Log in

No account? Create an account

The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

zuckonitkinkeme zuckonitkinkeme wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
Previous Entry Share Next Entry
quick note; GUYS. please be aware that if you posted a prompt in part six and it is now screened, i have posted them to the post already - so that you guys don't have to. thanks for being patient and making the fill-a-thon such a success!

sorry i didn't get much of delicious done; i lacked the internet over the break but rest assured i have absolutely nothing to do so will get it, hopefully.




IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine as she is a public figure both on the internet and on facebook itself. priscilla chan is NOT as she is not a public figure.

if you're in doubt, please message the mod or leave a comment in the discussion post.

♥ post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♥ be respectful.
♥ both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♥ one pairing/prompt per comment please.
♥ you are encouraged to try and write a prompt for every request you make.
♥ we are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. (we are even incest friendly what with some of our characters being twins and all...)
♥ no pairing bashing, OK? no need to wank over ships.
♥ long and short fics welcome. multiple responses encouraged!
♥ please try to refrain from saying 'seconded!' as much as possible.
♥ on RPF: Please disclaim that it is RPF, a work of fiction and in no way related to the actual actors/persons/etc. (i wouldn't even try and discourage RPF from this meme ;))


♥ alphabetize pairings/threesomes/moresomes. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark/Sean etc.)
♥ put [RPF] before RPF prompts. (e.g. [RPF] Andrew/Jesse)
♥ for crossover prompts: "[Crossover], The Social Network Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]" (e.g. [Crossover], Eduardo/Columbus, [Zombieland])
♥ no "!" in pairings, only in descriptions. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark, FacebookCreator!Eduardo, CFO!Mark)
♥ anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Sean/Other)
♥ put [GEN] before GEN prompts.


♥ please don't embed. link to images/videos.
♥ no locked material. this includes communities, even if membership is open.
♥ fills can be posted anonymously or not.
♥ fills can be anything: fic, art, vid, fanmix, podfic, etc.
♥ all prompts are open to fills at all times, even if they have been filled in the past or are being currently filled by someone else. multiple fills are positively encouraged; if something appeals to you then do not be put off creating a new fill by the existence of a prior one.
NEW: ♥ PLEASE comment with the first of your fill to the PROMPT and then all future updates as a comment to the FIRST PART of the fill. this makes it easier for both the WIP spreadhseet and for archiving stuff on delicious. it also helps people who are trying to catch up on updates and don't have to look through every fill on the prompt (should it have more than one). thank you.






have fun!

THERE WILL BE UNMARKED SPOILERS. enter at your own risk! :D


i know you guys are enjoying this meme and i appreciate that but please can you put the SUBJECT HEADER on your prompt. you would REALLY be helping me out if you could do that. it just saves time for me when i'm trying to tag everything in delicious.

AND PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT repost prompts from parts three, four, five or six over here again. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen. (prompts for parts one and two are now up for reposting.)



[RPF] Andrew/Jesse Drama School AU

OK, so I am definitely prompting myself here, but this has been growing in my head for so long and I really wanna put it out there.

Basically; Andrew is a third year acting student at drama school in London, Jesse arrives as a one year international acting student (living with Emma b/c how could I not?). They meet, prance around doing theatre things, feeling emerge and so on.
Split into three terms, so it's going to be kinda long and probably not that great but what can you do.

My starting points are writing about what I know: London and drama school.

As for the rest? Well, I've never had anyone mouth at the thin fabric of my boxers before they gave me a blow job...
but this is more to do with my lack of male productive organs than for lack of trying.

Fill: All The World's A Stage (1a/?)

Jesse hadn’t moved to London to fall in love. It had never been part of his plan for how this year was going to pan out, and he had never thought of it as a particularly romantic city, before now.

But lying here in his bed, squinting up at the grey clouds that are beginning to sprinkle the world outside the window with snow, and feeling Andrew’s grip tighten to press his warm chest against Jesse’s back, he realises that that is what’s happening.

And it’s scary and overwhelming and unexpected, but it’s also exciting and kind of tremendous and it’s…Andrew. Andrew. So he kind of, sort of, definitely wants to stay in this cocoon with him forever, not have to get up and catch a plane back home for the winter break.

