Leastwise Bear My Traces on Your Mind (1/1)
Title: Leastwise Bear My Traces on Your Mind
Fandom: TSN RPF
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Andrew/Jesse
Warnings: self esteem issues, very mild and short description of the beginnings of a panic attack
Word Count: 4,622
Summary: Andrew and Jesse hook up on a regular basis, but Jesse doesn't consider himself good enough for Andrew so he won't let Andrew reciprocate his affections. He can see it makes Andrew sad, and he doesn't know what to do.
Notes: Written for laenix for thesantanetwork holiday fic exchange! One of the things she wanted was hurt/comfort, and while this is more of the emotional variety, I hope she likes it! irrelephance was my lovely and wonderfully helpful beta (and enabler), prompt came from here at the tsn_kinkmeme. Title is from the song Skin by Entertainment for the Braindead, which is beyond perfect (both as a song and for this fic in particular.) Also available to read on ao3
Jesse doesn’t really know this started, to be honest. Well, full disclosure, he’s probably had a crush on Andrew since the very first day they met, but he had never really expected that anything would happen-especially not that they’d be ducking into closets and into dressing rooms and pulling each other into trailers on set; he’d just never thought that Andrew would want him back.
The truth is, Jesse still doesn’t really believe it. At all. It just doesn’t make logical sense. Because Andrew is the kind of person that everyone could fall in love with, because even his faults are beautiful. He can be heartbreaking and insecure and allow himself to be vulnerable in a way that Jesse envies. It makes him wish he could hate Andrew but he can’t, not only because Andrew is so fucking nice and earnest but also because Jesse is so in love with him he can’t really see straight.
But Jesse doesn’t ever think he’ll be able to let Andrew know that, as much as he wants to. He’s worried about what happens when the movie’s over and they won’t see each other anymore. Fuck, every time afterwards, when Andrew’s flushed and he’s breathing heavy, Jesse feels like it will be the last time.
And that’s why that’s their encounters are so one-sided. Jesse doesn’t want reciprocation to screw things up.
Because all Jesse wants is to make Andrew feel good-he doesn’t want him to feel any type of obligation to Jesse, that would just make it worse. He’d rather have Andrew not touch him at all than touch him out of a half-hearted sense of duty. Plus, what if something about it made Andrew like him less? Jesse’s always worried about that with other people, but with Andrew it’s a million times more worrying because Jesse just likes him so much.
He hates it, hates the way this train of thought draws him into this never-ending self-loathing cycle. Part of him almost wants to give it all up, just stop doing this with Andrew because it drives him crazy… But the truth is he knows he couldn’t, and deep down, really doesn’t want to. He’s self-aware enough to know that being with Andrew, even in the simplest sense, makes him happy. Not just normal happy either; it makes him happy enough that he can forget himself for a little while, feel some of his self-consciousness not disappear (he knows they’ll probably never leave completely) but slip further away. Far enough that he can laugh and smile unguardedly, focus more completely, feel like a better version of himself.
Still, he’s worried he may lose that by the way that Andrew goes sad, mouth turning down into a tight controlled frown and the light going out of his eyes every times Jesse waves him off or refuses his advances. Jesse’s used every excuse in the book… If they’re at work, he’ll say that they have to be back on set soon, or that he heard someone calling them. And then there are the less-subtle methods-batting Andrew’s hands away or pinning his arms against the wall to start all over again. He’s even used his medication as an excuse before, which just makes him feel like a guilty manipulative liar. But no matter what it is, Andrew still looks puzzled and sad and Jesse feels awful.
He keeps coming back though, and that’s what matters.
//
But the thing is, up until Andrew starts to try and reciprocate, things go really well.
They’re usually sloppy and a little giddy, since it happens at work pretty much all of the time (Jesse doesn’t let it happen as much in the apartment they share, because it would definitely be harder to find a believable way out then).
Like today. They’ve just finished shooting the scene where Justin’s character shows up for the first time, and the shots are sort of montage-y and they can mess around a little, and honestly, Jesse doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s being ridiculous. He’s cracking jokes and messing with Andrew between takes and everyone’s laughing. It’s good for all of them, he thinks, because he and Andrew have a tendency to get pretty bad character bleed. It’s not really a problem on set, but it makes car rides home and lunches a bit awkward sometimes, and inbetween takes can be tenser than Jesse would ideally like. He’s just much happier generally when they can break character.
Anyway, Jesse’s cracking some joke about the number of sushi on the table and then Andrew’s throwing his head back and laughing in that way that makes his eyes crinkle, and then Brenda’s taking the piss out of Justin who declares he “brought sexy back, bitches!” and teasing her back for also growing up in the world of Disney. It gets to the point where they’re all fucking up their lines because they just can’t keep it together anymore, so Fincher gives them all a fondly stern look and declares that everyone should take fifteen. Apparently they were having problems with the lighting, anyway.
And that’s the moment when Jesse turns to Andrew to find him already staring back. His smile is wide and his eyes are like, molten or something-dark and liquid, fixed right on Jesse. Jesse bites his lip in response to the attention, and he thinks he hears Andrew let out the ghost of a whimper at that.
Brenda gets up to visit the restroom and Justin heads for craft services, and so Andrew takes advantage of that moment to grab Jesse’s wrist and drag him to the nearest closet, (Jesse doesn’t even want to contemplate the irony on that one) which luckily happens to be down a hallway nobody on set is using.
He pins Jesse to the wall almost immediately, licking into his mouth hot and desperate, tangling his fingers in Jesse’s curls (hair and makeup yelling at him is a small price to pay for this) and letting out a broken noise, kissing him until he’s absolutely forced to pull away to breathe.
“Jesus fuck, Jess,” he whispers, voice a little hoarse. “Were you trying to actually kill me out there?” Jesse grins but doesn’t reply, and Andrew uses the moment to lean in and start biting lightly along Jesse’s jaw line. He rucks up Jesse’s hoodie to get his hands on skin, touching his sides softly as if he’s hoping Jesse won’t notice.
