The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

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[RPF] Andrew/Jesse - AU, Dork!Jesse

College, AU fic. Andrew meets dorky Jesse in the library, and is instantly smitten. Jesse is socially awkward and can barely manage talking with persistent Andrew ... so they find another way to communicate?

Jesse has to have glasses.

Bonus points for a ~scene where Andrew shows his protective side.

Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - AU, Dork!Jesse

ADORABLE. I might have to write this, i can't resist a good meet-cute.

[FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)


[Hey, so, this is my first fill and first Andrew/Jesse piece, so apologies if it's not up to par with all the wonderful writing I've seen around here. I've set the boys at Harvard just because, why not? And also because I've already done Harvard-related research, so it makes my life easier. Enjoy?]

It's not that Andrew is irresponsible. Certainly not. Andrew is a well-rounded student taking 22 credits this semester, almost half of which belong to ridiculous general education courses, on top of helping Carey get her student theatre company up and running for their first production (A Midsummer Night's Dream, because Carey does love her Shakespeare and also thinks they should start with something classic and also Andrew is most likely going to be Puck, okay love, but you still have to audition like everyone else. The upside to this is Andrew doesn't have to spend a lot of time memorizing his lines; he's a boy who knows his Shakespeare.) and also trying, attempting, doing his very best to maintain a not entirely boring social life. His life has a lot of stuff, is the thing. And sometimes there's stuff that is just not quite as interesting or important as other stuff and it gets shoved to the bottom of the stuff-pile and completely forgotten until suddenly it's due the next day and Andrew has done zero. research. on the rise and then dissolution of the British Empire and apparently is supposed to have 8,000 words on it and, like, an opinion. Andrew doesn't even have an opinion on the rise and then dissolution of S Club 7.

Fucking core programs. Honestly, Andrew had just chosen the class because it had "British" in the title. If he has an opinion on the rise and then dissolution of the British empire, it's something along the lines of "Well, those were the good old days, but gosh isn't everything just so nice and tidy now?"

History has never been Andrew's strongest subject. Besides his ability to name all the kings and queens back through William the Conqueror, but that's because there's a jaunty tune that goes with it.

Regardless. He's got 8,000 words on this thing due tomorrow at 8AM, so he's in Widener searching for an opinion. At this point, he's mostly procrastinating on the actual writing part and just wandering through the stacks, cradling a pile of promising-looking books in his arms. He had attempted, briefly, to get by with just his class texts but then he'd noticed the little annotation saying at least three outside sources required, and yeah. He just wants to get this done in time to have a beer with his friends before bed. He's got priorities, Andrew does. He's got aspirations.

He's also got an unfortunate tendency not to look where he's going, and now what he has not got is a book pile. The sad remains of his once-proud book pile are now scattered on the floor of the aisle. Andrew casts a dirty look toward the stool he tripped on and then turns to pick up his books.

Except there's already someone picking up his books. Not someone Andrew knows, just some random super-helpful person kneeling on the floor, gathering Andrew's renegade books back into a neat stack. He's got a head full of very curly hair and that is all Andrew can really see with the way he's crouched, but Andrew is positive he doesn't know anyone with a head like that.

"Hey, thanks, man," he says

The dude looks up. "Oh," he says, "Uh, I - are these yours?" He's got glasses and blue eyes and a sweet face. Andrew is immediately endeared to him.

"Yes?" Andrew says. "I tripped, I, uh, I dropped them. Who thought it was a good idea to put step-stools next to book shelves, right?" Andrew laughs, not embarrassed. Curly-haired guy smiles a little, crookedly, but he looks incredibly nervous. He bites his lip.

Andrew wonders if there is anyone around who could possibly remind him why, exactly he came to the library in the first place. Because if not he's just going to assume it was God's divine will.

"I'm Andrew," he says, and offers him a hand up.

[FILL] kiss by the book (1b/?)

The guy blinks his very blue eyes at Andrew, then hands him a stack of his books instead of taking the hand. "I, um," he says. He picks the last book up off the floor and stands up, hugging it to his chest. He's shorter than Andrew, and a little scrawny, but Andrew can't judge. Andrew is a lot scrawny. "I'm - I'm Jesse, sorry about your books."

Andrew resists an overwhelming urge to hug him. He's been told he sometimes needs to control his urges. "Don't be sorry," he says, giving curly-haired Jesse all of the smiles he can muster. "Thank you for picking them up, you're lovely. Do you, ah, do you need that one?"

