fic: as of now untitled prince andrew au
Ugh, it's been way too long but I just don't have time to go on about my life right now. Posting this before I leave for my trip to Tampa, so I hope I don't screw it up.
Title: In Which Jesse Rams Prince Andrew with a Library Cart
Author: learnthemusic
Recipient: hold_onhope, who deserves way more than what I've written here.
Warnings: Fluff is a legitimate warning, right? :P
Pairing: Andrew/Jesse
Rating: PG, for now
Summary: In which Jesse, library shut-in, runs into Andrew quite literally. Andrew, who is referred to as "Your highness" by a big white man with an overcoat. ~1,500 words.
Note: This exchange caught me by surprise. One minute I was plotting and the next I was one day from the second check-in. The good thing is that, even though this is short, it's really only a teaser for what's to come. I have this whole AU planned out and it will be written at some point in the next few months. Ugh, I'm so sorry TSN fandom. I've been away for way too long. I miss you and I'm ready to come home. I gotta thank yellowwolf5 for kicking my ass over IM because this wouldn't have gotten written without her. I hope you like this, hold_onhope!
It all starts in the library, as many stories do. For Jesse, anyway, who spends all his time hiding behind stacks or otherwise volunteering to put books away when the staff looks a little worn down. And since time for a history major involves forcing himself through volumes and volumes of encyclopedias and, well, history, he practically lives in the library. If he could, he’d set up a tent on the third floor, away from all the aisles, right where the sun shines in through the curtains, and never leave. As it is, he’s stuck adhering to the library hours and claiming a whole table in the basement on a daily basis instead.
Nothing really happens in the basement. The media archive is down there so whenever people are around they’re watching videos or listening to CDs - not sitting there shuffling papers or listlessly paging through books. It’s probably the quietest place on campus and Jesse couldn’t be happier that he’s the only one to know that.
Of course, the one day Jesse actually wants to take advantage of all the old films around him is also the day a horde of film students claims the only television hooked up to a functioning VCR. Jesse has no choice but to gather his things and leave, figuring he could probably lend Ms. Lionel a hand with the books instead. Not like he has anything better to do.
Ultimately, the only people to blame are those film students.
Not Jesse.
Never Jesse.
- - -
“No, really, Jasper, you can stay here. It’ll only take me a minute.”
“Your hi-”
“Seriously. Just a minute.” Andrew holds up a finger, smiles and pats Jasper’s back. Then he’s on the elevator in the blink of an eye, more than eager to shake Jasper, if only for a few minutes. The three floors between them when Andrew gets to the top floor is probably the greatest distance they’ve been apart since Andrew arrived in the States. And that was two months ago.
The signs on the wall point directly toward the Policy section and he ducks his head, hoping not to attract any attention to himself. It may be Saturday but on a campus this big there’s bound to be more than a few people studying in here who will recognize him and accost him for pictures. Without Jasper around, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
He lets out a sigh of relief when he manages to traverse the main hallway without causing a scene. It’s moments like these, peaceful and undisturbed, that remind him why he wanted to study outside of England in the first place. There are no paparazzi at every corner here, at least not for him. Americans don’t care nearly as much about him as the rest of the world does. It’s refreshing how, even with Jasper around, some people don’t even bat an eyelash when he walks by. They just ignore him. He wishes everyone on campus were that way.
But he most certainly doesn’t wish that those who do ignore him also crash into him with a library cart.
“Holy shit.”
Groaning, Andrew straightens himself up and clutches his right hip. Pain shoots up his side, all the way up to his ribs, and he almost doubles over again to catch his breath.
“Oh, shit, I am so sorry.” The person who’d been pushing the cart dashes around it to touch a hand to Andrew’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem very comfortable doing so, for he starts flapping his hands about everywhere, unable to decide where to set them until he finally just backs away. “So sorry.”
Andrew watches him suspiciously, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this man is going to freak out even more if he recognizes who Andrew is.
“Please don’t tell me I knocked your vocal cords out too. I don’t think I could handle that.”
Laughing earnestly, “I don’t think that’s even possible,” Andrew straightens up some more and holds out his hand. The man looks between it and Andrew’s face for a while, as if he thinks this is some kind of joke, before he finally takes it. “I’m Andrew.”
“You’re British,” he says, and then he snatches his hand back to clap it over his mouth. All right, maybe he doesn’t know who Andrew is after all.
