com)
Date: 2010/12/15
Subject: house swapping
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com )
I saw your advertisement on homeexchange.com and I would be interested in doing a swap with you. I live in Surrey - it’s not a very big house, but it’s comfortable and clean. There is a cat, so I hope you are not allergic. He’s really friendly, though.
I’m attaching a few photos, please let me know if you’re interested. My house is available any time until the end of December.
Cheers,
Carey
__________
4 attachments - Download all attachments
bedroom.jpg | 1281K View Download
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livingroom.jpg | 1371K View Download
kitchen.jpg | 1317K View Download
--
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:12 PM
Subject: Re: Fwd: house swapping
I looked and I’m still saying no. No, Emma. NO. Please note that I’m using caps lock. NO. Why would you even think that’s a good idea?
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:17 PM
Subject: answer me these
1. When was the last time you slept more than four hours in a row? You need a break from work.
2. Seriously, why not? Her house is nice and she owns a cat, it’s perfect.
3. Do I need to call your mother?
--
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:26 PM
Subject: Re: answer me these
1. I sleep just enough.
2. Her house looks nice in the four photos she sent. For all you know there are bed bugs and mold on the walls.
3. This is blackmail.
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:30 PM
Subject: (no subject)
1. Don’t think I didn’t see you almost put salt in your coffee today.
2. Even so (and I’m sure it’s a perfectly respectable house anyway), it would only be for two weeks. It’s just a vacation.
3. Yes. I’m calling her right now.
--
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:31 PM
Subject: Re: (no subject)
Fine, Jesus, I’ll consider it.
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesse.eisenberg@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Wed, Dec 15, 2010 at 4:32 PM
Subject: Re: (no subject)
I knew you’d see reason.
---
So it all really happened because Emma talked him into doing the home swapping thing, and Emma could be downright terrifying.
And maybe she was right, maybe he really needed a break. He couldn’t remember the last time he took a day off (probably never, to be honest), but it was fine, he was all right. He hated his job only from time to time, but who didn’t?
Emma had this thing where she walked by his desk and cast him disappointed looks like she wanted to ask why he was still here down to a fine art, though, so eventually Jesse gave in and arranged a two weeks stay in Surrey, starting Sunday.
He exchanged a few emails with Carey - she proved to be really sweet and he stopped dreading the trip so much. She also sent him a picture of her cat, a small, fluffy tabby called Mr. Bingley. Jesse sent her photos of his own cats in exchange and thus they reached mutual understanding.
Time passed quickly and soon it was time for him to leave. He spent all Saturday frantically cleaning his apartment and making sure there was enough cat food for the next two weeks, and almost forgot to pack his bag in the process.
Eventually he was as ready to go as he would ever be and took a cab to the airport, mentally saying goodbye to New York for the next two weeks.
---
There was a car waiting for him outside the airport when he arrived, as Carey promised. The driver - John, one of Carey’s coworkers - was an older man, slightly balding on top. He loaded Jesse’s bag in the trunk and didn’t talk to him much on the way. Jesse was perfectly fine to sit in silence and watch the passing landscapes through the window.
His first thought upon arriving was that the house really looked like something out of a fairytale, complete with a red-tiled roof and a slightly crooked chimney.
The second thought, as he stepped out of the car and right into a snow bank, is that there was a lot of snow. Really a lot.
“Nice winter this year, innit?” John said.
Jesse nodded meekly, wriggling his toes in his shoes. They were already cold. “Sure. Is there always so much snow here?”
“Nah, that’s nothin’," John informed him cheerfully, "Last year you couldn’t even drive down the road.”
“Awesome,” Jesse muttered. He shouldered his bag and thanked John for the ride before trudging along the narrow path to the front door. The key was under a potted plant on the porch and, after a short struggle with the lock, he finally opened the door.
It was - well, magical would probably be the right word for it. It looked exactly like in the pictures, a large couch by the window and two comfortable-looking armchairs next to a shelf packed with books, but the photos couldn’t fully show the atmosphere of the house, the slight smell of tea leaves in the air and this general feeling of coziness.
Jesse dropped his bag by the entrance and toed off his shoes before going to explore the house. He found the kitchen quickly. There was a note in a loopy handwriting stuck to the fridge: Hi Jesse! I hope everything’s to your liking. Feel free to eat whatever from the fridge and the cupboards. Love, Carey.
Sure enough, the fridge proved to be full and Jesse suddenly felt bad that the closest things to edible food in his apartment were the cans of cat food and some raw pasta, but he didn’t cook much for himself, usually just ordered some takeout.
