In An Instant
Chapter 2: Caffeinated Egos
GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?
MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!
WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.
PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.
WORD COUNT: 6300
"You know, there's no need to stare at me so hard. If I haven't exploded yet, I don't think I will be at all."
Carson scowled, slouching in his chair at their table, eyes moving to the lid of his still steaming coffee.
"You never know. They say if you want something enough…"
"Well, if that were true you and I would be having a threesome in my dorm right now with either Rosario Dawson or Zac Effron. He was only okay as Link in Hairspray, and fell short of Matt Morrison in the Broadway version, but you can just tell he knows how to use his mouth and he's got a nice amount of weight in the industry right now. Rosario is self-explanatory. You know, on second thought, while I'm wanting things, I say make that an orgy, and throw in Idina Menzel for good measure. Her talent is off the charts, as is her sex appeal. My last show choir coach actually looked a lot like her and had a similar voice. When we had sex it was almost as if it was half with Shelby and half with Idina. That was a good night."
Carson pressed his fingertips to his temples halfway through this speech, then moved to curl his hand tautly about his coffee cup and take a sip. He choked a bit on the scalding liquid at the last part of Jesse's diatribe, the black coffee burning his tongue and throat, but used the sensation to distract himself from the images the ego across from him had conjured up, and the confusion when the images were both completely disgusting and maybe the tiniest bit erotic. He didn't need any more on his plate right now.
"No. Stop. Look, okay, I honestly don't care who you want to have sex with, and I don't want to hear about it, unless you'll let me use it for my article, in which case I'd need my recorder out, and some earplugs so that I can avoid constantly throwing up. More importantly, you exploding isn't impossible, but the two of us ever screwing is. Now, can we get back to the original subject please?"
Jesse slid back languidly in his chair, lounging handsomely as he sipped some sort of complicated Frappuccino that he'd taken forever to order.
"Fine. I wanted to work out a deal between us."
"You can't pay to have sex with me."
Jesse laughed.
"Oh, that's cute. I actually thought you might have a low self-esteem earlier, but you're estimating your worth a little high now. You're nowhere near hot enough or talented enough for me to pay for you to do anything. No, I want to use your mind."
Carson gritted his teeth.
"You better be fucking with me right now."
"If I was, you'd be screaming in ecstasy," Jesse replied with a smirk. "Look, I need some help with my classes at UCLA, like I said earlier. I don't see how they expect me to focus on so many things outside of my music and acting work. Like scientific- who needs that? And history? If I'm not acting in a period piece, where the history would actually be given to me, then what's the point?"
"How on Earth did you get through high school?" Carson asked, gaping at him, irritation and confusion creasing his forehead. This guy was so up his own ass…
Jesse waved a hand dismissively, taking another nonchalant sip of his drink.
"The school had someone do the work for me. Our rehearsals were murder. Couldn't focus on anything else if we didn't want to lose."
Carson frowned, scrutinizing Jesse carefully before withdrawing his recorder. He had an idea.
"Go on and I'll do it," he said placing his tape deck in the center of the table and taking a careless sip of his own drink, barely noticing the burn of it sidling down his throat and moving into his chest to set up camp.
Jesse eyed the recorder for a split second before his smirk unfurled across the plane of his face.
"Sounds like a plan. And no backing out since it's caught on tape."
Carson nodded determinedly, resigned to exactly that, if only for now. He'd most likely come up with an escape for himself later, and vaguely rooted through their verbal contract for the inevitable loopholes.
"Fine."
"You left. You said you wouldn't and you did. The door is staying locked."
"Okay, what is this really about?" Jesse sighed through the door. "Are you PMS-ing or something? Should I be getting tampons for you from your girlfriend?"
"Shut up," Lucas' voice came muffled through the door. "Or I'll prove to you my inability to pms by shoving my dick so far up your stupid ass-"
"Well I do like it rough," Jesse mused to the door, which gave back a thud as something was thrown at it. "Come on, Lucas. Open the door."
Silence.
