fic: six degrees of jesse eisenberg
fic: six degrees of jesse eisenberg
fandom: the social network RPF
pairing: jesse/andrew, emma (because she's a boss)
notes: those spiderman kissing pictures, man. i don't even know. this is weird and short but i couldn't get it out of my head. also girlfriends don't exist because i am laaazzzzyyyy
--
"Hmm, I don't know, Garfield. Jesse's a better kisser."
"Agreed," Andrew says, kicking his feet up and grinning wickedly at her.
"Wow. Wow."
"What can I say, I'm extremely Method, Em."
"Did you have the problem? With the teeth? And the hyperventilating?"
"Teeth, no- miniature panic attack, yes."
"Even without the cameras."
"Nah, it was one of Fincher's takes, didn't you see it on the special features?" He laughs.
"Fuck off."
"Yes, even without the cameras. Especially without, I think. Just a nervous person in generally, isn't he."
"That he is." She pulls out her phone surreptitiously, while he mutters to himself- teeth? really?
oh my fucking god, eisenberg, you and andrew kissed, what. you're the worst friend ever for not telling me and i will now publicly shun you
Jesse's doing publicity for 30 Minutes or Less, but he still responds in ten minutes-
You're not allowed to text me stuff like this. I almost just threw up half a Zoloft into Katie Couric's face.
She laughs delightedly and Andrew looks up from his tattered copy of On the Road.
"Hmm?"
"Nothing. Just. Nothing."
He narrows his eyes like he knows who she's texting, but goes back to his book.
call me when you're done. i need details.
My agent just sent me pictures of you guys on set. I think you have the pertinent details.
oh thats all for the cameras baby you know he lives for you
Oh my God. What did I say, about the texts of this nature?
She snorts a little, and buttons up her peacoat.
"We're supposed to be back on set, Garf," she says, and he winces.
"Not a fan?"
"Nah, whatever you want," he says politely, and she says, "Well, alright then, Garfy."
"Oh God stop."
--
She calls Jesse afterwards, because he's notoriously terrible at returning calls and Emma's pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted to anyway.
"Hello?" he says, already resigned to the conversation.
"Hellooooo my love," she drawls in a British accent.
"Hi Emma."
"Jesse! Or Jess, as he does love to call you! Why didn't you tell me? We could have compared notes! Tongue? No tongue? Too much tongue?"
"That's why I didn't tell you," he says dryly. "Also, with the whole we're straight and both enjoy privacy thing."
"Oh really? I'm Tweeting this entire conversation, so, might wanna try a new angle," she says, laughing.
"What does that even mean?"
"We all know you're not as technologically deficient as you like to pretend, Eisenberg. Rotary telephone? Really?"
He talks and she can hear him grinning. "I know, it was a bit advanced for me. Hurt my head. I'm strictly carrier pigeon now."
"Weirdo."
"Ha."
"So, back to the topic at hand-"
"Spiderman!" Jesse cuts in. "How's it going?"
"Oh, it's just swell, you tricky little bitch."
"I resent that."
"Too bad. Are you like- are you and Andrew like-"
"You guessed it. We're brothers! How could you tell? Was it the accent? The hair that refuses to lay flat? No, no, it must be our blatant Judaism."
"All wonderful qualities in boyfraaands," Emma trills, ignoring the brother comment.
"Emma." He sighs.
"There are feelings, aren't there," she says, never quite sure when she's offended Jesse. "There are feelings that the agents say can never be expressed in the newspapers."
"The feelings and the agents," Jesse repeats, resigned. "Because expressing things in newspapers is my specialty."
"You talk too much about Zoloft," she says amusedly, but she's a little worried. Jesse's like- Jesse's a little bit like a baby's skull and a lot like an insecure fourteen year old girl. Covered with a layer of sarcasm and pathological lies.
"I take too much Zoloft," Jesse says, and sighs.
"You should come visit set."
"I can't."
"You gotta have a couple days off, right? It's a comedy. The people are supposed to be nice or whatever. Make a sarcastic quip and get out here."
"He just - told you about it? Just out of the blue?" And Emma gets it. Trust Jesse to doubt the one person who adores him more than anyone on earth.
"He likes you," she says in response. "He likes you, he won't shut up about you, and you should come to set. Because he's been even more angsty than he should be, lately."
"Brooding?"
She sighs, nodding. "Brooding. In a terribly Eduardo-y kind of way."
He doesn't say anything, for a second.
"I have a couple interviews in LA this weekend," he says finally, and Emma grins.
"I'll set up a cot in my trailer. Or, never mind, Andrew'll set up one."
"Thanks ever so," he grumbles, but she can tell he's smiling, just a little, at the corners of his mouth.
"Text me when you get in!" she says, and clicks off, singing "matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match-"
"Em-" Andrew pokes his head into her trailer. "We've got makeup."
She smiles evilly at him and he grins, bemused. "I'll be right there, Spidey."
She pulls on her Gwen Stacey boots and clomps outside, still wondering if they used tongue, or if maybe Andrew had done that thing where he kisses right on the edge of the lips first, so when he finally gets to the actual thing it feels even better.
