1.
The first time this happens, they've been hanging around for a week, and Andrew begs Jesse to go to the movies with him all day long. Jesse wants to stay at home (away from the cold and snow - thank you very much - and eat Chinese food on the couch with Andrew and the cats), plus he never understands the movies he watches, so what's the point, "Andrew, seriously, what meaning"? But this is Andrew. "It's just a movie, Jess, come on, we haven't left the apartment for three days, we need to take a walk. Jessie, buying Chinese food at the corner diner doesn't count! It doesn't count at all." Andrew. Who has eyes like a cartoon deer and pouty lips that Jesse loves to bite into. The doe-eyes win, of course, and the warm coats are ready, along with the scarves, so they go to the movies. Andrew's fingers reach under his coat and sweater and lightly caress the small of Jesse's back all the way. And although they are icy (there is a snowstorm outside), Jesse does not grumble.
They line up in a tape-lined queue inside a small mall. Andrew leaned lazily against him, his hand nestled comfortably in Jesse's back pocket. The foyer of the movie theater is almost empty - just a lone candy vendor and a couple of people buying tickets in front of them, so Jesse isn't waiting for the flash of a camera behind the tinted front door. He never thought that photographers could work in such weather.
"Andrew, take your hand away," he breathes, stiffening in excitement and moving away from Andrew.
- Mmm? Andrew is blissfully unaware, looking at the large candy menu and pulling Jesse back. - Do you want candy?
"Andrew, there are photographers outside, and if you don't want us to blow up the tabloids tomorrow, get your hand off my ass. Now. Jesse is tense and reaches for Andrew's hand - the one that is currently stroking his buttock.
- Oh yeah. Right." Andrew smiles shyly, moving his awkward limbs away from Jesse. - Sorry honey.
Jessie doesn't get mad at Andrew for too long ("I'm not mad Andrew, it's just that it's all meaningless, because we could watch something at home, without photographers and stuff; am I asking so much?"). So twenty minutes after the movie starts (it seems to be another romantic comedy - at least there is a strict main character, a successful careerist, and a shameless scoundrel protagonist, so yes, he probably guessed the genre with the genre) he is not at all against when Andrew lifts the armrest between the chairs and they start kissing in the dark (Andrew's hands are walking with might and main under his clothes), in no way inferior to preoccupied teenagers.
2.
The second time it happens in the supermarket. They weren't needed on set today, so they spent the morning in a warm cocoon of blankets on the couch, Andrew mumbling softly into his neck. But now Andrew needs food. They leave the apartment only after a long scandal ... that is, a dispute - they are adults after all and can discuss everything calmly. Andrew starts with "I can't eat takeout anymore, Jesse, not for the fourth time this week" and ends up wrinkling his nose and saying, "Yes, and the food is here...Jess, come on." In the end, Jesse gives him a look that clearly reads "No Andrew, we won't discuss this again, and I don't care that you don't like American food, so everything will remain the same." But then Andrew starts acting like a diabetic on the verge of a coma, and Jesse knows it's just emotional blackmail, but, mostly, he is ashamed (because he was really going to go shopping this week, but had to stay at home: they had to bring a new batch of cat food and another cat). Andrew is aware, but Jesse does not point out to him that he could go himself: he is a caring boyfriend.
("Yes, Jessie, you will be surprised, but I need food - and there is nothing to eat in this apartment, and if you want to live on cat food, then I don't mind, but I'm going to buy at least some bread and cereals and maybe , some other normal food, which, unlike cat pillows with meat, will not let me starve to death"). And okay, maybe it was too melodramatic, but he hadn't eaten since yesterday, and this topic had already been discussed twice. Three sighs (and at least one eye roll) later, they're standing in the store amidst the colorful boxes, and Jesse's head hurts with the gaudiness and fluorescent lights. But Andrew is happy, though hungry, but for the most part happy. Jessie frowns slightly - there is a crease between her eyebrows,
"Jess, I'm sorry." Andrew wraps his whole body around Jesse, muttering an apology, and Jesse tries unsuccessfully to look angry by burying himself in Andrew's shoulder and shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. I love cats, you know I love cats.
Jesse knows what he really means: "I love you, sorry for the drama over the food."
"I know you love cats, Andrew," Jesse reassures him. Please stop touching me in a public place.
Andrew knows what he really means: "I love you too, but please stop touching me in public."
Andrew kisses his temple.