Jesse rolled his eyes against the door's wood, halfway through falling forward as the door abruptly jerked open from beneath him so that he was now rolling his eyes against the floor.
"Ow," he told the carpet blandly.
"So," Lucas sneered from above. "How was your date?"
"You sound like a jealous girlfriend," Jesse informed him, sitting up. "And it was good, actually. I got quite a bit out of it."
"So you had sex."
"Only if you mean with eyes instead of dirty parts," Jesse shrugged. Lucas smirked.
"So, I was right. Good."
"You were half-right," Jesse corrected his roommate. "Not that it matters all that much. When I see him again-"
"You're seeing him again," Lucas interrupted, looking irritated. "Jesse, he's a toddler. He's jailbait."
"He wouldn't give it up anyway," Jesse laughed. "He's just giving me something in exchange for me helping him out."
"Gross," Lucas retorted.
"Maybe," Jesse said nonchalantly. "But at least I'll be getting some good grades out of it."
He grabbed the trophy Lucas had thrown at the door and pulled himself up, ambling over to his bed.
"You need to get over the jealous girlfriend bit, Luke."
"What do you mean good grades?"
"Carson's my new study buddy," Jesse grinned, flopping onto his bed.
Lucas sighed.
"Whatever. I'm going out then. Naomi's having one of her naked cooking nights and I don't feel like sticking around here when I could be sticking around over there. Have fun jizzing over your new boy toy."
Jesse smirked.
"Oh, I will."
Lucas sneered and slammed the door shut behind him.
"Are you actually telling me that you don't remember who fought in the American Revolution?"
Jesse waved the question off.
"There was an Asian guy who took all of that for me."
"Right," Carson said shortly. "I remember that from your interview. The level of corruption in our educational system is still just a bit hard to swallow. So, what are the essay's guidelines?"
"You're not serious."
Carson picked up the pillow from next to him and pressed it against his face, groaning into the fabric.
"I'm always serious, Andrew. Things like that are too painful to joke about."
Carson's older cousin, Andrew, guffawed.
"Whatever you say, C-man. You know, you don't owe this guy anything."
Carson shrugged.
"Actually, I do. He got me out of trouble and gave me an interview that I think will be useful. But it's not about that. This is typical college-level work in required college courses, Drew. If I can do this…I don't know. It's a challenge. It's like I'm finally getting to really prove what I can do. I've always been sure that I'll be able to handle university work, but that was all in theory. This is in practice. It's an opportunity- I can't not take it. Besides, my asshole-tolerance has gotten a lot bigger knowing him."
Andrew nodded, then grinned.
"Yeah, okay, I get that. Though, you know, if you wanted to do that you could just have done some of my work. Hell, I'd still be down with that."
Carson smiled slightly.
"Nice try."
"Hey, I'm serious!"
"And I'm not? Didn't we just go over that?" Carson joked and Andrew beamed, socking him lightly in the arm.
"Ah, fine. I'm just saying; the option's always there for you, C-man."
"Oh, I believe that," Carson acknowledged with a laugh. "But I'd never rob you of the chance to actually do the work and earn your degree when I believe you're capable of succeeding. This guy's head is way too full of shit and hot air. I'll stop after a while; the arrangement's not for forever. But at least the person whose work I'm doing is an idiot and can't do it on his own. It's like…charity," Carson finished with a small smirk.
Andrew snorted loudly.
"Oh my God. Carson, man, go home."
"I am, I am," Carson replied, yawning as he stood. "When's your date with Sarah again?"
"In an hour or so," Andrew informed him, standing as well. "But if I'm not there early, Amy will somehow sneak in and cockblock me, like always."
"You people are so freaking sex obsessed," Carson muttered, pulling on his jacket. "It's ridiculous. I think Amy still even has cockblock down as her name on facebook."
"Hey, it's not a bad thing to use your hormones every once in a while," Andrew shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. "It's actually pretty fucking nice. But speaking of facebook- let me just say one more time how sorry I am? I was an idiot, C. It's been good to see you again. And actually talk."