But of course he does, and no matter how good it feels he knows what Andrew’s trying to do and he won’t have it. So he rakes a hand through Andrew’s hair and uses it to tip his head upward again, putting the other on the small of Andrew’s back and spinning them around so that Andrew’s up against the wall now and Jesse has a strong thigh between Andrew’s legs. Andrew lets out a groan and his hips jerk up instinctually, seeking friction.
“Shit,” Andrew hisses, eyes squeezed shut, hands a steady pressure on Jesse’s hips even as his nails dig in. Andrew’s cheeks flush as he rolls his hips again, this time slower and more deliberate as he tips his head back against the door, lip caught between his teeth.
“Yeah, c’mon,” Jesse encourages softly and inanely, sucking Andrew’s bottom lip into his mouth and nipping at it gently, hands shifting to press onto Andrew’s chest. He brushes his thumbs over Andrew’s nipples and listens to Andrew let out a broken moan, wishes his mind could record the sound to replay over and over again.
He lets Andrew rut against him again and again until he gets close, and then scrambles his hands down to open Andrew’s fly pushing down his slick Eduardo Saverin slacks, and then drop to his knees.
“Jess,” is all Andrew manages, his hands flying to Jesse’s hair on instinct and tangling in it. Jesse just looks up at him from under his lashes as he licks a stripe up Andrew’s cock. The sight makes Andrew’s eyes go dark and hooded, like he wants to close his eyes at the feeling but doesn’t want to take his eyes off Jesse, which is such a dizzying feeling.
Jesse uses his fist, pumping it to meet his lips until Andrew looks absolutely debauched, and then trails his fingers back behind Andrew’s balls and strokes there lightly.
It pushes Andrew over the edge within a handful of seconds. Andrew’s voice starts with Jesse’s name and then trails off into stuttered profanity before he’s coming in fast pulses down Jesse’s throat, arching his back against the door and panting his way through his orgasm. Jesse pulls off as Andrew’s catching his breath-steadying himself on wobbly legs and zipping up his fly and smoothing down his hair, and Jesse straightens his hoodie and wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand.
See, up until now things were going really well, but now is the moment when Jesse starts to stand up. Andrew immediately makes grabby hands for him, but Jesse flinches back just slightly, feeling red hot shame creep along his cheeks and the back of his neck as he watches helplessly as Andrew’s face falls.
“Just-I’m sure it’s been at least ten minutes, and hair and makeup need to fix us up again now,” Jesse explains stiffly, a note of desperation in his voice that does nothing to put the fire back in Andrew’s eyes.
Still, Andrew nods back easily, curling his hands into fists at his sides. Jesse doesn’t know if it’s out of anger or to keep from touching Jesse, and then his stomach lurches as he thinks of the possibility that it very well may be both.
Andrew clears his throat and says, “Yes, well… Yes, you’re right, we should go,” always the perfect gentleman, even though his voice sounds gut-wrenchingly defeated. Jesse still feels a little bit nauseous as they head over to hair and makeup, especially when Andrew puts a light hand on the small of his back to guide him. The hair stylist tells him he looks “sickly green”, but Jesse assures her he’s fine and grinds his teeth, pretending not to see Andrew staring fixedly ahead at nothing, refusing to meet Jesse’s eye.
//
After that, they don’t hook up for a while. It’s another instance of Jesse being absolutely, positively certain that he’s managed to ruin this, convinced after so many instances of being shot down Andrew has just decided to cut his losses and write the whole thing off-but every other aspect of their relationship continues the way it always has. Andrew still smiles at him shyly over breakfast, and sings lyrics to pop songs Jesse’s never heard, a capella and off-key, and wears his glasses at night as he marks up his script with a black pen or, if he’s feeling tired, a book of poetry. It clears the air and manages not to make things awkward between them.
These constants are what helps Jesse settle into it… going back to only being able to look at Andrew out of the corner of his eye when he’s not looking, going back to the most casual of touches like a pat on the back or their shoulders bumping together-things that help him remember that the world isn’t actually ending. Because Andrew’s still here, and he’s still Jesse’s friend, even if he’s given up all hope of being… whatever he was before, whatever he could have been.
And it’s okay, really. It’s taking time but Jesse is adjusting. Besides, he always knew it would end like this, because… because there was no other option. Because Andrew couldn’t ever see Jesse the way Jesse sees him-after all, who could?
He’s making his peace with it, he keeps telling himself. After a while it even starts to feel true, and Jesse even starts to think that maybe it’s for the best, ending this now and not letting it drag on just to break if off months later, when they’ll both be busy with the stress of promotion and new projects. Andrew’s going to be Spider-Man, for Christ’s sake, and he certainly doesn’t need to be tied down to Jesse in any way, shape, or form as he catapults into stardom.
It all sounds very convincing even to his own ears, and then one day the whole thing just tips on its head.
They have the day off for once-a rarity that they sometimes celebrate by eating out at some seafood restaurant and trying the local cuisine, or going to a movie or a play or something. But they hadn’t talked about doing any of that this time, and Jesse thinks maybe it’s because of the whole situation again… He has one particular sharp memory of Andrew pulling him into the men’s room at a Celtics game and biting at the shamrock high on Jesse’s cheek while Jesse jerked him off fast and furious, and he would not like be reminded of that on some platonic, “just friends” type of outing they’d take together now, so he’s not upset.
In an unspoken agreement, they keep their distance. Jesse curls up on his bed with a book while Andrew sits in the living room, flipping through scripts his agent sent him while music plays from his computer: the indie kind of stuff he likes (which is no showtunes in Jesse’s opinion but is easy to listen to, no trouble to like).