"I won't do it again, I promise," he concedes, and pulls Jesse tightly into his arms before letting go.
He once again (last) obscenely gropes Jesse in the fruit aisle to complete his mission, and barely manages to avoid the camera's scope as he emerges from behind the pear stand. He knows Jesse hates cameras, so after they arrive home (not even holding hands) stalked by two photographers, Andrew eats a plate of cereal and gives Jesse a blowjob as an apology.
3.
One day it happens when they're on set. Andrew isn't filming that day, but he's locked himself in Jesse's trailer with his laptop, twitching to the kitsch music playing in his headphones (loud and metallic clanging) and kissing Jesse every time he runs in between takes. (And Andrew knows it's okay to be here because it's a "pajama" scene and Jesse can smile conspiratorially at "Sean Parker" even in his sleep, even though he sometimes feels uncomfortable in his own body and worries about his work and everything).
It's January outside, so the first thing Jesse gets into the trailer and closes the door behind him, Andrew pulls him over to the couch and starts rubbing his hands to keep him warm. Andrew's fingers are deft and deft, moving from Jesse's fingers to his hair. Their owner does not heed Jesse's attempts to explain that the hair carefully styled for filming should not be touched. (Jesse is always a little annoyed when Andrew runs his hand through his curls. "You'll ruin my hair and makeup, Andrew," his forehead furrows and his hands push him away. laughing and kissing him on the forehead.)
From the outside, Andrew may seem like something of a sex-hungry junkie, judging by the way he occasionally harasses Jesse, going from leisurely hugs on the couch to feverish kiss-bites and mind-blowing sex. Andrew figured he could always chalk it up to being alone for long periods of time (but he doesn't think Jesse minds that much, based on the sounds he makes).
Pressed against the trailer door, Jesse doesn't expect it to open under his weight (but that's exactly what happens). He tries to keep his balance and squeals shamefully, clinging to Andrew's shoulders, who laughs and hugs him tightly around the waist. The film crew doesn't even look at them, and Jesse realizes that a couple of months ago they would have been noticed, but now he and Andrew have become ordinary background noise - so familiar that it is no longer surprising - and he feels what can be called satisfaction.
This makes him lean forward and forcefully kiss Andrew, even though he knows about the photographers on the other side of the open door (which makes his hands shake and his nerves curl into a ball).
He puts his arm around Andrew's shoulders and pulls him towards him until they're standing with their foreheads touching.
- Write another successful double on my list - Jesse is still a perfectionist.
"I'll write it down," Andrew says obediently.
(The next day, all the photographers upload a photo of Jesse to the Web, in which he hurries to the set with a half-smile, with his trailer door and fingertips closing it in the background.)
4.
The next time it happens is when they go to the premiere. Dressed up in a suit, Jesse is trying to fight off Andrew's nimble hands all the way. But Andrew's fingers are long and dexterous, so he reaches under his jacket and runs them over his sides, biting down on the skin of Jesse's neck. "Don't you dare Andrew, I refuse to walk the red carpet with a hickey." But Andrew just smiles and hugs him, muttering into the pale teeth marks on his shoulder, "You look too good." (Jesse knows he's going to have to button up his shirt and straighten his tie anyway, so it's okay, but if Andrew continues like this, Jesse will look even more pathetic during his interviews than usual. )
They're in the back seat of the car and Andrew opens his arms like never before. It's very distracting. Jessie has the feeling that the driver is deliberately avoiding looking at them, and this adds to the embarrassment of the whole situation.
"I suspect you're doing this on purpose," Jesse mutters into Andrew's mouth. In response, he receives a short kiss and bitten lips in a smile.
The next minute, Jesse starts to get really stressed, because they turn to the red carpet, and he is sure that even through these tinted (as far as the law allows) windows, a camera flash will be able to break through. Jessie thinks it makes sense to be worried about this now.
Andrew kisses him again just before the doors open. And it kind of lessens Jessie's nervousness. Because Andrew is the one at public events who whispers obscenities into Jesse's ear like "Remember how in Paris...", causing the corners of Jesse's lips to lift up in a smile, which is a nice change from his usual nervous expression (and also allows him to take in as an apology, sex on the way home). Jessie usually has to put her arm around his waist to silence him (and it's okay to touch your friend like that, according to Jesse's study of Hollywood bromances).