He went up the stairs next. The master bedroom was on the right, next to a bathroom. There was also a small guest bedroom and after a short hesitation he decided to dump his stuff there.
The bed looked really comfortable and it was so tempting to just lie down for a few seconds and close his eyes. He’d unpack in a moment.
He lied down on top of the duvet and was out like a light.
---
Jesse woke up to the sun shining in his face. He blinked blearily at the clock on the nightstand; the numbers changed to 9:14 as he watched.
He rolled over, hiding his face in a pillow, wishing he could stay like this forever, because the mattress was soft and Emma was right, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a too long time. But he was still in his clothes from the previous night, the waistline of his jeans digging uncomfortably into his stomach, and he desperately needed a shower, so after a moment he sat up reluctantly. There was an unread message on his phone from Emma to which he responded quickly, assuring her that he’d arrived in one piece and nothing disastrous had happened so far.
He shuffled to the bathroom across the hall (he hadn’t even taken his shoes off before collapsing on the bed, Jesus). After a quick shower he felt much better and he went down to the kitchen to make some breakfast, hopefully edible.
There were eggs in the fridge and after some rummaging he managed to find a frying pan in one of the cupboards and he set out to make an omelet.
As he moved around the kitchen, humming a song from Oklahoma! under his breath, he got the feeling that he was being watched. He turned around to find himself face to face with a cat, perched atop the fridge.
“Mr. Bingley, I presume?” Jesse said, holding out his hand. The cat craned his neck so that Jesse could scratch him behind his ears, and purred softly as Jesse obliged. “You must be hungry,” Jesse decided, turning around to locate the cat’s bowl and some food for him. He found them quickly and soon enough Mr. Bingley was munching happily on his meal.
Jesse busied himself with watching the butter melt in the pan when he heard a scratching noise at the entrance door. There was some shuffling outside, followed by a distinct sound of the lock turning.
It would have been just his luck if somebody decided it was a good idea to try and rob the house while Jesse was inside.
He looked around for something that could be turned into a makeshift weapon. There was a kitchen knife, but, well, no.
The doors opened and he could hear soft footsteps nearing the kitchen. He grabbed the frying pan for lack of a better solution. It felt very much like a move straight out of the Julia Child guide to kicking ass.
A guy around Jesse’s age appeared in the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Jesse. He was tall, with an unruly mop of dark hair. He didn’t look much like a burglar or a serial killer, but Jesse supposed you never knew.
“Oh, bugger!” the stranger exclaimed, his eyes widening comically.
Jesse raised the pan higher. “Um, please don’t rob me? I may look harmless, but I’ve got this really big and heavy frying pan in my hand,” he said. He was secretly proud that his voice didn’t shake at all.
“I’m not-Jesus. Could you please put that down? Who are you?” the man asked.
After a moment of consideration Jesse lowered his arm. “I live here. Um, temporarily. Who are you?”
“Andrew Garfield. I feed Mr. Bingley when Carey isn’t home, but she didn’t tell me somebody would be staying here now. She didn’t tell me to feed the cat, either, but I just assumed. Are you one of her friends?”
“Sort of?” Jesse offered hesitantly. “Technically we haven’t met. We swapped houses, she’s staying at my place.”
“Oh,” Andrew said. “That’s cool. Um, I won’t bother you then, yeah? Have a nice day!” he said, slowly backing out from the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Jesse told him, walking him to the door.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment and eventually Andrew made a flapping gesture with his hand. “So I’ll just. Go,” he said. “Terribly sorry I just barged in here like that, but I really had no idea you’d be here.”
“It’s all right,” Jesse assured him. “Happens to me all the time.”
“Really?” Andrew asked. He cocked his head and frowned at Jesse, like he couldn’t decide if Jesse was just fucking with him. It looked kind of adorable.
“Yes.” Jesse nodded seriously. “Last month it was Woody Allen, he broke into my apartment and then stayed for breakfast.”
Andrew gaped at him like he wasn’t sure if Jesse is a real person and then dissolved into laughter.
“Brilliant,” he said, offering Jesse a toothy grin. “It was nice meeting you.” He paused expectantly.
“Jesse,” Jesse supplied.
“Jesse,” Andrew repeated, still grinning. “Are you going to stay here until New Year’s? I know that’s when Carey gets back.”
“Yes,” Jesse confirmed.
“Great,” Andrew said. “See you around, Jesse!” he called out when he was outside, waving enthusiastically. Jesse waved awkwardly back before he shut the door.
