stumbling towards serenity
Title: stumbling towards serenity
Author: jeyhawk
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Jesse Eisenberg/Andrew Garfield
Beta: sbb23 and slasher48! <333
Word Count: 37,156
Disclaimer: Not true. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. If you found this by googling yourself I would advise you to just not do that in the future.
Warning(s): Underage drinking. Very vague hints toward attempted assault.
Summary: Almost High School AU. Emma's like a sister to Jesse, but her older brother Andrew is… not like a brother. A story about summer romance, teenage awkwardness, falling in love, and finding yourself.
Notes: I started this fic in response to this prompt over at the tsn_kinkmeme. It's not really the fic that was requested, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Thanks to elizaria and slasher48 for invaluable help with the summary and other things, and to sbb23 for being her usual kick-ass self. <333
The last class before summer break drags on forever with Mr. M standing before the whiteboard droning on and on about the economic situation in the Middle East as if anyone actually cares, as if the entire student body hasn't already checked out for summer.
Jesse tries to care, jotting down sporadic notes and following the hypnotic motions of Mr. M's arthritic hands, but even he finds his mind running ahead, toward the point that the bell will finally ring out for summer and his last school day as a junior will be over, taking him one step closer to graduation.
A balled up note lands on his desk and he carefully smooths it out, smiling as he recognizes Emma's rounded scrawl.
Party at Joe's tonight. We are going.
He cranes his neck to give Emma a pointed glare, but she looks back completely unrepentant, as if she couldn't care less that Jesse thinks parties are lame. A second note hits the back of his head as soon as he turns back and he pretends to drop his pen to retrieve it, not that Mr. M would notice if he stripped off his clothes and danced on his desk.
Sleep over at my house. Andrew's home from London.
Jesse's cheeks flush and he stares determinedly straight ahead. Andrew is Emma's older brother from her dad's earlier marriage and Jesse's had a massive crush on him since he turned fourteen and realized that he likes humans with a penis more than humans with mammary glands (a realization that somehow didn't surprise anyone but Jesse). Andrew's been studying drama in London for the last couple of years, only coming home for sporadic visits, but according to Emma he broke up with his girlfriend and is home to stay this time.
Jesse hasn't seen him since Hanukkah when they awkwardly exchanged gifts and holiday greetings and Jesse blushed so much Emma's mom asked if he’d paid an ill-advised visit to the tanning salon, but he halfheartedly hopes that Andrew turned fat and bald and went to de-charm school in the last few months. (Because Jesse is pretty sure fat and bald would so not be enough of a deterrent for his erstwhile emotions and he's embarrassed himself enough in front of Emma's family.)
Eventually he pens down an answer and throws it in Emma's general direction: I'll ask, even if they both know that Jesse's mom never says no. Maybe Andrew did turn into a horrible human being, or maybe Jesse's slight crush on Mr. Hammer, the gym teacher, managed to cancel his crush on Andrew. There's only one way to find out.
--
The party is, unsurprisingly, lame. Jesse ends up tucked into a corner with a bottle of beer and a crying girl whose name he doesn't know while Emma wreaks havoc on the makeshift dance floor.
"There, there," he says vaguely, patting the girl's shaking shoulders.
"Am I really that ugly?" she asks, lifting her head to stare at him with red-rimmed panda eyes and mascara streaked cheeks. "You'd sleep with me, right?"
"Uh…" Jesse says and she breaks down into sobs again, smearing mascara and foundation over the sleeve of his t-shirt when she collapses forward.
"If not even the virgins want to sleep with me I'm doomed," she cries and Jesse blushes, awkwardly patting her back again.
"I'm… uh… gay," he says.
"Oh…" She lifts her head, lips parted. "But you'd totally sleep with me if you were straight, right?"
"Yeah," Jesse says, nodding profusely. "Yeah. Absolutely."
She looks like a nice enough girl, with plump lips and big brown eyes. He's pretty sure tons of guys would sleep with her if she just stopped crying and wiped the mascara from her cheeks. Her lower lip starts to wobble and she folds forward again, crying into his shoulder.
Jesse wishes he knew the right words to say but it's pretty hard to break someone out of a self-loathing fit when that's how your own thoughts normally go. Instead he just sits there, staring straight ahead and letting her cry her heart out until she trails off into soft little hiccups, relaxing into his side.
--
That's how Emma finds them an hour later when she remembers she brought her best friend to the party and then coldheartedly dumped him in a corner.
"This looks cozy," she says, the corners of her lips twitching.
"Jesse is gay," Elena (they managed awkward introductions half an hour ago) says, blinking up at Emma. "But he'd sleep with me if he was straight."
Emma tries to hide her smile into her hand. "That's awesome," she says.
"But he can't do that, because he's gay and also in love with this guy… Andy… something… I…"
She trails off, looking to Jesse for confirmation and Jesse kind of wishes they'd never gotten around to the actual conversation part.
"Andrew," he confirms, without looking at Emma.
"Oh, that's right." Elena's eyes widen. "And he's British, right? Like… with the accent and stuff."
"Yeah," Jesse confirms dully. "With the accent and stuff."
Elena smiles, as if she just managed world peace and slumps back against his shoulder. "I love you, Jesse," she says earnestly.
"Ah… yes," he mutters, giving her another awkward back pat. "You're pretty awesome too."
--
"How…" Emma starts but she breaks down into gales of laughter again before she can finish. "How did you even…"
Jesse gives her an uncharitable look as he leads the way outside. He left Elena with her friends and got a sloppy kiss for his trouble. Emma's been laughing ever since.
She's still laughing, amidst incoherent mumblings, when her mom's car pulls up to the curb. Jesse uses it as an opportunity to call shotgun and then immediately regrets it because it's not Emma's mom behind the wheel, it's Andrew.
"Jesse," he says, brows furrowing as he drops his gaze to Jesse's mouth. "Hi."
Jesse flushes, ducking his chin. "Hi."
Andrew didn't get fat, or bald. He's better looking than ever, tanned and gorgeous with his brown hair like a wild halo around his head and what looks like the start of a wicked grizzly-man beard on his chin.
"What happened to your face?" Jesse asks.
Andrew lifts one of his slender and stupidly attractive hands to his mouth. "What about it?" he asks, studying himself in the rearview mirror, while Emma manages to get enough of a hold on herself to climb into the backseat.
"Did you get cast in A Werewolf Goes to London, maybe?" Jesse asks and it's supposed to be a joke, he doesn't even hate the beard, but it comes out wrong, sounding mean and spiteful.
"Oh, that," Andrew says, but Jesse can see the flush creeping up his neck. "I just didn't bother to shave for a few days."
Jesse wants to bang his head against the dashboard until he passes out, but he just nods, and cranes his neck to stare out the window. Emma punches him hard in the arm but Jesse ignores her.
The thing is, Jesse can't talk to Andrew. Ever since that morning when he looked up from his cereal bowl and caught Andrew smiling at him across the table in a way that made his stomach tighten with something that he was finally able to recognize as desire, he hasn't been able to say three words to him without one of them coming out wrong.
"You’ve got lipstick around your mouth," Andrew says and in the backseat Emma breaks down again.
Jesse wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, and stares at the red streaks on his skin. "Oh," he says inanely and curls even further into the door.
Why did he even want Andrew to come home? This is going to be pure torture.
--
"You haven't seen Andrew in six months and you manage to insult him within ten seconds; I'm impressed," Emma says later, sitting cross-legged on her bed.
Jesse groans and hides his head in the pillows. "Shut up."
"It's kind of adorable to watch, but I don't think he really gets that it's your awkward way of saying I love you."
Jesse hits her with a pillow and it soon escalates into a full-blown pillow fight that ends with Jesse tumbling backward off the bed into an ungraceful pile of arms and legs.
"Ow," he says.
Of course that's when Andrew walks in. Jesse blinks up at him from between his splayed legs, trying to decide if he's seriously hurt or just mortally embarrassed. Andrew shaved, he notices, chin bare and pale.
"Are you okay?" Andrew asks, eyes going cartoon-character wide. "I heard the thump."
"I think so," Jesse says, but it comes out a bit choked since his chest is currently making friends with his pelvis.
He very ungracefully falls over to the side and manages to get his knees under him, blush rising like a crimson tide over his cheeks and down his chest. Emma, the horrible friend she is, laughs so hard she probably can't breathe.
Andrew crouches down, touching his fingers to Jesse's flaming cheek. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. "You're not nauseous?"
Jesse is very nauseous, but he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with hitting his head. "I'm fine," he mumbles, and if he leans a little too much into Andrew's touch, he's going to blame it on the possible concussion.
"You are the least graceful person I've ever met," Emma says, peering down at them from the bed.
She's smirking; Jesse pretends he doesn't notice. Andrew runs his hand into the tangle of Jesse's curls, delicately probing at the back of his head.
"Does it hurt?" he asks.
Jesse stares at his knees and shakes his head. "Not really."
"You'll probably be fine then," Andrew says, smiling. "But if you start to get nauseous, or dizzy, or something, wake me up, okay?"
"No offense," Jesse says, and of course it comes out wrong. "But I think that I'd rather wake your mom."
Andrew flinches and pulls his hand back. "Yeah, of course," he mumbles, "Obviously."
Jesse can practically hear Emma rolling her eyes and he opens his mouth to stutter out an apology but Andrew is already shifting backward and climbing to his feet.
"Have a… um… good night," he says, backing toward the door. "I won't bother you again."
Jesse waits until the door falls closed behind him before he deflates, pressing his forehead into his knees. "I'm a horrible human being," he moans.
"Yeah," Emma agrees. "No argument there."
--
On Monday, the first real day of summer break, they go to the lake. Jesse normally hates the lake, but it's a sunny day and it's tradition, so he doesn't grumble too much, packing ridiculous amounts of water, three books, and a beach umbrella. Emma laughs at him (nothing new there) when he sets up camp in the shade and curls up with a book.
"It wouldn't kill you to expose your scrawny limbs to the sun, you know?" she says as she strips down to her polka-dotted bikini.
"I don't tan," Jesse retorts, because he doesn't. He turns a light shade of pink and when it fades he's still off-white.
Emma shrugs. "Vitamin D is still vital to your existence."
She spreads her blanket out next to Jesse's, carefully positioning it for ultimate sun exposure, as if Jesse doesn't know that within the hour she's going to hide in the shade with him, abandoning her girly magazine in favor of Dostoyevsky. There's a reason they're friends after all.
Jesse waves as she takes off toward the water, sitting up with his legs crossed in front of him, like a tailor in an old-fashioned movie. He spots Joe and Justin by the waterfront and waves again before he lets his hands drop back to the blanket.
The beach is packed with high school kids and families, the air thrumming with voices, laughter, and the sound of splashing water. It's not Jesse’s favorite place in the world, but he grudgingly admits to himself that it could certainly be worse.
He picks his book up, flipping it open in his lap, but instead of reading it, he people-watches, fingers splayed over the dry pages. Sometimes he wonders what he would be like if Emma hadn't decided to be his best friend on the second day of school, squeezing his fingers while he cried on the bus and telling him, in her matter-of-fact way, that everything would be alright.
There's something infinitely comforting in having someone that is always there for you, no matter what, by choice instead of blood relation. It makes him believe he's not quite as horrible a person as he sometimes makes himself out to be, because if he were, Emma wouldn't be his friend.
A small child runs past, chubby legs pumping and arms flailing while a laughing mother, or maybe sister, chases after. Jesse smiles, following them with his eyes until the mother/sister swoops the child up in her arms and it shrieks with laugher. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks and someone kicks up sand on Emma's blanket as they walk past. It's the first day of summer and Jesse is quite content.
--
"So," Emma says some time later, flopping down on the edge of Jesse's blanket after yet another trip into the water. "Have you seen Andrew yet?"