Maybe Andrew should keep his hands to himself when it comes to Armani suits, paparazzi and red carpets, but he decides that the profits cover the losses. Jesse is more relaxed because he gets distracted by indecent stories and hands roaming his body, and doesn't care about screaming and cameras at all (and if Andrew makes Jesse laugh in public, then everyone wins).
5.
It happens on The Conan Show, but Andrew doesn't think it should be on their "Almost Paparazzi Caught" list because "Assistant directors aren't paparazzi, Jesse, so that's going to throw off our once-honest and informative tally." "Shut up and wash the dishes, Andrew."
Jesse is practically paralyzed with fear as he sits on a soft sofa in a dark blue room. He thinks about how the last half a pill of Xanax before the interview was a bad idea, and the interview itself is also a bad idea. Fifteen minutes. That's all he needs to go through. Fifteen minutes of frivolous chatter interspersed with movie commercials. No pressure. (Except that it all makes him sweat and his throat starts to burn.)
The door opens. He winces.
"It's just me." Andrew enters the room with two mugs, closing the door with his hip.
"Here, darling," he kisses Jesse on the cheek and puts one mug on the coffee table, "I brought you tea."
"I can't stand tea," Jesse says angrily, because he would actually prefer coffee.
Andrew mumbles something along the lines of "Well, you'd have to rip the coffee out of my cold hands" and places a hot cup in his hands, making sure he holds it tight.
"You've done this a million times, Jess," Andrew says soothingly, sitting down beside him. Just calm down and drink your tea.
Jesse's frown deepens and he takes a sip from his cup. (Tastes disgusting—as if it could be otherwise.)
For the next ten minutes, Andrew strokes Jesse's arm and tries to get him comfortable against his side. He kisses the top of his head and makes sure the tea is finished. Jesse doesn't move and doesn't speak, just biting his bottom lip between sips until the empty cup takes up space next to Andrew's half-drunk coffee.
- You know? Great. Andrew instantly stops stroking Jesse's hand to put his hand on his crotch, unbuttoning the fly of his trousers.
— Andrew! Jesse doesn't remember ever being so outraged, but on the other hand, his pants are open and he's sitting in the dressing room of the Conan TV show. Conan TV Show. And he didn't unbutton his pants. They ripped them off for him. But Andrew kneels and spreads his hips, and doesn't seem to be interested in Jesse's feeble protests. Instead, he grins slyly because he was able to distract his boyfriend from his internal nervously accusatory monologue.
"You're too tense, my love," Andrew drawls, raising his eyebrows and looking at Jesse through his lashes. Jesse inhales sharply and loudly as Andrew's fingers crawl into his boxers.
— Andrew, I don't think this door closes. It's not the best idea. It's hard to speak confidently when your voice is trembling. (And when you are about to get up, because Andrew knows how and what to take on. In the truest sense of the word.)
Andrew ignores the incessant protests and lowers his boxers, wrapping his hand around his shaft and pressing his finger against the head. Jessie makes a strangled sound as Andrew starts to move his hand, making him more and more aroused. Then he licks the head and takes it in his mouth as if it were popsicles on a stick. His cheeks sink in and Jesse can barely breathe, let alone voice his protest.
And - "Andrew, Andrew, Andrew" - Jesse thinks that this already crosses the line of simple public expressions of sympathy and goes into the category of illicit sex in a public place. But the wet, hot mouth robs him of willpower. Jesse knows that men can't refuse that. And especially not halfway. So he's not even going to try.
His fingers tangled in Andrew's hair tremble; it's taking too long, and Jesse can't help but pull harder on the strands, letting out helpless moans. Andrew sucks like he does everything else: with unbridled enthusiasm and energy, and mentally Jesse begs Andrew not to stop. Never. "Oh gods, Andrew."
"Andrew," he stutters and almost silently, leaning his head back on the couch. - I'm almost there.
Andrew doesn't pull away, but pulls him in deeper (Jesse feels Andrew's throat tight and tries not to moan; he pulls his hair sharply and freezes).
Only after he's finished does Jesse let himself relax and melt into the lazy kisses of Andrew, who pushes him into the couch. With trembling hands, Andrew dresses Jesse and zips up his fly. Jesse tastes himself on Andrew's lips.
— Oh, oh! comes the shrill voice of the assistant director standing in the doorway.
Jesse backs away from Andrew and looks at the woman with wide, terrified eyes. Neither of the two of them heard her knock, but Jesse decides it's definitely Andrew's fault.