He's referring to the book Jesse is still holding: it's big and kind of old and Andrew mostly picked it because it's pretty cool-looking. Jesse immediately looks worried and tries to hand it to Andrew, saying, "Oh, no, you can have it, sorry, I've read it before," but Andrew pushes the book gently back to Jesse's chest, because seriously, he has no emotional attachment to the book.

"You can keep it," Andrew says. "I have no emotional attachment to it, I promise."

"It has really good maps," Jesse says, as if that explains everything.

"Did you read it for class?" Maybe Andrew will have to steal it from him, if it's a useful academic text. He feels pre-emptively bad about it.

Jesse shrugs. "No, I just... like maps." He looks down at his feet. He looks as if it's an admission that has utterly defeated him, but Andrew is delighted. What a strange and fantastic creature.

"Tell you what, give me your hand," Andrew says decisively. He shifts his books around so he can fish a pen from his pocket. Jesse has his hand out, his wrist limp and his fingers curled in toward his palm. He still looks nervous. Possibly that's just his default expression, or possible Andrew is far more intimidating than he gives himself credit for. He really hopes it's the former.

"I'm in Eliot," he says, taking Jesse's hand and writing as neatly as possible: his name, his house, his room number. Jesse's hands are soft and warm, pliant as Andrew inks the words onto Jesse's palm. "When you're done, bring the book by my room." The fact the Andrew almost certainly won't need it anymore after tonight is completely irrelevant. That is not the point of this exercise.

"Um, okay." Jesse sounds unsure, so Andrew looks up to smile at him. Jesse looks mildly terrified.

Andrew makes a mental note to ask his friends if he's really that frightening of a person. The idea is very upsetting to him.

"Is everything all right?" he asks, secretly crossing his fingers that the answer isn't yes, strange English boy, you're scaring me, because Andrew doesn't want to scare people in general, but especially not people like this one, whom he would much rather take out for coffee and possibly scones.

"No, I mean yes, I mean yes, I'm fine," Jesse says all in a rush. Then he blinks at Andrew a few times, biting his lip, and then he turns and walks away so quickly Andrew is surprised he doesn't actually break into a sprint.

Andrew sighs. It's a big campus. It might take some work to run into him again.

[FILL] kiss by the book (1c/?)


Several hours later, Andrew trudges back to his dorm room, his messenger bag heavy with the books he decided to check out, just in case he has to double-check things. He's got most of the paper done, an outline and note cards full of sources and quotes, so really all that's left is to put everything together. And that will be easier typing, so back to Eliot it is.

"'Sup, bangers'n'mash," his roommate Armie greets him from where he's sprawled on their communal couch, feet kicked up and hanging off the opposite end. He is longer than the couch itself. He's reading a thick Biochemistry textbook that looks like it would give any normal person a migraine.

"Nothin' much, world's largest known human," Andrew says. He drops into his desk chair and opens his laptop. "I think I scarred some guy for life in the library though."

"An-drew, how many times have I told you that no matter how impressive it is, you can't actually win people over by whipping it out in public?"

"I know, I know." Andrew sighs. "He was really lovely though."

No response from Armie, so Andrew turns to look at him. He's looking at Andrew, making a comical shocked face over the top of his book, eyes wide, mouth round.

"Oh, shut up," Andrew says, rolling his eyes and turning back to his work.

"Did you get a name at least?" asks Armie.

"Yes, but you don't, you terrible person."

Andrew often feels that he and Armie are the most unlikely roommates ever. Armie is huge and tall and handsome; he rows crew and is majoring in Biological and Biomedical Sciences. Andrew is majoring in theatre. Or, technically, Visual and Performing Arts. And in his free time, he does more theatre. But he and Armie are actually good friends. They're like the Odd Couple, if the Odd Couple got along. So maybe not like the Odd Couple at all.

So Andrew writes his stupid paper and texts around to his friends and makes them reassure him that, no, he is not a scary person in the least. (Those are Carey's words; Keira's also very helpful response was Hahahahahaha and Eddie's was Only when you're so happy you're scary which Andrew doesn't think should count at all.) He also asks if anyone knows a Jesse, but his group is pretty cliquey and are kind of useless if you want to find anyone outside their circle of influence.

Ah well.

"Hey, Arm And Hammer," he calls out around a mouthful of peanut M&Ms. Peanut M&Ms are his brain food.

"Yes, adolescent Colin Firth?"

"You know anyone named Jesse?"

