Love, Death, and a World In Flames (Chapter One)
Title: Love, Death, and a World in Flames (Chapter One)
Author: Slashyelizabeth
Pairing: Jesse Eisenberg/Andrew Garfield
Rating: Overall NC-17 for sex, very bad language, and the violence that occurs when you’re being chased by zombies.
Summary: Falling in love at the end of the world. Crossover with Zombieland.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction. I do not intend this to imply anything about the real lives of Jesse Eisenberg and Andrew Garfield. Similarly, I do not own Zombieland and its characters. I make no profit from this.
Warnings: Violence and references to heterosexual stuff (implied Jesse/Wichita in one chapter)
Word Count: 1,249
Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo. Flashbacks are in italics.
Notes Part Two: I suppose the summary kind of speaks for itself. But for those who have not seen Zombieland-and really, you should see it as soon as possible-then here’s some background info. Tallahassee is played by Woody Harrelson, Wichita is played by Emma Stone, and Little Rock is played by Abigail Breslin. Jesse Eisenberg’s Zombieland character, Columbus, is not included in this story. This is not meant to be a parody/crack!fic, in spite of Zombieland being a comedy. Finally, the reference made to something David Fincher said about Jesse is an actual quote from New York Magazine.
Andrew’s lashes cast a delicate shadow on his high cheekbones, and that sight is the only thing that seems right with the world. Jesse tries not to turn his head and look at his friend sleeping in the passenger seat, but whenever the hyperventilation starts he finds he needs an anchor. That anchor is Andrew.
Jesse is envious of Andrew’s ability to sleep right now, though he knows it’s due to the Ambien that Jesse practically forced down his throat. He had ignored Andrew’s protests that they both needed to be awake, and besides it wasn’t even his prescription. Maybe it was selfish to make Andrew take the pill, but it hurt Jesse too much to see him in such a state of panic. And it was, in a twisted way, an act of mercy. If there was a sudden attack, Andrew would be buried in dreams, unable to feel anything. The pill would wear off, of course. But Jesse felt it was the least he could do for now.
It was only natural that after Jesse’s agent told him who had been cast as Eduardo Saverin he had gone to iMDB and Wikipedia to find out what he could. He rented Boy A and Lions For Lambs, both of which greatly impressed him. This Garfield guy not only had talent, but plausibly resembled Saverin - or, at least, a genetically blessed Hollywood version of him. Suddenly he was looking forward to the first read-through of the script even more.
The highway shoulder is littered with cars that have either stalled or been in an accident, and people are sprinting on the median. There are two of the infected crouching behind a tree, and Jesse averts his gaze a moment too late to avoid seeing the horror of a woman being devoured. Can’t be real. Can’t be real. Can’t be real.
But he knows it is.
Yes, Jesse knew Andrew was British. Still, he was caught off-guard by the mellifluous accent that accompanied Andrew’s introduction.
“You must be Jesse.”
“Right, and you’re Andrew.”
Andrew’s smile lit up his face, and they had only a few seconds to talk before it was time to do the round-the-table perfunctory intros and delve into reading Aaron’s script. Jesse had what felt like years listening to every piece of Mark Zuckerberg footage, and it seems to have paid off judging by the smile on Aaron’s face. What had David said to him at that first audition? That Jesse could ‘do Sorkin better than Sorkin’? It felt good to read this part. Really good.
And when Andrew starts reading Eduardo’s lines, talking about the cease-and-desist letter and asking Mark “Is there anything you need to tell me?” Jesse is knocked out by the commitment Andrew puts forth.
This, Jesse realizes, is going to be a fucking great shoot.
There are countless reasons why Jesse is thankful for being cast as Mark Zuckerberg. Five days ago those reasons included getting to speak the words of Aaron Sorkin, being directed by David Fincher, the opportunity to do karaoke with Justin fucking Timberlake, and the knowledge that this film was something he would always be proud of. But now only one reason to be thankful matters anymore. It’s because if Jesse hadn’t won the role, if he hadn’t met Andrew, if he hadn’t gained that friendship and spent months letting the other man into his heart, then he would be alone right now.
And so he looks once more at Andrew’s face, peaceful against all odds, and keeps driving.
* * *
It’s still light out when Andrew wakes up, but the low position of the sun indicates that it’s the next morning. A quick look at his watch confirms that he’s been out for fourteen hours. Given that the car is still speeding down the highway, it means Jesse has been driving all night. The sleeping pills knocked him out, but he’s pretty sure he would have woken up if Jesse had dragged him into a hotel room or rest area. Not that Jesse could carry him anywhere, Andrew supposes, but that’s beside the point.
He casts a furtive glance at the figure hunched over the steering wheel. Jesse’s posture is always horrible, but this is the first time it’s sad rather than endearing. Andrew’s heart hurts at the sight of Jesse’s fingers wrapped around the wheel, as if the strangling grip will crush all the madness in the world. Jesse doesn’t deserve this. Nobody does.