“Ten more minutes,” Andrew’s husky morning voice whispers in his ear, “it’s far too effing cold to get out of bed yet”

Jesse turns around a presses his lips behind Andrew’s earlobe and mutters quietly “I can think of a couple of things we can do to warm up”, smiling to himself at first because of how corny it sounds, but then at the reaction it nevertheless provokes in the boy who is somehow now straddling him.

Re: Fill: All The World's A Stage (1b/?)

“…that your time here, in this most glorious of cities, shall be challenging, exciting, educational and, most importantly, that you will form the strongest of friendships with your peers. For these are the bonds that will help you to learn not only about the wonder of this craft and the world which you shall henceforth be immersed in, but also how you can grow as individuals by exploring each others’ minds, bodies and souls.”

There is a low murmur of coughed back laughs and shifting in seats at this last line, and Jesse grins down at his knees, wondering just how aware Stephen was of exactly how that had sounded.

Apparently in England it was a normal thing to call professors by their first names – or maybe it was just a theatre school thing. Whichever kind of ‘thing’ it was, Jesse knew he was going to find it difficult to address the principle of the entire school as just ‘Stephen’, but there it was.

He’d only been in the country for a week but had quickly realised just how much he was going to need to adjust, and how long it would take. Jesse had found so far that it wasn’t the big differences – the accents, the colloquialisms and slang words that went straight over his head, or the timezone changing – that were the most jarring, but the small ones.

Like the fact that they still sold Extra gum in London, but here the packaging was different: the font more simplified and the paper a shinier shade of blue. Or the confusing way round that the date was displayed on the cheap little cell phone he’d picked up at the airport : it still caught him out each time he looked at it (wait it’s the what month? There aren’t nineteen mon…oh right). Or even the insistent, high pitched beeping sound that hurries people across pedestrian crossings and the little green man that blinks so frantically, as opposed to the little white man that doesn’t need to flash or make tons of noise back in Queens.

OK, so maybe to him these small things seem quite big now, but he’ll get used to it. At least that’s what Hallie Kate had said to him when Jesse had rung home for the fourth time after three days of being there, her words, as ever, annoyingly wise beyond her years. Jesse had questioned her authority to dish out such advice but had been very quickly reminded that his younger sister had travelled more in her short nine years on the planet than he had in his twenty, up until now, and that gave her perfect authority thank you very much and would you like to cry at Mom down the phone again or can I hang up now I’ve got a lot of homework you know. He hadn’t been crying. It had just been a difficult transition and speaking to his Mom about it all had helped to remind him exactly why he was here in the first place.

“…that if in doubt, the Bard will always provide you with words of wisdom and comfort.”

Jesse really needs to stop zoning out, it isn’t like him and putting it down to jetlag after six days seems slightly excessive

Fill: All The World's A Stage (1c/?)

“And on that note, I will welcome you, new and returning acting students alike with my now customary Shakespearian words of wisdom. They are vital to keep in mind and we all find just cause to remember them, especially in this fine institute of theatrical training”

– a cheer of “CENTRAAAL” erupts from a black haired guy sat a few rows in front of Jesse, and there is another ripple of slightly louder laughter in the auditorium.

Stephen looks up from his podium on the stage in the school’s main theatre and mutters, smiling softly “well, yes, quite. Thank you Mr. Patel…now where was I?”

A boy in a grey pullover and black jeans in the very front row calls out, in what Jesse can only assume is a put on RP accent, “Shhhhakespeare, Stephen, Shakespeare!”

“Ah yes, thank you. Shakespeare. As he put it himself: ‘All the world’s a stage and the men and women on it merely players’.”

Jesse’s eyes linger on the grey-sweatshirted boy in the front row for a few seconds (because how can hair like that exist in real life?), thinking that, proportional to the sheer length of Stephen’s speech, he might have chosen a slightly less anti-climactic quote to end with.

“Jeese, he’s the principle of the entire freaking school, I’m pretty sure he knows his Shakespeare” Emma mutters in his ear, joining the rest of the auditorium in clapping enthusiastically, then rising from her seat to turn down and grin at him.
So apparently he hadn’t actually kept that last thought to himself.

He follows Emma to the end of their row of universally typical theatre seats – dark red with the corners of the flip-up bottoms just starting to fray – and they join the bustling throng of students up the auditorium stairs and out to the car park. The boy with the grey sweatshirt from the front row is clambering on to the hood of a rusty old Volvo that Jesse assumes must belong to him, and clears his throat comically to address the crowd that is gathering around.

