Title: Homecoming
Author: Elizabeth
Rating: T
Summary: Finn comes home from a summer away; he and Rory celebrate. Another part in the series of future-fics centered around Finn and Rory's life together. Fluff abounds.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who's given such awesome reviews to the last few parts of this story! I'm having an awesome time writing it. Thanks to Lynn, my beta, who also does an awesome job at correcting my pretty sorry endings Remember to review—I have the next part in the works and they'll only encourage me to work faster!
She shifts from foot to foot nervously, clutching her bag more closely against her side. She's never done this before; she's never been the girl waiting anxiously at the airport for the boyfriend.
Of course, she's not just any girl at just any airport waiting for just any boy.
She's Rory Gilmore, the girl from old money, waiting at the private airstrip for the private jet that is bringing home the man that's been her exclusive boyfriend since February. Her tall, dark, handsome, very Australian boyfriend who has been in Europe with his friends for the past 2 months.
She's beginning to think that she'll burst if she doesn't see him soon. She's only ever missed someone this much once in her entire life, and the time before had been the darkest time of her life. It's telling that, inside her head, she's comparing him to her mother, her best friend, the only other person who's had a permanent hold on her heart.
She doesn't give herself away easily. The words—sure, the words come easily. As do the kisses, and, in all honesty, the sex. But not herself.
She thinks, sullenly, that this is why it has hurt so badly for him to be away. She feels hollow, as if he's grabbed a chunk of her and packed it away with his shirts and socks. Clichéd it is, but it happens to be truthful.
When she sees the plane approaching, she feels as if her entire body is seizing up. Her palms begin to sweat, her hands are shaking and, embarrassingly enough, she begins to cry a little. She thanks God that she is alone in the small hangar. She's never been one for public displays of emotion.
It seems to take a lifetime for the plane to come to a complete halt on the tarmac; it takes even longer for the steps to unfold from its sleek body. She stands on legs that feel unsteady as she waits for sight of him, shoving her hands deeply into her pockets to keep from wringing them raw.
Finally they begin to unload; first comes Stephanie, her blonde curls bouncing jauntily. She spots Rory, who is standing directly in front of the plate glass windows of the hangar, and waves enthusiastically. She's holding two heavy suitcases, not looking at all miffed that none of the boys offered to help her with them.
Logan and Colin follow behind her, competing for space in the narrow doorway. They look grouchy and rumpled, and Rory can't help but laugh at their appearance. She's sure that sharing the somewhat small cabin space of the private jet for hours on end has grated on their nerves.
Her thoughts seem to disappear, however, when she sees him. He looks completely different from the other two men; he is wearing a huge smile, his hair is messy but somehow perfect, and he is looking…for her.
Without hesitation, she spins around and finds the door. She is running without intending to, dropping her bag on the ground, crying mindlessly. She is sure that she has never felt this elated.
When he sees her he drops his suitcases and takes a step forward, arms outstretched, waiting for her to jump into them. She obliges; in fact, she jumps into them so hard that she knocks both of them backward with the impact. He sits down on a step hard, and they are both laughing and gasping for breath as he squeezes her tightly against him.
"Finn!"
"Angela, my love!"
But she is too happy to be annoyed by his inappropriate sense of humor; later she will think that he was unnerved by the intensity of the emotion between them in that moment and was trying desperately to lighten the mood. For now, however, she doesn't think of anything but the solid warmth of him against her. Ignoring his words, she hugs him a little tighter and buries her face against his shirt, breathing him in desperately.
"Oh, fuck it…" he mutters, and pulls away to kiss her soundly on the mouth.
When he separates from her Rory's smile is brilliant and so wide that it's beginning to hurt.
"I can't believe you're here," she mumbles against the skin of his neck, trying desperately to replenish memories of him that have faded; the way his skin feels, the way he smells, how strong his arms are around her.
"Never realized how bloody long two months was. If I would've, I never would've signed up for this damn trip. Remind me again why you didn't go."
"Internship."
"Right. Tell me it was worth it."
She pulls away from him again, this time to stare into his eyes.
"It was most definitely not worth it."
Laughing at her seriousness, he squeezes her tightly one more time before hoisting them both to a standing position.
"Of course it was, love. You would never give up your career to gallivant around Europe with the four of us."
She shrugs her shoulders lightly; his arm is still wrapped around them, and she enjoys the heavy burden of it.
"Guess we'll never have to find out. Next summer I'll have graduated and will be working at some fabulous newspaper job, and you'll be…"
She pauses, unsure of how to end her sentence. They talk about the future often, but not about their future.
"Nearby," he replies nonchalantly, in a tone that implies he's given the matter a great deal of thought. She makes a note to herself to bring the subject up later, when they've settled in and caught up and…taken care of other distractions.
"You know, they're never letting us live this down," he whispers against her ear conspiratorially.
"What?"
"Our sappy little reunion here."
Glancing up, she notices the smirk on Logan's and Colin's faces. Laughing, she snuggles a little closer to Finn.