“I am,” Andrew confirms, amused. He rubs his hand on his hip, soreness settling in slowly and making him wince. “And you are…?”
“Jesse - I’m Jesse.” He shakes his head and Andrew’s afraid he might hurt his neck for how jerkily he does it. Jesse’s apparently a poster child for nervous energy. “I’m sorry, Andrew, really. I didn’t see you there, I was just trying to put these books away and I was clearly going too fast.”
Andrew holds up a hand that he hopes might serve to calm Jesse down. “It’s ok, Jesse. I understand. No harm done.”
“Except I might have broken one of your ribs.”
Chuckling, Andrew holds up both his hands and stands up as straight as he knows how. His father would be proud. “I’m fine. No broken ribs.”
Jesse narrows his eyes, clearly not convinced. “I hit you pretty hard.”
“I’m a strong guy.”
“I don’t doubt that but -”
“I promise I’m fine.”
He doesn’t sound like he trusts Andrew at all when he says, “Well, ok. If you say so.”
And Andrew, for some reason, really wants Jesse to believe him. Maybe it’s the bright blue eyes that compel him, or the way Jesse’s gnawing on his lip ceaselessly, but whatever the reason, Andrew wants to reassure him.
So it makes sense that he makes the ill-advised decision to say, “Let me prove it to you.”
Jesse draws his eyebrows together and asks, “How? Are you going to start doing cartwheels or something?” which draws the loudest of snorts from Andrew.
“No, no, none of that. I just want to - well -” he clears his throat, “- Maybe you could come out with me.”
“How would that prove anything?”
“If I can take you out, I must be fine, right?”
Jesse shakes his head vigorously and Andrew winces, slightly and irrationally fearful for Jesse’s neck again. “To the contrary, actually,” Jesse starts, wringing his hands in front of him. “I’ll just think I caused you brain damage.”
“Why?”
He widens his eyes, like Andrew’s already supposed to know. “You can’t really want to go out with me.”
“But I do.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Stammering, “You’re - well, I don’t know,” Jesse ducks his head and starts observing his shoes. “You’re just you and I’m not, uh…” He shrugs.
If there was ever a time Andrew could just automatically know everything about someone, it’d be now. He kind of just wants to pull Jesse into his arms, stroke his hair and tell him that he’s got nothing to be scared of. Which, yeah, that’s not something he can do to just anyone, but he wishes he could. He’s been aware of Jesse for all of two minutes but he can already tell he’s nothing like the people he knows already. They’re all cocksure, even the ones without cocks, and they have their noses so high in the air it’s a miracle they don’t frequently trip over themselves since they can’t watch where they’re going. Jesse, just by existing, is already a nice change of pace.
“I promise there’s nothing for you to worry about,” Andrew says, taking a few steps forward as Jesse shuffles back against the wall.
Jesse glances up. “I’m not worried.”
“Go out with me, then.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t want to compromise your innocence or anything like that, Jesse. I just want to have dinner. Preferably with you.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Actually, it does.”
“How?”
Andrew backs away and sighs, Jesse watching him with narrowed eyes. “If nothing else, I should like to be your friend.”
“I -”
“Your highness.”
Grimacing, Andrew turns around and gives Jasper a look. “I was coming right down.”
“I was afraid you’d maybe gotten lost, sire. We’ll be late if we don’t leave right now.”
“Your highness?” Jesse sounds like he’s tasting the words, like he’s never heard them before in his life and wants to get a handle of them.
Andrew faces him once again, frowning a little. Jasper never fails to ruin moments like these. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Jesse looks lost as he says, “Right.”
“What’s your last name, Jesse?”
“Huh?”
“Your highness, we really have to -”
Over his shoulder, Andrew pleads, “Just one second,” then turns back to Jesse. “What’s your last name?”
“Um. It’s -” Jesse shakes his head at himself. “It’s Eisenberg.”
A smile quickly spreads across Andrew’s face unbidden, growing way too fast for him to stop it. “Jesse Eisenberg. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Yeah, uh, same.”
“I’ll see you, yeah?”
Jasper chooses that moment to very forcefully grab Andrew by the arm and start dragging him back toward the elevator. Andrew doesn’t even bother fighting him; he’s never been able to shake Jasper off and that’s not going to change now. So he just looks back at Jesse, offers him another smile and says, “I will see you. Have no doubt.”
Jasper lets him go only when the elevator doors are sealed tightly in front of them. He looks at Andrew and shakes his head at him like he’s some kind of idiot. “The textbook, your highness.”