Jesse’s at a very suspenseful part in the story and time seems to pass quickly, so he jumps a little when he hears Andrew say his name. He looks up and Andrew’s standing in his doorway, chewing a bit on his thumbnail and looking twitchily nervous, hair wild like he’s been running his hands through it anxiously (a habit the movie version of Eduardo has definitely gotten from Andrew).
Jesse blushes a little at being caught so off-guard but smiles back reflexively, because no matter what it’s impossible for him to look at Andrew and not smile. It’s small, shy, soft, but something sure settles into Andrew’s eyes and he nods once, dropping his hands and walking determinedly forward, exhaling harshly and making his way around the bed, leaning down to cup Jesse’s face and kiss him desperately.
It hurts, almost, to be doing it all over again. Well, not quite yet, but Jesse knows when it ends again there will be an ache in his chest that’s completely unrelated to his anxiety that will stick around for days. Even so, it’s not enough of a deterrent to keep him from kissing Andrew back, sighing into it and trying to relearn every inch of Andrew’s mouth, memorizing it to keep for the inevitable end. Andrew’s kneeling on the bed now, Jesse’s face in his hands, caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs soothingly, and Jesse doesn’t know quite what his goal is but he’s trying not to care.
They go slow, kiss for what seems like forever before they roll into the middle of the bed, Andrew on his back as Jesse strips his shirt off. Jesse trails kisses down Andrew’s chest and to his stomach, hands stroking his sides with reverence. He fiddles with the zipper of Andrew’s jeans and pulls them off, then making quick work of his boxer-briefs. Andrew’s breaths are shaky as Jesse kisses his bellybutton, each hipbone, the tip of Andrew’s cock and then keeps going past, until he’s pressing soft kisses to Andrew’s entrance.
Andrew’s breath all leaves him in a rush, a whimper that sounds like Jesse’s name escaping his lips as Jesse licks at him with his tongue, tiny but insistent and then circling, working in a finger to open Andrew up and help him relax. Andrew is flushed down to his chest, his nipples are pointed and he’s never looked more beautiful, and Jesse thinks that if there has to be a last time, this is definitely a good one.
He begins to work his tongue into Andrew, soft and then pointed, driving into him over and over again and fucking him with it, listen to Andrew’s moans grow louder and louder until it’s just a incomprehensible stream of Jesse’s name tripping off his lips, over and over. Jesse’s tongue continues to flick inside him as he adds a finger again to hear the way Andrew gasps, nudging and stroking in just the right place. He continues that way for a while until Andrew’s voice is actually raspy from his cries, and he’s sweating and his fingers are pulling tight in Jesse’s hair and his legs have fallen open wantonly, finally making Jesse take pity on him as he lifts his other hand to Andrew’s cock. He strokes it once and then again before Andrew lets out a low moan, voice cracking in the middle as he lets go and comes.
Andrew takes a while to come down, and so Jesse pads to the bathroom to wash his hands and brush his teeth, thoroughly even for him. He’s stalling for time, really, hoping Andrew will get bored or self-conscious and leave, because he can’t very well go back into his room and say, look, that was amazing, but I really don’t want anything more and I think it would be best if you just go. Straight-up lie. There are no excuses now-no crew that needs them back on set or time limit set upon them, no stranger knocking at the bathroom door or even medicine to beg off on, since Andrew saw him eat his breakfast this morning and not take any pills. Finally he takes a deep breath, looks himself in the eye, squares his shoulders, and heads back in.
Andrew’s wiping off his hands and stomach with some tissues from the nightstand, still flushed and gorgeous. He looks up at Jesse with a tenuous smile, and Jesse stands still at the edge of the bed nervously before Andrew pats the space beside him and says, “Come here.”
Jesse goes, teetering on the edge of the bed, at least a foot of space between himself and Andrew. It feels weird, because Andrew is completely naked and Jesse is still fully clothed. Andrew must notice it too by the way his eyes flick up and down Jesse’s body, brow furrowing. He scoots over to close some of the space between them, reaching out and taking Jesse’s face in his hands, kissing him tenderly.
It feels so good, so real that something tugs in Jesse’s heart when he pulls away, Andrew’s fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “A-Andrew,” he stutters when they disconnect, “Really, you don’t have to-I, I’m good-”
His eyes do that thing where they go sad again, but this time the determination from earlier is clear in them too, and Jesse wonders if that’s what this was about all along. “Please,” he says, voice a broken whisper. “Please, Jess, I want to, really, just-I just want to touch you, any, any part of you that you’d be willing to give, just…” he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head for a moment before surging in to kiss Jesse again. It’s impossible for Jesse not to lose himself in it, by the urgent way Andrew is pressing their lips together, sucking on his tongue and licking at his palate, murmuring “please” between kisses.
“I promise Jess, I’ll make you feel so good, it’ll be so good for you, Jess,” Andrew rambles, fingers grasping at Jesse’s curls, trying to convince him with kisses just as much as with words. “Please,” he repeats, pulling back to mouth at Jesse’s pulse point, his hands moving to tangle with Jesse’s and give them a squeeze.
And in that moment, it feels like this is something Andrew actually wants, and the prospect of that is almost more exciting than anything Andrew could possibly do to him.
Jesse lets out a noise of surrender, and breathy “yes” that Andrew quickly swallows up in a kiss, his hands fumbling immediately to Jesse’s well-worn tee, pulling it over his head and then pushing Jesse onto his back.
With Andrew straddling him like this, towering above him, it’s hard for Jesse to feel anything other than incredibly turned on, but Andrew’s eyes track him all over for a handful of moments and then the anxiety sets in again. His eyes are wide and darting all over like he wants to take in everything and just doesn’t know where to settle, but the constant attention still makes Jesse squirm. Some habits are hard to break.
“Don’t,” he grits out, turning his head to the side so he doesn’t have to see Andrew, but then Andrew’s placing a hand on the side of his face and turning him back so that their eyes meet.