"We need you in the green room in ten minutes," she squeaks (I wonder if she always has such a high voice?). She is definitely horrified and shocked.
He actively nods and shows a smile that looks more like a grin. It's terrible how his face burns under the layer of makeup.
When they are alone again, Jesse looks at Andrew accusingly. Andrew kisses him on the nose.
"At least your cock was already in your pants."
So now Jesse is sitting, nervously rubbing the armrests with his hands to calm himself, not feeling his legs under him. He took a last-minute sip of Andrew's coffee to get rid of the feeling of his own cock in his mouth, so now he's thinking better, but also more nervous. He jokes about the Second World War (for sure, not everyone will understand that these were jokes), about his psychotherapists, about cats, whom he will soon visit when he flies home after the interview. Home with Andrew smiling like he's proud of him and pulling them both into bed to tangle their legs and nuzzle their necks. Jesse won't even glare at Andrew for the Conan dressing room incident.
+ 1.
As a result, they come across completely banal (although the consequences cannot be called banal). They (read: Jesse) spent so much time thinking through all these James Bond tricks (Andrew's contribution was that he pawed Jesse fifty percent less than usual, although the remaining fifty percent did not become less cheeky) - but no, there is no bank robbery and emotional confessions like "no, take me first, not him, anyone but him, not the love of my life." It's just a normal day, they're doing their normal things, and Andrew, with his indefatigable limbs, paws him too hard as usual.
He wakes up when his phone on the bedside table vibrates and ends up falling to the floor. He's not going to answer. It's Sunday and Andrew has been filming in New York for the last week, so he's at home now. When the phone starts ringing for the third time, he gives up, removes Andrew's hand from his hip, climbs out of the warm cocoon of the blankets, and bends down to pick up the pesky object. Twenty-seven missed calls - thirteen from his agent, the other fourteen from his press agent - plus a plethora of new messages. Slightly unusual for half past nine in the morning (hell, only half past nine?) on a Sunday. (Slightly unusual for any time on any day.)
He turns pale and frantically presses the green key as his press agent's name flashes in large letters on the screen.
- Hello, Shelley. What's happened?
"It seemed to me that we were talking about the public manifestation of homosexuality," she does not say hello. She never says hello. Believes that it distracts from important things, business. It's like she's in the mafia, or the army, or something like that. It's like she doesn't spend most of her life making people believe in relationships that don't exist and settling public opinion issues when someone messes up.
— Discussed. I haven't shown any homosexuality in public." He stops and looks over his shoulder at Andrew. - Didn't show it? he asks, feeling panic creeping in. It wasn't part of the plan. The plan was perfectly tailored to maintain the optimum amount of secrecy to ensure that his private life was not taken up by the tabloids or any other human being on the planet.
"So, either you showed your homosexuality in public, or Andrew publicly molested you," her voice oozes sarcasm. The tabloids have photos. The internet has literally gone crazy.
His mouth opens and closes (and so several times).
- Do they have a photo? And how actively do they harass me?
"He's kissing your neck and your face says 'take me here and now' and it all looks very homosexual." He can almost feel her pursing her lips in disappointment.
"I see." Jesse coughs. People will discuss this for months. Maybe for years. And there will be questions. Lots of questions from many people. He feels nauseous.
"Yeah, I see." Shelly is unimpressed. It's like he's being reprimanded by his older sister, his mother, and the fucking president at the same time. "We need to devise a new strategy to unravel all of this, because the original plan of both of you being secret lovers no longer works.
"I'm really sorry," and Jesse really is, because Shelly is sweet and formidable and will eviscerate his insides in the most gentle way. Because she cares. He pushes away Andrew's hand, which he tries to place on his hip again, and sits up on the bed. His throat tightens painfully, making it easier to breathe. (Andrew grumbles and nuzzles his leg.)
"You'll be sorry when you're no longer in demand as an actor because Andrew couldn't stop touching you for even the five minutes you were in the open—he feels like he's about to faint. He has no experience dealing with such panic attacks.
"We can move to England, act in indie films and drink tea for the rest of our lives. Absolutely brilliant plan, Andrew mumbles sleepily into Jesse's thigh.
"Don't think I haven't heard it," Shelley says sharply. "Andrew, you are at the top of my death list.
Jesse brushes off attempts to get him back into bed.