"Oooh, is that library boy's name?"

Andrew turns around to glare at him. It's entirely ineffective, and he believes all his friends who say he's not scary.

"Not that I can think of," Armie says. "But I can ask around. Have you tried Facebook-stalking him?"

"You know I hate Facebook," Andrew says.

Armie sighs. "You're so damaged, man."

[FILL] kiss by the book (1d/?)


Andrew goes to class the next morning, hands in his essay which is actually 7,992 words but by the time he'd gotten that far he was literally dozing on his keyboard. He figures that a few words short is better than drooling himself into electrocution. If his professor notices, he'll just explain that the word count was for his own safety.

He stops for coffee on his way back to the dorm, not quite awake yet despite sitting through an hour-long lecture that he absorbed none of - he is seriously the worst English person ever, zoning out through a class that's all about his own country. His mother would be so disappointed. Or amused. Probably amused.

When he gets back, though, there is a book propped up against the outside of his door.

Andrew bends to examine it, just so be sure.

"Dammit!" he says, with feeling.

Brenda from across the hall pokes her head out. "Are you okay?"

"Did you see who left this?" He holds up the by book for her to see. She shakes her head, looking concerned, probably for Andrew's mental well-being.

"Dammit," Andrew says again.

"Do you want some tea?" Brenda asks. Andrew holds up his paper coffee cup and she rolls her eyes. "You're the worst English person ever."

"Quite possibly, yes. Thank you though," Andrew says.

It's quiet and empty inside his dorm room. Armie has a schedule that's even crazier than Andrew's, so he's usually gone early and for most of the day. Sometimes Andrew wishes he were around more, just for the company; right now, though, he's glad he has the privacy to lament his hard and unfair life in private.

He just wanted to see the guy again. Knowing his luck, Andrew probably missed him by like five minutes.

He sits down to leaf through the book anyway. He's got time to kill before he meets Carey for lunch-slash-theatre stuff and he feels like a giant loser anyway, so he might as well waste a while looking at pages and mourning his missed opportunity with Jesse the library boy.

Jesse was right, though: the book does have good maps. They're all black and white, but they're intricate and impossibly detailed and actually really interesting to look at as they chronicle the shifting boundaries of countries and empires. Andrew spends a good ten minutes squinting at a map of the British Isles from way back when and trying to imagine Surrey nestled in among all the old place names.

As he's flipping through, a splash of color catches his eye. He turns back to the page: it's a map of the world, spread out over two pages, with the farthest reaches of the British empire shaded in a darker gray than the rest of it. The color is red pen that someone took to the page. There's a red dot filled in right over where Boston should be, and next to it in small, lopsided handwriting it says, You are here and so am I. JE

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Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)


Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)

all of this is perfect. PERFECT. please keep updating because if you don't, I may very well just throw myself off a bridge.

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)

Dearest author!Anon, have you written anything else? I'd love to read your other stuff, if it exists, especially if it's anything like this fic. I understand completely if you don't want to reveal yourself, but if you do decide to, it would be more than wonderful :)


(I don't have an lj but I didn't think it would be fair to ask you who you are and stay anon myself :) )

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)

hey, thank you! :) you are so sweet. i haven't actually written (well, posted) anything else tsn-related. i have some old stuff from fandoms past floating around the internet! it's all several years old though, ahahaha. when i'm done writing this i'll probably post and link it in my writing journal though :)

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)

Author, jsyk. You are really good. I admire you deeply, please never stop writing.

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)

You've probably seen this, but this reminded me of this fic:

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)

Hi! I'm so lost... I've been waiting for an update for ages. Is a part 11 up? Is this being abandoned? Oh god, I hope not... D:

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (1a/?)

Ok, so I'm excited already because. Um. College AU, duh. BUT IF YOU JUST MADE A HORRIBLE HISTORIES REFERENCE I LOVE YOU.

I know I'm too old for that shit. I appear to be indifferent.

[FILL] kiss by the book (8a/?)

[i'm starting this new thread down here in hopes that it will be easier to find! i know some people have been having trouble navigating the thread, because it is a ridiculous thread, mostly because you are all ridiculously amazing. i love all of you, truly. also, i was not planning on updating so soon (i was planning to sit around watching the pacific, appreciating joe mazzello, and being generally unproductive for a few days), but then awesome things happened to awesome people in my life (MADDY THIS MEANS YOU) so i had to write in celebration. <3]

It takes a minute for Andrew to orientate himself upon waking. His mouth is fuzzy from falling asleep without brushing his teeth. He’s got that slightly grimy feeling all over from sleeping in his clothes. He’s dehydrated, he needs to pee, and he is not in his own bed.


