Title: Coffee-stained
Author: Joylyn
Rating: R
Pairing: Rory/Jess, some Luke/Lorelai undertones
Spoilers: Up to "A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving" but nothing after that. Takes place in my imagined future.
Disclaimer: The Gilmore Girls and their world are owned by Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB.
Summary: In college and a stable relationship, some moments in the life of Rory and Jess.
Author's Note: This story will comprise of short chapters. I won't beg for feedback or anything – I'll post whenever I have a new scene. More details on how things came to be as they are will come later.
The phone rings once, then twice, and again. You pull away from our kiss and ask, "Are you going to answer it?" You can't fathom the idea of letting a ringing phone ring – a quirk you got from your mother. One of a million.
I ignore your words and concentrate on your lips. This is the first time in a week we've really had time alone; you had a paper due Thursday that kept you in the library since Monday and I worked on Friday and we spent all of Saturday at the used bookstore on Dreary searching for the perfect anniversary gift to ourselves.
My kisses convince you, and the phone is forgotten. It rings too long, something I would complain about to my RA if he could do anything about it. Finally the machine clicks on, an automated voice that contorts the names of my roommate and me into something barely recognizable. "For Landon Belize, press star 1. For Jess Mariano, press star 2. Mailbox 2 now recording."
"Jess, like, hi? This is Angelina Parker? I was totally impressed with your theory on Einstein, like, how do you know so much about relativity? You're so smart! Anyway, I got your number from Mason. He said you had were involved or something, but he didn't say if it was serious or anything, so, like… do you want to go to coffee sometime? Or something? Talk about quantum whatever? I give great head, like, if that helps. Just kidding! Call me!"
During this time, you have sat up and are looking amused. "Sounds clever, that one."
"No idea who she is," I say, and am not lying.
You walk over to my desk – to the thermos you left there an hour before. You drink without saying anything to me and I wonder if I'll taste coffee-stained lips any time soon.
"Maybe I should ask Mason to stop giving out my number," I muse, and stretch out on my bed.
"Nah, I find the messages amusing."
"You don't seem threatened."
Laughing and still holding the coffee, you sit on my desk chair and spin. You love that chair. "Honestly, Jess? I know you'd rather rip out your eyeballs than spend five minutes in the company of someone who sounds like she's from the valley."
"If she's that good, she can probably finish my blow job in four minutes," I tell you, and you laugh – because you were being kind, probably, and know my eyeballs would be in my hands within five seconds.
I wait for you to say something, but you are flipping through a book on my desk and don't stop giggling.
"What?"
"'Quantum whatever?'" you mock, and I know this isn't the last I'll hear about Angelina Parker. I remind myself to kill Mason.
"All kinds of people want me," I say.
Raising your eyebrow, you bring the book over to my bed and lay down next to me. "Sure," you say condescendingly. Then you order, "Read to me." Because I'm a sap, and I've missed the look of rapture on your face as you listen to me, I comply.