you slept in my bed after you said, "I need to sort out my head."

[extemporally]

I'll be honest: those pictures of Andrew & Emma out on a date at Nobu (Tumblr link, cos I'm lazy) make me so uncomfortable not just for the way they look really sad but also the way Emma's walking behind him all the time. I mean, I realise that they're looking as awkward as they do at least partially because they are getting their picture taken by paps? But I just... feel really really uncomfortable. Also I dislike scruff. /o\

So, the story I want now: the Andrew/Emma/Jesse one where obviously this date was a BLIND to hide or avoid their nascent poly relationship from the press, and Andrew knows it and Emma knows it. (Jesse, at home with his three cats on the opposite coast, mostly knows it. Some small part of him thinks - well. They do look really attractive together.) They have a pretty terrible time thrusting themselves into the spotlight with a part of themselves missing, and I am imagining at the end of the night, when they get into his car, Emma gives a little laugh and looks away and says, "Well, that was bad."

Andrew pulls out of the parking lot silently.

... and, idk, stuff happens (by which I mean, a total songfic along the lines of Loveless) and there's a threesome! I am sorry for this speedy resolution. I just wanted to talk about the general premise of the general story I want.

In case it was not already totally obvious: I love badficcy premises and angst. I will almost certainly never stop loving badficcy premises and angst.

Comments

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

go to bed, bb! ♥

ARE YOU KIDDING ME I THINK A. GARFIELD IS THE MOST SAD. and it's a kind of sadness he can't justify so he covers it up with a manic kind of joy, all over the place and everywhere, clinging to Jesse and Emma and being really earnest and motoring off his mouth about everything in general and nothing that really matters. This is one area where Andrew can't... can't really figure out how to be honest with himself.

(And I think there's a whole backstory in here, about how on the first day they met for the first readthrough of The Social Network, Andrew came out to Jesse --

"Boys and girls, actually," he corrects Jesse, and Jesse blinks.

"Oh, right," he says. "Sorry for assuming."

Andrew had already been convinced that this guy, this Jesse, would be one of the good ones, but he's delighted to have it confirmed.

"Thank you," he says, beaming widely. "Thanks for understanding."

"No problem," Jesse says, and wonders if he should reciprocate, but he doesn't, because he has never known the gift of a well-timed me too.

"I just - I just really like people, y'know?" Andrew says, his eyes wide and earnest.

Jesse wonders if there's a sexuality for just not really liking people, because if there is, he's it. (Andrew may or may not be an exception.) He smiles wryly to himself.

Andrew catches that smile, says, "Yeah, I know. I have this whole speech about sexual morality and integrity and how cheating is awful and consent is great, believe me, Jesse Eisenberg, and I want you to like me so I won't give the whole spiel -" he pronounces spiel like shpiel, and Jesse likes self-deprecation, oh, okay, he can work with that.

"Maybe another time," Jesse says. "We can both give each other an hour to talk about our most esoteric concerns and never talk about it again for the rest of our lives."

"No shame," Andrew says, pointing a finger at him. "NO SHAME."

... and that is how Jesse knows that Andrew would never even think of getting involved with someone else while he was with Emma, so god, he should stop thinking about it while hating himself a little.)

[aurora]

*thread-hijacks like a pro*

YOU SHOULD KEEP WRITING THIS TILL THE END OF TIMES. THE AWKWARDNESS AND PINING BUT ALSO THE KISSING AND THE HAPPY ENDINGS. <3<3<3

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

I am so invested in the private-public intersection of what a Hollywood threesome would entail! Like... how would you hide that? Would you go public with two people or would you just all pretend to be good friends? Would your agent know? I'm thinking that if you're all uncertain about where ~it's all going to lead~, the questions start getting overwhelming fast.

[harriet-vane.livejournal.com]

I like how sad Andrew turned in to more sad Jesse. Because EVERYONE IS SAD and they should really all just throw themselves at each other but I'd rather read more about them pining and being sad and lonely. (Why? Clearly I am a terrible person.)