"He's here?" Jesse squeaks and then he flushes, looking down on his book.
"Don't know," Emma says, shrugging. "But he said this morning that he was coming."
Jesse gives her a narrow-eyed look. "And you didn't tell me this, why?"
She snorts. "I wanted you to come, silly."
It's getting really hot and Jesse's been contemplating a trip to the water for the last half an hour, but now he internally cancels all such plans. There's no way he's taking his shirt off, or coming out from under his umbrella, if Andrew might show up. He knows that Andrew probably doesn't find him the slightest bit attractive, or even consider him a remotely sexual being, but he's so not going to stack the odds by appearing shirtless in front of him. Andrew might be permanently blinded and Jesse doesn't want that on his conscience.
Emma pushes herself up to sit, stretching her tanned legs out in front of her. "If he comes up to talk to you, try not to insult him," she says. "I love you, but I have to look out for him too and sometimes you make him look like a kicked puppy."
"I'm sorry," Jesse mutters, picking at his shorts. "I don't mean to."
"Yeah, I know," she says, reaching out to pull on the sparse hair on his calf.
Justin calls out for her from down by the water and she lifts her hand to acknowledge him.
"He likes you," Jesse says, because it's pretty obvious, even to a subpar people-reader like Jesse.
"Yeah." Emma grins and pushes herself up to her feet. "I know."
Jesse smiles as she takes off towards the water. Justin's a good guy, when he isn't shaking water from his hair into Jesse's face, and Jesse's pretty sure Emma likes him right back. It's a little depressing to think about because he's pretty sure that them making kissy faces at each other will mean considerably less face-time with either of them for him - but he'll be happy for them nonetheless.
--
Andrew and his friends show up while Emma is visiting the restrooms, and they set up camp further down the beach. Jesse watches them over the edge of his book as they joke around and laugh, kicking up sand and shoving at each other. It strikes him that Andrew is a very physical person, always touching and poking, and his cheeks flush for no reason at all.
He's still watching, minutes later, when Andrew yanks his shirt over his head and chases after his friend JT into the water. When he comes back up he's dripping wet, hair messy, and Jesse forgets how to breathe. Andrew’s nipples are pink and pointy, and his stomach flat with the barest hint of a six-pack, his hips are narrow and the thin legs extending from the bottom of his black swim shorts dark with hair.
Jesse sucks in a pained breath and averts his eyes, arranging the folded-up towel he brought just in case over his lap. He tries to go back to his book, but his eyes keep straying toward Andrew and his friends, catching on the wings of Andrew's shoulder blades, his tapered back, the way his biceps bulge as he leans back on his hands. Jesse is not normally a shallow person, he cares more about the inside than the exterior, but damn Andrew is hot.
"He arrived, I see," Emma says, coming back from the restrooms and giving Jesse's towel a pointed look.
He hates her. Just a little bit.
--
Jesse has this theory that the Garfield-Stone family is surrounded by some kind of force-field that makes it impossible for Jesse to say no to them, which is how he finds himself going for a walk along the beach with Andrew.
"You need sun," Andrew said, gesturing wildly, and Jesse clambered to his feet because he was always a sucker for Andrew's expressive hands.
"This is not so bad right," Andrew says moments later, jostling Jesse's shoulder so that he almost topples into the water.
Jesse makes a noncommittal sound and carefully watches where he puts his bare feet. They've been walking side by side for almost five minutes without Jesse saying anything stupid and he'd like to keep it that way.
The sun is hot against the back of his neck and the shirt sticks to his shoulders with perspiration. He wants to pull it off, but he doesn't want to expose his scrawny chest to Andrew.
They walk past a concession stand and Andrew stills Jesse with a hand to his elbow. "I'm gonna get you a bottle of water," he says and takes off across the sand before Jesse can point out that he brought plenty of water in his cooler.
He steps further into the lake while he waits, letting the cool water lap at his knees. The air smells like wet sand and coconut oil, and goosebumps rise all over Jesse's arms. Andrew comes back carrying two water bottles and a huge smile.
"Here," he says, handing one over.
"Thanks," Jesse mutters, stepping up on the beach again and curling his toes into the sand.
"So what are your plans for the summer?" Andrew asks when they start walking again.
Jesse shrugs. "Hanging out, reading… I might help my uncle out at the bookstore if he needs me."
"Cool," Andrew says and they lapse back into silence.
"So… um… what are you doing?" Jesse asks, when the silence starts to get to him. It's not actually awkward but he worries that it might be.
"I got a job at the Ice Cream Palace," Andrew says, making a face. "I need to save up some money if I want to move out of here."
"Oh," Jesse says, and Andrew's been living abroad for two years so it's absolutely ridiculous that his heart sinks at the thought of Andrew moving again. They're not even friends, not really, not like they used to be, maybe, before Andrew moved to London.
"The uniform sucks," Andrew continues, as if Jesse offered some actual input. "I look like a dork in it."
Jesse sincerely doubts that, but he says, "How can you tell? You look like a dork in everything," and for once he gets the tone right and Andrew laughs instead of flinching.
Talking gets easier after that. Jesse doesn't second guess himself so much, and by the time they come back to their end of the beach, Jesse is actually, genuinely, enjoying himself.
That is, of course, when Joe appears out of nowhere and tackles Jesse into the water, shouting something that sounds suspiciously like COWABUNGA! Half of Jesse's startled inhale happens underwater and he breaks the surface coughing and sputtering, flailing his arms about like a windmill. Joe, probably accidentally, dunks him again as he tries to get up, making him inhale even more water and this time when he figures out which way is up, he coughs so hard he's pretty sure he's turning blue, every inhale burning his throat like fire.
Suddenly there are people everywhere and lots of angry shouting and Emma kneels down by his side.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
Jesse nods and coughs some more. "Not made of sugar," he croaks.
Emma smiles and gives him a hard hug, as if she thought he might actually die from being dunked into knee-deep water. "Joe's an idiot," she says fiercely.
"He's Joe," Jesse says, and he really thinks that explains everything.
He lifts his gaze, still somewhat disoriented, to see what happened to Andrew, only to find him being held back by three of his friends, glaring daggers at a shamefaced Joe.
"If you ever…" Andrew starts, but cuts himself off, glaring some more. "Asshole," he spits.
Jesse blinks because he didn't even know Andrew could get angry. It's kind of scary but sweet.
"It's okay," Jesse mutters, still hoarse. "I'm slightly sturdier than I look."
Andrew's posture relaxes and his face softens. "Are you okay?" he asks, all knitted brows and concern.
"I'm fine," Jesse murmurs, cheeks flushing. He turns to look at Joe, offering a smile. "I'm fine."
Joe lets out a loud breath and darts forward to give Jesse a hug that almost sends them sprawling again. "Sorry," he mutters. "Please don't let your boyfriend kill me."
"He's not my…" Andrew and Jesse say at the same time, but while Andrew sounds kind of embarrassed, Jesse somehow manages to sound utterly disdainful, as if the mere thought is ludicrous (and it is, but not for the reasons Andrew might think).
Then they both blush, Andrew's friends laugh, Emma sighs, and Joe looks skeptical. Jesse thinks about drowning himself for real and everything sucks.
--
Jesse burns, of course, the back of his neck lobster red and his nose flaking. He stares at himself in Emma's bathroom mirror with despair, eyes stinging with too much sun and itchy contacts. Andrew invited them to a bonfire and Emma wanted to go, so Jesse agreed to be the designated driver. It's only Monday and his mom is already complaining about him never being home. (Not that she actually wants Jesse to be home, her mouth gets tight with worry whenever he spends too much time in his room, but she's a Jewish mother and guilt-trips are her life-blood.)
"You ready to go?" Andrew asks, clapping his hands together when Jesse gives up eyeballing himself in the mirror.
"Sure," Jesse says, wincing as he scrubs a self-conscious hand over the back of his neck.
Andrew notices and promptly makes Jesse turn around. "Oh no," he says, gently stroking a finger along the edge of the flush. "Did you put something on it?"
"No," Jesse mutters, hunching forward and silently thanking Walmart for his ill-fitting jeans.
"I have some aloe lotion in my room," Andrew says. "Wait here."
Jesse waits, head still bowed and hands shoved into his pockets.
"Who put you into the corner of shame?" Emma asks, coming into the room with a bag slung over her shoulder.
"He burned the back of his neck," Andrew explains, walking in behind her.
"How unusual," Emma says, and Andrew makes a concerned noise.
"Don't you wear sunscreen?" he chides, tugging lightly at the collar of Jesse's shirt to expose more of his neck.
"He’s a vampire," Emma says. "No amount of sunscreen can save skin that has never been exposed to the sun."
"This will be cold," Andrew warns, apologetic, and Emma makes a noise as if she's choking on her tongue, which is good because it almost masks Jesse's startled gasps when Andrew's fingers start to spread the soothing lotion over his skin.
Jesse flushes and his heart trips and he hopes that the way he pulls slightly on his shirt isn't too obvious. Andrew's fingers are magic, soft-strong and gentle and Jesse isn't used to being touched like this. He bites back a groan when Andrew's fingers dip in under his collar and shoots Emma a despairing look.
"That's enough," she says with the perfect whiny-little-sister tone. "I'm hungry."
"Yeah, okay," Andrew murmurs, voice rough, and Jesse realizes he can feel the heat of Andrew's body all along his back.
"Thanks," Jesse mutters when Andrew lets his hand drop and steps back. "That was… uh… nice."
Emma laughs and Jesse shuffles his feet, miserable.
"You should put some on your nose," Andrew says, handing him the tube.
Jesse twitches when their fingertips touch and feels like a rabbit caught in the headlights when their eyes meet. Andrew smiles, reaching up to tug lightly on one of Jesse's stray curls.
"You should take better care of yourself," he says.
It's such a big brother thing to say, but his gaze is electrifying and Jesse has no idea what's going on.
--
The bonfire turns out to be surprisingly nice. Andrew's friends are pretty cool and Jesse always relates better to people older than him. Someone brought a guitar and somehow it ends up on Jesse's lap while the others drink themselves tipsy on rum and coke and lukewarm beer.
Jesse plays every song he knows, which is not that many, singing along under his breath to the others’ bellows because he doesn't really think his voice holds up for an audience. Andrew mock-wrestles with JT and ends up face first in the sand, sputtering indignantly, and he's beautiful in the flickering golden light coming from the fire.
Jesse hands the guitar along once he's exhausted his meager repertoire and accepts a beer from one of Andrew's friends. Emma's on the other side of the fire sitting next to Justin, who Jesse didn't even know was coming, and Jesse smiles at the way Emma leans in close to talk to him, her long hair brushing across his shoulder.
"You having fun?" Andrew asks, sliding down to sit next to Jesse and stretching his legs out.
"Yeah," Jesse admits, staring into the fire so that he won't have to look at Andrew while he can still feel the ghost of his touch across his neck.
Andrew has a plastic cup in his hand, more rum and coke by the smell of it and lifts it to his lips, catching Jesse's gaze.
"Want some?" he asks.
"Driving," Jesse reminds him.
"Maybe you'd be a less tense driver if you were drunk," Andrew suggests, lips pulling into a smile.
"Maybe I'd drive us all over the edge of a cliff," Jesse retorts.
"True… but we can always pick the car up tomorrow," Andrew says, holding the cup up again.
Jesse blinks, frowning slightly. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asks and Andrew lets the cup drop.
"I… uh…" Andrew looks uncomfortable. "Of course not. I just thought… maybe… you needed to relax."
"Do I look tense?" Jesse asks, and it comes out sharper than he intended, which he supposes kind of proves Andrew's point.
"No… no… just…" Andrew sighs and shrugs, his shoulder rubbing against Jesse's arm. "Everything always turns so awkward between us and I just… I kinda miss the way we were… You know, when it was easy."
