Title: Never Assume
Author: KnightMaria
Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns the whole Mediator concept and all the characters. I write fanfic's for the love of Jesse.
Author's note: This is a one-part story, it takes place between 'Darkest Hour' and 'Haunted.' If you've read 'Darkest Hour,' you should get what Suze means when referring to the 'incident'. PLEASE REVIEW!!!
*************
Jesse had made himself scarce since the 'incident,' much to my displeasure.
However, he popped in to see Spike and read for awhile, about half an hour earlier. I tried to keep myself from screaming 'Am I that bad at kissing?' or some such thing. You know, because he was pretending it had never happened. I had pretty much given up on getting anything out of him. I had a bit of news I thought he'd be interested to hear though, so I raised my head from my magazine and told him.
"Hey, Jesse?"
"Yes?" he asked, looking up from his book.
"Um, I just thought you'd be interested in knowing that a stone was places at your umm... grave," I said. It was weird to call it 'Jesse's grave' when the guy was sitting right in my room.
"A stone? What kind of stone?" he looked a bit confused.
"A headstone," I clarified, pushing my hair behind my ears.
"Yes, I realized that, but what does it look like?"
"Well, it has some writing on it. Your name and stuff." I described none too well.
"Where did it come from?" he asked.
"The gravestone store or whatever it's called." I shrugged.
"I meant, who paid for it?" Jesse wanted to know. I wasn't really sure I wanted to answer that one. I mean, maybe it's like the whole dying for him thing, or right up there with saying the 'L' word.
"Just somebody." I tried to dodge his question. Yah, so not gonna happen.
"Susannah, who paid for it? The historical society? The church?" he suggested.
I ducked my head and let my hair drape around my face. My face was red, I could feel it. "Umm...me." I mumbled.
"Pardon?" he asked, not having been able to understand me.
I cleared my throat. "Me." I repeated and little louder, not daring to look up.
"You?" he wondered, with surprise evident in his tone.
"Yah, I did." I confirmed, refusing to meet his eyes.
"You paid for my gravestone?" he asked again, incredulously.
"Yes Jesse," I sat up straight, looking bravely right into his dark eyes. "I did. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going downstairs to grab a snack." I wanted out of there, badly. I was halfway to the door when I felt him grab my arm, though it wasn't a forceful grip. I stopped, but didn't turn around.
"Thank you, querida. That was very kind of you." He said softly.
"I was thinking that he was probably thinking I as nuts to do it. To spend so much money on him and I know he didn't even realize why I had done it.
I did it because I loved him, and I thought his body deserved the respect of a proper resting-place. Though I wouldn't tell him any of that.
"Sure, no problem." I wanted out of there before he could go on, because I knew what was coming. The speech. You know the one: 'you're a nice person, but I just don't feel that way about you.' I could feel it coming. The thing is, the day of the 'incident,' I had been so sure that he had felt the same was about me as I did about him. But he had made that clear afterwards, when he apologized, that it had been big ol' mistake to kiss me.
"Look, I'm really thirsty, so I'll see you later." I told him, then rushed out the door and down to the safety of the kitchen.
Little did I know, just how wrong I was about his opinion on the whole thing.
~fin~
Author: KnightMaria
Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns the whole Mediator concept and all the characters. I write fanfic's for the love of Jesse.
Author's note: This is a one-part story, it takes place between 'Darkest Hour' and 'Haunted.' If you've read 'Darkest Hour,' you should get what Suze means when referring to the 'incident'. PLEASE REVIEW!!!
*************
Jesse had made himself scarce since the 'incident,' much to my displeasure.
However, he popped in to see Spike and read for awhile, about half an hour earlier. I tried to keep myself from screaming 'Am I that bad at kissing?' or some such thing. You know, because he was pretending it had never happened. I had pretty much given up on getting anything out of him. I had a bit of news I thought he'd be interested to hear though, so I raised my head from my magazine and told him.
"Hey, Jesse?"
"Yes?" he asked, looking up from his book.
"Um, I just thought you'd be interested in knowing that a stone was places at your umm... grave," I said. It was weird to call it 'Jesse's grave' when the guy was sitting right in my room.
"A stone? What kind of stone?" he looked a bit confused.
"A headstone," I clarified, pushing my hair behind my ears.
"Yes, I realized that, but what does it look like?"
"Well, it has some writing on it. Your name and stuff." I described none too well.
"Where did it come from?" he asked.
"The gravestone store or whatever it's called." I shrugged.
"I meant, who paid for it?" Jesse wanted to know. I wasn't really sure I wanted to answer that one. I mean, maybe it's like the whole dying for him thing, or right up there with saying the 'L' word.
"Just somebody." I tried to dodge his question. Yah, so not gonna happen.
"Susannah, who paid for it? The historical society? The church?" he suggested.
I ducked my head and let my hair drape around my face. My face was red, I could feel it. "Umm...me." I mumbled.
"Pardon?" he asked, not having been able to understand me.
I cleared my throat. "Me." I repeated and little louder, not daring to look up.
"You?" he wondered, with surprise evident in his tone.
"Yah, I did." I confirmed, refusing to meet his eyes.
"You paid for my gravestone?" he asked again, incredulously.
"Yes Jesse," I sat up straight, looking bravely right into his dark eyes. "I did. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going downstairs to grab a snack." I wanted out of there, badly. I was halfway to the door when I felt him grab my arm, though it wasn't a forceful grip. I stopped, but didn't turn around.
"Thank you, querida. That was very kind of you." He said softly.
"I was thinking that he was probably thinking I as nuts to do it. To spend so much money on him and I know he didn't even realize why I had done it.
I did it because I loved him, and I thought his body deserved the respect of a proper resting-place. Though I wouldn't tell him any of that.
"Sure, no problem." I wanted out of there before he could go on, because I knew what was coming. The speech. You know the one: 'you're a nice person, but I just don't feel that way about you.' I could feel it coming. The thing is, the day of the 'incident,' I had been so sure that he had felt the same was about me as I did about him. But he had made that clear afterwards, when he apologized, that it had been big ol' mistake to kiss me.
"Look, I'm really thirsty, so I'll see you later." I told him, then rushed out the door and down to the safety of the kitchen.
Little did I know, just how wrong I was about his opinion on the whole thing.
~fin~