---
Going on a holiday was great, but soon Jesse found himself growing restless. It was unnerving, just sitting around all day with nothing to do except eating and talking to the cat.
He busied himself with simple activities, like cleaning the house (but you could only dust shelves so many times before it stopped being useful and just started getting sad) and occasionally exchanging emails with Emma. He wrote to Carey, telling her that everything was great, but for some reason he didn’t mention Andrew’s visit.
On the third day of his stay he found a cook book. It looked old - the pages were yellowed with age and in a few places there were handwritten notes in the margins. It didn’t look anything like Carey’s handwriting, so Jesse guessed it must have belonged to her mother, or maybe her grandmother.
He flipped idly through the pages until one of the recipes caught his eye. The instructions were relatively simple to follow and he had almost all of the ingredients except for a steak, so after a short hesitation he ventured out to find a grocery store.
It was shockingly cold outside and he wrapped his scarf tight around his neck, burrowing his hands deep in his pockets. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked and for a while it was the only sound he was able to hear. It was so much different than New York, without the constant noise of traffic and sidewalks crowded with people.
Fortunately he found a store soon enough and he ducked inside, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to get warm.
He went straight to the meat display case. The recipe had been quite specific about the kind of steak to choose - firm to the touch, not too moist, red, but not a deep red color. He stared helplessly at the pre-packaged pieces. There were at least five different shades of red, which one was the right one? Did it really matter so much?
He frowned and eventually grabbed the package that was closest to him. He wasn’t going for haute cuisine, so it would have to do.
“Oh no, don’t choose this one!” somebody said behind him and Jesse jumped at least a foot in the air. Andrew materialized next to him. “Hello again,” he said, smiling at Jesse.
“Hi. Were you trying to give me a heart attack just now?” Jesse asked conversationally.
Andrew looked properly chastised. “Sorry. I suppose I should tone down this whole sneaking up on you thing we seem to have going on, right?”
“Probably,” Jesse agreed. He looked down at the steak he was still holding. “So what’s wrong with this?”
“Oh, everything,” Andrew said. “Is this the only thing you need?” he asked and Jesse nodded mutely. “Come on, I’ll show you to the butcher’s, it’s a lot better than what they’ve got here.”
Jesse followed Andrew to the exit, stopping at the till while Andrew paid for his own shopping.
“Come on,” Andrew said, gently touching Jesse’s back and steering him in the right direction. He seemed to have no problem casually touching other people - even strangers he’d only met for a short time a few days earlier. Surprisingly, Jesse found he didn’t mind.
The butcher’s wasn’t far -- in fact, it was just around the corner.
“John!” Andrew exclaimed cheerfully when they entered. Jesse was starting to wonder if Andrew did everything cheerfully. “Pick me a nice flank steak, would you?”
“Sure,” the man behind the counter answered, selecting the meat (it was red. Jesse honestly didn’t see any difference in the redness) and then wrapping it up neatly. “Here you go.”
Andrew waited for him while Jesse paid. “You’re going this way, right?” he asked and fell into step with Jesse.
“That’s right. So, do you and Carey live near each other?” Jesse asked curiously.
“Yeah, we’re neighbours. My home’s just down the road, you probably passed it on the way here.”
Jesse hummed noncommittally and Andrew smiled at him again.
“So where do you live normally?” Andrew asked him.
“In New York,” Jesse replied.
“Awesome. I always wanted to go there, but never had a chance,” Andrew told him wistfully. “Tell me about it.”
“About New York?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah. I only know what it’s like from the movies, you know.”
“Well, I don’t watch a lot of movies, so you’ve got me there,” Jesse told him, smiling.
“But I want to know what it’s really like!” Andrew exclaimed, laughing. “So tell me about the real life there.”
So Jesse told him - about early mornings in New York, about rushing to work every day, about people and cars and buildings in his area. And then he told him how he liked to bike to work, because Andrew hadn’t interrupted him once yet and he seemed genuinely interested in Jesse’s life. When they reached Carey’s house, Jesse was in the middle of telling a story about Emma and Joe, so he just waved for Andrew to come inside when he unlocked the door.
“Your friends seem really nice,” Andrew commented, toeing off his shoes.
“They are. I have no idea why they bother with me,” Jesse said dryly.
“Oh, shush,” Andrew told him. “You're amazing.”
Jesse had no idea what to say to that. He was pretty sure even his freckles were blushing.
“But you were telling me about Emma,” Andrew said, unfazed. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“What? No. Oh my God, no. I, um, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jesse stammered out, flustered. He went into the kitchen and Andrew followed him. “How about you?”