“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning forward so that their chests are pressed together, eyes soft and sad. “Don’t be nervous. You don’t have to-there’s no need to be nervous with me,” he says, thumb gently caressing Jesse’s cheekbone. His eyes are searching Jesse’s. “Okay?”
He waits for Jesse’s nod, small but sure, before moving again, kissing Jesse’s collarbone and biting it gently, pausing every few moments to skim his lips over it gently and murmur things like, “You’re so gorgeous, Jess, I wish you knew…” or “…see yourself the way I see you…” and Jesse can’t help it, gives in completely, reaching for Andrew and kissing him back messily-tongues tangling and teeth clacking. He can’t quite believe Andrew-can’t go from zero to sixty like that-but Andrew makes him want to, and that is something.
It feels like they spend hours lost in the sheets, Andrew uncovering him completely and letting his hands roam, caressing Jesse with careful, reverent hands until Jesse is trembling under his touch. Andrew worships his every inch, with his lips and soft murmured words and his eyes. By the time Andrew actually moves to touch Jesse’s cock, Jesse is so keyed up he’s whimpering, Andrew’s name slipping out of his mouth on gasping breaths. And Andrew gives back in equal measure, working his hand over Jesse’s dick slowly enough to make Jesse go crazy, whining and shaking his head back and forth on the pillow because this is much more intense than he even allowed himself to dream.
“God, Jess, look at you,” Andrew says, gratifyingly out of breath himself as he speeds up, pumping Jesse’s cock faster. He leans down to bite at Jesse’s earlobe, turning his head toward to whisper, voice needy, “I can barely imagine what you’d look like if I fucked you-Jesus, Jess, you’d be so fucking beautiful-I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day we met-”
And suddenly it’s all too much, and Jesse is spilling over Andrew’s fingers with a cry, hips bucking up as Andrew moves to kiss him messily, lazily, eating up Jesse’s moans.
He kisses Jesse until he is breathless, and then shifts off Jesse himself to jerk himself off, fast and desperate. Jesse can’t muster enough energy to do more than roll onto his side and watch Andrew work himself through half-hooded eyes, tangling the fingers of their other hand together. Andrew squeezes his fingers tight and comes with a cry, arching his back and panting.
Andrew cleans them both up this time, using tissues to mop up the mess on their stomachs and on his hands, pressing soft, comforting kisses to Jesse’s face as he lulls into sleep.
//
The warm blanket of calm that seemed to come over Jesse doesn’t last long. He wakes shortly after, and is immediately struck by the feeling that everything is crashing down and he can’t breathe but at the same time he can’t stop breathing, and his eyes are stinging and his throat feels sore and his skin too tight and there’s not enough oxygen in the room and-
“Hey, hey,” Andrew murmurs, by his side in seconds, voice still rough with sleep. “Breathe, Jess, breathe,” he tells him, lacing their fingers together and nudging Jesse so he curls into Andrew’s side. He hooks his chin on top of Jesse’s curls, breathing slow and steady, setting a rhythm Jesse tries to follow. He wills himself to stop shaking, but it helps more when Andrew is rubbing his arms with his soft hands.
He waits until Jesse is quiet again, back to himself before pulling away slightly to look into Jesse’s eyes, a question lingering there. Jesse can tell that he doesn’t want to ask it out loud, because he doesn’t want to push Jesse, not at all, but it’s okay. Jesse wants him to know.
“I just… I don’t understand why you want me,” he tries, biting his lip afterwards, nervous habit picking up. Andrew’s brow furrows and his eyes go sad again, the way Jesse has always tried to avoid but can’t quite ever achieve. Jesse shakes his head helplessly and continues. “And-I guess that’s why I didn’t want-for so long-because… I couldn’t believe that you did.” He looks down as Andrew smooths a hand through his hair, voice going even quieter. “I still can’t quite believe it.”
“Jess,” Andrew says, voice breaking, tipping Jesse’s chin up. Jesse sees his eyes full of tears and loses his train of thought for a moment before Andrew speaks again. “Jesse, I’ve always-always wanted you, and not just because you’re gorgeous or because you’re insatiable or because you have the most brilliant smile I’ve ever seen, but because… because you make me laugh and you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, and, and I feel better when I’m around you,” he says, voice thick. Jesse reaches up and wipes away the few tears that have spilled over, marveling a little at what this role reversal feels like and also the fact that Andrew has felt this way about him for a while and Jesse had no fucking clue.
Well, maybe if he’d opened his eyes to actually look he would have been able to see, but he’d been so wrapped up in his own head that he didn’t even bother, just assumed.
“I want you because I’m so fucking in love with you,” Andrew finishes, smile breaking out beatifically.
Jesse immediately goes still-just from shock, because this is a lot to handle all at once, but Andrew immediately starts to backtrack. “I mean, it’s fine, I understand if you don’t feel the same way, Jess-”
And Jesse laughs, actually laughs, because he can’t handle their combined ridiculousness. “I do, though,” he affirms, nodding, cherishing the cautious hope in Andrew’s eyes and returning his smile before blurting out, “Are you sure this is real?”
Andrew throws his head back and laughs, and then they both are, giddy and comfortable. Andrew gasps for breath and wipes his eyes for a completely different reason, kissing Jesse as soon as they catch their breath.
“It better be,” he murmurs against Jesse’s lips. “I think if I woke up and you wouldn’t let me touch you again I might die.”
Jesse rolls his eyes at Andrew’s dramatic delivery, but his smile is fond when Andrew pulls him in for a kiss, letting Andrew convince him again.
This time Andrew fucks him, and Jesse doesn’t even feel the least bit afraid.
Afterwards, Andrew holds Jesse close in his arms, not abandoning him to get lost inside his head again, and when he kisses Jesse’s curls he thinks that maybe this is what it feels like to be comfortable in your own skin. Or at least, how to start to be.