"Yeah. You were an idiot. But, whatever, right? The past's the past. I don't really want to talk about it anymore, though, okay?" Carson sighed. "Did I tell you that the way I met the guy was through him hitting on me? And I had to stick my hand down the front of his jeans."
Andrew choked on his own breath, another loud snort rolling out of his nostrils and grin reappearing.
"You did what now?"
"He stole my tapedeck!"
Carson laughed into his coffee, setting it down quickly.
"Please tell me you're kidding, St. James."
"I don't kid about cats," Jesse sniffed haughtily over the lid of his latte, before throwing Carson a smirk. "Unless they're pussy cats."
Carson rolled his eyes.
"I'm not surprised. Being a cat-lover fits right into your prissy stereotype."
"Prissy? Please. I love getting down and dirty."
"Jesse," Carson paused, then sighed. "Back to your paper."
Jesse nodded, leaning back in his chair.
"I think I actually did well!"
"Right," Carson said slowly. "In high school…I actually think you could have gotten an A on this. But that was high school, and you're at university. It's not that hard, but… how much did you really try on this?"
"Well I had to rehearse," Jesse informed him patiently.
Carson nodded.
"I figured it was between that and watch yourself in the mirror."
"Oh, it's both, actually. One of the best ways to rehearse initially is in front of a mirror. Then a camera. It was actually the chosen method of rehearsal for famous-"
"St. James! Listen to me- I can't do all of your assignments, alright?"
"We had a deal," Jesse reminded Carson, pulling whipped cream from the inside pocket of his jacket and spraying it atop his latte.
"Right," Carson said slowly. "That's true. But I'm just helping you out and doing a portion of the overall work. You've still got to do some of this, and know concepts for any tests... It's a miracle you have yet to fail out."
"Fail out," Jesse repeated. "People like me don't fail out."
"People like you are the vast percentage of those failing out," Carson retorted.
Jesse smiled and lifted his notebook, once more showing off the cat drawing inside.
"Not when I have talent like this."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Carson groaned, laughing slightly. "I have to go soon, St. James. I have school."
Carson took another short drink of his coffee, and Jesse swigged at his latte simultaneously, dark grey eyes focused on his drawing.
"Will you watch me rehearse for an audition tomorrow?"
"I thought you had theatre covered," Carson replied, tracing his gaze over the tabletop.
"Maybe you can write about it," Jesse smirked, grinning smarmily at Carson, who sighed, choking back another laugh.
"Maybe. I really do have to go though. Right. Where are we meeting tomorrow?"
"My bedroom?"
"Really," Carson said drolly as he stood, very clearly unimpressed. "I thought we were past this."
Jesse shrugged, standing as well. "Figured it was worth a shot," he mused back.
Carson shook his head, eyes turning serious.
"You missed. Just like every time before. Maybe it's time to stop taking shots at me? You're not my type."
"You know, I'm starting to think no-one's your type," Jesse said with a smile, tugging a few of his curls to one side then tossing his nearly empty latte cup into the trash as they left Starbucks. "Have you even ever had a crush?"
Carson frowned at him, back tightening reflexively.
"Can we please get back to the main topic?"
"You're good at that," Jesse said abruptly and Carson's frown deepened.
"Good at what?"
Jesse smirked again as he pushed open the door Carson had shut in his face.
"Oh, nothing."
Carson's frown became a scowl.
"So, tomorrow then, jackass?
"Tomorrow, Casper."
Carson rubbed his eyes blearily as he stared at his computer screen.
This wasn't working.
"So," he said aloud as he typed. "Education in our country…I give up."
He groaned in exasperation, standing quickly and stalking over to his bed, then beginning to pace beside it.
Sleep sounded so good, right now…he hadn't had any in almost three nights now as he tried to get everything done for his school, and all of Jesse's work, plus any of his own extra work. It was…a lot. Of course, Carson was used to getting little sleep with how much work he usually put into the paper, but this was actually significantly less than even that had been.
And he should be using that as an excuse to get out of his deal with St. James the giant talking ego, shouldn't he?