Andrew first saw The Squid and the Whale two years before he won the role of Eduardo. It’s the only thing he’s seen Jesse Eisenberg in, but it’s enough to make him excited about the opportunity to co-star with him. A quick YouTube search pulls up a few videos - nothing terribly in-depth but, again, enough to make Andrew optimistic. He’s cuter than the real Mark, too. Alright, maybe that’s uncalled for. But that hair is so cute. A Jewfro, it’s apparently called. It’s cute as hell. Cute, cute, cute.
He didn’t dream at all last night (seriously, what’s in those magic pills?), and in the cold light of day he studiously tries to keep his mind blank. Part of him wonders where they’re headed. Part of him knows the destination doesn’t matter. There’s no getting to England. All flights have been suspended pretty much throughout the world. Untold millions of people are stranded in countries not their own, and Andrew is one of them.
He could tell that Jesse was amused by his fussing over him, but it wasn’t a mocking bemusement. In all honesty, Andrew didn’t mean to dote on him like that. It just seemed to be part of the natural order of life. It was easy to chalk it up to some kind of method acting. Eduardo had said that Mark “needs protecting.” So maybe that’s just some transference on Andrew’s part. But as days passed and filming progressed, Andrew found it more and more difficult to deny that the concern and affection he projects for Jesse has anything to do with Mark and Eduardo.
The more Andrew worried that he’s being obvious about his feelings, the more he tripped over his feet trying to act normal - which inevitably backfired and makes him completely obvious. At least, that’s what he thought. Jesse didn’t seem to notice.
“You’re making my life very difficult,” Jesse said one day after Take 76 of a deposition scene.
“What do you mean?”
“Your big beautiful Bambi eyes look so hurt when you talk about this stuff.”
Andrew batted his eyes and relished Jesse’s attempts to stifle laughter. “I don’t mean to make things difficult.”
“Yeah, but I kind of hate seeing you that upset. And I’m smart enough to know it’s acting, but still…”
“I know.”
His eyes droop closed again and he tries to ignore everything other than the hum of the engine. He refuses to think about how it’s only been five days since all of this started, how everything has turned to chaos and cruelty. There’s a sensation of being pressed up against a wall of despair, having his throat squeezed by a figure comprised of solitude. He fights the nausea welling up and focuses on the knowledge that he’s not alone. Jesse is here, and that is something Andrew can hold on to.
Author: Slashyelizabeth
Pairing: Jesse Eisenberg/Andrew Garfield
Rating: Overall NC-17 for sex, very bad language, and the violence that occurs when you’re being chased by zombies.
Summary: Falling in love at the end of the world. Crossover with Zombieland.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction. I do not intend this to imply anything about the real lives of Jesse Eisenberg and Andrew Garfield. Similarly, I do not own Zombieland and its characters. I make no profit from this.
Warnings: Violence and references to heterosexual stuff (implied Jesse/Wichita in one chapter)
Word Count: 1,249
Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo. Flashbacks are in italics.
Notes Part Two: I suppose the summary kind of speaks for itself. But for those who have not seen Zombieland-and really, you should see it as soon as possible-then here’s some background info. Tallahassee is played by Woody Harrelson, Wichita is played by Emma Stone, and Little Rock is played by Abigail Breslin. Jesse Eisenberg’s Zombieland character, Columbus, is not included in this story. This is not meant to be a parody/crack!fic, in spite of Zombieland being a comedy. Finally, the reference made to something David Fincher said about Jesse is an actual quote from New York Magazine.
Andrew’s lashes cast a delicate shadow on his high cheekbones, and that sight is the only thing that seems right with the world. Jesse tries not to turn his head and look at his friend sleeping in the passenger seat, but whenever the hyperventilation starts he finds he needs an anchor. That anchor is Andrew.
Jesse is envious of Andrew’s ability to sleep right now, though he knows it’s due to the Ambien that Jesse practically forced down his throat. He had ignored Andrew’s protests that they both needed to be awake, and besides it wasn’t even his prescription. Maybe it was selfish to make Andrew take the pill, but it hurt Jesse too much to see him in such a state of panic. And it was, in a twisted way, an act of mercy. If there was a sudden attack, Andrew would be buried in dreams, unable to feel anything. The pill would wear off, of course. But Jesse felt it was the least he could do for now.
It was only natural that after Jesse’s agent told him who had been cast as Eduardo Saverin he had gone to iMDB and Wikipedia to find out what he could. He rented Boy A and Lions For Lambs, both of which greatly impressed him. This Garfield guy not only had talent, but plausibly resembled Saverin - or, at least, a genetically blessed Hollywood version of him. Suddenly he was looking forward to the first read-through of the script even more.