Fandom: TSN RPF
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Andrew/Jesse
Warnings: self esteem issues, very mild and short description of the beginnings of a panic attack
Word Count: 4,622
Summary: Andrew and Jesse hook up on a regular basis, but Jesse doesn't consider himself good enough for Andrew so he won't let Andrew reciprocate his affections. He can see it makes Andrew sad, and he doesn't know what to do.
Notes: Written for laenix for thesantanetwork holiday fic exchange! One of the things she wanted was hurt/comfort, and while this is more of the emotional variety, I hope she likes it! irrelephance was my lovely and wonderfully helpful beta (and enabler), prompt came from here at the tsn_kinkmeme. Title is from the song Skin by Entertainment for the Braindead, which is beyond perfect (both as a song and for this fic in particular.) Also available to read on ao3
Jesse doesn’t really know this started, to be honest. Well, full disclosure, he’s probably had a crush on Andrew since the very first day they met, but he had never really expected that anything would happen-especially not that they’d be ducking into closets and into dressing rooms and pulling each other into trailers on set; he’d just never thought that Andrew would want him back.
The truth is, Jesse still doesn’t really believe it. At all. It just doesn’t make logical sense. Because Andrew is the kind of person that everyone could fall in love with, because even his faults are beautiful. He can be heartbreaking and insecure and allow himself to be vulnerable in a way that Jesse envies. It makes him wish he could hate Andrew but he can’t, not only because Andrew is so fucking nice and earnest but also because Jesse is so in love with him he can’t really see straight.
But Jesse doesn’t ever think he’ll be able to let Andrew know that, as much as he wants to. He’s worried about what happens when the movie’s over and they won’t see each other anymore. Fuck, every time afterwards, when Andrew’s flushed and he’s breathing heavy, Jesse feels like it will be the last time.
And that’s why that’s their encounters are so one-sided. Jesse doesn’t want reciprocation to screw things up.
Because all Jesse wants is to make Andrew feel good-he doesn’t want him to feel any type of obligation to Jesse, that would just make it worse. He’d rather have Andrew not touch him at all than touch him out of a half-hearted sense of duty. Plus, what if something about it made Andrew like him less? Jesse’s always worried about that with other people, but with Andrew it’s a million times more worrying because Jesse just likes him so much.
He hates it, hates the way this train of thought draws him into this never-ending self-loathing cycle. Part of him almost wants to give it all up, just stop doing this with Andrew because it drives him crazy… But the truth is he knows he couldn’t, and deep down, really doesn’t want to. He’s self-aware enough to know that being with Andrew, even in the simplest sense, makes him happy. Not just normal happy either; it makes him happy enough that he can forget himself for a little while, feel some of his self-consciousness not disappear (he knows they’ll probably never leave completely) but slip further away. Far enough that he can laugh and smile unguardedly, focus more completely, feel like a better version of himself.
Still, he’s worried he may lose that by the way that Andrew goes sad, mouth turning down into a tight controlled frown and the light going out of his eyes every times Jesse waves him off or refuses his advances. Jesse’s used every excuse in the book… If they’re at work, he’ll say that they have to be back on set soon, or that he heard someone calling them. And then there are the less-subtle methods-batting Andrew’s hands away or pinning his arms against the wall to start all over again. He’s even used his medication as an excuse before, which just makes him feel like a guilty manipulative liar. But no matter what it is, Andrew still looks puzzled and sad and Jesse feels awful.
He keeps coming back though, and that’s what matters.
//
But the thing is, up until Andrew starts to try and reciprocate, things go really well.
They’re usually sloppy and a little giddy, since it happens at work pretty much all of the time (Jesse doesn’t let it happen as much in the apartment they share, because it would definitely be harder to find a believable way out then).
Like today. They’ve just finished shooting the scene where Justin’s character shows up for the first time, and the shots are sort of montage-y and they can mess around a little, and honestly, Jesse doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s being ridiculous. He’s cracking jokes and messing with Andrew between takes and everyone’s laughing. It’s good for all of them, he thinks, because he and Andrew have a tendency to get pretty bad character bleed. It’s not really a problem on set, but it makes car rides home and lunches a bit awkward sometimes, and inbetween takes can be tenser than Jesse would ideally like. He’s just much happier generally when they can break character.
Anyway, Jesse’s cracking some joke about the number of sushi on the table and then Andrew’s throwing his head back and laughing in that way that makes his eyes crinkle, and then Brenda’s taking the piss out of Justin who declares he “brought sexy back, bitches!” and teasing her back for also growing up in the world of Disney. It gets to the point where they’re all fucking up their lines because they just can’t keep it together anymore, so Fincher gives them all a fondly stern look and declares that everyone should take fifteen. Apparently they were having problems with the lighting, anyway.
And that’s the moment when Jesse turns to Andrew to find him already staring back. His smile is wide and his eyes are like, molten or something-dark and liquid, fixed right on Jesse. Jesse bites his lip in response to the attention, and he thinks he hears Andrew let out the ghost of a whimper at that.
Brenda gets up to visit the restroom and Justin heads for craft services, and so Andrew takes advantage of that moment to grab Jesse’s wrist and drag him to the nearest closet, (Jesse doesn’t even want to contemplate the irony on that one) which luckily happens to be down a hallway nobody on set is using.
He pins Jesse to the wall almost immediately, licking into his mouth hot and desperate, tangling his fingers in Jesse’s curls (hair and makeup yelling at him is a small price to pay for this) and letting out a broken noise, kissing him until he’s absolutely forced to pull away to breathe.
“Jesus fuck, Jess,” he whispers, voice a little hoarse. “Were you trying to actually kill me out there?” Jesse grins but doesn’t reply, and Andrew uses the moment to lean in and start biting lightly along Jesse’s jaw line. He rucks up Jesse’s hoodie to get his hands on skin, touching his sides softly as if he’s hoping Jesse won’t notice.