Jesse gives him a wry glance. "You mean before I hit puberty."
Andrew laughs and shakes his head. "Just… I don't know, before Hanukkah maybe? When you still wrote me letters."
"Oh," Jesse says, flushing. "I didn't know you read them."
Andrew brought Shannon home for Hanukkah, beautiful, funny, perfect Shannon, and Jesse stopped writing letters because next to her he felt like an awkward child.
"Of course I read them," Andrew says, aghast. "I loved them. I know I wrote you back to tell you so don't even try."
Jesse shrugs, swallowing thickly. "You had Shannon and I thought… maybe… that… I didn't want to impose. Uh…I'm sorry about the breakup… I don't think I said that."
"It was…" Andrew hesitates. "It was a mutual decision," he says. "I mean… it sucked that we didn't work out but it's…it's okay. We're still friends or, you know, we will be."
Jesse doesn't know. His first and only kiss was from a drunk girl at a party two nights ago and the closest he's come to being intimate with someone was Andrew rubbing lotion on his neck. He's not going to say that though and he doesn't think Andrew expects his input anyway so he just sips from his beer that is already going stale, and nods.
"So how about you?" Andrew asks. "Is there a special someone in your life?"
Jesse rolls his eyes. "No," he says curtly.
"Are you sure? Because that was an awful lot of lipstick you were wearing the other night."
Andrew's teasing him, Jesse knows that, but somehow it just stings and it makes him feel itchy inside.
"I'm fucking sure, okay?" he bites out and Andrew's flinch transplants through his skin. "Sorry," he says quickly. "Sorry. I…" He trails off, shaking his head.
"Yeah," Andrew says with a sigh and collapses down on his back. "I miss the less awkward days."
Jesse sighs too, staring down at where the sand has buried the toes of his sneakers. "Yeah," he mutters, "Me too."
--
Wednesday through Friday Jesse works at his uncle's bookstore, because while he was talking things out with Andrew (without reaching any kind of conclusion) his uncle made friends with a bad shrimp cocktail.
Jesse loves the bookstore. It's small and crowded and smells like wet cat and old books. All kinds of people come in on any given day, looking for rare books or just browsing, and Jesse has no problem interacting with people when he has purpose and an assigned role.
The first two days are pretty enjoyable; he talks to the regulars, cleans up among the shelves and sells a lot of books. Occasionally, Milo, his uncle's other employee, comes in to help out with new deliveries and boxes to be sent out even though he's busy with summer classes. Jesse likes Milo, he's cool in all the ways Jesse isn't, but so incredibly nice about it. If Jesse wasn't already helplessly in love with Andrew, he's pretty sure he would be crushing hard on Milo. (Sometimes his feelings for Andrew are actually a help instead of a hindrance. Go figure.)
Friday, on the other hand, sucks. He gets yelled at on three different occasions by four different people, the power goes out for an hour and he has to huddle in the dark to protect the cash register, and then one of the smaller shelves, overflowing and rickety, decides to give up its continuous struggle with gravity and falls over on him.
Naturally, that's when a customer walks in, the doorbell chiming merrily to alert Jesse to its presence.
"I'm in the back," he calls out. "It'll just… ouch… be a minute."
He hopes it's not a robber, but with the way this day is going, it's bound to be.
"Please don't rob me," he adds as an afterthought. "I'm small and harmless and we don't really make that much money."
Someone sighs, deep and heaving with a dramatic flair. Jesse looks up to find Andrew looking down at him, expression caught between worry and amusement. Jesse groans, trying to detangle his legs from the remains of the shelf.
"Hey," Andrew says. "Stay still. Are you hurt?"
Jesse’s pride seems to have taken the hardest hit (as usual) so he shakes his head. "What are you doing here?" he asks, when Andrew crouches down and starts moving the books around.
"Emma sent me to get you," Andrew answers. "Boy trouble, I think. She said to bring you, a pint of Ben & Jerry's, and Joe's head on a plate."
"What did Joe do?"
Andrew shrugs. "No idea, but I admit I was tempted for a moment. Brought a plate and everything. I'm glad I waited though, because in light of recent events I'm beginning to think you're just freakishly accident prone."
Jesse flushes and crawls out from under the shelf when Andrew lifts it, staring at the mess of paperbacks all over the floor.
"I just put them back in order," he says mournfully.
Andrew straightens up the frame and tries to fix the shelves that fell out. "I'll help you put them back," he says. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," Jesse says, climbing to his feet and dusting off the knees of his jeans. "I'll probably be black and blue in the morning, but it's nothing that won't heal."
Andrew pokes at the shelf, listing noticeably to the side and shelves askew. "I'm afraid it won't make it," he says.
Jesse hums in agreement, but his eyes seem to be more interested in the way Andrew's biceps bulge when he moves his arm than in the sad state of the bookshelf. "We'll have to put the books into boxes," he says, not at all thinking about Andrew carrying them.
Jesse gets boxes from the backroom and between the two of them it only takes a few minutes to load all the books. They take the boxes back into the backroom (Andrew's biceps do bulge amazingly) and manage to dismantle the shelf and bring it back there too. Jesse feels guilty about making Andrew help him, but Andrew, unsurprisingly, waves away all of his apologies and asks if Jesse's really fine about a hundred more times.
--
Emma's sulking when Jesse arrives, head shoved into a pile of pillows and arms spread over the duvet.
"Took you long enough," she mutters.
"We had to chase down Joe," Jesse says. "Weirdly enough he didn't want to be beheaded."
Emma flops over on her back and pulls the pillows away. "He told Justin why he shouldn't ask me out. There was a spreadsheet."
Jesse smiles. "Allow me to guess: because you are way too good for him?"
Emma snorts and sits up, making grabby hand motions for the ice cream. "Apparently I'm 27% more likely to cheat than your average girlfriend and the fact that I have a sassy gay friend is a serious disadvantage."
Jesse wrinkles his nose. "He called me sassy? Did he maybe mistake me for another Jesse?"
"Joe's an idiot," Emma says sourly. "Who knows what he was thinking."
Jesse sits down on the edge of the bed, watching Emma's face as she digs in to the ice cream. She's hard to read sometimes, up until now Jesse wasn't even sure she actually wanted Justin to ask her out. She tells Jesse more than she tells anyone else, but when it comes to romance she holds her cards close to her chest.
"So you like him then," he says, nudging her knee.
She flushes, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "I suppose," she admits grudgingly. "It's just… he's a good guy, you know? It might not work out but he's not going to screw me over… and he's cute."
Jesse laughs. "Yeah." He nudges her knee again and scoots further up the bed to sit next to her. "If he really wants to ask you out," he says. "He won't listen to Joe."
"I know," she mutters, offering Jesse the ice cream. "It's just… what if he actually doesn't?"
Jesse tries to think of something a sassy gay friend would say but pulls up a blank. "I don't know," he says instead, head butting her shoulder. "But he will."
--
On Saturday morning Jesse goes to the mini golf course with Justin and Joe. He wins all three rounds and bikes back home pretty certain that Justin will ask Emma out and that Joe doesn't actually disapprove. Not too bad for a morning's work, he thinks, and feels kind of sassy.
--
On Saturday night they go to another party. Jesse's not even sure whose house they're at and Emma disappeared to "take a walk" with Justin an hour ago. The only other people around that he knows are Emma's girlfriends and the only things Jesse has in common with them are Emma and a huge crush on Andrew, which makes for somewhat stilted conversation.
He gives Emma a whole hour before he gives up, puts his drink down and texts Emma that he's going home. She texts back an okay, which probably means she isn't planning on coming back any time soon. After a moment a second text arrives: Call Andrew. He'll give you a ride.
Don't want to, Jesse answers.
Liar. Fine, I'll call.
Jesse thinks about stopping her, but then he sits down on the curb and doesn't. He's had enough to drink that he can admit, even to himself, that he does want to see Andrew, even if everything turns awkward and weird. Besides, it'd take him an hour to walk back home from here and his parents are out having dinner with friends. His phone beeps with another text message, this one from Andrew.
Ten minutes. Try to not hurt yourself.
Jesse smiles and sends back a quick thanks. Andrew, he thinks, worries way too much about his personal safety.
--
"Hey," Andrew says when Jesse jumps in to the car, smiling in a way that makes him look about twelve. "Where to?"
"Uh… home I guess," Jesse says, leaning back in his seat and turning the radio down low.
He sneaks a glance at Andrew, at the downy hair on his tan forearms and the way his t-shirt falls over his chest. Andrew raises his eyebrows at him.
"You don't want to… I dunno, grab an ice cream or something?"
Jesse flushes a little and worries his lower lip. "Sure," he says.
They end up going to the Ice Cream Palace and the cute girl behind the counter greets Andrew like an old friend and gives them a discount.
"The only good thing about working here," Andrew whispers on their way out, and Jesse doesn't know if he means the discount or the girl.
--
They end up in a nearby park, sitting on a bench with their legs stretched out, licking at their ice creams and talking about random things. It's nice, comfortable, and not the slightest bit awkward. Andrew talks a lot about London and his friends there and what kind of movies he hopes to be in one day. Jesse talks about school, and books, and theatre, and shyly admits that he's definitely trying out for the school play again next year.
"That's awesome," Andrew says, curling his hand around Jesse’s wrist. "You'll be awesome."
"I'm probably going to throw up on stage… again," Jesse says, staring at Andrew's tanned fingers on his pale skin.
Andrew snorts. "Emma swears no one noticed," he says.
"I did," Jesse whines and Andrew laughs.
"Wish I'd been there," Andrew says, nudging Jesse's shoulder. "I'm sure you were great."
Their ice creams are long gone and Jesse waits for Andrew to get up and put an end to their outing, but he doesn't. He just holds on to Jesse's wrist in the dark and talks about everything and nothing.
"You do know you're basically holding my hand, right?" Jesse asks after a while, still hyper aware of Andrew's touch and unable to even begin to decipher what it means.
"Do you mind?" Andrew asks softly.
Jesse flushes and bites at his lower lip. "No," he admits.
Andrew slides his hand down to cover Jesse's, palm warm and a bit sweaty against Jesse's skin. "I think you are amazing," Andrew says, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the bone protruding at the end of Jesse's wrist.
"I don't even know what that means," Jesse says weakly, stomach full of butterflies with razor-sharp wings.
"It means that…"
Andrew's interrupted by his phone ringing and he lets go of Jesse's hand as he fishes it out of his pocket.
"Hey…hey, hey what? Calm down. Where are you?"
Andrew jumps up from the bench and starts moving back toward the car. Jesse follows after him, his stomach tying into knots at the frantic tone of Andrew's voice.
"Yeah, yeah… Okay. Stay there. I'm coming to get you, okay? Here, talk to Jesse."
Andrew dumps the phone into Jesse's numb hands and gets the car keys out.
"Uh…hello?" Jesse says.
He feels like a horrible person for being relieved when he realizes it's not Emma, but Andrew’s friend Rooney, because she sounds like she's really freaked out. He gets the story in starts and stops, in between sobbed breaths, and he doesn't even know what he's saying but it seems to be the right things because she calms down a bit.
"He just… he scared me, you know? His eyes turned black and I thought he was actually going to…"
"It's okay," Jesse murmurs. "He didn't. You're safe now."
"Yeah," she breathes. "Okay."
She's at a McDonalds, random beeps and inane chatter filtering over the line. Safe, surrounded by people, but Jesse still feels as if he can't breathe right and he barely knows her. He's got his eyes closed, one hand curled hard around the phone and the other hanging on to the door, saying inane nothings in the tone he'd use to soothe a spooked cat.