“Hi guys, I don’t really know how I’m supposed to follow that to be honest. Principle Fry’s speeches are the stuff of legend. So yeah, hi, hello, I’m Andrew for those of you that don’t know me”

A red-headed boy to the left of Jesse and Emma wolf-whistles loudly and grey-sweatshirted Andrew bows his head and lifts his hands.

“Stop it you” he grins, lifts his head and winks down at his friend.

Andrew continues to announce that they “are going to follow the time-honoured ‘first Friday of first term’ tradition of going to The King’s Head: a place that you will soon be all too familiar with, if you’ve never had the pleasure before. And if you have, all I’m going to say is that Jim’s expecting us and may possibly have set up some specials in our honour. So, please, come one, come all and let us show you exactly why they choose to start this term on a Friday”.

He jumps down from the car, swings his arm around the shoulders of a petite girl with short brown hair and leads the way out of the car park and left on to the pavement.

Jesse isn’t entirely sure why he watches Andrew until he’s out of sight.

Fill: All The World's A Stage (1d/?)

“Jesse. Jesse. Are you listening to me at all? We’ve only know each other for four days, I think that’s a bit early in the friendship to start ignoring me already” Emma says nudging his arm.

Jesse turns to give her his full attention.

“OK, so I’m guessing that The King’s Head is some sort of bar, right?”

“I think that’s pretty safe to assume, yes”

“Like, a bar with drinks and peanuts in dishes on the counter and a pool table?”

“No, no I think The King’s Head is more of a snooker table kind of place”

“Emma, I’m trying here”

And he really is. It's not like he's never gone out drinking before, he's nearly 21 - there are a few places at home that don't bother to card anybody unless they're pushed in in a stroller - and anyway, he isn't that much of a recluse. He just usually prefers to stay in social situations that are more familiar (and less noisy, brighter, calmer, not full of people starting fights and shrieking at each other...).

Emma smiles at Jesse, puts her arm through his and turns her piercing blue eyes up to him
“I'm sorry sweetie, I know you are but we haven’t left our house since the day I moved in!”

They slowly start to join the group of students trailing at the end of the gaggle, heading towards the exit of the car park.

“That was only three days ago,” Jesse tries to argue, but he can tell he’s fighting a losing battle already, “plus...I mean, we left to come here. We left our house to c-”

“Oh that doesn’t count at all Eisenberg," Emma interrupts, scrunching her face into an affectionate scowl and waving her hand at him, "we'll just go for a couple of quiet drinks, meet our new schoolmates, you know, socialise a bit, and then we can go home and pig out on some more of that stupidly good butterscotch candy”

Jesse raises his hands in an OK-OK-I-admit-defeat’ motion, biting the corner of his lip and half-smiling at her. He’d had a feeling that Emma was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

Fill: All The World's A Stage (1e/?)

On June 12th the school had sent out a welcome pack that included, as well as a guide to settling in to the city, medical registration forms and a course shopping list, arrangements for accommodation. He remembered that it was June 12th because that was the day that it had finally sunk in that this was real.

He really was going away to drama school in England. He really was venturing outside of the US for the first time in his life, on his own. He tried to mostly see it as an adventure, an incredible opportunity to immerse himself in a different culture and soak up as much technique as he could.It was only on particularly bad days that he frantically questioned why he had ever thought that moving 5000 miles away from his home, family and therapist was in any way a good idea.

Those days plus, you know, days ending in ‘y’, or something.

There had been the option of sorting housing out for yourself, but Jesse had figured that that’d be one more thing to worry about and panic over, so he’d opted for the other option: to let the school pick a house from their approved list of local landlords and to allocate housemates based on who they thought would get on well.

Which was how Emma had burst into his life.

Literally burst, flinging open his bedroom door the first day she had moved in to their rickety Victorian terrace, introducing herself and sitting on the edge of his bed, evidently to play 21 questions: Jesse Eisenberg edition. At first Jesse hadn’t known how to take this blonde haired ball of energy, but later that day they’d gone for a walk to the local park, sat on a bench at the top of the hill that overlooked the city skyline and talked properly.