But of course he does, and no matter how good it feels he knows what Andrew’s trying to do and he won’t have it. So he rakes a hand through Andrew’s hair and uses it to tip his head upward again, putting the other on the small of Andrew’s back and spinning them around so that Andrew’s up against the wall now and Jesse has a strong thigh between Andrew’s legs. Andrew lets out a groan and his hips jerk up instinctually, seeking friction.
“Shit,” Andrew hisses, eyes squeezed shut, hands a steady pressure on Jesse’s hips even as his nails dig in. Andrew’s cheeks flush as he rolls his hips again, this time slower and more deliberate as he tips his head back against the door, lip caught between his teeth.
“Yeah, c’mon,” Jesse encourages softly and inanely, sucking Andrew’s bottom lip into his mouth and nipping at it gently, hands shifting to press onto Andrew’s chest. He brushes his thumbs over Andrew’s nipples and listens to Andrew let out a broken moan, wishes his mind could record the sound to replay over and over again.
He lets Andrew rut against him again and again until he gets close, and then scrambles his hands down to open Andrew’s fly pushing down his slick Eduardo Saverin slacks, and then drop to his knees.
“Jess,” is all Andrew manages, his hands flying to Jesse’s hair on instinct and tangling in it. Jesse just looks up at him from under his lashes as he licks a stripe up Andrew’s cock. The sight makes Andrew’s eyes go dark and hooded, like he wants to close his eyes at the feeling but doesn’t want to take his eyes off Jesse, which is such a dizzying feeling.
Jesse uses his fist, pumping it to meet his lips until Andrew looks absolutely debauched, and then trails his fingers back behind Andrew’s balls and strokes there lightly.
It pushes Andrew over the edge within a handful of seconds. Andrew’s voice starts with Jesse’s name and then trails off into stuttered profanity before he’s coming in fast pulses down Jesse’s throat, arching his back against the door and panting his way through his orgasm. Jesse pulls off as Andrew’s catching his breath-steadying himself on wobbly legs and zipping up his fly and smoothing down his hair, and Jesse straightens his hoodie and wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand.
See, up until now things were going really well, but now is the moment when Jesse starts to stand up. Andrew immediately makes grabby hands for him, but Jesse flinches back just slightly, feeling red hot shame creep along his cheeks and the back of his neck as he watches helplessly as Andrew’s face falls.
“Just-I’m sure it’s been at least ten minutes, and hair and makeup need to fix us up again now,” Jesse explains stiffly, a note of desperation in his voice that does nothing to put the fire back in Andrew’s eyes.
Still, Andrew nods back easily, curling his hands into fists at his sides. Jesse doesn’t know if it’s out of anger or to keep from touching Jesse, and then his stomach lurches as he thinks of the possibility that it very well may be both.
Andrew clears his throat and says, “Yes, well… Yes, you’re right, we should go,” always the perfect gentleman, even though his voice sounds gut-wrenchingly defeated. Jesse still feels a little bit nauseous as they head over to hair and makeup, especially when Andrew puts a light hand on the small of his back to guide him. The hair stylist tells him he looks “sickly green”, but Jesse assures her he’s fine and grinds his teeth, pretending not to see Andrew staring fixedly ahead at nothing, refusing to meet Jesse’s eye.
//
After that, they don’t hook up for a while. It’s another instance of Jesse being absolutely, positively certain that he’s managed to ruin this, convinced after so many instances of being shot down Andrew has just decided to cut his losses and write the whole thing off-but every other aspect of their relationship continues the way it always has. Andrew still smiles at him shyly over breakfast, and sings lyrics to pop songs Jesse’s never heard, a capella and off-key, and wears his glasses at night as he marks up his script with a black pen or, if he’s feeling tired, a book of poetry. It clears the air and manages not to make things awkward between them.
These constants are what helps Jesse settle into it… going back to only being able to look at Andrew out of the corner of his eye when he’s not looking, going back to the most casual of touches like a pat on the back or their shoulders bumping together-things that help him remember that the world isn’t actually ending. Because Andrew’s still here, and he’s still Jesse’s friend, even if he’s given up all hope of being… whatever he was before, whatever he could have been.
And it’s okay, really. It’s taking time but Jesse is adjusting. Besides, he always knew it would end like this, because… because there was no other option. Because Andrew couldn’t ever see Jesse the way Jesse sees him-after all, who could?
He’s making his peace with it, he keeps telling himself. After a while it even starts to feel true, and Jesse even starts to think that maybe it’s for the best, ending this now and not letting it drag on just to break if off months later, when they’ll both be busy with the stress of promotion and new projects. Andrew’s going to be Spider-Man, for Christ’s sake, and he certainly doesn’t need to be tied down to Jesse in any way, shape, or form as he catapults into stardom.
It all sounds very convincing even to his own ears, and then one day the whole thing just tips on its head.
They have the day off for once-a rarity that they sometimes celebrate by eating out at some seafood restaurant and trying the local cuisine, or going to a movie or a play or something. But they hadn’t talked about doing any of that this time, and Jesse thinks maybe it’s because of the whole situation again… He has one particular sharp memory of Andrew pulling him into the men’s room at a Celtics game and biting at the shamrock high on Jesse’s cheek while Jesse jerked him off fast and furious, and he would not like be reminded of that on some platonic, “just friends” type of outing they’d take together now, so he’s not upset.
In an unspoken agreement, they keep their distance. Jesse curls up on his bed with a book while Andrew sits in the living room, flipping through scripts his agent sent him while music plays from his computer: the indie kind of stuff he likes (which is no showtunes in Jesse’s opinion but is easy to listen to, no trouble to like).