But for some reason he couldn't make himself do so. At least, he reminded himself, he was getting a good look at the type of work he'd be seeing in college.
Carson slammed down into his bed face first, heaving out a breath.
He had everything cover-
"Carson, what the hell do you think you're doing here?"
Carson rolled over and blinked up at his mom's angry expression, face screwing up in the bright light filling the room from his window.
"What time is it?" he asked groggily.
Sheryl Phillips looked unhappily at her son.
"You're supposed to be at school right now."
Carson bolted up and out of bed.
"Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Please tell me you're kidding," he muttered as he hastily yanked off his shirt.
"You couldn't have woken me up?" he asked his mom angrily, pulling on jeans as quickly as he could manage.
She rolled her eyes at him.
"Why would I?"
And left.
Carson scowled at his desk, yanking up his zipper, as he muttered a sardonic, "Gee, thanks mom."
"You're late."
"I know. I'm sorry," Carson muttered, ducking into his US history AP class.
"Do you have your pass?"
The blue slip of paper was immediately handed over, and the teacher clucked over it once before leading him over to his desk.
"Well okay then. We're working in groups today so-"
"I'll work alone," Carson interrupted automatically, eyes darting to the side to comb over the kids in his class, a fair number of which were watching him guardedly or making obviously snide comments amongst themselves.
The teacher, Mr. Errants, shook his head, lips pursed.
"No you won't be. The groups are required, Carson. You're with Evan, Wyatt, Miles, and Jonathan over there."
Carson's lip curled.
"Please tell me you're kidding."
"I'm not. Now, if you'd been on time, I'd have let you at least choose your group, but since you chose to take your time coming to school, you'll just have to deal with what I've chosen for you."
"Yo, Mr. E, can we just reject him?" Wyatt asked, and a few people snickered, while others simply looked up at where Carson and Mr. Errants stood silently, watching.
"I'd technically be rejecting you, since I said something first," Carson tossed back.
"I don't want to write anyone up, but I won't hesitate to if this keeps going," Mr. Errants informed them and Carson scowled.
"I'd work better alone. I swear."
"Well, that's a shame then," Mr. Errants replied. "Alright everyone focus! There's twenty-five minutes left before this needs to be done!"
Carson groaned, pulling his backpack from his shoulder and making his way over to the group of guys in the corner, choosing to ignore the way Evan pushed the only empty desk in the cluster slightly further out from the rest of the group just before he arrived at it and sank down.
"Do I need to put my name on the sheet?"
"Oh no," Jonathan said with a smirk, brandishing the paper a bit, then pushing it over to him. "I already put it down for you."
"Right," Carson scowled. "And apparently the very simple spelling was just too much for you, then, I guess. I'm not surprised your brain couldn't handle it, of course. There is not an 'a' at the end of my name."
"Funny, that's not what facebook says."
"Wow- I don't know what I could possibly say to overcome that zinger. Care to actually tell me what we're supposed to be doing? Unlike you, I happen to care about my grade in here, and need to actually do the work for Mr. Errants to pass me."
"Why should we if you weren't paying attention?" Miles asked, elbowing Jonathan, who grinned.
"Yeah, if you aren't paying attention and actually helping, why should we go out of our way to help you keep a good grade?"
Carson allowed his eyes to fall shut a moment in exasperation.
He really hated doing group work…
"You know, I wouldn't do that if I were you. I am in charge of the school's paper. There's a reason it's called power of the press."
"We have a paper?"
"Nobody reads the paper."
"And nobody would care anyway."
Laughs.
Carson's scowl deepened.
"There's twenty-one minutes left," he hissed. "Can we just do the work?"
"I don't work with trannys," Jonathan announced from beside him and Carson rubbed his eyes wearily.
"Why? Worried you'll see yourself in them or something?"
"Shut up. I'm not a freak," Jonathan groused. "Except in bed. Tell me, do you even know what that means?"
"Virgin alert," Miles cooed to the side and Evan and Wyatt collapsed into snickers.