Just send me a photo, okay? At least I want to know what everyone is looking at. Please.
- Great. But when you start thinking about something other than your great love and stop being a laughing stock, call me." She grins and hangs up. Shelly never says goodbye.
Jesse takes the phone away from his ear and stares blankly at it.
"They have a photo," he says in amazement and disbelief.
"I could hear it from here." Apparently, Andrew is too busy pressing his cheek against Jesse's pajama bottoms to realize the gravity of the situation and stop being so calm.
"Well, then I guess you should also know that this is an absolute nightmare." Jesse pushes Andrew away and climbs out of bed. He heads to the bathroom, picking up his laptop along the way and locks himself inside, pressing his forehead against the cold door and taking in uneven breaths.
"Damn," he breathes. "Damn, damn, damn.
That's all he can do to keep from throwing up.
A simple click on a new incoming email sends him into a cold sweat. And damn, it's terrible. These photos are much worse than what he imagined.
He is unmistakably recognizable in his red cap with bold "Indiana" written on it and a white and blue plaid shirt. In the worst of the photos, Andrew has his arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and grins widely, nibbling at the skin under Jesse's ear. On the next one, he kisses the pale hickeys, his hand on his thigh. Seeing your own reaction to Andrew's actions in the picture is even more painful than seeing yourself on the big screen. His posture speaks of relaxation: on his face is not a constrained premiere smile or a squeezed smirk, which he usually shows to people. No, he smiles broadly and sincerely, narrowing his eyes and throwing his head back. This makes him sick. He thought it was personal. That it belongs only to them.
He reflects on how many people have seen the photo. Will the statistics of visiting the site tell him how many people looked into his life, into his relationships, and then went about their business, because nothing had changed in their world? Did they laugh, or smirk, or smile, or did they make the decision to avoid everything about him and Andrew from now on? Did they comment? stinged?
"Jessie, I'm sorry, but are you coming out of the bathroom?" Andrew calls, his voice muffled from behind the closed door. "You will catch a cold if you continue to sit on the cold tiles in the middle of winter.
It takes him ten minutes of sitting on the floor (on a clean towel) to start to shiver. When the heat of a working laptop no longer saves, he opens the door and enters the bedroom.
"If you're so worried about them having a photo, Jess," Andrew sighs and rubs his forehead, "then we need to talk about it. Because I don't think the problem will just go away. Whatever the consequences, we must decide what to do with them.
"I'm calling Dr. Sherman," Jesse mutters. "And maybe you and I can talk later, because if we do it now, I'll probably throw up, okay?"
Andrew looks worried.
- OK. But please wear a sweater.
They bicker all day, discussing over and over again who is to blame, what the consequences are, and what will become of their reputations. It starts when Jesse calls Dr. Sherman and then another of his therapists, Dr. Moskowitz. Andrew hangs around the door, pretending not to eavesdrop, until Jesse slams it shut in his face. Jesse realizes that he's acting like a child and it's not fair and feels like an asshole. That doesn't stop him from wanting to push and push until Andrew snaps. He hates that he cannot take and remove every single photo. It seems that all his nerve endings have become thinner, like himself.
If Jesse pushes hard enough, Andrew can leave the house (and Jesse too, for his own good). Jesse thinks it's probably not the worst thing that could happen. For Andrew. This will kill Jesse, but it will be better for Andrew. It's terrible to even think about it, but Andrew is a good person, and Jesse hates himself for being constantly insecure, making demands, and panicking that Andrew has to put up with it all. Especially when he's nice and sweet and kind, and even with all that, he's always trying to be even better. Jesse wallows in self-pity, like a depressed teenager, and ignores all the advice of psychotherapists.
When he returns to the living room, Andrew is leaning over his laptop, probably flipping through the same photos. Jesse slaps barefoot on the carpet and Andrew looks up.
"Sorry," Andrew begins, tilting his head to the side and propping it up with his arm. "I shouldn't have tried to eavesdrop.
"Yeah, you shouldn't have—if he dumped Jesse, he might be able to find someone better suited for the actor playing Spider-Man. An actor who plays Spider-Man and is as talented as Andrew, who doesn't deserve to live in third roles all his life because of someone like Jesse. "I'll call Shelly and see if she has any convincing press excuses." He spins his cell phone in his hands.
Andrew frowns and purses his lips in disbelief.
"You want to lie about why I touched you like that?"