Jesse’s at a very suspenseful part in the story and time seems to pass quickly, so he jumps a little when he hears Andrew say his name. He looks up and Andrew’s standing in his doorway, chewing a bit on his thumbnail and looking twitchily nervous, hair wild like he’s been running his hands through it anxiously (a habit the movie version of Eduardo has definitely gotten from Andrew).
Jesse blushes a little at being caught so off-guard but smiles back reflexively, because no matter what it’s impossible for him to look at Andrew and not smile. It’s small, shy, soft, but something sure settles into Andrew’s eyes and he nods once, dropping his hands and walking determinedly forward, exhaling harshly and making his way around the bed, leaning down to cup Jesse’s face and kiss him desperately.
It hurts, almost, to be doing it all over again. Well, not quite yet, but Jesse knows when it ends again there will be an ache in his chest that’s completely unrelated to his anxiety that will stick around for days. Even so, it’s not enough of a deterrent to keep him from kissing Andrew back, sighing into it and trying to relearn every inch of Andrew’s mouth, memorizing it to keep for the inevitable end. Andrew’s kneeling on the bed now, Jesse’s face in his hands, caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs soothingly, and Jesse doesn’t know quite what his goal is but he’s trying not to care.
They go slow, kiss for what seems like forever before they roll into the middle of the bed, Andrew on his back as Jesse strips his shirt off. Jesse trails kisses down Andrew’s chest and to his stomach, hands stroking his sides with reverence. He fiddles with the zipper of Andrew’s jeans and pulls them off, then making quick work of his boxer-briefs. Andrew’s breaths are shaky as Jesse kisses his bellybutton, each hipbone, the tip of Andrew’s cock and then keeps going past, until he’s pressing soft kisses to Andrew’s entrance.
Andrew’s breath all leaves him in a rush, a whimper that sounds like Jesse’s name escaping his lips as Jesse licks at him with his tongue, tiny but insistent and then circling, working in a finger to open Andrew up and help him relax. Andrew is flushed down to his chest, his nipples are pointed and he’s never looked more beautiful, and Jesse thinks that if there has to be a last time, this is definitely a good one.
He begins to work his tongue into Andrew, soft and then pointed, driving into him over and over again and fucking him with it, listen to Andrew’s moans grow louder and louder until it’s just a incomprehensible stream of Jesse’s name tripping off his lips, over and over. Jesse’s tongue continues to flick inside him as he adds a finger again to hear the way Andrew gasps, nudging and stroking in just the right place. He continues that way for a while until Andrew’s voice is actually raspy from his cries, and he’s sweating and his fingers are pulling tight in Jesse’s hair and his legs have fallen open wantonly, finally making Jesse take pity on him as he lifts his other hand to Andrew’s cock. He strokes it once and then again before Andrew lets out a low moan, voice cracking in the middle as he lets go and comes.
Andrew takes a while to come down, and so Jesse pads to the bathroom to wash his hands and brush his teeth, thoroughly even for him. He’s stalling for time, really, hoping Andrew will get bored or self-conscious and leave, because he can’t very well go back into his room and say, look, that was amazing, but I really don’t want anything more and I think it would be best if you just go. Straight-up lie. There are no excuses now-no crew that needs them back on set or time limit set upon them, no stranger knocking at the bathroom door or even medicine to beg off on, since Andrew saw him eat his breakfast this morning and not take any pills. Finally he takes a deep breath, looks himself in the eye, squares his shoulders, and heads back in.
Andrew’s wiping off his hands and stomach with some tissues from the nightstand, still flushed and gorgeous. He looks up at Jesse with a tenuous smile, and Jesse stands still at the edge of the bed nervously before Andrew pats the space beside him and says, “Come here.”
Jesse goes, teetering on the edge of the bed, at least a foot of space between himself and Andrew. It feels weird, because Andrew is completely naked and Jesse is still fully clothed. Andrew must notice it too by the way his eyes flick up and down Jesse’s body, brow furrowing. He scoots over to close some of the space between them, reaching out and taking Jesse’s face in his hands, kissing him tenderly.
It feels so good, so real that something tugs in Jesse’s heart when he pulls away, Andrew’s fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “A-Andrew,” he stutters when they disconnect, “Really, you don’t have to-I, I’m good-”
His eyes do that thing where they go sad again, but this time the determination from earlier is clear in them too, and Jesse wonders if that’s what this was about all along. “Please,” he says, voice a broken whisper. “Please, Jess, I want to, really, just-I just want to touch you, any, any part of you that you’d be willing to give, just…” he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head for a moment before surging in to kiss Jesse again. It’s impossible for Jesse not to lose himself in it, by the urgent way Andrew is pressing their lips together, sucking on his tongue and licking at his palate, murmuring “please” between kisses.
“I promise Jess, I’ll make you feel so good, it’ll be so good for you, Jess,” Andrew rambles, fingers grasping at Jesse’s curls, trying to convince him with kisses just as much as with words. “Please,” he repeats, pulling back to mouth at Jesse’s pulse point, his hands moving to tangle with Jesse’s and give them a squeeze.
And in that moment, it feels like this is something Andrew actually wants, and the prospect of that is almost more exciting than anything Andrew could possibly do to him.
Jesse lets out a noise of surrender, and breathy “yes” that Andrew quickly swallows up in a kiss, his hands fumbling immediately to Jesse’s well-worn tee, pulling it over his head and then pushing Jesse onto his back.
With Andrew straddling him like this, towering above him, it’s hard for Jesse to feel anything other than incredibly turned on, but Andrew’s eyes track him all over for a handful of moments and then the anxiety sets in again. His eyes are wide and darting all over like he wants to take in everything and just doesn’t know where to settle, but the constant attention still makes Jesse squirm. Some habits are hard to break.
“Don’t,” he grits out, turning his head to the side so he doesn’t have to see Andrew, but then Andrew’s placing a hand on the side of his face and turning him back so that their eyes meet.