"Do you even know what education means?" Carson asked irritably. "Because I'm thinking no."
"He's a pod freak," Wyatt informed them, then Carson. "That's why you're all…asexual or whatever."
"Or maybe it's because everyone in this place sucks," Carson retorted. "Work. Now. Unlike the rest of you losers, I actually have things of value to do later."
"Just the newspaper," Wyatt muttered. "I bet you jack off to it."
"And I bet you jack off to each other," Carson said dully. "Do I have to ask the teacher for the assignment description?"
Right on cue Mr. Errants announced, "Less than twenty minutes left," from his desk.
"Catch!" An atlas was hurled at Carson's head, hitting him then falling to the desk with a smack.
"What was that, Miles?" Mr. Errants called out, glancing in their direction.
"I told Carson to catch the atlas we need and he didn't," Miles replied, and the teacher nodded.
"No more throwing things. Focus everyone! Carson, if you're going to have a bad attitude-"
"I'm sorry. I'll have to work on my masochistic desire to be hit in the face," Carson cut him off angrily.
"Or your athletic skill," the teacher suggested. "Though my point was more that if you were to put some effort in-"
"This is a load of crap," Carson murmured.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, sir. I'd be doing the assignment already, but these guys just can't stop talking about the orgy they had with each other last night, and it's making me a little sick."
Laughter shuffled through the classroom, alighting briefly, then winked out in discomfort.
The teacher's nose wrinkled.
"Back to assignments everyone! Before I write this whole class up! If every one of those papers is not completed on time, I will! You have…sixteen minutes now. Hurry up!"
Carson turned back to his group irritably.
"Are we going to actually do this now?"
"Start is on 14A Carsona," Wyatt said snidely and Carson immediately flipped to the page, not bothering to acknowledge the assistance.
"Now what?"
"But we're on 15B," Jonathan added, and Carson flipped another page.
The class set worksheet for Group one was slid over, and Carson promptly found the section they were on.
"Number."
"13."
Carson nodded.
"Answer is depleted, as in your brain power is heavily depleted. Make of that what you will."
"You're such an asshole," Evan told Carson, and the others snorted their agreement, but every one of them wrote down the answer anyway.
"Jesse St. James?"
"Casper! Why are you calling me?"
Carson sighed into the phone.
"Look, I've had a really crap day and it's only half over, and I just needed to let you know that I don't think I can make it today. I'm sorry."
"Why?" Jesse asked. "I thought you were on board with our arrangement."
"Yeah, I am, okay? But I didn't finish all of your assignment last night like I thought I would."
There was a pause, then, "What happened?"
"Nothing, I just was stupid and let myself fall asleep, alright? I really didn't mean to. Now, I have to- fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Carson?"
"Hey! ID-boy!"
"Jesus fucking Christ," Carson growled. "I can't catch a fucking break. Look, St. James, I've got to deal with a bunch of high thugs so…"
"Oh, sounds dramatic," Jesse observed, grin audible.
"Yes, I'm sure you'd love it," Carson huffed, and Jesse's grin widened.
"I'll see you later, then!"
"Whatever, I have to- wait, no, Jesse, that's wrong!"
But the line was already dead.
Carson groaned one more time, sliding his phone back into his pocket, just in time to be slammed back against the tree he'd been leaning against.
"Look, I'm busy right now, and I'd prefer not having tree bark inside my back, so…"
Jordan scoffed, and the one silent, hulking guy with him snorted.
"Right, kid. Listen, I've been thinking-"
"Really? I didn't know you could do that!"
"Favor one."
Carson nodded resignedly.
"Right. Sure. What is it?"
"First, a question: You're asexual right? Like, you don't care about sex?"
Carson rolled his eyes.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "Why?"
"That's for me to know," Jordan replied, and Carson sighed.
"Of course it is. What do you want?"
"I'm failing school, and so is my brother."
"…What?"
"You're really smart, right? So, I need you to do my work. And at least some of Dwayne's too. Got me?"
Carson slumped slightly.