She shrugs. Jesse'll tell her, if she makes him lie down on her couch, like they used to during Zombieland. They'll also need a pretty good amount of Smirnoff. She'll make the arrangements tomorrow.
fandom: the social network RPF
pairing: jesse/andrew, emma (because she's a boss)
notes: those spiderman kissing pictures, man. i don't even know. this is weird and short but i couldn't get it out of my head. also girlfriends don't exist because i am laaazzzzyyyy
--
"Hmm, I don't know, Garfield. Jesse's a better kisser."
"Agreed," Andrew says, kicking his feet up and grinning wickedly at her.
"Wow. Wow."
"What can I say, I'm extremely Method, Em."
"Did you have the problem? With the teeth? And the hyperventilating?"
"Teeth, no- miniature panic attack, yes."
"Even without the cameras."
"Nah, it was one of Fincher's takes, didn't you see it on the special features?" He laughs.
"Fuck off."
"Yes, even without the cameras. Especially without, I think. Just a nervous person in generally, isn't he."
"That he is." She pulls out her phone surreptitiously, while he mutters to himself- teeth? really?
oh my fucking god, eisenberg, you and andrew kissed, what. you're the worst friend ever for not telling me and i will now publicly shun you
Jesse's doing publicity for 30 Minutes or Less, but he still responds in ten minutes-
You're not allowed to text me stuff like this. I almost just threw up half a Zoloft into Katie Couric's face.
She laughs delightedly and Andrew looks up from his tattered copy of On the Road.
"Hmm?"
"Nothing. Just. Nothing."
He narrows his eyes like he knows who she's texting, but goes back to his book.
call me when you're done. i need details.
My agent just sent me pictures of you guys on set. I think you have the pertinent details.
oh thats all for the cameras baby you know he lives for you
Oh my God. What did I say, about the texts of this nature?
She snorts a little, and buttons up her peacoat.
"We're supposed to be back on set, Garf," she says, and he winces.
"Not a fan?"
"Nah, whatever you want," he says politely, and she says, "Well, alright then, Garfy."
"Oh God stop."
--
She calls Jesse afterwards, because he's notoriously terrible at returning calls and Emma's pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted to anyway.
"Hello?" he says, already resigned to the conversation.
"Hellooooo my love," she drawls in a British accent.
"Hi Emma."
"Jesse! Or Jess, as he does love to call you! Why didn't you tell me? We could have compared notes! Tongue? No tongue? Too much tongue?"
"That's why I didn't tell you," he says dryly. "Also, with the whole we're straight and both enjoy privacy thing."
"Oh really? I'm Tweeting this entire conversation, so, might wanna try a new angle," she says, laughing.
"What does that even mean?"
"We all know you're not as technologically deficient as you like to pretend, Eisenberg. Rotary telephone? Really?"
He talks and she can hear him grinning. "I know, it was a bit advanced for me. Hurt my head. I'm strictly carrier pigeon now."
"Weirdo."
"Ha."
"So, back to the topic at hand-"
"Spiderman!" Jesse cuts in. "How's it going?"
"Oh, it's just swell, you tricky little bitch."
"I resent that."
"Too bad. Are you like- are you and Andrew like-"
"You guessed it. We're brothers! How could you tell? Was it the accent? The hair that refuses to lay flat? No, no, it must be our blatant Judaism."
"All wonderful qualities in boyfraaands," Emma trills, ignoring the brother comment.
"Emma." He sighs.
"There are feelings, aren't there," she says, never quite sure when she's offended Jesse. "There are feelings that the agents say can never be expressed in the newspapers."
"The feelings and the agents," Jesse repeats, resigned. "Because expressing things in newspapers is my specialty."
"You talk too much about Zoloft," she says amusedly, but she's a little worried. Jesse's like- Jesse's a little bit like a baby's skull and a lot like an insecure fourteen year old girl. Covered with a layer of sarcasm and pathological lies.
"I take too much Zoloft," Jesse says, and sighs.
"You should come visit set."
"I can't."
"You gotta have a couple days off, right? It's a comedy. The people are supposed to be nice or whatever. Make a sarcastic quip and get out here."
"He just - told you about it? Just out of the blue?" And Emma gets it. Trust Jesse to doubt the one person who adores him more than anyone on earth.
"He likes you," she says in response. "He likes you, he won't shut up about you, and you should come to set. Because he's been even more angsty than he should be, lately."
"Brooding?"
She sighs, nodding. "Brooding. In a terribly Eduardo-y kind of way."
He doesn't say anything, for a second.
"I have a couple interviews in LA this weekend," he says finally, and Emma grins.
"I'll set up a cot in my trailer. Or, never mind, Andrew'll set up one."
"Thanks ever so," he grumbles, but she can tell he's smiling, just a little, at the corners of his mouth.
"Text me when you get in!" she says, and clicks off, singing "matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match-"
"Em-" Andrew pokes his head into her trailer. "We've got makeup."
She smiles evilly at him and he grins, bemused. "I'll be right there, Spidey."
She pulls on her Gwen Stacey boots and clomps outside, still wondering if they used tongue, or if maybe Andrew had done that thing where he kisses right on the edge of the lips first, so when he finally gets to the actual thing it feels even better.
She shrugs. Jesse'll tell her, if she makes him lie down on her couch, like they used to during Zombieland. They'll also need a pretty good amount of Smirnoff. She'll make the arrangements tomorrow.