“No girlfriend,” Andrew told him. “No boyfriend, either.”
“Oh,” Jesse said quietly. “Do you want some tea?” he asked, because he was smooth like that.
“Sure,” said Andrew. “What were you going to make for dinner?”
“Here,” Jesse replied, showing Andrew the cooking book, still open on the recipe.
“Is this--?” Andrew asked, flipping the book to look at the cover. “Oh, yes. Carey got this book from me,” he explained at Jesse’s puzzled look. “It belonged to my Gran.”
Jesse poured water into a kettle and left it to boil. Then he took out a cutting board and started preparing the necessary ingredients. He sliced the bell peppers without too much trouble, but when he started chopping the onion, Andrew made this pained sound in the back of his throat and moved him aside decidedly.
“I can’t watch this without constantly fearing for your fingers,” he told him, going to the sink and washing his hands. “Please set the table or something.”
He cut the rest of the vegetables deftly, with sure movements. He moved quickly, like somebody who was used to spending a lot of time in the kitchen.
Jesse wasn’t going to complain, given that the things he really knew how to cook were limited to spaghetti and, well, more spaghetti.
He made two cups of tea and sets them on the table. Then he took out two plates out of a cupboard and placed them next to the steaming cups.
Andrew cast a quick look at him and said, “Oh, I wouldn’t like to impose on you.”
“Andrew,” Jesse told him levelly. “You’re basically making my dinner, the least I could do is to invite you.”
“Well, if you put it like that,” Andrew said. “All right, then.” He scooped all the ingredients into a deep pan and stirred them together. Jesse waited patiently, content with just watching Andrew. It was peaceful and startlingly domestic.
“Ta-da!” Andrew said very seriously when he was done, putting a generous amount on Jesse’s plate and then doing the same for himself.
It looked delicious and if Jesse hadn’t been feeling hungry before, the sight of the food would have been more than enough to make him. He dug in.
They talked a little while eating. Andrew discovered that Jesse didn’t watch TV much - he didn’t even own a TV set - and, much to Andrew’s chagrin, wasn’t even familiar with the masterpiece that was Doctor Who, so Andrew threatened to subject him to a watching marathon. Jesse agreed without much thought on the matter.
“So,” Andrew said, putting his fork down. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”
“I have a very exciting day with Mr. Bingley planned,” Jesse deadpanned. “We’re going to take over the world.”
“I’m sure Mr. Bingley would make a perfect cat for an evil overlord,” Andrew laughed. Mr. Bingley chose this moment to come out of his hiding place and rub against Andrew’s ankles.
“It’s all a part of the plan,” Jesse said seriously. “A ruse to lull you into a false sense of security.”
“I’m sure Mr. Bingley will forgive me if I kidnap you for one day,” Andrew said. “I’ll come pick you up in the afternoon, all right?”
“Where are we going?” Jesse asked suspiciously.
“I can’t tell you!” Andrew protested. “It’s a surprise.”
Jesse looked up at him in alarm. “I don’t like surprises,” he grumbled.
“You’ll like this one,” Andrew promised, undeterred. “See you tomorrow!”
---
The next day Jesse was both nervous and excited in an equal measure. Andrew showed up on his doorstep ten minutes past two, brushing snowflakes from his hair.
“It’s snowing,” Jesse observed.
“You have amazing deductive reasoning skills,” Andrew told him. “Now come on, Sherlock, we’re going out.” He grabbed Jesse’s hat from the rack, shoving it unceremoniously onto Jesse’s head.
They walked close to each other, Andrew a half step before Jesse, leading the way. They passed Andrew’s house on the way - it was a small cottage, not unlike Carey’s.
Jesse slipped on a patch of ice, flailing out, and Andrew caught him by the arm, helping him regain his footing. He didn’t let go of him, holding his elbow lightly. Jesse felt like he was going into a sensory overload, ridiculously aware of Andrew touching him through at least three layers of clothing.
After about ten minutes of walking in companionable silence they stopped in front of a small restaurant. Andrew gestured for Jesse to come inside, opening the door for him.
“I hope you haven’t eaten anything yet,” said Andrew, holding out a hand to take Jesse’s coat. He hanged it with his own jacket and showed Jesse to a small, secluded table in the corner. A waiter showed up as soon as they were seated, giving Andrew a bright smile.
“Do you mind if I order?” Andrew asked and Jesse gestured for him to go ahead. “I hope you’re okay with lasagna, then.”