SO AWESOME to wake up to. ♥

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

Yeah, so after I wrote that stuff in the comment to you, I started working on my fic for real, and started writing it in Jesse's POV. Guess who I'm blaming? YOU. ♥

I am thinking that they all get drunk! Last Christmas, when Andrew went home, he brought a bottle of port back just for kicks. Somehow it went rattling around in his house undrunk, and rather than pack five extra shirts he decided to bring it to New York so they could all get ridiculously tipsy as Jesse tells them esoteric facts about the history of port. (Then he packs the five extra shirts anyway.)

Fifth night of their visit, there's a thunderstorm, so they bring out the port. Jesse even has vaguely the right kind of glasses, and they sit around the living room spipping at the rubied port.

"Port wine has a higher alcohol content than most other wines," Jesse murmurs, and Andrew laughs, says, "Now you tell me." They're nearly through the entire bottle - and it's a big bottle.

Andrew and Emma start making out. It's not a thing they decide to do, more like a thing they find themselves doing after a while. It feels good, anyway, Andrew thinks, Emma pinning him to the couch with no more force than that exerted by her body weight, their mouths sweet with the taste of port.

Behind them, Jesse coughs. "I should probably go," he says, and wonders if disappearing into his own room would be ok. He really doesn't want to be out of the apartment in this rain.

Andrew and Emma separate. Andrew takes a lock of Emma's hair, freshly auburn again, and pushes it off his face. "What?" he says, and Jesse shifts uncomfortably.

"Don't go," Emma says, smiling at him. She squeezes Andrew's hand and puts her other hand on Jesse's knee.

(She's drunk, but her pulse is still rabbiting high in his throat. She thinks muzzily that this must be the bravest thing she's ever done.)

Jesse looks down at his knee like it's dislocated from the rest of his body. "I -"

"Andrew?" Emma whispers. Andrew knows there are a dozen permutations of how this could go, but maths was never his strong suit anyway and right now it's making his head hurt, so he clambers up and walks over to Jesse before falling to his knees and saying, "Is this okay?"

Jesse doesn't say anything, just nods a little jerkily. But Andrew gets it, and puts his hands on Jesse's knees. He hefts himself up a little to kiss him. Beyond their windows, the rain drums on.




.... AND, SCENE.

[harriet-vane.livejournal.com]

FIC FOR REAL. *_____* YES. YAY!

Emma is the BEST. Good job, Emma.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

I am so close to the end. If only I could find it in myself to fill in all the missing scenes there are. /o\

None of them are very drunk. The port was strong and there was a big bottle of it but they only had a third each, and anyway they aren't drunk because they're doing this with more purpose and flair than drunk sex can be fairly said to entail. Emma thinks such vague thoughts, then shuts them off, because they're confusing. And because she can't think, when Jesse is dragging his mouth down her neck.

She makes this high, quavery sound, and Andrew laughs a bit. "I like that sound," he tells no one in particular. Jesse kisses her neck more insistently, and sucks at a patch of skin at the join between shoulder and neck. Emma hopes the bruises will be there tomorrow. She can't stop the sounds spilling out of her mouth. She feels hot all over, and the bottom of her stomach drops out on her when Jesse looks up and meets her eyes. He's shirtless.

She cards a hand through his curls, and says softly, "Jesse." He smiles, something in him reassured, and latches his mouth to her nipple. Emma throws her head back and groans, loud.

The couch is the worst possible place to be doing this, but Emma can't bring herself to suggest they move.

[harriet-vane.livejournal.com]

<3________<3

I am thrilled by "close to the end" and even happier if you do manage to fill in gaps.

[oddishly.livejournal.com]

*__________________________________________________________*

[oddishly.livejournal.com]

NO REALLY PLEASE MAKE THIS THE NEXT FIC YOU WRITE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

/o\/o\/o\