Jesse is half-on top of him, wrapped around him, and is quite possibly drooling on Andrew’s shoulder. He is still dead asleep; Andrew can feel him breathing.

Andrew sighs and touches a stray curl on Jesse’s forehead. Water, peeing, hygiene—all those little human necessities, they can wait a little longer. Meanwhile, Andrew is just going to lay here, watching Jesse, reminiscing about Jesse kissing him last night. Because he did just wake up in Jesse’s bed. He’s pretty positive that means he didn’t dream it.

Andrew likes Jesse’s face without his glasses. Well, he likes it with the glasses, too, but he likes being able to see all the lines of Jesse’s face, soft and smooth with sleep; he likes how he looks so open and vulnerable in a way that’s completely separate from the anxiety that’s so often creased into his brow. Andrew doesn’t know why Jesse is so intrinsically nervous, so prone to worry, but it is doing some truly ridiculous things to Andrew’s heart to see him so at ease. The only way it would be better is if he were smiling.

It isn’t too terribly long before Jesse begins to stir, which is good, because Andrew really does need to pee. Jesse shifts slightly, makes a sleepy noise of protest, probably against the general idea of being awake, and presses his face into Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew cards his fingers though Jesse’s hair and says, “Hey, good morning.”

“Wha—” Jesse starts, cutting himself off with a yawn. His fingers curl into Andrew’s shirt and he presses a little closer, squeezing his eyes shut resolutely.

“Are you awake?” Andrew asks gently. “I really need to pee but I don’t want to get up until you’re awake.”

“M’awake,” Jesse mumbles, shifting around a little in what Andrew assumes is an attempt to disentangle himself a little bit.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” says Andrew, extracting himself carefully and heading out to the bathroom. In the main suite room, Joe is sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and boxers, eating a large bowl of Froot Loops. Some Jimmy Stewart movie is on the television and there’s a small plastic cage with two hermit crabs in it on the coffee table.

“Good morning,” Joe says brightly.

“Morning.” Andrew rubs at his eyes; it’s brighter out here than in Jesse’s room, where the shades are drawn and the lights are off. “Are those Justin’s crabs?”

Joe grins. “Yeah. There was an attempted heist last night—I can’t believe you guys slept through it—so now I’m keeping them in my sight at all times. Unless Justin’s here, in which case I’m keeping them in the closet.”

“All right then,” says Andrew. “Bathroom?”

Joe points. Andrew goes and relieves himself, finally, then rummages around a little until he finds some mouthwash, just in case. It’s the best he can do without traipsing back to Eliot to get his toothbrush.

On his way back to Jesse’s room, Joe says, “So did you make a move last night?”

“Well.” Andrew stops, scratches his head, and grins sheepishly. “Technically he did, I guess.”

“Oh, shit.” Joe looks absolutely delighted.

Andrew waves him off. “Shut up, we were drunk. This morning is what really counts, so wish me luck.”

“I believe in you,” Joe says solemnly.

[FILL] kiss by the book (8b/?)

In the bedroom, Jesse is sitting up, now, with his glasses on and the blankets pulled up over his knees. He’s watching the door when Andrew comes in, then immediately drops his gaze once he meets Andrew’s. Andrew wants really badly to go hug him, so he goes and sits on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Hey,” he says. “How do you feel?”

“Embarrassed,” Jesse mumbles. “And hungover. But mostly embarrassed.”

Andrew laughs softly. “You shouldn’t be,” he says, and leans in to kiss him. Jesse turns his head, though.

“I, um, I haven’t brushed my teeth or anything,” Jesse says. “I shouldn’t, I mean, you shouldn’t have to—”

“Please let me kiss you good morning,” says Andrew. “Then you can go brush and floss and perform whatever dental hygiene to your heart’s content, but it would really make me feel much better about life if you let me kiss you good morning first.”

Jesse bites his lip, looking torn for a moment, then flicks his eyes self-consciously over to meet Andrew’s. Andrew tries again, then, and Jesse meets him halfway, keeping his lips determinedly closed and pulling away after only a few seconds, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, clambering awkwardly out of the bed. “I just—I can’t, I mean. My mouth kind of tastes like vomit, which doesn’t make sense because I didn’t, I didn’t throw up last night, right? But I, I—sorry, I just have to. Brush my teeth.”