Jesse is the first one out of the car when they get there, sprinting towards the entrance before Andrew's even put the car in park. He hears Andrew call out, but he doesn't care what he's saying because Rooney's still crying silently on the line and Jesse might not be much to cling to but he's better than nothing.
Rooney spots him right away, launching herself into his arms without a second of hesitation, pressing her tear-wet face into his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispers, as he wraps his arms gently around her back.
She's tiny, heart fluttering like that of a rabbit against Jesse's chest and her long hair tangles around his fingers. He feels too small, wishes he was two feet taller with broad shoulders and hands like plates.
"Come on," Jesse says softly. "Let's get you home."
"Okay," she murmurs.
--
Rooney calms down in the car and Jesse can tell she's feeling a little embarrassed about the whole thing so he randomly tells her about when he was seven and cried every day on the bus. She actually laughs at that and wipes the mascara stains from her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
"You're cute," she tells him and presses a kiss to his cheek.
Jesse flushes and Andrew clears his throat in the front seat.
"Well, you're cute too," Rooney says. "But Jesse's my hero today."
She snuggles into Jesse's side and Jesse awkwardly slings an arm around her shoulders and thinks that if he was straight he'd probably be in heaven right now.
Andrew whines something that sounds an awful lot like, "Stop touching him," and Jesse wonders if it's maybe meant for him, if he should pull his arm away, but then Rooney flips Andrew off and says,
"No guts, no glory, Garfield," and Jesse is more confused than ever.
--
It's not until much later when Jesse's curled up in bed that he remembers about Andrew holding his hand and the moment that shattered into a million pieces. He wonders if he'll ever get to know what that was all about.
--
Emma starts not dating Justin, which to Jesse looks just like actual dating but apparently it isn't, and Andrew's friends from London come over for a visit. Jesse meets them once, before they all take off on an impromptu road trip, and his heart shrivels like a sad, wilting bracken because they're all beautiful, all perfect, and Andrew looks like he belongs with them.
Jesse spends the better part of a week alone, moping. He hangs out with Joe a little, goes to the lake once but regrets it within five minutes, writes a little on his screenplay and helps his mom out in the garden. Sometimes Andrew texts him about stupid silly things that they see on the road and Jesse spends hours agonizing over his replies, not wanting to pound home just how uncool he is compared to Andrew's real friends.
He spends a lot of time wishing he had someone else's life, uncomfortable, as always, in his own skin.
--
On Saturday, the day Andrew's friends go back to London, Milo unexpectedly calls and asks if Jesse wants to check out a play with him and since Jesse is getting kind of tired of moping he says yes.
The play is pretty good and afterward they go out for drinks with Milo's friends from the cast. The bar is small and crowded, but they don't ask for Jesse's ID and he gets more than a little tipsy on mojitos and frozen margaritas, the alcohol bitter on his tongue.
They move on to a club and someone holds Jesse’s hands and he wonders what exactly he's doing with all of these cool people but occasionally he makes someone laugh and this weird feeling of pride blossoms in his chest.
Milo's drunk too and he touches Jesse a lot but it's not until Milo tries to kiss him in the narrow hall outside the bathrooms that Jesse actually gets it. He turns his head away at the last instant and Milo's lips land sloppy-slick against his cheek.
"I want to suck you," Milo murmurs, pressing Jesse up against the wall and Jesse's hard, how could he not be, but he thinks about Andrew holding his hand and how that felt a thousand times more intense than Milo pressed all along his front and shakes his head.
"I'm… uh… spoken for," he says, and it's not true in the way he wants it to be, but it's still true in his heart, and Milo's angry huff doesn't even register.
--
He calls Andrew from the alley behind the club, leaning back against the scratchy brick wall. He doesn't know where Milo is, maybe he left with his friends, and he doesn't know how to get home.
"Stay right the fuck there," Andrew says, angry. "I'm coming to get you."
"Okay," Jesse says, complacent as always. His head is spinning in a slow counterpoint to the thumping bass of his heart.
"Actually, no… Jesus Jess, you can't stay in the fucking alley. Go back inside, but stay just inside the door."
"Okay," Jesse says again, already turning toward the entrance.
"Jesus Christ," Andrew hisses and Jesse can hear him talking to someone in the background. Then Emma comes on the line.
"Jesse Adam Eisenberg. Just how stupid are you?"
Jesse contemplates it. "Medium to very?"
Emma huffs, but when she speaks again her tone is soft. "I think Andrew's having a heart attack, babe, so just go inside to wait for him. Do you want me to come?"
"You should take Andrew to the hospital," he says, and Emma laughs softly.
"I know I said I wasn't going to meddle in this, but Jess, it's painfully obvious to everyone but you that my brother likes you, okay?"
Jesse's still trying to think of a retort when Andrew takes the phone back. "I'm leaving now," he says. "Wait inside."
Andrew likes me, Jesse thinks, finding a spot inside the door where he has a clear view of the street. Likes me.
It's kind of a ridiculous thought, but nice to contemplate, better than thinking about Milo on his knees.
--
"Milo tried to kiss me," Jesse says when Andrew shows up, tugging on Andrew's shirt. It's soft under Jesse's fingers, warm from Andrew's skin, and he wants, kind of a lot. "Then he said he wanted to suck me."
Jesse tilts his head back and smiles dreamily up at Andrew. "I would rather you kissed me," he says honestly.
Andrew hisses out a breath through his teeth and curls his hands around Jesse's arms but he turns his head away when Jesse tries to kiss him and Jesse's bracken heart, blossoming with the alcohol, curls in on itself.
"Sorry," he says, trying to step back but Andrew won't let him.
"Jesse," Andrew says, voice weird. "Don't…"
"It's okay," Jesse mumbles quickly. "I understand."
"No, you really don't," Andrew says tightly, letting his hands fall.
Jesse sways with the loss of contact, the ground shifting and dipping under his feet.
"Come on," Andrew says, voice still angry, and Jesse would follow him to the end of the world so he meekly shuffles after Andrew as he starts walking towards the car.
Jesse licks his lips and imagines he can taste the salt of Andrew's skin. "I'm sorry," he says to no one in particular and lets Andrew buckle him in.
--
Jesse throws up in the morning, a lot, and then he starfishes on the floor by his bed and promises whatever deity happens to be listening that he's never ever going to drink alcohol again if they just make sure things are okay with Andrew.
He shuffles down to breakfast before his mom can come to get him and pointedly ignores her knowing smirk. He sometimes wonders if she'll be as lax with Hallie Kate, his younger sister, when she grows up, or if she was as forthcoming with Kerri, his older sister. It almost makes him mad to think that his mom, of all people, treats him differently because he's a boy, but then he realizes that it's probably not because he's a boy, but because he's Jesse, and feels a bit better about the whole thing.
"Did you have fun last night?" his mom asks, pushing a coffee cup across the table and into his hands.
His stomach churns at the heady scent of it but he still sips gingerly from the rim.
"I tried to kiss Andrew," he confesses, blushing into his cup.
Hallie Kate giggles and Jesse thinks about shoving her in the shoulder, but doesn't.
"You mean he stopped you?" his mom asks, and when Jesse looks up she's frowning.
Jesse shrugs and blushes some more. He thinks about what Emma said, about Andrew liking him, and chews nervously on his lower lip. Even if Andrew did like him (past tense) he probably realized what an absolute dork Jesse is last night and stopped.
"Don't worry," Hallie Kate says, patting his elbow. "He still likes you."
"You can't know that," Jesse mutters. "You're eight."
"Yeah," Hallie Kate agrees. "But I can also see him pacing back and forth on the front lawn."
Jesse jerks his head up and she's right, Andrew is pacing back and forth outside, mouth moving as if he's talking to himself and hands shoved into his pockets. He's very pretty, Jesse thinks, even if he looks a bit crazy.
His mom cranes her neck to follow Jesse's gaze and when she looks back she's smirking again; sometimes Jesse really hates her (except he really, really doesn't). "Do we need to have the talk again?" she asks.
"Please, dear god, no," Jesse says, eyes widening with horror. "And you're not… you're not allowed to talk to Andrew… or look at him… or be near him even."
"You should put him out of his misery," Hallie Kate remarks, reaching for another piece of toast.
"Yeah," Jesse says, pleased and nervous and miserable at the same time as he pushes away from the table. "I'm just gonna…"
"You should invite him for breakfast," Amy says.
Jesse cannot actually think of a worse horror than having Andrew eat breakfast with his mom and Hallie Kate after last night (except, maybe, if his dad and Kerri join in as well) and he pretty much catapults himself outside, intent on removing Andrew from the premises.
"Jesse," Andrew says when he spots him. "Uh…hi."
"We have to…" Jesse says frantically, gesturing toward Andrew's car at the curb. "Quickly."
"No," Andrew says, grabbing Jesse's shoulders. "No, I have to… I have to say this. I've been practicing all morning. Did you have breakfast yet? You look a little pale."
"I'm always pale," Jesse points out.
"Yes, but this is like… green pale. Famished pale."
"There's no such thing as famished pale," Jesse says dismissively, and then a thought hits him, "But actually… I didn't have breakfast. So you should take me out… for breakfast… so that I don't starve and uh… faint and hit my head."
Andrew looks like he thinks this is actually a possibility, rubbing his hands over Jesse's arms. "Yes, of course," he says. "We could always…" He gestures towards the house and Jesse almost shouts his protest.
"Erm…" he says when Andrew flinches at his volume. "I mean… I'd rather go somewhere else."
"Okay," Andrew says, smiling. "Anywhere you want to."
Jesse glances at the kitchen window where his mom and Hallie Kate are watching with their noses pretty much pressed up against the glass. "Would London be out of the question?" he asks despairingly.
"I'd love to take you to London," Andrew says, eyes lighting up, and Jesse wonders if this conversation will come back to bite him in the ass in the form of a plane and two tickets to the UK.
--
They end up at Andrew's favorite café, a cozy place squished in between a grocery store and a Laundromat that smells like jasmine and cinnamon buns, and Jesse finds himself treated to tea and scones with clotted cream and four types of jam.
"A little piece of England," Andrew says, beaming, and Jesse tries to not throw up.
"Uh…thanks," he says, nibbling on a piece of scone. It's nice and sweet against his tongue and it goes down a lot easier than expected.
"So… um… about last night," Andrew says, cheeks flushing underneath his tan. "I… uh…"
"Please don't…" Jesse whispers. "I… I was drunk and um… stupid. I shouldn't have... mmphmmp."
Andrew’s palm is sweaty, making Jesse's mouth taste like salt, and he gives Jesse a pleading look. "Please, be quiet," he says.
Jesse nods, eyes wide and frightened.
"Okay," Andrew says, inhaling sharply. "Okay."
Jesse waits for him to say something with bated breath, but Andrew seems more interested in shredding an innocent napkin between his fingers, biting at his lips in a way that is intimately familiar.
"Okay," Andrew says eventually. "Jesse… um… Jess, I really like you. Like like you, as in I-want-to-have-sex-with-you like you." He groans and cuts himself off, banging his forehead against the edge of the table. "I wasn't supposed to say that," he whines.
"Uh…" Jesse says, cheeks flaming, and he's pretty sure the smell of cinnamon will make him pop a boner for the rest of his life.
"No, no… let me finish." Andrew takes a deep breath and grabs Jesse's trembling hands across the table. "Jesse, would you go out with me? We don't have to have sex… um… right away, or at all, really, if you don't want to… I would just really really like to take you out… on a date."
Jesse stares at their linked hands and then at Andrew's face, and his neck, and his biceps, and tries really hard to not think about having sex with him.
"You're free to answer me any minute now," Andrew says, looking as if he's actually worried that Jesse might say no.
Jesse thinks about having sex with him.
"Okay," he says.
Andrew's answering grin makes his stomach flutter. "Yay," he says, very seriously, and squeezes Jesse's hands.