Andrew looks down at his empty hands. “Oh.”
Title: In Which Jesse Rams Prince Andrew with a Library Cart
Author: learnthemusic
Recipient: hold_onhope, who deserves way more than what I've written here.
Warnings: Fluff is a legitimate warning, right? :P
Pairing: Andrew/Jesse
Rating: PG, for now
Summary: In which Jesse, library shut-in, runs into Andrew quite literally. Andrew, who is referred to as "Your highness" by a big white man with an overcoat. ~1,500 words.
Note: This exchange caught me by surprise. One minute I was plotting and the next I was one day from the second check-in. The good thing is that, even though this is short, it's really only a teaser for what's to come. I have this whole AU planned out and it will be written at some point in the next few months. Ugh, I'm so sorry TSN fandom. I've been away for way too long. I miss you and I'm ready to come home. I gotta thank yellowwolf5 for kicking my ass over IM because this wouldn't have gotten written without her. I hope you like this, hold_onhope!
It all starts in the library, as many stories do. For Jesse, anyway, who spends all his time hiding behind stacks or otherwise volunteering to put books away when the staff looks a little worn down. And since time for a history major involves forcing himself through volumes and volumes of encyclopedias and, well, history, he practically lives in the library. If he could, he’d set up a tent on the third floor, away from all the aisles, right where the sun shines in through the curtains, and never leave. As it is, he’s stuck adhering to the library hours and claiming a whole table in the basement on a daily basis instead.
Nothing really happens in the basement. The media archive is down there so whenever people are around they’re watching videos or listening to CDs - not sitting there shuffling papers or listlessly paging through books. It’s probably the quietest place on campus and Jesse couldn’t be happier that he’s the only one to know that.
Of course, the one day Jesse actually wants to take advantage of all the old films around him is also the day a horde of film students claims the only television hooked up to a functioning VCR. Jesse has no choice but to gather his things and leave, figuring he could probably lend Ms. Lionel a hand with the books instead. Not like he has anything better to do.
Ultimately, the only people to blame are those film students.
Not Jesse.
Never Jesse.
- - -
“No, really, Jasper, you can stay here. It’ll only take me a minute.”
“Your hi-”
“Seriously. Just a minute.” Andrew holds up a finger, smiles and pats Jasper’s back. Then he’s on the elevator in the blink of an eye, more than eager to shake Jasper, if only for a few minutes. The three floors between them when Andrew gets to the top floor is probably the greatest distance they’ve been apart since Andrew arrived in the States. And that was two months ago.
The signs on the wall point directly toward the Policy section and he ducks his head, hoping not to attract any attention to himself. It may be Saturday but on a campus this big there’s bound to be more than a few people studying in here who will recognize him and accost him for pictures. Without Jasper around, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
He lets out a sigh of relief when he manages to traverse the main hallway without causing a scene. It’s moments like these, peaceful and undisturbed, that remind him why he wanted to study outside of England in the first place. There are no paparazzi at every corner here, at least not for him. Americans don’t care nearly as much about him as the rest of the world does. It’s refreshing how, even with Jasper around, some people don’t even bat an eyelash when he walks by. They just ignore him. He wishes everyone on campus were that way.
But he most certainly doesn’t wish that those who do ignore him also crash into him with a library cart.
“Holy shit.”
Groaning, Andrew straightens himself up and clutches his right hip. Pain shoots up his side, all the way up to his ribs, and he almost doubles over again to catch his breath.
“Oh, shit, I am so sorry.” The person who’d been pushing the cart dashes around it to touch a hand to Andrew’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem very comfortable doing so, for he starts flapping his hands about everywhere, unable to decide where to set them until he finally just backs away. “So sorry.”
Andrew watches him suspiciously, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this man is going to freak out even more if he recognizes who Andrew is.
“Please don’t tell me I knocked your vocal cords out too. I don’t think I could handle that.”
Laughing earnestly, “I don’t think that’s even possible,” Andrew straightens up some more and holds out his hand. The man looks between it and Andrew’s face for a while, as if he thinks this is some kind of joke, before he finally takes it. “I’m Andrew.”
“You’re British,” he says, and then he snatches his hand back to clap it over his mouth. All right, maybe he doesn’t know who Andrew is after all.
“I am,” Andrew confirms, amused. He rubs his hand on his hip, soreness settling in slowly and making him wince. “And you are…?”