Andrew has never found someone running away from him so endearing in his life. He just hopes that it is only a temporary running away and that Jesse will be back once he’s done with the teeth-brushing and stuff. Otherwise that would be pretty sad. Andrew eases himself further onto the bed to wait, sitting cross-legged. He fidgets for a few moments: with the bedspread, with the buttons on his own shirt, before his gaze falls on Jesse’s desk and the post-its there. He stretches over and grabs those and a pen, then sits and deliberates for a moment before writing.

He’s just finishing when he hears Jesse and Joe’s voices low in the other room. Andrew replaces the desk supplies and opens Jesse’s laptop just long enough to stick the note on his screen before closing it again and plopping back onto the bed.

When Jesse returns, he’s wearing a different shirt and a hoodie, neither of which look like his own. Andrew assumes they’re Joe’s. Nothing against Joe, but Andrew would like to take them off of him.

Jesse closes the door behind him. He leans against is and looks at Andrew, biting his lip.

Andrew grins at him. “Feel better?”

“Um.” Jesse licks his lips. “Yes, definitely.”

He doesn’t really look like he’s planning on coming back to bed; he’s kind of hovering and eyeing Andrew nervously, like he’s not sure exactly what to do in this situation. Andrew would really like him to come back to bed so Andrew can, like, spoon him for days or something, but if that’s not going to happen, then. Well.

Andrew gets up wordlessly and walks over to Jesse. He takes Jesse’s face in his hands and strokes his thumbs over Jesse’s cheekbones, grinning when Jesse’s eyes flick up to meet his. Jesse smiles a little bit, too, lopsided but not quite so nervous. Andrew can think of zero reasons not to kiss him, so he does. He’s worried, but only for that split-second before his lips touch Jesse’s, and then he is actually kissing him, sober, slow and soft. Jesse’s hands are curling carefully at Andrew’s waist and Jesse is relaxing back against the door, taking Andrew with him.

Andrew can’t help it: he grins against Jesse’s mouth, maybe a little too ridiculous, because Jesse huffs a little and murmurs, “It’s hard to kiss you when you’re smiling so much.”

“Sorry,” Andrew says, still grinning, and kisses him again anyway.

[FILL] kiss by the book (8c/?)

They leave Jesse’s room half an hour later, because Andrew is always ravenous the morning after he’s been out drinking, and when his stomach started growling Jesse got legitimately concerned that he was going to starve. Andrew was not planning on actually starving, he had just forgotten about the whole breakfast thing in favor of making out. He glances in the mirror first, pleased to see how slightly mussed he looks, and they slip out into the suite room.

Joe, Emma, and both Justins are lined up on the couch, waiting to greet them with raised eyebrows.

“Good morning,” Andrew says brightly as Jesse puts his shoes on. “We’re going for breakfast.”

“Hey, awesome, we’ll come too,” says Boyband Justin.

“No you won’t,” Jesse says.


(It amazes me how in this new uncharted land of you and me, the first place you found was the capital city of my heart. AG)


They walk off-campus for breakfast, to a little café with great coffee and equally delicious muffins. Jesse sips at his organic green tea and pulls apart his banana-walnut muffin while Andrew makes quick work of two blueberry ones before focusing on his coffee. There’s not a lot of conversation, but it’s not awkward. It’s surprisingly comfortable, especially for Andrew, who is a person who likes to talk a lot.

When they’ve been sitting there for about twenty minutes, Jesse sets his tea down and says, “Um, my English professor just walked in.”

Andrew twists around to look: there are two middle-aged men in line, one dirty blond with glasses, the other with a graying beard. “Which one?”

“With the glasses. Sorkin.” Jesse picks a walnut free from the remaining half of his muffin and pops it in his mouth. Andrew is about to turn and look again when Jesse looks up behind him, his lips quirking into a smile. “Morning, professor.”

“Good morning, Mister Eisenberg.” Jesse’s English professor has the aura of someone who is smarter than everyone in the room, except maybe the man who’s with him. He’s got a warm smile, though, and Jesse seems to like him. “I was just talking about you, actually, telling my friend David here how brilliant you are.”

Jesse looks down at his muffin and grins, sheepish but pleased. “I, um, I’m not—“

“He’s also unnecessarily modest to a truly ridiculous degree. You read his paper on dialogue dissection,” Professor Sorkin says to his friend, then extends a handshake to Andrew. “Aaron Sorkin. Are you a Harvard student, too?”