"Please tell me you're kidding…" he said unhappily, and the other's grip on his arm tightened. His lackey shifted behind him, withdrawing his lit cigarette a minute and pointing it vaguely in Carson's direction.
"No. I'm not. Look, would you rather have to go to the hospital, brain?"
"Maybe," Carson mused, then shook his head, eyes on the cigarette still. "I'll do it, I guess. Fine. I need schedules and notes, though."
"Yeah," Jordan grinned. "Take it all man. You know, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."
Carson narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Yeah…sure…"
An entire backpack was shoved into Carson's hands, with only a few things removed quickly and stuffed into Jordan's pockets. The cigarette was dropped, stomped out, and replaced.
"I want that back by the way," the senior said, nodding at the backpack. "Tomorrow morning. Beneath the bleachers."
Carson nodded wearily.
"Why not?"
"Great. Now, go run off to wherever the outcasts eat lunch or whatever. See you later, man."
The pair ambled away, both smoking now, as they headed to their usual spot, and Carson rubbed his eyes again before hoisting up the new backpack and looping it over his shoulder with his own.
And it was just the start of their hour long lunch period.
Carson headed for the school's library.
He had too much work to be eating right now anyway.
"Excuse me, do you know where I could find Carson Phillips?"
A series of faces wrinkled.
"Who?" a girl asked, and another whispered something in her ear.
One of the boys in the group surveyed Jesse a moment, brow furrowed.
"What are you looking for him for?"
"He and I have some business to attend to," Jesse informed them seriously. "And I have to give him a few notes from my classes. Well, actually, a recorder. I prefer not to take notes, but Casper's really into it, so we compromised. You know where he is, then?"
"Most everyone here tries to avoid looking at him whenever possible," another girl spoke up, and Jesse cocked his head to the side.
"So you don't know where he is then?"
"Yeah, no…"
"Well, then that's a lot of time we just wasted," Jesse observed, before turning heel and moving forward, smirking vaguely when one of the assholes he'd just spoken with called that exact word after him.
If he were Carson, where would he be?
Well, Carson had said it was a shitty day, so the stage was…
But no, because for some reason Carson didn't seem as fond of performing as Jesse. Which was cool. Not everyone could be as blatantly talented as he was.
Jesse moved toward another larger group this time that looked around Carson's age.
"I'm Jesse St. James. Remember that name, alright?"
The group as a whole turned slowly towards him, several eyebrows scrunching together.
"What?" One girl asked, frowning. "Are you trying to ask one of us out or something?"
"Oh no," Jesse said, shaking his head quickly. "Sorry ladies and gentleman," he winked, "but you're a bit too young and immature for me. I'm a college student. At UCLA. Which is in LA. I'm trying to find Carson Phillips."
The girl's eyes widened and several in the cluster exchanged looks.
"…who?"
"You don't know who he is?" Jesse asked with a frown. "He's in charge of your school newspaper? You know, when I was in school, I knew everybody. Except for the ugly, untalented kids that no one liked. And I even talked to a few of them. Sob stories are always useful."
"No, we don't know who he is. We do know who Carsona is," one boy with flat ironed sandy hair and a smug chin announced.
Laughter immediately filtered through the group, loud and spiteful.
"Well, I'm looking for Carson," Jesse said, pronouncing slowly so that the morons would definitely understand. "He said he was having a crappy day, and I can't have him feeling like shit all the time when he's the one doing my work. Not to mention that he was pretty much my only plan for today other than performing an impromptu concert at some point."
"What is the loser doing talking to a hot college student?" a girl spoke up, and the girl next to her nodded.
"Bethany's right. That's just weird. I bet Carson just hired him to try to prove to everyone that he doesn't have no friends.
"Please, he's so desperate that he's friends with the cousin who hacked his facebook again. I mean, that Drew guy was hilarious, but if my cousin did that I'd never talk to them again."
"Yeah, but you're actually cool," a boy said, and she smirked, leaning against his chest.
"I actually think that Drew is why Carson has a formspring too," she giggled. "Which we all know is useful."