"Yes." Jesse folds her arms across her chest. "Why does this surprise you so much?"
Because I don't want to lie. And I thought that we have a good reason to sort it all out and start acting like a couple, not only among people who have sworn to keep our secret.
He looks at Jesse with big eyes. The look makes his insides shrink, and Jesse hates it. "The damage has already been done anyway.
- You are funny.
— I'm sure not.
From this point on, things get even worse. Andrew is not one to be passive about what he wants, and for every argument from Jesse, he finds the same undeniable answer. Pretty soon, Jesse runs into the bedroom, throwing a couple of well-aimed words before that. Andrew decides to give him time to calm down before trying again.
Are you deliberately trying to push me away? He holds on to the doorframe, looking at Jesse's back. - It happens?
Jesse looks over his shoulder and shudders uncomfortably.
No, Andrew, I...
- You're trying, aren't you? Andrew lets out an incredulous chuckle. "Are you really that embarrassed to date me?"
- Don't be an idiot. Give at least one example when my behavior could be regarded as shame, - breaks Jesse, rising from the bed. Because it's the other way around. Jesse feels incredibly happy that Andrew even thought about dating him.
"I don't know, Jesse. I'm just trying to understand your behavior," Andrew retorts. "Because from the outside it looks like you either have a problem with people knowing you're dating someone, or a problem with them knowing you're dating me.
"I have a problem with the aftermath of all this shit.
- Crap. Are you talking about the photo or our relationship?
By the time they start round five (or six), they're both exhausted. Cats bypass them like the plague and do not even try to take sides.
Is it because of your reputation? He sees from the living room Jesse darting around the kitchen. For the last twenty minutes he has shifted from foot to foot in front of the closet. "I just… I mean… is that why you want to cover it up?"
- My reputation? Jesse leans on the table, turning to face Andrew. Do you think I'm worried about her? I already have a reputation as a neurotic and a Jew - there's not even anything to defame. What can you say about yours.
Andrew stops and tries to process Jesse's words.
- Mine?
- Yes, yours. You play Spiderman, Andrew, and you love it. So don't you dare tell me that you could live without it. That you're ready to never play a major role again. Because of all this." Jesse sighs. Why can't you think for once?
"Don't be like this," Andrew hisses back. "Don't try to make it look like I can either have Spider-Man or you, but not both."
"Do you really think they will turn a blind eye to the fact that you are gay?" Jessie says in the tone you use to talk to unintelligent children. "Because you know very well that this is not the case.
Will they turn a blind eye to the fact that I'm gay?
"Yes." Jesse rubs her face. "I'll wager my life that there's something in your contract about this.
The conversation is cut short when Andrew has to answer a call (one of many to date) from his furious press agent, Jacob. By the time he hangs up, dusk is falling over the city and Jesse is sitting on the couch with his knees drawn up to his chin. They sit in silence until it gets dark completely.
"It's not fair of me to interfere with your career," Jesse suddenly says in a cracked voice, without looking Andrew in the eyes.
"So that's what you think?" Andrew frowns and moves closer to Jesse. "I'm a grown man, Jesse, I can make my own decisions about what will interfere with my career. And I'm damn sure you're not on that list.
"I don't want you to regret that you are with me," if he had said this to someone else, he would have crawled into a hole long ago and dreamed of dying. And even with Andrew it's hard.
- What about what I want? Andrew's voice is soft. Does it matter what I want?
"Of course." Jesse sounds annoyed as he runs a hand through his hair and pulls hard on the strands.
"Then listen to me when I say these photos don't matter." He tries to pull Jesse's hands out of his hair, but Jesse lightly slaps his fingers.
"Of course they matter," Jesse stares at him, his chest rising and falling. - Of course they do.
And now Andrew feels a little lost, because for him these photos are just proof that Jesse is his .
- Why?
"Because it's ours, Andrew!" Jessie screams and presses her fingers hard against the bridge of her nose. "It pisses me off that they have our photos and that people can just go online and see them. To see what was meant to be… what was…" Andrew barely hears the next words. - What was for you. And it infuriates me. All this. That we're going to have to talk about it, that it's likely to hurt your career - that it could be the end of it. It pisses me off that you're the best thing that ever happened to me and I'll always feel like an asshole because sooner or later I mess up.
"Jess," Andrew sighs and tries to touch him, but Jesse jumps up from the couch.
- I am going to sleep.