“Sure,” Jesse said. “Are you trying to live up to your last name?”
Andrew stared at him and then burst out laughing. “I didn’t think of the parallels,” he admitted. “But it’s good, you’ll see. It’s chef’s speciality,” he said, exchanging a look with the waiter, who smiled back at him. Jesse frowned, feeling like he was missing something.
“Coming right up,” the waiter said, disappearing behind swing doors, presumably leading to the kitchen.
“You know, when you said you were going to take me somewhere, I wasn’t exactly expecting a dinner,” Jesse told Andrew after a moment of silence.
“Do you mind?” Andrew asked, blushing slightly.
“No,” Jesse rushed in. “It’s, um, it’s very nice of you. Do you come here often?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Andrew said with a laugh. “I own this place,” he admitted.
“Oh,” Jesse said. “That makes sense, actually.”
The food was delicious, which came as no surprise to Jesse at this point. Andrew brushed off Jesse’s attempt to pay - “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s on the house” - and afterwards he walked Jesse home. He lingered on the doorstep and Jesse was about to invite him in when Andrew smiled in that disarming way of his and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Sure,” Jesse said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Andrew rocked on his heels, making an aborted gesture with his hands and then stuffing them deep in his pockets. “All right. Goodnight, then.”
“Night,” Jesse said. He looked at Andrew, who was staring back at him as if he was contemplating something. Then he made a step closer and Jesse tilted his head up in order not to break the eye contact. He held his breath, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.
Andrew’s gaze was fixed on Jesse’s mouth and Jesse was pretty sure something in his brain just disconnected, because he literally wasn’t able to move. He was going to explode from all the tension if something didn’t happen soon.
Then Andrew seemed to have shaken himself out of the trance or something, because he dropped his hands (when did they go up to Jesse’s shoulders?) and stepped back. He coughed, bowing his head down and shuffled his feet.
“Right,” he said, carefully looking anywhere but at Jesse. “So, I’ll, ah, I’ll be going, then. See you.”
“Bye,” Jesse said, dumbfounded. He went inside the house, switching the light on.
Jesse didn’t have a single fucking clue where this whole thing was going. He was sure that Andrew was going to-but no, he must have misread this somehow. He was reading into things that weren’t there, for sure.
And besides, the whole thought that Andrew might have wanted something more than just friendship with Jesse - might have wanted Jesse - was ridiculous. Andrew had his whole life here, and Jesse was going back to New York soon. It just didn’t make any sense.
---
Despite the certain awkwardness of the previous evening, Andrew still became a permanent fixture in Jesse’s life. They spent almost every day in each other’s company, whenever Andrew wasn’t busy at work. He also made true on his promise to introduce Jesse to Doctor Who and showed up on his doorstep with a few DVDs in hand, half-dragging Jesse to the living room and not having any of his protests. (“You will see the light, Jesse! I promise you.”)
After a few episodes in, Jesse was forced to grudgingly admit that the show was pretty good. Andrew didn't let him hear the end of it for the rest of the evening.
More often than not, though, they just wound up sitting on the couch together, at Jesse’s or Andrew’s house, talking about nothing in particular and eating cookies baked by Andrew (they were delicious). Jesse hadn’t felt so content in a long time.
---
Time passed quickly and, before Jesse noticed, it was almost the end of his vacation.
They arranged to meet at Andrew’s house that day as Jesse was getting ready to leave. Andrew said he wanted to show him one more thing in the village and try as he might, Jesse hadn’t been able to make Andrew let him in on the secret.
Andrew opened the door wearing his coat and a pair of gray mittens. His neck was enveloped in an enormous scarf.
“That scarf looks like a boa constrictor,” Jesse remarked. “It’s going to eat your face.”
“Shut up,” Andrew told him good-naturedly. “It’s warm.”
He led Jesse down the road, in the opposite way than the village. Gradually it because more narrow, turning into a winding path going into a small forest.
“The place I want to show you is just up this hill,” said Andrew, gesturing in the right direction. “Be careful not to trip over anything, it can be tricky when the path is covered by snow.”
Fortunately they didn’t have a long way to go and Jesse managed to cover it without maiming himself in any way.
“Come here,” Andrew said, hurrying forward and dragging Jesse with him by the hand to a lone bench on the hilltop, facing an opening in the trees. “Look.”
Jesse could see why Andrew wanted to show him the view; the whole village sprawled out before them. It was already dark outside and the only light was coming from the moon and the colorful Christmas lights decorating the houses and reflecting in the snow. It looked like something straight out of a Christmas card.
They stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the view. Then Andrew turned to the bench, brushing the snow off it. “Do you want to sit down?” he asked.
Jesse nodded mutely, collapsing on the bench. “It’s beautiful here,” he said quietly, not wanting to spoil the peaceful moment.
“Yeah. Sometimes I come here just to think, you know?” Andrew said. “It’s always so quiet here.”
“That’s nice. I never have the time to do anything like that. Not that you can find many views like that in New York. But even if you could, I’m always busy with something.”
“So, what exactly is it that you do?” Andrew asked him.
“I’m an accountant in a law firm,” Jesse said.
Andrew gave him a surprised look. “Really? I mean, I’m sure you’re really good at that, but it’s not really what I pictured you doing.”
“What did you think I did?” Jesse asked him curiously.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Andrew replies. “But you do seem kind of an academic type, you know? You could be, I don’t know, a university professor.”
“I wanted to be a writer,” Jesse admitted quietly. “When I graduated from college, I thought that was what I would do.”
Andrew looked at him, leaning slightly into Jesse’s side. “So why didn’t you?”
Jesse stared off into distance. “I guess I never got the chance. You have to be strong, you know, to make a name for yourself. So maybe I wasn’t strong enough.” He shrugged.
“Oh, Jesse,” Andrew whispered.
“What? It’s not like I regret this, you know,” Jesse said. “I have a job I’m good at and I’m doing fine.”
Andrew didn’t reply, just looked at him sadly.
“What,” Jesse repeated. “Oh God, stop looking at me like that. You look like a sad baby deer, stop that.”
Andrew laughed, leaning forward and burrowing his hand in the crook of Jesse’s neck. “You’re ridiculous,” he gasped.
“Your face is ridiculous,” Jesse told him. Andrew just laughed harder.
---
“You’re staying here for New Year’s Eve, right?” Andrew asked him when they walked back to his house.
“Yes,” Jesse confirmed. “My flight is scheduled for Saturday afternoon.”
“Brilliant,” Andrew said. “You have to come to my house, I’ll make us something to eat and we’ll celebrate.”
“All right,” Jesse agreed.
---
Andrew did make them something to eat. A lot of somethings.
“I’m stuffed,” Jesse said, leaning back in his chair. “Why is this so delicious?”
“Because I’m an awesome cook,” Andrew remarked proudly. “Do you want seconds?” he asked innocently.
Jesse moaned quietly. “God, no. I’m not going to be able to move after this.”
“It’s all a part of my evil plan to make you stay here forever,” Andrew told him. Jesse mock-glared at him.
They counted the seconds to midnight and Andrew made a toast.
“To the New Year,” he said solemnly. “And to new friendships.”
Jesse nodded, clinking his glass against Andrew’s and let Andrew hug him tight, wishing he didn’t have to let go.
---
Jesse’s bag was sitting by the door, ready to go. Andrew promised he’d drop in to say goodbye once again before Jesse had to leave, so all that was left to do was wait for him.
There was a soft knock at the door and Jesse got up from the couch to open it. Andrew was inside, beaming at him, but there was a sad edge to his smile. He engulfed Jesse in a hug as soon as he stepped inside.
“You absolutely must visit one day,” said Andrew, squeezing Jesse tight.
“Okay,” Jesse said softly. “You could come, too. I’ll show you around New York.”
“Maybe,” Andrew told him, releasing him and stepping back. His gaze fell on Jesse’s luggage. “When do you need to leave?”
“Soon,” Jesse said. “The taxi should be here any moment.”
“Shame you can’t stay any longer,” Andrew said sadly. He was actually pouting.
“Yeah,” Jesse agreed. “But vacations have to end some time.” He reached out to tug at Andrew’s sleeve, his fingers trailing across Andrew’s wrist softly. They stood next to each other in the corridor in silence for a few moments. Then Andrew looked at Jesse and took a step closer, deliberately.
“So, I may be reading this wrong,” he said, looking Jesse in the eyes. “But I may not, so I’m just going to take my chance on it and you’re leaving, so if I’m wrong we can just never speak about it again.”
Jesse wasn’t sure he followed until Andrew leaned in, closing the last few inches between them and pressed a kiss to Jesse’s mouth.
Jesse froze in place, because it was Andrew’s mouth on his and was it really happening and holy shit. He was too shocked to respond and by the time he gathered enough mental capability to move, Andrew straightened, taking a step back. Jesse stared at him open-mouthed.