--
NEXT →
Author: jeyhawk
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Jesse Eisenberg/Andrew Garfield
Beta: sbb23 and slasher48! <333
Word Count: 37,156
Disclaimer: Not true. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. If you found this by googling yourself I would advise you to just not do that in the future.
Warning(s): Underage drinking. Very vague hints toward attempted assault.
Summary: Almost High School AU. Emma's like a sister to Jesse, but her older brother Andrew is… not like a brother. A story about summer romance, teenage awkwardness, falling in love, and finding yourself.
Notes: I started this fic in response to this prompt over at the tsn_kinkmeme. It's not really the fic that was requested, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Thanks to elizaria and slasher48 for invaluable help with the summary and other things, and to sbb23 for being her usual kick-ass self. <333
The last class before summer break drags on forever with Mr. M standing before the whiteboard droning on and on about the economic situation in the Middle East as if anyone actually cares, as if the entire student body hasn't already checked out for summer.
Jesse tries to care, jotting down sporadic notes and following the hypnotic motions of Mr. M's arthritic hands, but even he finds his mind running ahead, toward the point that the bell will finally ring out for summer and his last school day as a junior will be over, taking him one step closer to graduation.
A balled up note lands on his desk and he carefully smooths it out, smiling as he recognizes Emma's rounded scrawl.
Party at Joe's tonight. We are going.
He cranes his neck to give Emma a pointed glare, but she looks back completely unrepentant, as if she couldn't care less that Jesse thinks parties are lame. A second note hits the back of his head as soon as he turns back and he pretends to drop his pen to retrieve it, not that Mr. M would notice if he stripped off his clothes and danced on his desk.
Sleep over at my house. Andrew's home from London.
Jesse's cheeks flush and he stares determinedly straight ahead. Andrew is Emma's older brother from her dad's earlier marriage and Jesse's had a massive crush on him since he turned fourteen and realized that he likes humans with a penis more than humans with mammary glands (a realization that somehow didn't surprise anyone but Jesse). Andrew's been studying drama in London for the last couple of years, only coming home for sporadic visits, but according to Emma he broke up with his girlfriend and is home to stay this time.
Jesse hasn't seen him since Hanukkah when they awkwardly exchanged gifts and holiday greetings and Jesse blushed so much Emma's mom asked if he’d paid an ill-advised visit to the tanning salon, but he halfheartedly hopes that Andrew turned fat and bald and went to de-charm school in the last few months. (Because Jesse is pretty sure fat and bald would so not be enough of a deterrent for his erstwhile emotions and he's embarrassed himself enough in front of Emma's family.)
Eventually he pens down an answer and throws it in Emma's general direction: I'll ask, even if they both know that Jesse's mom never says no. Maybe Andrew did turn into a horrible human being, or maybe Jesse's slight crush on Mr. Hammer, the gym teacher, managed to cancel his crush on Andrew. There's only one way to find out.
--
The party is, unsurprisingly, lame. Jesse ends up tucked into a corner with a bottle of beer and a crying girl whose name he doesn't know while Emma wreaks havoc on the makeshift dance floor.
"There, there," he says vaguely, patting the girl's shaking shoulders.
"Am I really that ugly?" she asks, lifting her head to stare at him with red-rimmed panda eyes and mascara streaked cheeks. "You'd sleep with me, right?"
"Uh…" Jesse says and she breaks down into sobs again, smearing mascara and foundation over the sleeve of his t-shirt when she collapses forward.
"If not even the virgins want to sleep with me I'm doomed," she cries and Jesse blushes, awkwardly patting her back again.
"I'm… uh… gay," he says.
"Oh…" She lifts her head, lips parted. "But you'd totally sleep with me if you were straight, right?"
"Yeah," Jesse says, nodding profusely. "Yeah. Absolutely."
She looks like a nice enough girl, with plump lips and big brown eyes. He's pretty sure tons of guys would sleep with her if she just stopped crying and wiped the mascara from her cheeks. Her lower lip starts to wobble and she folds forward again, crying into his shoulder.
Jesse wishes he knew the right words to say but it's pretty hard to break someone out of a self-loathing fit when that's how your own thoughts normally go. Instead he just sits there, staring straight ahead and letting her cry her heart out until she trails off into soft little hiccups, relaxing into his side.
--
That's how Emma finds them an hour later when she remembers she brought her best friend to the party and then coldheartedly dumped him in a corner.
"This looks cozy," she says, the corners of her lips twitching.
"Jesse is gay," Elena (they managed awkward introductions half an hour ago) says, blinking up at Emma. "But he'd sleep with me if he was straight."
Emma tries to hide her smile into her hand. "That's awesome," she says.
"But he can't do that, because he's gay and also in love with this guy… Andy… something… I…"
She trails off, looking to Jesse for confirmation and Jesse kind of wishes they'd never gotten around to the actual conversation part.
"Andrew," he confirms, without looking at Emma.
"Oh, that's right." Elena's eyes widen. "And he's British, right? Like… with the accent and stuff."
"Yeah," Jesse confirms dully. "With the accent and stuff."
Elena smiles, as if she just managed world peace and slumps back against his shoulder. "I love you, Jesse," she says earnestly.
"Ah… yes," he mutters, giving her another awkward back pat. "You're pretty awesome too."
--
"How…" Emma starts but she breaks down into gales of laughter again before she can finish. "How did you even…"
Jesse gives her an uncharitable look as he leads the way outside. He left Elena with her friends and got a sloppy kiss for his trouble. Emma's been laughing ever since.
She's still laughing, amidst incoherent mumblings, when her mom's car pulls up to the curb. Jesse uses it as an opportunity to call shotgun and then immediately regrets it because it's not Emma's mom behind the wheel, it's Andrew.
"Jesse," he says, brows furrowing as he drops his gaze to Jesse's mouth. "Hi."
Jesse flushes, ducking his chin. "Hi."
Andrew didn't get fat, or bald. He's better looking than ever, tanned and gorgeous with his brown hair like a wild halo around his head and what looks like the start of a wicked grizzly-man beard on his chin.
"What happened to your face?" Jesse asks.
Andrew lifts one of his slender and stupidly attractive hands to his mouth. "What about it?" he asks, studying himself in the rearview mirror, while Emma manages to get enough of a hold on herself to climb into the backseat.
"Did you get cast in A Werewolf Goes to London, maybe?" Jesse asks and it's supposed to be a joke, he doesn't even hate the beard, but it comes out wrong, sounding mean and spiteful.
"Oh, that," Andrew says, but Jesse can see the flush creeping up his neck. "I just didn't bother to shave for a few days."
Jesse wants to bang his head against the dashboard until he passes out, but he just nods, and cranes his neck to stare out the window. Emma punches him hard in the arm but Jesse ignores her.
The thing is, Jesse can't talk to Andrew. Ever since that morning when he looked up from his cereal bowl and caught Andrew smiling at him across the table in a way that made his stomach tighten with something that he was finally able to recognize as desire, he hasn't been able to say three words to him without one of them coming out wrong.
"You’ve got lipstick around your mouth," Andrew says and in the backseat Emma breaks down again.
Jesse wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, and stares at the red streaks on his skin. "Oh," he says inanely and curls even further into the door.
Why did he even want Andrew to come home? This is going to be pure torture.
--
"You haven't seen Andrew in six months and you manage to insult him within ten seconds; I'm impressed," Emma says later, sitting cross-legged on her bed.
Jesse groans and hides his head in the pillows. "Shut up."
"It's kind of adorable to watch, but I don't think he really gets that it's your awkward way of saying I love you."
Jesse hits her with a pillow and it soon escalates into a full-blown pillow fight that ends with Jesse tumbling backward off the bed into an ungraceful pile of arms and legs.
"Ow," he says.
Of course that's when Andrew walks in. Jesse blinks up at him from between his splayed legs, trying to decide if he's seriously hurt or just mortally embarrassed. Andrew shaved, he notices, chin bare and pale.
"Are you okay?" Andrew asks, eyes going cartoon-character wide. "I heard the thump."
"I think so," Jesse says, but it comes out a bit choked since his chest is currently making friends with his pelvis.
He very ungracefully falls over to the side and manages to get his knees under him, blush rising like a crimson tide over his cheeks and down his chest. Emma, the horrible friend she is, laughs so hard she probably can't breathe.
Andrew crouches down, touching his fingers to Jesse's flaming cheek. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. "You're not nauseous?"
Jesse is very nauseous, but he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with hitting his head. "I'm fine," he mumbles, and if he leans a little too much into Andrew's touch, he's going to blame it on the possible concussion.
"You are the least graceful person I've ever met," Emma says, peering down at them from the bed.
She's smirking; Jesse pretends he doesn't notice. Andrew runs his hand into the tangle of Jesse's curls, delicately probing at the back of his head.
"Does it hurt?" he asks.
Jesse stares at his knees and shakes his head. "Not really."
"You'll probably be fine then," Andrew says, smiling. "But if you start to get nauseous, or dizzy, or something, wake me up, okay?"
"No offense," Jesse says, and of course it comes out wrong. "But I think that I'd rather wake your mom."
Andrew flinches and pulls his hand back. "Yeah, of course," he mumbles, "Obviously."
Jesse can practically hear Emma rolling her eyes and he opens his mouth to stutter out an apology but Andrew is already shifting backward and climbing to his feet.
"Have a… um… good night," he says, backing toward the door. "I won't bother you again."
Jesse waits until the door falls closed behind him before he deflates, pressing his forehead into his knees. "I'm a horrible human being," he moans.
"Yeah," Emma agrees. "No argument there."
--
On Monday, the first real day of summer break, they go to the lake. Jesse normally hates the lake, but it's a sunny day and it's tradition, so he doesn't grumble too much, packing ridiculous amounts of water, three books, and a beach umbrella. Emma laughs at him (nothing new there) when he sets up camp in the shade and curls up with a book.
"It wouldn't kill you to expose your scrawny limbs to the sun, you know?" she says as she strips down to her polka-dotted bikini.
"I don't tan," Jesse retorts, because he doesn't. He turns a light shade of pink and when it fades he's still off-white.
Emma shrugs. "Vitamin D is still vital to your existence."
She spreads her blanket out next to Jesse's, carefully positioning it for ultimate sun exposure, as if Jesse doesn't know that within the hour she's going to hide in the shade with him, abandoning her girly magazine in favor of Dostoyevsky. There's a reason they're friends after all.
Jesse waves as she takes off toward the water, sitting up with his legs crossed in front of him, like a tailor in an old-fashioned movie. He spots Joe and Justin by the waterfront and waves again before he lets his hands drop back to the blanket.
The beach is packed with high school kids and families, the air thrumming with voices, laughter, and the sound of splashing water. It's not Jesse’s favorite place in the world, but he grudgingly admits to himself that it could certainly be worse.
He picks his book up, flipping it open in his lap, but instead of reading it, he people-watches, fingers splayed over the dry pages. Sometimes he wonders what he would be like if Emma hadn't decided to be his best friend on the second day of school, squeezing his fingers while he cried on the bus and telling him, in her matter-of-fact way, that everything would be alright.
There's something infinitely comforting in having someone that is always there for you, no matter what, by choice instead of blood relation. It makes him believe he's not quite as horrible a person as he sometimes makes himself out to be, because if he were, Emma wouldn't be his friend.
A small child runs past, chubby legs pumping and arms flailing while a laughing mother, or maybe sister, chases after. Jesse smiles, following them with his eyes until the mother/sister swoops the child up in her arms and it shrieks with laugher. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks and someone kicks up sand on Emma's blanket as they walk past. It's the first day of summer and Jesse is quite content.
--
"So," Emma says some time later, flopping down on the edge of Jesse's blanket after yet another trip into the water. "Have you seen Andrew yet?"