“Um, yeah, I’m a theatre major,” Andrew says. “Andrew Garfield. Pleased to meet you.”

The professor looks delighted. “Theatre! That’s excellent. David’s a director.”

“That I do,” David says. He turns to Jesse. “You ever take to writing, you let Aaron send your work to me, okay?”

“Um,” Jesse says, looking thoroughly flustered. “Yes, sir.”

The professor smiles wide. “We’ll leave you boys to your breakfast now. See you on Monday, Mister Eisenberg.”

Andrew watches them go. “He looks really familiar.”

Jesse picks another walnut free. “Who, Professor Sorkin?”

“No, the other guy,” Andrew says. “He looks really familiar, but I can’t place him.”

Jesse turns to look, too, chewing his lip. He shrugs. “Yeah, maybe.”


“Someone didn’t come home last night,” Armie sings when Andrew returns to Eliot after breakfast. He’s got play rehearsal that afternoon and figures he should really change his clothes and, like, attempt to be clean before then.

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have, like, important social events to attend?”

“Yes,” says Armie. He’s sitting on the couch with his feet kicked up, textbook open on his lap with a notebook propped inside it. “But not ‘til later. Right now all my time is for you. Well, and for my calculus. But at least thirty percent for you.”

“Your generosity is unparalleled,” Andrew says, heading into his room to find clean clothes.

[FILL] kiss by the book (8d/?)

“You’re giving me details before you leave, Garfield,” Armie calls after him. “Throw me a bone, here. I’m overinvested in your dating life.”

Andrew pokes his head back into the suite room, grinning. “You’re an awful pervert is what you are. Wanting details of my sexcapades.”

“You had no sexcapades,” Armie says. “I just want to know if you manned up enough to kiss the boy.”

“There quite possibly was kissing,” says Andrew. He goes to change, talking loud enough that Armie can still hear him. “There was kissing, and we went to breakfast—well, brunch technically I guess—and we don’t have any concrete plans but he said I could come by later or tomorrow if I wanted to, and, you know. I want to. So there’s that.”

“I am so proud of you,” says Armie.

Andrew comes out of his room still pulling a sweatshirt on over his head. “We ran into one of his professors at breakfast. Apparently he’s some kind of genius, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he’s way smarter than me.”

Armie grins as he pencils something into his notebook. “Well, you are a theatre major.”

“That I am indeed,” Andrew says. He double-checks his back for his script, then shoulders it. “And it’s off to the theatre with me.”


In Agassiz, Andrew is greeted by Emma appearing right behind him, saying, “So, were you guys making out in there or what?”

“Augh!” Andrew yelps, then, “Why is everyone so overinvested in my dating life today?”

“Don’t be egotistical,” Emma says. “I’m overinvested in Jesse’s dating life.”

“I’m overinvested in your dating life, though,” says Carey, sidling up next to him.

“Did you know Joe wants to marry you?” Andrew asks Emma.

Emma shrugs. “He’s mentioned it,” she says breezily. “You should answer my question.”

Andrew makes a face at her. “Maybe we were. You know, a merrier hour never wasted, etcetera. But room, fairy! Here comes Oberon!”

Oberon, whose real name is Max, lifts an eyebrow at the group of them.

Carey rolls her eyes. “Okay, all prying into Andrew’s personal life is postponed until after rehearsal.” She claps her hands together. “All right, let’s go, people!”


When Andrew finally gets back from rehearsal, and from being interrogated about all things romantic in his life, there’s a new note scrawled on the whiteboard on his dorm room door. It’s written small, messy, squeezed into the lower corner under several messages from Armie’s friends and a Stoppard quote from Carey.

I would like to circumnavigate you, so that if there was a map of every inch of you I would run out of push-pins trying to mark: I was here, I was here, I was here. JE

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Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (8c/?)

loving thissss!!!!!!!!!!!

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (8b/?)

What does the note say!?

Loving this a whole lot...

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (8a/?)

this is probably really dumb but is there a part 10 to this yet? i can't find it anywhere :c
i love this so so so so much by the way, author!anon. fabulous job.

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (8a/?)

hi, anon! there is no part ten yet but there will be soon, i promise! thank you for reading! <3

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (8a/?)

Omg. More, please? I know it's a long shot but I just read this for the first time and it's so good!

Re: [FILL] kiss by the book (8a/?)

Any chance this was ever finished or posted anywhere because it's been YEARS and I still think about this fic.

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

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