Emma had told him about her family and childhood in Arizona, the one woman plays she used to put on for her parents and admitted that she had been pretty petrified about moving away for a year, but that the reputation of Central School of Speech and Drama had been too much to resist.

“Well that, or the fact that I’m kind of in trouble for killing a man in Phoenix and ‘Emma Stone, aspiring actress in London’ seemed like the perfect alias”, her face had been dead straight and Jesse had stared at her blankly for a second, before she’d broken into a grin, stood up and started to walk back down the path.

It had been a few moments before Jesse realised that her left arm was looking to link his right, and not just randomly flailing around in mid air.

They had then somehow moved on to the subject of Checkov, and spent the walk home in a lively... ("Debate. This is a debate, Jesse. We're not arguing. You're just wrong and I'm debating how to make you understand this fact")

That night he had gone to sleep with a significantly reduced sense of anxiety and nausea in the pit of his stomach.

So yes, Jesse was going to get on well with Emma. Not that he really had a choice: they were on the same course and they lived together (and their apartment wasn't exactly a palace) Their first three days together had been comfortably quiet, mostly consisting of unpacking, trying as many British snacks as they could and people-watching the street below from Jesse’s attic room windows (because he didn’t want to upset his new housemate but he had definitely got here first): Emma’s legs gracefully crossed under her as she lent against the wall by his bed.

Re: Fill: All The World's A Stage (1e/?)

this is going good...i hope you will write more..

Re: Fill: All The World's A Stage (1e/?) - (Anonymous), 2011-06-24 05:46 pm (UTC)(Expand)

Fill: All The World's A Stage (1f/?)

Jesse’s eyelids slowly flutter open but the sunlight streaming through the window in his bedroom is horrendously blinding and he jerks his head forward to bury it in the duvet. That one, relatively small, motion is enough to trigger an eruption of white hot pain in his head, throbbing intensely behind his eyes in time to his pounding heartbeat. He gingerly lifts his hands up to his temples and cradles his forehead in them, trying to keep the movement as gentle as possible but failing pretty miserably as he is so horribly hungover that his arms shake as soon as he moves them. His mouth is dry and tastes like ass, his stomach fighting increasing waves of rising nausea.

Water. Water. I. Need. Water.

The words roll through Jesse’s mind repeatedly but he is paralysed by fear at the thought of moving again and aggravating the thud, thud, thud, in his head any more.

He lies there, frozen in this strange, semi-foetal contortion for what seems like hours (but in reality is only about 45 minutes), drifting in and out of consciousness as sleep mercifully snatches him away for a few moments of respite.

Eventually, the need for hydration wins out against the potential danger in moving and Jesse slowly sits up, plants his feet on the wooden floorboards by his bed and stands up. His stomach decides to take issue with this idea and he only just makes it to the bathroom in time.
It is only when he gets back from making himself (oh so much) more familiar than he’d anticipated being with the toilet bowl that Jesse realises that he is still fully clothed.

What the hell had happened last night?

He changes into a clean tshirt and sweats and stumbles downstairs into the kitchen, his stomach feeling considerably better for emptying itself but his head now demanding coffee, coffee, coffee in place of the thuds from before. Jesse makes two mugs of black instant (because neither he nor Emma have figured out the coffee machine yet) and pads into the lounge to find his housemate lying face-down on the sofa with a cushion over her head, blonde wisps of hair poking out from underneath and snoring softly into the armrest.

Jesse hesitates for a minute, sets the mug down on the table and perches carefully on the other end of the sofa.



She jerks awake, rolls over and squints up at him, a look of utter disgust and confusion on her face.


“I know. I made coffee” Jesse gestures to the table in front of her and Emma sits up, grabbing the mug on her way to sitting upright, where she crosses her legs and pulls him over to her so she can rest her forehead on his shoulder.