"He's here?" Jesse squeaks and then he flushes, looking down on his book.
"Don't know," Emma says, shrugging. "But he said this morning that he was coming."
Jesse gives her a narrow-eyed look. "And you didn't tell me this, why?"
She snorts. "I wanted you to come, silly."
It's getting really hot and Jesse's been contemplating a trip to the water for the last half an hour, but now he internally cancels all such plans. There's no way he's taking his shirt off, or coming out from under his umbrella, if Andrew might show up. He knows that Andrew probably doesn't find him the slightest bit attractive, or even consider him a remotely sexual being, but he's so not going to stack the odds by appearing shirtless in front of him. Andrew might be permanently blinded and Jesse doesn't want that on his conscience.
Emma pushes herself up to sit, stretching her tanned legs out in front of her. "If he comes up to talk to you, try not to insult him," she says. "I love you, but I have to look out for him too and sometimes you make him look like a kicked puppy."
"I'm sorry," Jesse mutters, picking at his shorts. "I don't mean to."
"Yeah, I know," she says, reaching out to pull on the sparse hair on his calf.
Justin calls out for her from down by the water and she lifts her hand to acknowledge him.
"He likes you," Jesse says, because it's pretty obvious, even to a subpar people-reader like Jesse.
"Yeah." Emma grins and pushes herself up to her feet. "I know."
Jesse smiles as she takes off towards the water. Justin's a good guy, when he isn't shaking water from his hair into Jesse's face, and Jesse's pretty sure Emma likes him right back. It's a little depressing to think about because he's pretty sure that them making kissy faces at each other will mean considerably less face-time with either of them for him - but he'll be happy for them nonetheless.
--
Andrew and his friends show up while Emma is visiting the restrooms, and they set up camp further down the beach. Jesse watches them over the edge of his book as they joke around and laugh, kicking up sand and shoving at each other. It strikes him that Andrew is a very physical person, always touching and poking, and his cheeks flush for no reason at all.
He's still watching, minutes later, when Andrew yanks his shirt over his head and chases after his friend JT into the water. When he comes back up he's dripping wet, hair messy, and Jesse forgets how to breathe. Andrew’s nipples are pink and pointy, and his stomach flat with the barest hint of a six-pack, his hips are narrow and the thin legs extending from the bottom of his black swim shorts dark with hair.
Jesse sucks in a pained breath and averts his eyes, arranging the folded-up towel he brought just in case over his lap. He tries to go back to his book, but his eyes keep straying toward Andrew and his friends, catching on the wings of Andrew's shoulder blades, his tapered back, the way his biceps bulge as he leans back on his hands. Jesse is not normally a shallow person, he cares more about the inside than the exterior, but damn Andrew is hot.
"He arrived, I see," Emma says, coming back from the restrooms and giving Jesse's towel a pointed look.
He hates her. Just a little bit.
--
Jesse has this theory that the Garfield-Stone family is surrounded by some kind of force-field that makes it impossible for Jesse to say no to them, which is how he finds himself going for a walk along the beach with Andrew.
"You need sun," Andrew said, gesturing wildly, and Jesse clambered to his feet because he was always a sucker for Andrew's expressive hands.
"This is not so bad right," Andrew says moments later, jostling Jesse's shoulder so that he almost topples into the water.
Jesse makes a noncommittal sound and carefully watches where he puts his bare feet. They've been walking side by side for almost five minutes without Jesse saying anything stupid and he'd like to keep it that way.
The sun is hot against the back of his neck and the shirt sticks to his shoulders with perspiration. He wants to pull it off, but he doesn't want to expose his scrawny chest to Andrew.
They walk past a concession stand and Andrew stills Jesse with a hand to his elbow. "I'm gonna get you a bottle of water," he says and takes off across the sand before Jesse can point out that he brought plenty of water in his cooler.
He steps further into the lake while he waits, letting the cool water lap at his knees. The air smells like wet sand and coconut oil, and goosebumps rise all over Jesse's arms. Andrew comes back carrying two water bottles and a huge smile.
"Here," he says, handing one over.
"Thanks," Jesse mutters, stepping up on the beach again and curling his toes into the sand.
"So what are your plans for the summer?" Andrew asks when they start walking again.
Jesse shrugs. "Hanging out, reading… I might help my uncle out at the bookstore if he needs me."
"Cool," Andrew says and they lapse back into silence.
"So… um… what are you doing?" Jesse asks, when the silence starts to get to him. It's not actually awkward but he worries that it might be.
"I got a job at the Ice Cream Palace," Andrew says, making a face. "I need to save up some money if I want to move out of here."
"Oh," Jesse says, and Andrew's been living abroad for two years so it's absolutely ridiculous that his heart sinks at the thought of Andrew moving again. They're not even friends, not really, not like they used to be, maybe, before Andrew moved to London.
"The uniform sucks," Andrew continues, as if Jesse offered some actual input. "I look like a dork in it."
Jesse sincerely doubts that, but he says, "How can you tell? You look like a dork in everything," and for once he gets the tone right and Andrew laughs instead of flinching.
Talking gets easier after that. Jesse doesn't second guess himself so much, and by the time they come back to their end of the beach, Jesse is actually, genuinely, enjoying himself.
That is, of course, when Joe appears out of nowhere and tackles Jesse into the water, shouting something that sounds suspiciously like COWABUNGA! Half of Jesse's startled inhale happens underwater and he breaks the surface coughing and sputtering, flailing his arms about like a windmill. Joe, probably accidentally, dunks him again as he tries to get up, making him inhale even more water and this time when he figures out which way is up, he coughs so hard he's pretty sure he's turning blue, every inhale burning his throat like fire.
Suddenly there are people everywhere and lots of angry shouting and Emma kneels down by his side.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
Jesse nods and coughs some more. "Not made of sugar," he croaks.
Emma smiles and gives him a hard hug, as if she thought he might actually die from being dunked into knee-deep water. "Joe's an idiot," she says fiercely.
"He's Joe," Jesse says, and he really thinks that explains everything.
He lifts his gaze, still somewhat disoriented, to see what happened to Andrew, only to find him being held back by three of his friends, glaring daggers at a shamefaced Joe.
"If you ever…" Andrew starts, but cuts himself off, glaring some more. "Asshole," he spits.
Jesse blinks because he didn't even know Andrew could get angry. It's kind of scary but sweet.
"It's okay," Jesse mutters, still hoarse. "I'm slightly sturdier than I look."
Andrew's posture relaxes and his face softens. "Are you okay?" he asks, all knitted brows and concern.
"I'm fine," Jesse murmurs, cheeks flushing. He turns to look at Joe, offering a smile. "I'm fine."
Joe lets out a loud breath and darts forward to give Jesse a hug that almost sends them sprawling again. "Sorry," he mutters. "Please don't let your boyfriend kill me."
"He's not my…" Andrew and Jesse say at the same time, but while Andrew sounds kind of embarrassed, Jesse somehow manages to sound utterly disdainful, as if the mere thought is ludicrous (and it is, but not for the reasons Andrew might think).
Then they both blush, Andrew's friends laugh, Emma sighs, and Joe looks skeptical. Jesse thinks about drowning himself for real and everything sucks.
--
Jesse burns, of course, the back of his neck lobster red and his nose flaking. He stares at himself in Emma's bathroom mirror with despair, eyes stinging with too much sun and itchy contacts. Andrew invited them to a bonfire and Emma wanted to go, so Jesse agreed to be the designated driver. It's only Monday and his mom is already complaining about him never being home. (Not that she actually wants Jesse to be home, her mouth gets tight with worry whenever he spends too much time in his room, but she's a Jewish mother and guilt-trips are her life-blood.)
"You ready to go?" Andrew asks, clapping his hands together when Jesse gives up eyeballing himself in the mirror.
"Sure," Jesse says, wincing as he scrubs a self-conscious hand over the back of his neck.
Andrew notices and promptly makes Jesse turn around. "Oh no," he says, gently stroking a finger along the edge of the flush. "Did you put something on it?"
"No," Jesse mutters, hunching forward and silently thanking Walmart for his ill-fitting jeans.
"I have some aloe lotion in my room," Andrew says. "Wait here."
Jesse waits, head still bowed and hands shoved into his pockets.
"Who put you into the corner of shame?" Emma asks, coming into the room with a bag slung over her shoulder.
"He burned the back of his neck," Andrew explains, walking in behind her.
"How unusual," Emma says, and Andrew makes a concerned noise.
"Don't you wear sunscreen?" he chides, tugging lightly at the collar of Jesse's shirt to expose more of his neck.
"He’s a vampire," Emma says. "No amount of sunscreen can save skin that has never been exposed to the sun."
"This will be cold," Andrew warns, apologetic, and Emma makes a noise as if she's choking on her tongue, which is good because it almost masks Jesse's startled gasps when Andrew's fingers start to spread the soothing lotion over his skin.
Jesse flushes and his heart trips and he hopes that the way he pulls slightly on his shirt isn't too obvious. Andrew's fingers are magic, soft-strong and gentle and Jesse isn't used to being touched like this. He bites back a groan when Andrew's fingers dip in under his collar and shoots Emma a despairing look.
"That's enough," she says with the perfect whiny-little-sister tone. "I'm hungry."
"Yeah, okay," Andrew murmurs, voice rough, and Jesse realizes he can feel the heat of Andrew's body all along his back.
"Thanks," Jesse mutters when Andrew lets his hand drop and steps back. "That was… uh… nice."
Emma laughs and Jesse shuffles his feet, miserable.
"You should put some on your nose," Andrew says, handing him the tube.
Jesse twitches when their fingertips touch and feels like a rabbit caught in the headlights when their eyes meet. Andrew smiles, reaching up to tug lightly on one of Jesse's stray curls.
"You should take better care of yourself," he says.
It's such a big brother thing to say, but his gaze is electrifying and Jesse has no idea what's going on.
--
The bonfire turns out to be surprisingly nice. Andrew's friends are pretty cool and Jesse always relates better to people older than him. Someone brought a guitar and somehow it ends up on Jesse's lap while the others drink themselves tipsy on rum and coke and lukewarm beer.
Jesse plays every song he knows, which is not that many, singing along under his breath to the others’ bellows because he doesn't really think his voice holds up for an audience. Andrew mock-wrestles with JT and ends up face first in the sand, sputtering indignantly, and he's beautiful in the flickering golden light coming from the fire.
Jesse hands the guitar along once he's exhausted his meager repertoire and accepts a beer from one of Andrew's friends. Emma's on the other side of the fire sitting next to Justin, who Jesse didn't even know was coming, and Jesse smiles at the way Emma leans in close to talk to him, her long hair brushing across his shoulder.
"You having fun?" Andrew asks, sliding down to sit next to Jesse and stretching his legs out.
"Yeah," Jesse admits, staring into the fire so that he won't have to look at Andrew while he can still feel the ghost of his touch across his neck.
Andrew has a plastic cup in his hand, more rum and coke by the smell of it and lifts it to his lips, catching Jesse's gaze.
"Want some?" he asks.
"Driving," Jesse reminds him.
"Maybe you'd be a less tense driver if you were drunk," Andrew suggests, lips pulling into a smile.
"Maybe I'd drive us all over the edge of a cliff," Jesse retorts.
"True… but we can always pick the car up tomorrow," Andrew says, holding the cup up again.
Jesse blinks, frowning slightly. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asks and Andrew lets the cup drop.
"I… uh…" Andrew looks uncomfortable. "Of course not. I just thought… maybe… you needed to relax."
"Do I look tense?" Jesse asks, and it comes out sharper than he intended, which he supposes kind of proves Andrew's point.
"No… no… just…" Andrew sighs and shrugs, his shoulder rubbing against Jesse's arm. "Everything always turns so awkward between us and I just… I kinda miss the way we were… You know, when it was easy."