"It's only half past seven. I know that you are not tired. You can't say what you just said and walk away, he says all this to his boyfriend's retreating back.
"I'm going to bed," Jesse repeats.
Jessie doesn't sleep. He hangs up all calls from Shelly (at some point he gives up and leaves the phone somewhere in the corridor), and when the caller ID says that his mother is calling the landline, he closes his eyes and hears Andrew picking up the phone. When he opens the door and leans his hip on the jamb, Jesse pretends not to have heard their quiet conversation about the photographs. He also pretends to be asleep when, eventually, Andrew gets into bed next to him.
"I know you're awake," Andrew whispers into the back of his head, wrapping his arms around him and moving forward until his chest brushes against Jesse's back. I turned off our mobiles and unplugged the cord from the landline phone. No more calls.
Jesse blinks and resists the urge to snuggle up to Andrew. He doesn't succeed, but Andrew only kisses softly wherever he can reach.
"I don't want you to talk until I'm done." Andrew's hand moves to Jesse's chest and down to his stomach.
Jesse nods uncertainly and covers Andrew's hand with his own.
- Honestly? Do you swear?
What are you, twelve? Jessie mutters with a smile in her voice. Andrew reaches for Jesse's hand and interlocks their fingers.
"You should kiss," Andrew says, and raises their clasped hands to Jesse's mouth. Jessie presses her lips against Andrew's palm, who snorts approvingly.
"As for these pictures," he begins to say, and feels Jesse's fingers tighten, "I don't care who saw them. Or who knows what I did to you and what I wanted to do. I know you care and that's okay. But I love you, and I kind of want everyone to know that you're mine. That I'm the only one who can touch you like that - such a selfish pleasure, you know.
Jesse opens his mouth to answer, but Andrew tilts his head and rests his chin on Jesse's shoulder, looking up at him.
"I'm not done yet." Jesse's mouth closes. "So I'm going to call Jacob tomorrow morning and tell him that I don't want him to deny anything in a press release. But only if you agree. Because, frankly, you make me so much happier than Spiderman or anything like that. Basically anything else. And I want to kiss you in public, hold your hand when we're at the supermarket, and maybe kiss you on the red carpet, but only if you don't mind. I want it all. With you. I don't want to fight anymore, not about that. However, I don't want to pretend that I'm not offended that you plan to deny everything. We'll do whatever you want, but it won't change how I feel." He trails off at that. - That's all I wanted to say.
Jesse rolls over in Andrew's arms and nuzzles his neck.
"I can't tell you in my sober mind and solid memory that this is a good idea. And I can't say that I will be comfortable with how this topic will be discussed by everyone. I cannot promise that I will always encourage such acts in public – his breath is hot. "Because I'm still sure that this will not pass without consequences.
"Everything has its consequences, my love." Andrew hugs him tighter. And this time, I think it's worth it.
Against all odds, Jesse falls asleep in Andrew's arms.
The next morning, Jesse wakes up to Andrew combing through his hair.
- Okay, have it your way. But you'll be the one to answer all the questions," he mutters, and rests his head on Andrew's chest.
He can feel Andrew's smile.
- You are sure?
Ask again and I might change my mind.
Andrew practically crushes him in his arms.
"I think that's great, because, seriously, what's so terrible can happen?" (Endless lists of very scary things that have been on Jesse's mind since the beginning of their relationship go through Jesse's head. He literally bites his tongue to keep from speaking.)
The thought that one day he will receive an issue of yellow paper in the mail with an article titled "Jesse Eisenberg is dating Andrew Garfield", imitating the user's status on Facebook - the desired page is blocked by a package of condoms, Emma's property - makes his skin goosebumps (chest constricts, and, of course, this is not the beginning of a panic attack).
But this is Andrew. Sweet and impulsive Andrew. Who, Merlin Almighty, dances in the bathroom with cats when he brushes his teeth. And makes Jesse play games of "now I suddenly squeeze you" on the set. Andrew, who kisses Jesse on the nose and brings breakfast to bed. Who has long, awkward limbs that he loves to wrap around Jesse and who is always playing with his curls (Jesse pretends to hate it on principle). He comes to the conclusion that he does not mind at all. And if the way Andrew kisses him, holding the phone to his ear and stroking his cheek while the press agent yells into the phone, says something, then Jesse thinks: to hell with excitement and stress. They really can do anything.
~fin~