“So this,” Emma sighs quietly, “this is why the semester begins on a Friday. It must be some weird initiation ritual: to get all the rookies so wasted that they question every decision they have ever made and see how many return to school on Monday”

A small glimmer of hope is lit inside Jesse: so it hadn’t just been him then. He hadn’t been the only one so drunk that it was only now that small snippets of last night were starting to come back to him: getting talking to the red-haired-friend-of-grey-sweatshirted-Andrew (known as Joe for short), Joe pulling him around and introducing him to too many people to remember, Emma being more and more over-enthusiastic about everything as the night progressed, lots of introductions and awkward questions, shots, shots, pints of beer, more shots, conversations becoming less awkward in direct relation to how much alcohol was being consumed…

They spend the next hour trying to piece together their memories from the night before and put them in some semblance of an order, but that was proving to be easier said than done (“No I’m pretty sure that I got you dancing on the pool table before we moved on to the tequila sunrise shots!”

“Emma, I can one hundred per cent guarantee you now that there is no way you would have gotten me up…there…without a copious amount of tequila first…I was really…dancing? In front of everyone?!”

“Oh no, no,” OK then, that wasn’t too aw- “I guess you would call it more of a loose-hipped-shuffle than an actual set of moves”

Oh God this was bad).

Fill: All The World's A Stage (1g/?)

Later on that evening, when he is back in bed and listening to the quiet rumble of traffic from the street outside, Jesse remembers something else from the night before: standing at a sink in the men’s bathroom, head spinning slightly, trying to focus at his own reflection in the mirror.

He heard two angry voices approaching the door, and before he had a chance to do anything the two guys were bursting in, mid-argument and glaring at each other. Jesse froze, not knowing where to look or what to do, keeping his eyes locked firmly on his own reflection (or as firmly locked as he could manage in his present state). There had been a muttered exchange, punctuated with a lot of British swear words that in another setting, Jesse would have found mildly thrilling to hear being used in every day, real life conversation. As it had been, it had only increased his feeling of intense awkwardness, but he had stayed too long now to just suddenly leave.

He heard one of the arguing pair hiss something that sounded like

“Well if that’s the way you really fucking feel, why in God’s twatting name are you still bothering with ‘us’ at all?”

before he had stormed back out into the bar.

Jesse looked up and caught the eye of the surviving half of the pair, who turned out to be grey-sweatshirted Andrew from the Volvo earlier. Andrew had half-smiled this sad, apologetic smile at Jesse and said

“Uh, I’m really sorry about that.”

Jesse nodded and broke their eye contact by turning to the door. Why was this guy sorry? Jesse had been the one that hadn’t moved away from what had clearly been a domestic that had definitely deserved its own privacy.

“Yeah…I'm um…sorry. Again.”

Andrew had repeated, crossing his chest with his left arm to rub the back of his right shoulder and exhale loudly.

Jesse had nodded again and headed back to the bar because even he couldn’t handle the residual tension from the argument in that room any more, and coming from him that was quite something.

Now, he turns over in his bed to face the wall. It’s only eight thirty but he can barely keep his eyelids open. Downstairs he can hear Emma singing along to old Motown classics and as sleep pulls him under for what must be the 20th time today, the last thought that passes through his mind is of big, praline brown eyes.

Re: Fill: All The World's A Stage (1g/?)

I want more of this!!

author anon - (Anonymous), 2011-06-26 07:50 pm (UTC)(Expand)

Re: Fill: All The World's A Stage (1g/?)

this is so great! i can't wait to see where you go with this :D

Re: Fill: All The World's A Stage (1g/?)


Re: Fill: All The World's A Stage (1g/?)

ohhh, this is great! could that possibly have been dev patel?? guuuurl i hope so

Fill: All The World's A Stage (2a/?)

SORRY for the lateness and shortness of this update, next week will be much more productive! & thanks for the comments! And it may (totally) have been Dev Patel, nicely caught ;)

The journey to school (he and Emma had debated exactly what they should call it the night before and had, eventually, agreed that whilst ‘school’ made them feel 13 years old, it was fitting considering the hours they were going to be putting in, compared to normal university courses) was barely a 15 minute walk from their little house on a side road in Swiss Cottage. They still arrived three quarters of an hour early however, as Jesse hadn’t wanted to be late for their first day. Jesse has to repeat this point to Emma as they enter the common room on the ground floor: an airy room with big windows looking out onto the car park and stuffed with a mismatch of wooden tables, plastic chairs, battered armchairs and worn down orange sofas.

“Uh Jesse, this isn’t our first day. Remember Friday? There was registration and a tour and a welcome speech in the theatre and stuff? And then we went and drank our own body weight in beer and tequila?”

Jesse’s stomach actually turns.