Jesse gives him a wry glance. "You mean before I hit puberty."
Andrew laughs and shakes his head. "Just… I don't know, before Hanukkah maybe? When you still wrote me letters."
"Oh," Jesse says, flushing. "I didn't know you read them."
Andrew brought Shannon home for Hanukkah, beautiful, funny, perfect Shannon, and Jesse stopped writing letters because next to her he felt like an awkward child.
"Of course I read them," Andrew says, aghast. "I loved them. I know I wrote you back to tell you so don't even try."
Jesse shrugs, swallowing thickly. "You had Shannon and I thought… maybe… that… I didn't want to impose. Uh…I'm sorry about the breakup… I don't think I said that."
"It was…" Andrew hesitates. "It was a mutual decision," he says. "I mean… it sucked that we didn't work out but it's…it's okay. We're still friends or, you know, we will be."
Jesse doesn't know. His first and only kiss was from a drunk girl at a party two nights ago and the closest he's come to being intimate with someone was Andrew rubbing lotion on his neck. He's not going to say that though and he doesn't think Andrew expects his input anyway so he just sips from his beer that is already going stale, and nods.
"So how about you?" Andrew asks. "Is there a special someone in your life?"
Jesse rolls his eyes. "No," he says curtly.
"Are you sure? Because that was an awful lot of lipstick you were wearing the other night."
Andrew's teasing him, Jesse knows that, but somehow it just stings and it makes him feel itchy inside.
"I'm fucking sure, okay?" he bites out and Andrew's flinch transplants through his skin. "Sorry," he says quickly. "Sorry. I…" He trails off, shaking his head.
"Yeah," Andrew says with a sigh and collapses down on his back. "I miss the less awkward days."
Jesse sighs too, staring down at where the sand has buried the toes of his sneakers. "Yeah," he mutters, "Me too."
--
Wednesday through Friday Jesse works at his uncle's bookstore, because while he was talking things out with Andrew (without reaching any kind of conclusion) his uncle made friends with a bad shrimp cocktail.
Jesse loves the bookstore. It's small and crowded and smells like wet cat and old books. All kinds of people come in on any given day, looking for rare books or just browsing, and Jesse has no problem interacting with people when he has purpose and an assigned role.
The first two days are pretty enjoyable; he talks to the regulars, cleans up among the shelves and sells a lot of books. Occasionally, Milo, his uncle's other employee, comes in to help out with new deliveries and boxes to be sent out even though he's busy with summer classes. Jesse likes Milo, he's cool in all the ways Jesse isn't, but so incredibly nice about it. If Jesse wasn't already helplessly in love with Andrew, he's pretty sure he would be crushing hard on Milo. (Sometimes his feelings for Andrew are actually a help instead of a hindrance. Go figure.)
Friday, on the other hand, sucks. He gets yelled at on three different occasions by four different people, the power goes out for an hour and he has to huddle in the dark to protect the cash register, and then one of the smaller shelves, overflowing and rickety, decides to give up its continuous struggle with gravity and falls over on him.
Naturally, that's when a customer walks in, the doorbell chiming merrily to alert Jesse to its presence.
"I'm in the back," he calls out. "It'll just… ouch… be a minute."
He hopes it's not a robber, but with the way this day is going, it's bound to be.
"Please don't rob me," he adds as an afterthought. "I'm small and harmless and we don't really make that much money."
Someone sighs, deep and heaving with a dramatic flair. Jesse looks up to find Andrew looking down at him, expression caught between worry and amusement. Jesse groans, trying to detangle his legs from the remains of the shelf.
"Hey," Andrew says. "Stay still. Are you hurt?"
Jesse’s pride seems to have taken the hardest hit (as usual) so he shakes his head. "What are you doing here?" he asks, when Andrew crouches down and starts moving the books around.
"Emma sent me to get you," Andrew answers. "Boy trouble, I think. She said to bring you, a pint of Ben & Jerry's, and Joe's head on a plate."
"What did Joe do?"
Andrew shrugs. "No idea, but I admit I was tempted for a moment. Brought a plate and everything. I'm glad I waited though, because in light of recent events I'm beginning to think you're just freakishly accident prone."
Jesse flushes and crawls out from under the shelf when Andrew lifts it, staring at the mess of paperbacks all over the floor.
"I just put them back in order," he says mournfully.
Andrew straightens up the frame and tries to fix the shelves that fell out. "I'll help you put them back," he says. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," Jesse says, climbing to his feet and dusting off the knees of his jeans. "I'll probably be black and blue in the morning, but it's nothing that won't heal."
Andrew pokes at the shelf, listing noticeably to the side and shelves askew. "I'm afraid it won't make it," he says.
Jesse hums in agreement, but his eyes seem to be more interested in the way Andrew's biceps bulge when he moves his arm than in the sad state of the bookshelf. "We'll have to put the books into boxes," he says, not at all thinking about Andrew carrying them.
Jesse gets boxes from the backroom and between the two of them it only takes a few minutes to load all the books. They take the boxes back into the backroom (Andrew's biceps do bulge amazingly) and manage to dismantle the shelf and bring it back there too. Jesse feels guilty about making Andrew help him, but Andrew, unsurprisingly, waves away all of his apologies and asks if Jesse's really fine about a hundred more times.
--
Emma's sulking when Jesse arrives, head shoved into a pile of pillows and arms spread over the duvet.
"Took you long enough," she mutters.
"We had to chase down Joe," Jesse says. "Weirdly enough he didn't want to be beheaded."
Emma flops over on her back and pulls the pillows away. "He told Justin why he shouldn't ask me out. There was a spreadsheet."
Jesse smiles. "Allow me to guess: because you are way too good for him?"
Emma snorts and sits up, making grabby hand motions for the ice cream. "Apparently I'm 27% more likely to cheat than your average girlfriend and the fact that I have a sassy gay friend is a serious disadvantage."
Jesse wrinkles his nose. "He called me sassy? Did he maybe mistake me for another Jesse?"
"Joe's an idiot," Emma says sourly. "Who knows what he was thinking."
Jesse sits down on the edge of the bed, watching Emma's face as she digs in to the ice cream. She's hard to read sometimes, up until now Jesse wasn't even sure she actually wanted Justin to ask her out. She tells Jesse more than she tells anyone else, but when it comes to romance she holds her cards close to her chest.
"So you like him then," he says, nudging her knee.
She flushes, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "I suppose," she admits grudgingly. "It's just… he's a good guy, you know? It might not work out but he's not going to screw me over… and he's cute."
Jesse laughs. "Yeah." He nudges her knee again and scoots further up the bed to sit next to her. "If he really wants to ask you out," he says. "He won't listen to Joe."
"I know," she mutters, offering Jesse the ice cream. "It's just… what if he actually doesn't?"
Jesse tries to think of something a sassy gay friend would say but pulls up a blank. "I don't know," he says instead, head butting her shoulder. "But he will."
--
On Saturday morning Jesse goes to the mini golf course with Justin and Joe. He wins all three rounds and bikes back home pretty certain that Justin will ask Emma out and that Joe doesn't actually disapprove. Not too bad for a morning's work, he thinks, and feels kind of sassy.
--
On Saturday night they go to another party. Jesse's not even sure whose house they're at and Emma disappeared to "take a walk" with Justin an hour ago. The only other people around that he knows are Emma's girlfriends and the only things Jesse has in common with them are Emma and a huge crush on Andrew, which makes for somewhat stilted conversation.
He gives Emma a whole hour before he gives up, puts his drink down and texts Emma that he's going home. She texts back an okay, which probably means she isn't planning on coming back any time soon. After a moment a second text arrives: Call Andrew. He'll give you a ride.
Don't want to, Jesse answers.
Liar. Fine, I'll call.
Jesse thinks about stopping her, but then he sits down on the curb and doesn't. He's had enough to drink that he can admit, even to himself, that he does want to see Andrew, even if everything turns awkward and weird. Besides, it'd take him an hour to walk back home from here and his parents are out having dinner with friends. His phone beeps with another text message, this one from Andrew.
Ten minutes. Try to not hurt yourself.
Jesse smiles and sends back a quick thanks. Andrew, he thinks, worries way too much about his personal safety.
--
"Hey," Andrew says when Jesse jumps in to the car, smiling in a way that makes him look about twelve. "Where to?"
"Uh… home I guess," Jesse says, leaning back in his seat and turning the radio down low.
He sneaks a glance at Andrew, at the downy hair on his tan forearms and the way his t-shirt falls over his chest. Andrew raises his eyebrows at him.
"You don't want to… I dunno, grab an ice cream or something?"
Jesse flushes a little and worries his lower lip. "Sure," he says.
They end up going to the Ice Cream Palace and the cute girl behind the counter greets Andrew like an old friend and gives them a discount.
"The only good thing about working here," Andrew whispers on their way out, and Jesse doesn't know if he means the discount or the girl.
--
They end up in a nearby park, sitting on a bench with their legs stretched out, licking at their ice creams and talking about random things. It's nice, comfortable, and not the slightest bit awkward. Andrew talks a lot about London and his friends there and what kind of movies he hopes to be in one day. Jesse talks about school, and books, and theatre, and shyly admits that he's definitely trying out for the school play again next year.
"That's awesome," Andrew says, curling his hand around Jesse’s wrist. "You'll be awesome."
"I'm probably going to throw up on stage… again," Jesse says, staring at Andrew's tanned fingers on his pale skin.
Andrew snorts. "Emma swears no one noticed," he says.
"I did," Jesse whines and Andrew laughs.
"Wish I'd been there," Andrew says, nudging Jesse's shoulder. "I'm sure you were great."
Their ice creams are long gone and Jesse waits for Andrew to get up and put an end to their outing, but he doesn't. He just holds on to Jesse's wrist in the dark and talks about everything and nothing.
"You do know you're basically holding my hand, right?" Jesse asks after a while, still hyper aware of Andrew's touch and unable to even begin to decipher what it means.
"Do you mind?" Andrew asks softly.
Jesse flushes and bites at his lower lip. "No," he admits.
Andrew slides his hand down to cover Jesse's, palm warm and a bit sweaty against Jesse's skin. "I think you are amazing," Andrew says, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the bone protruding at the end of Jesse's wrist.
"I don't even know what that means," Jesse says weakly, stomach full of butterflies with razor-sharp wings.
"It means that…"
Andrew's interrupted by his phone ringing and he lets go of Jesse's hand as he fishes it out of his pocket.
"Hey…hey, hey what? Calm down. Where are you?"
Andrew jumps up from the bench and starts moving back toward the car. Jesse follows after him, his stomach tying into knots at the frantic tone of Andrew's voice.
"Yeah, yeah… Okay. Stay there. I'm coming to get you, okay? Here, talk to Jesse."
Andrew dumps the phone into Jesse's numb hands and gets the car keys out.
"Uh…hello?" Jesse says.
He feels like a horrible person for being relieved when he realizes it's not Emma, but Andrew’s friend Rooney, because she sounds like she's really freaked out. He gets the story in starts and stops, in between sobbed breaths, and he doesn't even know what he's saying but it seems to be the right things because she calms down a bit.
"He just… he scared me, you know? His eyes turned black and I thought he was actually going to…"
"It's okay," Jesse murmurs. "He didn't. You're safe now."
"Yeah," she breathes. "Okay."
She's at a McDonalds, random beeps and inane chatter filtering over the line. Safe, surrounded by people, but Jesse still feels as if he can't breathe right and he barely knows her. He's got his eyes closed, one hand curled hard around the phone and the other hanging on to the door, saying inane nothings in the tone he'd use to soothe a spooked cat.