"Oh man, do you remember the status, Beth? 'I'm not going to kill myself! I'm not a girl! Please shut up! I've got to go work.' I'm a loser with no life and a lot of delusions."
Jesse stared at them, brows up, unintentionally mimicking Carson's own expression of surprise.
What the hell?
"Can you idiots tell me where Carson is or not? I really do need to find him."
"He's probably in the library making out with books," the girl next to Bethany said, rolling her eyes. "Since that's the only place he'll ever get some."
"Actually," Jesse said loudly. "Carson and I slept together last week. We had a threesome with my roommate's girlfriend, Naomi."
"…What?"
"It's okay, though. Lucas and Naomi's relationship status is open, still. Just like her legs were when Casper screwed her. She was so turned on by his whole smart thing. I'd be jealous, but I was too. Casper's hot as hell, and his brain power and my star power working together had Naomi in a constant state of orgasm. She said it was the most powerful experience of her life."
Jesse turned heel again and left the kids gaping as he made his way toward the library, taking a sip of his coffee when he spotted Carson, then shifting so that the coffee he'd brought for Carson was the outermost one in his hold.
Smirking, he went to the table and slid it over to Carson, who looked up, eyes widening and brow furrowing.
Jesse grinned.
"I bought us both coffee. The kids here all suck and you're so much better than them."
"Jesse. What are you…?"
"I'm here to hugely improve your shit day," Jesse said plainly as he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and withdrawing two packets of sweet n' low.
"And because my grades are in your hands, and I am smart enough to know to keep the guy doing my work happy."
Carson chuckled grimly.
"Right. Sure. Okay, since you're here, I did just finish editing this essay, and there are some parts rewritten. I'm sure you want more done, but in case not or you need it now…"
Jesse took the paper and glanced it over before nodding and folding it, then stowing it swiftly in another of his large pockets, gaze turning back to Carson who was focused once more on the paper in front of him, rubbing at his eyes hard every few seconds.
Jesse watched a few moments, amused, then cleared his throat loudly. Carson drew his attention slowly back towards Jesse.
"Yes?"
"Sorry, Cas, but you're not hot enough to make me able to watch you read and not get bored."
"It's called working."
"It's called coffee. Drink it. I made it, so it's amazing."
Carson's lip quirked slightly, though his eyes and shaking head remained unimpressed.
"You said you bought it."
Jesse nodded emphatically.
"Exactly. And what I touch turns to gold. Do I need to show you my collection of trophies? They're in my dorm near my bed. Except for the one that's always with me. Drink your gold, Carson."
Carson rolled his eyes, but laughed anyway, and, reluctantly, took a sip.
A beat. Then:
"This tastes like crap, Jesse. What did you put in this?"
"Awesomeness."
"And awesomeness would be called…?"
"Whipped cream, sweet n' low, and sprinkles," Jesse informed him seriously. "With a dash of melted peppermint. Good for the vocals."
Carson pushed the "coffee" away with a look of horror.
"Jesse, I like my coffee black. One grain of sugar at most."
"And I like scaring you. It's fun. Actually, though, that was my coffee. This was yours. Enjoy my saliva? That actually does taste like gold. Wanna see?"
The bell rang and Carson smirked.
"Actually, I've got to go. Have fun with your coffee. Hopefully you enjoy my own secret ingredients. Also, good luck finding your way out."
"Oh no," Jesse replied with a grin, shoving the coffee back towards Carson like a chess piece. "I'm staying right here for you. This is a library. I'm sure it has a music section and piano. Prepare to be serenaded."
Carson scoffed, but hurried away.
He figured no-one stupid and egotistical enough to think they could get away with doing something like that.
But Jesse was always surprising him.
A/N- Reviews make Carson happy, and Carson happy looks an awful lot like Chris happy... and both of them happy has the ability to turn all war zones into fields of rainbow and benevolent snark. Jesse St. James will bitch out dumb bullies and continue to seduce Carson, too. Also, Hogwarts becomes real.