The highway shoulder is littered with cars that have either stalled or been in an accident, and people are sprinting on the median. There are two of the infected crouching behind a tree, and Jesse averts his gaze a moment too late to avoid seeing the horror of a woman being devoured. Can’t be real. Can’t be real. Can’t be real.
But he knows it is.
Yes, Jesse knew Andrew was British. Still, he was caught off-guard by the mellifluous accent that accompanied Andrew’s introduction.
“You must be Jesse.”
“Right, and you’re Andrew.”
Andrew’s smile lit up his face, and they had only a few seconds to talk before it was time to do the round-the-table perfunctory intros and delve into reading Aaron’s script. Jesse had what felt like years listening to every piece of Mark Zuckerberg footage, and it seems to have paid off judging by the smile on Aaron’s face. What had David said to him at that first audition? That Jesse could ‘do Sorkin better than Sorkin’? It felt good to read this part. Really good.
And when Andrew starts reading Eduardo’s lines, talking about the cease-and-desist letter and asking Mark “Is there anything you need to tell me?” Jesse is knocked out by the commitment Andrew puts forth.
This, Jesse realizes, is going to be a fucking great shoot.
There are countless reasons why Jesse is thankful for being cast as Mark Zuckerberg. Five days ago those reasons included getting to speak the words of Aaron Sorkin, being directed by David Fincher, the opportunity to do karaoke with Justin fucking Timberlake, and the knowledge that this film was something he would always be proud of. But now only one reason to be thankful matters anymore. It’s because if Jesse hadn’t won the role, if he hadn’t met Andrew, if he hadn’t gained that friendship and spent months letting the other man into his heart, then he would be alone right now.
And so he looks once more at Andrew’s face, peaceful against all odds, and keeps driving.
* * *
It’s still light out when Andrew wakes up, but the low position of the sun indicates that it’s the next morning. A quick look at his watch confirms that he’s been out for fourteen hours. Given that the car is still speeding down the highway, it means Jesse has been driving all night. The sleeping pills knocked him out, but he’s pretty sure he would have woken up if Jesse had dragged him into a hotel room or rest area. Not that Jesse could carry him anywhere, Andrew supposes, but that’s beside the point.
He casts a furtive glance at the figure hunched over the steering wheel. Jesse’s posture is always horrible, but this is the first time it’s sad rather than endearing. Andrew’s heart hurts at the sight of Jesse’s fingers wrapped around the wheel, as if the strangling grip will crush all the madness in the world. Jesse doesn’t deserve this. Nobody does.
Andrew first saw The Squid and the Whale two years before he won the role of Eduardo. It’s the only thing he’s seen Jesse Eisenberg in, but it’s enough to make him excited about the opportunity to co-star with him. A quick YouTube search pulls up a few videos - nothing terribly in-depth but, again, enough to make Andrew optimistic. He’s cuter than the real Mark, too. Alright, maybe that’s uncalled for. But that hair is so cute. A Jewfro, it’s apparently called. It’s cute as hell. Cute, cute, cute.
He didn’t dream at all last night (seriously, what’s in those magic pills?), and in the cold light of day he studiously tries to keep his mind blank. Part of him wonders where they’re headed. Part of him knows the destination doesn’t matter. There’s no getting to England. All flights have been suspended pretty much throughout the world. Untold millions of people are stranded in countries not their own, and Andrew is one of them.
He could tell that Jesse was amused by his fussing over him, but it wasn’t a mocking bemusement. In all honesty, Andrew didn’t mean to dote on him like that. It just seemed to be part of the natural order of life. It was easy to chalk it up to some kind of method acting. Eduardo had said that Mark “needs protecting.” So maybe that’s just some transference on Andrew’s part. But as days passed and filming progressed, Andrew found it more and more difficult to deny that the concern and affection he projects for Jesse has anything to do with Mark and Eduardo.
The more Andrew worried that he’s being obvious about his feelings, the more he tripped over his feet trying to act normal - which inevitably backfired and makes him completely obvious. At least, that’s what he thought. Jesse didn’t seem to notice.
“You’re making my life very difficult,” Jesse said one day after Take 76 of a deposition scene.
“What do you mean?”
“Your big beautiful Bambi eyes look so hurt when you talk about this stuff.”
Andrew batted his eyes and relished Jesse’s attempts to stifle laughter. “I don’t mean to make things difficult.”
“Yeah, but I kind of hate seeing you that upset. And I’m smart enough to know it’s acting, but still…”
“I know.”
His eyes droop closed again and he tries to ignore everything other than the hum of the engine. He refuses to think about how it’s only been five days since all of this started, how everything has turned to chaos and cruelty. There’s a sensation of being pressed up against a wall of despair, having his throat squeezed by a figure comprised of solitude. He fights the nausea welling up and focuses on the knowledge that he’s not alone. Jesse is here, and that is something Andrew can hold on to.