Andrew coughed. “All right,” he said quietly, seemingly more to himself than Jesse. He waited a moment and when Jesse didn’t say anything he looked down on the floor. “Have a good flight, Jesse,” Andrew told him before turning on his heel and going out.
“Wait, Andrew, I-” Jesse said, shaking out of his stupor, but Andrew was already gone.
Jesse had a plane to catch in less than three hours.
---
“You’re sulking,” Emma told him, stopping at his desk when she was passing by.
“I’m not,” Jesse said, glancing at her before burrowing himself in a stack of papers again. “I’m working. Now go away.”
“Yes, you are. You are like the most sulky person ever. Even your curls are sulking. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.”
“Nothing,” Jesse said with a shrug.
Emma scoffed. “I’ll sic Justin on you if you don’t tell me right this minute.”
“What’s with you and those threats all the time?” Jesse asked, frowning. “I’m pretty sure this constitutes as blackmail. I could sue you, Mr. Fincher would take my case.”
Emma flipped him off. “No, he wouldn’t. But really, Jesse,” she said, growing more serious, “talk to me, please. You’ve been miserable ever since you came back from England - yes, you were, don’t even try to give me this bullshit,” she said, interrupting his half-hearted attempt to protest.
Jesse contemplated the pen in his hand. “Will you leave me alone if I tell you?”
“Sure,” Emma said.
Jesse eyed her suspiciously. “Are you lying?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Now spill.”
Jesse sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve met someone,” he said to the ceiling.
“I knew it!” Emma clapped her hands. “It’s Andrew, right?”
Jesse gaped at her. “How do you know about Andrew?”
“I’ve been talking to Carey,” Emma admitted, not looking ashamed of herself at all. “She says Andrew is sulking, too.”
“It’s not like I could change anything, Emma!” Jesse said impatiently, pushing off his desk and getting up to his feet. “He lives on the other side of a fucking ocean and it just wouldn’t work out.”
“Why not?” Emma asked. Jesse supposed she wasn’t going to let go that easily.
“How could it? He’s got his whole life there and the long distance thing would stop working after a while.”
“You could always move there,” Emma suggested quietly.
Jesse frowned. “Are you kidding? I’ve got a job here, I can’t just throw my whole life away-”
“Jesse,” she interrupted him. “Your job is your whole life here and you don’t even like it.”
“That’s not true!” Jesse protested.
“Yes. Yes, it is,” Emma told him solemnly.
“I have friends here,” Jesse said, fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs. “I have you.”
“And you’re going to have me no matter where you live,” said Emma, coming up to him and hugging him hard. “But you could have so much more than that if you just tried.”
“I’ve only known him for two weeks,” Jesse tried to protest meekly.
Emma laid a hand on his shoulder, making him look her in the eyes. “Tell me you think it’s not worth the risk and I’ll let it go.”
Jesse wanted to say that. He desperately wanted to cling to something in his life that was constant and sure, and his job was one of those things. Moving out would mean throwing it all away, and he was scared just to think about it.
But he remembered the way Andrew looked at him, the way he smiled at everything Jesse had said, and he wanted that, too. And he was tired of being scared.
“I did something really stupid, didn’t I?” he told Emma dryly.
“Hell yes, you did,” she replied.
“All right,” he nodded to himself.
“Awesome,” Emma said. “Now fix it.”
---
“I quit,” Jesse said, fidgeting awkwardly in the doorway to Sorkin’s office.
“I wondered when you’d do that,” Sorkin told him. “Good luck in whatever it is that you want to do.”
---
He booked the earliest flight he could find. It felt very much like the craziest and most impulsive decision in his life so far and, amazingly, he wasn’t freaking out at all.
Later he wouldn’t even be able to remember the flight and the whole ride to Andrew’s house, it all felt like it passed so quickly.
When he stood in front of Andrew’s gate he suddenly felt nervous, for the first time since talking to Emma. He pushed it and it gave in easily, opening with a creak that sounded too loud in Jesse’s ears. He covered the distance to the door in a few quick steps, steeling himself mentally before knocking twice.
Nothing happened.
He loitered on the porch for a while longer. That was one thing he didn’t actually take into consideration - what he would do if Andrew wasn’t home.
Well, it wasn’t like he had any pressing matters to attend to, so he supposed waiting for Andrew to show up couldn’t hurt.
He lasted ten minutes before the cold crept into his bones, making him shiver. He wished Andrew would hurry up.
As if fulfilling his wish, he heard the snow crunching under somebody’s feet and then Andrew rounded the corner. He didn’t notice Jesse right away, not looking up from the ground until he reached the door.