“Jesse - I’m Jesse.” He shakes his head and Andrew’s afraid he might hurt his neck for how jerkily he does it. Jesse’s apparently a poster child for nervous energy. “I’m sorry, Andrew, really. I didn’t see you there, I was just trying to put these books away and I was clearly going too fast.”
Andrew holds up a hand that he hopes might serve to calm Jesse down. “It’s ok, Jesse. I understand. No harm done.”
“Except I might have broken one of your ribs.”
Chuckling, Andrew holds up both his hands and stands up as straight as he knows how. His father would be proud. “I’m fine. No broken ribs.”
Jesse narrows his eyes, clearly not convinced. “I hit you pretty hard.”
“I’m a strong guy.”
“I don’t doubt that but -”
“I promise I’m fine.”
He doesn’t sound like he trusts Andrew at all when he says, “Well, ok. If you say so.”
And Andrew, for some reason, really wants Jesse to believe him. Maybe it’s the bright blue eyes that compel him, or the way Jesse’s gnawing on his lip ceaselessly, but whatever the reason, Andrew wants to reassure him.
So it makes sense that he makes the ill-advised decision to say, “Let me prove it to you.”
Jesse draws his eyebrows together and asks, “How? Are you going to start doing cartwheels or something?” which draws the loudest of snorts from Andrew.
“No, no, none of that. I just want to - well -” he clears his throat, “- Maybe you could come out with me.”
“How would that prove anything?”
“If I can take you out, I must be fine, right?”
Jesse shakes his head vigorously and Andrew winces, slightly and irrationally fearful for Jesse’s neck again. “To the contrary, actually,” Jesse starts, wringing his hands in front of him. “I’ll just think I caused you brain damage.”
“Why?”
He widens his eyes, like Andrew’s already supposed to know. “You can’t really want to go out with me.”
“But I do.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Stammering, “You’re - well, I don’t know,” Jesse ducks his head and starts observing his shoes. “You’re just you and I’m not, uh…” He shrugs.
If there was ever a time Andrew could just automatically know everything about someone, it’d be now. He kind of just wants to pull Jesse into his arms, stroke his hair and tell him that he’s got nothing to be scared of. Which, yeah, that’s not something he can do to just anyone, but he wishes he could. He’s been aware of Jesse for all of two minutes but he can already tell he’s nothing like the people he knows already. They’re all cocksure, even the ones without cocks, and they have their noses so high in the air it’s a miracle they don’t frequently trip over themselves since they can’t watch where they’re going. Jesse, just by existing, is already a nice change of pace.
“I promise there’s nothing for you to worry about,” Andrew says, taking a few steps forward as Jesse shuffles back against the wall.
Jesse glances up. “I’m not worried.”
“Go out with me, then.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t want to compromise your innocence or anything like that, Jesse. I just want to have dinner. Preferably with you.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Actually, it does.”
“How?”
Andrew backs away and sighs, Jesse watching him with narrowed eyes. “If nothing else, I should like to be your friend.”
“I -”
“Your highness.”
Grimacing, Andrew turns around and gives Jasper a look. “I was coming right down.”
“I was afraid you’d maybe gotten lost, sire. We’ll be late if we don’t leave right now.”
“Your highness?” Jesse sounds like he’s tasting the words, like he’s never heard them before in his life and wants to get a handle of them.
Andrew faces him once again, frowning a little. Jasper never fails to ruin moments like these. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Jesse looks lost as he says, “Right.”
“What’s your last name, Jesse?”
“Huh?”
“Your highness, we really have to -”
Over his shoulder, Andrew pleads, “Just one second,” then turns back to Jesse. “What’s your last name?”
“Um. It’s -” Jesse shakes his head at himself. “It’s Eisenberg.”
A smile quickly spreads across Andrew’s face unbidden, growing way too fast for him to stop it. “Jesse Eisenberg. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Yeah, uh, same.”
“I’ll see you, yeah?”
Jasper chooses that moment to very forcefully grab Andrew by the arm and start dragging him back toward the elevator. Andrew doesn’t even bother fighting him; he’s never been able to shake Jasper off and that’s not going to change now. So he just looks back at Jesse, offers him another smile and says, “I will see you. Have no doubt.”
Jasper lets him go only when the elevator doors are sealed tightly in front of them. He looks at Andrew and shakes his head at him like he’s some kind of idiot. “The textbook, your highness.”
Andrew looks down at his empty hands. “Oh.”