Jesse is the first one out of the car when they get there, sprinting towards the entrance before Andrew's even put the car in park. He hears Andrew call out, but he doesn't care what he's saying because Rooney's still crying silently on the line and Jesse might not be much to cling to but he's better than nothing.
Rooney spots him right away, launching herself into his arms without a second of hesitation, pressing her tear-wet face into his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispers, as he wraps his arms gently around her back.
She's tiny, heart fluttering like that of a rabbit against Jesse's chest and her long hair tangles around his fingers. He feels too small, wishes he was two feet taller with broad shoulders and hands like plates.
"Come on," Jesse says softly. "Let's get you home."
"Okay," she murmurs.
--
Rooney calms down in the car and Jesse can tell she's feeling a little embarrassed about the whole thing so he randomly tells her about when he was seven and cried every day on the bus. She actually laughs at that and wipes the mascara stains from her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
"You're cute," she tells him and presses a kiss to his cheek.
Jesse flushes and Andrew clears his throat in the front seat.
"Well, you're cute too," Rooney says. "But Jesse's my hero today."
She snuggles into Jesse's side and Jesse awkwardly slings an arm around her shoulders and thinks that if he was straight he'd probably be in heaven right now.
Andrew whines something that sounds an awful lot like, "Stop touching him," and Jesse wonders if it's maybe meant for him, if he should pull his arm away, but then Rooney flips Andrew off and says,
"No guts, no glory, Garfield," and Jesse is more confused than ever.
--
It's not until much later when Jesse's curled up in bed that he remembers about Andrew holding his hand and the moment that shattered into a million pieces. He wonders if he'll ever get to know what that was all about.
--
Emma starts not dating Justin, which to Jesse looks just like actual dating but apparently it isn't, and Andrew's friends from London come over for a visit. Jesse meets them once, before they all take off on an impromptu road trip, and his heart shrivels like a sad, wilting bracken because they're all beautiful, all perfect, and Andrew looks like he belongs with them.
Jesse spends the better part of a week alone, moping. He hangs out with Joe a little, goes to the lake once but regrets it within five minutes, writes a little on his screenplay and helps his mom out in the garden. Sometimes Andrew texts him about stupid silly things that they see on the road and Jesse spends hours agonizing over his replies, not wanting to pound home just how uncool he is compared to Andrew's real friends.
He spends a lot of time wishing he had someone else's life, uncomfortable, as always, in his own skin.
--
On Saturday, the day Andrew's friends go back to London, Milo unexpectedly calls and asks if Jesse wants to check out a play with him and since Jesse is getting kind of tired of moping he says yes.
The play is pretty good and afterward they go out for drinks with Milo's friends from the cast. The bar is small and crowded, but they don't ask for Jesse's ID and he gets more than a little tipsy on mojitos and frozen margaritas, the alcohol bitter on his tongue.
They move on to a club and someone holds Jesse’s hands and he wonders what exactly he's doing with all of these cool people but occasionally he makes someone laugh and this weird feeling of pride blossoms in his chest.
Milo's drunk too and he touches Jesse a lot but it's not until Milo tries to kiss him in the narrow hall outside the bathrooms that Jesse actually gets it. He turns his head away at the last instant and Milo's lips land sloppy-slick against his cheek.
"I want to suck you," Milo murmurs, pressing Jesse up against the wall and Jesse's hard, how could he not be, but he thinks about Andrew holding his hand and how that felt a thousand times more intense than Milo pressed all along his front and shakes his head.
"I'm… uh… spoken for," he says, and it's not true in the way he wants it to be, but it's still true in his heart, and Milo's angry huff doesn't even register.
--
He calls Andrew from the alley behind the club, leaning back against the scratchy brick wall. He doesn't know where Milo is, maybe he left with his friends, and he doesn't know how to get home.
"Stay right the fuck there," Andrew says, angry. "I'm coming to get you."
"Okay," Jesse says, complacent as always. His head is spinning in a slow counterpoint to the thumping bass of his heart.
"Actually, no… Jesus Jess, you can't stay in the fucking alley. Go back inside, but stay just inside the door."
"Okay," Jesse says again, already turning toward the entrance.
"Jesus Christ," Andrew hisses and Jesse can hear him talking to someone in the background. Then Emma comes on the line.
"Jesse Adam Eisenberg. Just how stupid are you?"
Jesse contemplates it. "Medium to very?"
Emma huffs, but when she speaks again her tone is soft. "I think Andrew's having a heart attack, babe, so just go inside to wait for him. Do you want me to come?"
"You should take Andrew to the hospital," he says, and Emma laughs softly.
"I know I said I wasn't going to meddle in this, but Jess, it's painfully obvious to everyone but you that my brother likes you, okay?"
Jesse's still trying to think of a retort when Andrew takes the phone back. "I'm leaving now," he says. "Wait inside."
Andrew likes me, Jesse thinks, finding a spot inside the door where he has a clear view of the street. Likes me.
It's kind of a ridiculous thought, but nice to contemplate, better than thinking about Milo on his knees.
--
"Milo tried to kiss me," Jesse says when Andrew shows up, tugging on Andrew's shirt. It's soft under Jesse's fingers, warm from Andrew's skin, and he wants, kind of a lot. "Then he said he wanted to suck me."
Jesse tilts his head back and smiles dreamily up at Andrew. "I would rather you kissed me," he says honestly.
Andrew hisses out a breath through his teeth and curls his hands around Jesse's arms but he turns his head away when Jesse tries to kiss him and Jesse's bracken heart, blossoming with the alcohol, curls in on itself.
"Sorry," he says, trying to step back but Andrew won't let him.
"Jesse," Andrew says, voice weird. "Don't…"
"It's okay," Jesse mumbles quickly. "I understand."
"No, you really don't," Andrew says tightly, letting his hands fall.
Jesse sways with the loss of contact, the ground shifting and dipping under his feet.
"Come on," Andrew says, voice still angry, and Jesse would follow him to the end of the world so he meekly shuffles after Andrew as he starts walking towards the car.
Jesse licks his lips and imagines he can taste the salt of Andrew's skin. "I'm sorry," he says to no one in particular and lets Andrew buckle him in.
--
Jesse throws up in the morning, a lot, and then he starfishes on the floor by his bed and promises whatever deity happens to be listening that he's never ever going to drink alcohol again if they just make sure things are okay with Andrew.
He shuffles down to breakfast before his mom can come to get him and pointedly ignores her knowing smirk. He sometimes wonders if she'll be as lax with Hallie Kate, his younger sister, when she grows up, or if she was as forthcoming with Kerri, his older sister. It almost makes him mad to think that his mom, of all people, treats him differently because he's a boy, but then he realizes that it's probably not because he's a boy, but because he's Jesse, and feels a bit better about the whole thing.
"Did you have fun last night?" his mom asks, pushing a coffee cup across the table and into his hands.
His stomach churns at the heady scent of it but he still sips gingerly from the rim.
"I tried to kiss Andrew," he confesses, blushing into his cup.
Hallie Kate giggles and Jesse thinks about shoving her in the shoulder, but doesn't.
"You mean he stopped you?" his mom asks, and when Jesse looks up she's frowning.
Jesse shrugs and blushes some more. He thinks about what Emma said, about Andrew liking him, and chews nervously on his lower lip. Even if Andrew did like him (past tense) he probably realized what an absolute dork Jesse is last night and stopped.
"Don't worry," Hallie Kate says, patting his elbow. "He still likes you."
"You can't know that," Jesse mutters. "You're eight."
"Yeah," Hallie Kate agrees. "But I can also see him pacing back and forth on the front lawn."
Jesse jerks his head up and she's right, Andrew is pacing back and forth outside, mouth moving as if he's talking to himself and hands shoved into his pockets. He's very pretty, Jesse thinks, even if he looks a bit crazy.
His mom cranes her neck to follow Jesse's gaze and when she looks back she's smirking again; sometimes Jesse really hates her (except he really, really doesn't). "Do we need to have the talk again?" she asks.
"Please, dear god, no," Jesse says, eyes widening with horror. "And you're not… you're not allowed to talk to Andrew… or look at him… or be near him even."
"You should put him out of his misery," Hallie Kate remarks, reaching for another piece of toast.
"Yeah," Jesse says, pleased and nervous and miserable at the same time as he pushes away from the table. "I'm just gonna…"
"You should invite him for breakfast," Amy says.
Jesse cannot actually think of a worse horror than having Andrew eat breakfast with his mom and Hallie Kate after last night (except, maybe, if his dad and Kerri join in as well) and he pretty much catapults himself outside, intent on removing Andrew from the premises.
"Jesse," Andrew says when he spots him. "Uh…hi."
"We have to…" Jesse says frantically, gesturing toward Andrew's car at the curb. "Quickly."
"No," Andrew says, grabbing Jesse's shoulders. "No, I have to… I have to say this. I've been practicing all morning. Did you have breakfast yet? You look a little pale."
"I'm always pale," Jesse points out.
"Yes, but this is like… green pale. Famished pale."
"There's no such thing as famished pale," Jesse says dismissively, and then a thought hits him, "But actually… I didn't have breakfast. So you should take me out… for breakfast… so that I don't starve and uh… faint and hit my head."
Andrew looks like he thinks this is actually a possibility, rubbing his hands over Jesse's arms. "Yes, of course," he says. "We could always…" He gestures towards the house and Jesse almost shouts his protest.
"Erm…" he says when Andrew flinches at his volume. "I mean… I'd rather go somewhere else."
"Okay," Andrew says, smiling. "Anywhere you want to."
Jesse glances at the kitchen window where his mom and Hallie Kate are watching with their noses pretty much pressed up against the glass. "Would London be out of the question?" he asks despairingly.
"I'd love to take you to London," Andrew says, eyes lighting up, and Jesse wonders if this conversation will come back to bite him in the ass in the form of a plane and two tickets to the UK.
--
They end up at Andrew's favorite café, a cozy place squished in between a grocery store and a Laundromat that smells like jasmine and cinnamon buns, and Jesse finds himself treated to tea and scones with clotted cream and four types of jam.
"A little piece of England," Andrew says, beaming, and Jesse tries to not throw up.
"Uh…thanks," he says, nibbling on a piece of scone. It's nice and sweet against his tongue and it goes down a lot easier than expected.
"So… um… about last night," Andrew says, cheeks flushing underneath his tan. "I… uh…"
"Please don't…" Jesse whispers. "I… I was drunk and um… stupid. I shouldn't have... mmphmmp."
Andrew’s palm is sweaty, making Jesse's mouth taste like salt, and he gives Jesse a pleading look. "Please, be quiet," he says.
Jesse nods, eyes wide and frightened.
"Okay," Andrew says, inhaling sharply. "Okay."
Jesse waits for him to say something with bated breath, but Andrew seems more interested in shredding an innocent napkin between his fingers, biting at his lips in a way that is intimately familiar.
"Okay," Andrew says eventually. "Jesse… um… Jess, I really like you. Like like you, as in I-want-to-have-sex-with-you like you." He groans and cuts himself off, banging his forehead against the edge of the table. "I wasn't supposed to say that," he whines.
"Uh…" Jesse says, cheeks flaming, and he's pretty sure the smell of cinnamon will make him pop a boner for the rest of his life.
"No, no… let me finish." Andrew takes a deep breath and grabs Jesse's trembling hands across the table. "Jesse, would you go out with me? We don't have to have sex… um… right away, or at all, really, if you don't want to… I would just really really like to take you out… on a date."
Jesse stares at their linked hands and then at Andrew's face, and his neck, and his biceps, and tries really hard to not think about having sex with him.
"You're free to answer me any minute now," Andrew says, looking as if he's actually worried that Jesse might say no.
Jesse thinks about having sex with him.
"Okay," he says.
Andrew's answering grin makes his stomach flutter. "Yay," he says, very seriously, and squeezes Jesse's hands.
--
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