“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning forward so that their chests are pressed together, eyes soft and sad. “Don’t be nervous. You don’t have to-there’s no need to be nervous with me,” he says, thumb gently caressing Jesse’s cheekbone. His eyes are searching Jesse’s. “Okay?”
He waits for Jesse’s nod, small but sure, before moving again, kissing Jesse’s collarbone and biting it gently, pausing every few moments to skim his lips over it gently and murmur things like, “You’re so gorgeous, Jess, I wish you knew…” or “…see yourself the way I see you…” and Jesse can’t help it, gives in completely, reaching for Andrew and kissing him back messily-tongues tangling and teeth clacking. He can’t quite believe Andrew-can’t go from zero to sixty like that-but Andrew makes him want to, and that is something.
It feels like they spend hours lost in the sheets, Andrew uncovering him completely and letting his hands roam, caressing Jesse with careful, reverent hands until Jesse is trembling under his touch. Andrew worships his every inch, with his lips and soft murmured words and his eyes. By the time Andrew actually moves to touch Jesse’s cock, Jesse is so keyed up he’s whimpering, Andrew’s name slipping out of his mouth on gasping breaths. And Andrew gives back in equal measure, working his hand over Jesse’s dick slowly enough to make Jesse go crazy, whining and shaking his head back and forth on the pillow because this is much more intense than he even allowed himself to dream.
“God, Jess, look at you,” Andrew says, gratifyingly out of breath himself as he speeds up, pumping Jesse’s cock faster. He leans down to bite at Jesse’s earlobe, turning his head toward to whisper, voice needy, “I can barely imagine what you’d look like if I fucked you-Jesus, Jess, you’d be so fucking beautiful-I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day we met-”
And suddenly it’s all too much, and Jesse is spilling over Andrew’s fingers with a cry, hips bucking up as Andrew moves to kiss him messily, lazily, eating up Jesse’s moans.
He kisses Jesse until he is breathless, and then shifts off Jesse himself to jerk himself off, fast and desperate. Jesse can’t muster enough energy to do more than roll onto his side and watch Andrew work himself through half-hooded eyes, tangling the fingers of their other hand together. Andrew squeezes his fingers tight and comes with a cry, arching his back and panting.
Andrew cleans them both up this time, using tissues to mop up the mess on their stomachs and on his hands, pressing soft, comforting kisses to Jesse’s face as he lulls into sleep.
//
The warm blanket of calm that seemed to come over Jesse doesn’t last long. He wakes shortly after, and is immediately struck by the feeling that everything is crashing down and he can’t breathe but at the same time he can’t stop breathing, and his eyes are stinging and his throat feels sore and his skin too tight and there’s not enough oxygen in the room and-
“Hey, hey,” Andrew murmurs, by his side in seconds, voice still rough with sleep. “Breathe, Jess, breathe,” he tells him, lacing their fingers together and nudging Jesse so he curls into Andrew’s side. He hooks his chin on top of Jesse’s curls, breathing slow and steady, setting a rhythm Jesse tries to follow. He wills himself to stop shaking, but it helps more when Andrew is rubbing his arms with his soft hands.
He waits until Jesse is quiet again, back to himself before pulling away slightly to look into Jesse’s eyes, a question lingering there. Jesse can tell that he doesn’t want to ask it out loud, because he doesn’t want to push Jesse, not at all, but it’s okay. Jesse wants him to know.
“I just… I don’t understand why you want me,” he tries, biting his lip afterwards, nervous habit picking up. Andrew’s brow furrows and his eyes go sad again, the way Jesse has always tried to avoid but can’t quite ever achieve. Jesse shakes his head helplessly and continues. “And-I guess that’s why I didn’t want-for so long-because… I couldn’t believe that you did.” He looks down as Andrew smooths a hand through his hair, voice going even quieter. “I still can’t quite believe it.”
“Jess,” Andrew says, voice breaking, tipping Jesse’s chin up. Jesse sees his eyes full of tears and loses his train of thought for a moment before Andrew speaks again. “Jesse, I’ve always-always wanted you, and not just because you’re gorgeous or because you’re insatiable or because you have the most brilliant smile I’ve ever seen, but because… because you make me laugh and you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, and, and I feel better when I’m around you,” he says, voice thick. Jesse reaches up and wipes away the few tears that have spilled over, marveling a little at what this role reversal feels like and also the fact that Andrew has felt this way about him for a while and Jesse had no fucking clue.
Well, maybe if he’d opened his eyes to actually look he would have been able to see, but he’d been so wrapped up in his own head that he didn’t even bother, just assumed.
“I want you because I’m so fucking in love with you,” Andrew finishes, smile breaking out beatifically.
Jesse immediately goes still-just from shock, because this is a lot to handle all at once, but Andrew immediately starts to backtrack. “I mean, it’s fine, I understand if you don’t feel the same way, Jess-”
And Jesse laughs, actually laughs, because he can’t handle their combined ridiculousness. “I do, though,” he affirms, nodding, cherishing the cautious hope in Andrew’s eyes and returning his smile before blurting out, “Are you sure this is real?”
Andrew throws his head back and laughs, and then they both are, giddy and comfortable. Andrew gasps for breath and wipes his eyes for a completely different reason, kissing Jesse as soon as they catch their breath.
“It better be,” he murmurs against Jesse’s lips. “I think if I woke up and you wouldn’t let me touch you again I might die.”
Jesse rolls his eyes at Andrew’s dramatic delivery, but his smile is fond when Andrew pulls him in for a kiss, letting Andrew convince him again.
This time Andrew fucks him, and Jesse doesn’t even feel the least bit afraid.
Afterwards, Andrew holds Jesse close in his arms, not abandoning him to get lost inside his head again, and when he kisses Jesse’s curls he thinks that maybe this is what it feels like to be comfortable in your own skin. Or at least, how to start to be.