“Jesse?” Andrew said, startled. “What are you doing here?”
“You kissed me,” Jesse got out. His teeth were clattering from cold. “And I quit my job. I’m so sorry.”
“Come inside,” Andrew told him, opening the door. “You’re not making any sense. Jesus, how long have you been waiting outside?”
“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “Ten minutes? But I forgot my gloves.”
“Here,” said Andrew, throwing a warm blanket Jesse’s way. “Wrap yourself up, I’ll make you something to drink.”
“But I need to talk to you,” Jesse protested, catching the blanket and sitting on the couch.
“You will,” Andrew promised. “After I make sure you’re not going to freeze to death.” He disappeared into the kitchen. Jesse could hear him moving things around, the clatter of a ceramic mug against a counter and the sound of water being boiled. Andrew emerged a short while later, carrying a steaming beverage and a plate of homemade cookies on a tray.
“Drink,” he said, pushing the mug into Jesse’s hand. Jesse took it with gratitude, feeling the warmth seep into his body.
“You said you wanted to talk,” Andrew told him after a few moments. “So, talk.”
“Yes,” Jesse said. “I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. When I was leaving, you kissed me, and I didn’t kiss you back. I didn’t expect that and I freaked out and--”
“Did you fly all the way from the States just to tell me that?” Andrew interrupted him. He didn’t sound pleased - he sounded almost mad, which was not what Jesse was expecting. “Because you really didn’t need to do that. I can take the clue, all right?”
He was taking this the wrong way, Jesse realized. “No!” he exclaimed. “Andrew, you don’t understand, please-”
“No, I get it, Jesse, you’re not interested in me this way, and it’s fine, really.” Andrew looked so sad that Jesse just wanted to hug him and never let him go.
“No, but I am!” Jesse rushed in to say. Andrew looked up at him at that. “And I should’ve kissed you back then, but I didn’t, and I’m so sorry.”
“Okay,” Andrew said quietly. “Okay,” he repeated, getting up from the couch and crossing the room to stand by the mantle. Jesse held his breath, waiting. “You still could, you know,” Andrew told him after a while.
“What?” Jesse asked, breathless.
“You could. Kiss me back,” Andrew said, looking at Jesse again.
Jesse put his mug down on the floor and all but lunged at Andrew, tangling his fingers in Andrew’s hair, kissing him firmly on the mouth. It was sloppy and their mouths didn’t line up right, and it was the best kiss in Jesse’s life, because Andrew kissed him back with all his might.
---
From: Jesse Eisenberg (jesseisenberg@gmail.com)
To: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
Date: Tue, Dec 20, 2011 at 6:17 PM
Subject: New Year’s Eve
Will you visit on New Year’s Eve? Carey says you’re welcome to stay in her guest bedroom for as long as you wish.
Andrew says to tell you he says hi.
Jesse
--
From: Emma Stone (emma.stone@fincherandsorkin.com)
To: Jesse Eisenberg (jesseisenberg@gmail.com)
Date: Tue, Dec 20, 2010 at 6:33 PM
Subject: Re: New Year’s Eve
Of course I will! I’ll send you the itinerary when I buy a ticket. Tell Andrew hi from me, too.
---
“Why do I need to wear a suit?” Jesse complained, just an edge of whine creeping into his voice. “I look like an undertaker.”
Andrew brushed the invisible lint off Jesse’s shoulder and straightened his lapels. “Shh. You look smashing in a suit,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Jesse shrugged. Andrew looked really hot in his shiny black tie and a black shirt. Next to him, Jesse felt so… ordinary in his pinstriped white shirt.
“Stop thinking grumpy thoughts,” Andrew told him, bringing his arms around Jesse’s waist and resting his chin on Jesse’s shoulder. “You are perfect.”
Jesse blushed, raising his hands and digging his fingers into Andrew’s back. “You too,” he said quietly. They stood like that for a minute, neither of them wanting to move.
Then the doorbell rang. Andrew sighed, pressing a light kiss to Jesse’s temple.
Jesse smiled, ducking his head. “Okay. Are we done having a moment?”
Andrew smacked his arm, pretending to be offended. “Yes, you jackass. I’ll get the door, finish getting ready.”
Jesse caught Andrew before he went down the stairs, kissing him hard.
“The guests are waiting,” Andrew whispered against Jesse’s lips.
“Whatever,” said Jesse. “Happy New Year, Andrew.”
“Yeah,” Andrew agreed. “It will be.”
-end-