“Emma, please, I am begging you please, never say the words ‘beer’ or ‘tequila’ to me ever again. Especially this early in the morning. Especially on our first... proper day at this place.”

She shoots him a half sympathetic, half accusatory look but decides against carrying on the conversation, instead slumping down into a particularly shabby armchair, yawning and pulling her grey, loose-knit beanie down over her eyes.

Jesse carefully perches on the edge of a plastic chair next to Emma and stares out at trees in the car park rustling in the September wind. He gets lost in thoughts of home for a while; his family safe and quiet and asleep, New York as the dawn starts to cast its hazy blue light over the city, his cat Miss Millie savouring the early morning peace by sitting in the kitchen sink and catching drips from the tap (which she definitely knows she isn’t allowed to do).

“I wonder how much cats really miss their owners, as like individuals and not just as a general presen- what the… how? How do you do that?”

Emma’s mouth is open a touch, her breathing deep and even.

“You can just sleep anywhere, it’s an amazing skill you know. Aren’t you nervous? I’m nervous. To be honest I’m really, really nervous.”

Emma’s head falls gently to the side and her nose twitches.

Jesse continues to mutter to himself in a low, rushed tone

“What if they take one look at me and realise that they made a huge mistake? What if they hate my singing voice? And I already know that I can’t dance so that’s a lost cause…what if they hate my accent and I can’t project properly and my characterisation is awful and I interpret things wrong and I blend into the background and everybody thinks that I’m no good? I’m going to be the worst in the group aren’t I? Oh my God the tutors, the tutors! They’re going to hate me. I look ridiculous in leggings. What am I even doing here? I think I’m going to be sick.”

He stands up abruptly and rushes out.

Fill: All The World's A Stage (2b/?)

When he returns from the bathroom, wiping his hands on his jeans and running his tongue along his teeth, Emma is awake and chatting to a skinny, Indian looking guy who is reclined on an orange sofa next to her, his legs spread wide and his arms animatedly illustrating whatever story he appears to be telling.

“…I’m not gonna lie, I think he’s already made a pretty stellar reputation for himself at this school,”

this new guy is saying as Jesse approaches them

“and here he is, the man himself. Jesse! How’s it going my man? Hope you recovered from Friday alright, I don’t think I’ve recovered from the moves you were pulling – I tried to get you to teach me but it was your own, amazing brand of Eisenberg that a mere mortal such as myself couldn’t touch. I was just telling dearest Emma here that you made quite a mark on our lot, can’t wait until the tech students start next week they’re going to lu-huuve you”.

He says all of this with a massive grin, sitting forward in his seat and looking up at Jesse with the warmth of an old friend in his eyes.

He doesn’t know what to say. Never mind the cruel, unnecessary reminder of the total embarrassment he’d been this weekend, Jesse’s main concern right now is that this very friendly ball of energy (who is evidently also prone to extreme hyperbole) sat in front of him remembers Jesse’s name and Jesse doesn’t remember his.

This is the sort of awkward social situation that makes his palms go clammy.

“Hey, it’s, uh, great to see you again”

And it’s not a lie exactly, Jesse does vaguely recall being introduced to him on Friday, and if he tries hard enough he can picture Grandma Eisenberg’s signature shuffle being broken down into steps and copied by Emma’s new companion.

He just doesn’t want to picture such a thing, especially since there is a very real possibility that this. actually. happened.

There is almost too long a pause before Emma basically saves his ass

“Oh Dev,”

she says the name clearly and loudly and Jesse thanks the powers that be for sending him such an amazing housemate, not for the first (and definitely not for the last) time,

“of course the tech students will love him, how could anyone not love him? Doesn’t his face alone make you want to protect him from all the harm in the world whilst simultaneously showing him off as some sort of top prize?”

Emma cocks her head to one side and scrunches up her nose.

Jesse thinks that he should feel slightly patronised, but instead he just feels slightly proud and very embarrassed.

“It does,” agrees Dev “that is a top class face you’ve got yourself there my friend, don’t go changing it. In fact, maybe you should think about getting into acting, crazy idea I know but you just give me that vibe”

It’s not a funny joke.

It doesn’t even qualify as a joke, and Jesse tells him so, but he laughs as he does because Dev has managed to squash some of his nerves, and so he likes him already.