"Let them taunt. Besides, they won't be privy to the real reunion."
He wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively and she laughs again.
"Darling, I am looking forward to that very, very much."
She unlocks the door to her dorm room and glances behind her, instinctually checking to be sure that he's still really behind her. It's already becoming a habit, although he's only been home for 3 hours. They'd spent his first couple of hours at the pub with the group; they'd retold many hilarious (and some horrific) stories of their trip. Rory had enjoyed the conversation but had struggled with her jealous instinct. She wasn't jealous of Finn and other girls. She had no doubt that he was faithful to her, especially considering how their relationship had started.
She was simply jealous that their three friends had spent the last two months with him while she'd been here, alone, feeling his absence as if he were an amputated limb (or something equally sappy and disgusting).
When they're inside he goes immediately to her bedroom, lying down and making himself comfortable on her bed. She takes her time, slipping off her shoes inside the doorway and dropping her bag on a small table. She smoothes her hair as she walks toward him. He has his hands crossed behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles, and he is wearing the most suggestive smile she's ever seen.
"So much for subtlety, mister."
"We both know I never mastered that art."
"Did you ever even try?"
"Come to think of it, no. Get in the bed, sweetheart."
Deciding that she'll tease him, she ambles around the bed, just out of his reach. She unhooks her watch and lays it on her desk; she removes the ponytail holder from her hair and shakes out its length, watching carefully as his eyes narrow.
"Rory Gilmore, did you become a tease in the short time I was gone?"
Shaking her head, she presses her lips together to prevent the laughter from escaping.
But before she can have any more fun with him he's darted up on the bed, moving quicker than she'd known was possible, and pulled her back down with him. When she lands she's lying, quite breathlessly, on his chest and he's grinning up at her idiotically.
"You shouldn't tease, love. I might bite."
"I might want you to," she whispers, and he leans up and captures her mouth with his. He slides his tongue into the heat of her mouth immediately. She moans against him, shifting impatiently, wanting him already.
"I have something for you," he says a little breathlessly, before he dumps her onto the bed unceremoniously.
"I know you do…I just thought that something was in your pants."
Winking at her, he reaches under the pillow and produces a carefully wrapped package.
"There's that too…but I wanted to give you the fancy stuff first."
Grinning, she takes the package from him and rips into the paper. It's a simple gift box, unmarked, and when she opens it the gift is more beautiful than she'd imagined.
Nestled inside a slip of black satin is a slim, dainty white gold bangle bracelet. It's filigreed, the swirls of the design tiny and intricate and impossible to follow.
"Oh, Finn," she breathes, and plucks the bracelet out. "It's perfect."
"It's handmade, one of a kind" he says, his voice low. "I bought it in Paris. I saw it and it made me think of you. Like it?"
"I love it. I love you."
The words tumble out before she can stop them and she finds herself staring at the bracelet, unable to lift her eyes to meet his. The room has gone still and silent and she feels very small and afraid.
"You don't have to say it back."
Jesus. She's sworn that she would never do this again but here she is, cowering from her own feelings, so terrified of his rejection. The situation reeks of her time with Logan, when she'd always been terrified of losing him.
"Don't be stupid, Rory. Of course I love you."
She feels her face flush and, as always, she has to battle down the anger at his trademark playful-mean retort.
"You could've said it a little more nicely," she says, primly, as she slips the bracelet onto her wrist. She takes her time admiring it while her heart thumps away noisily; she thinks that he can probably hear it across the bed. When she finally looks at him he is obviously pleased, watching her and waiting.
"If I said it too nicely, you might not believe me."
She bursts out in laughter, sudden and unexpected. The truth in his statement strikes her as insanely funny.
"For someone who feigns idiocy most of the time, you can be very insightful about people, Mr. Morgan."
"Yet another character trait to add to the growing list, love."
"How did you know about my list?"
He tugs on her hands, pulling her across the bed until she's sitting next to him. When he leans over she feels his lips brush her earlobe.
"I read your diary."
His voice is low and smooth and his warm breath trails across her oh-so-sensitive skin. She shivers involuntarily and slides her hand up his leg, clutching at his thigh.
"Rory."
She knows the tone of his voice; it's a warning and a plea, and it sets of fireworks inside of her.
"I don't have a diary, Finn."
She slides her hand up further, slowly, teasing him again, stopping when her fingers brush the rough inseam between his legs.
"A little bird whispered it into my ear."
"I'm not in the habit of having conversations with little birds, Finn."
This time she's the one whispering into his ear, and he's the one shivering. When she breathes his name she darts her tongue out, gently tracing the shell of his ear. He moans quietly and she smiles against him, moving her mouth down to the skin of his neck.
"What the fuck are we talking about?"
She laughs lightly as she kisses a path from his ear to his collarbone that is half-exposed. When she bites it, carefully, he jerks a little beneath her.
"We don't have to talk about anything. We could just…"
"Thank God," he mutters explosively, and his hands come to clutch at her waist and he lifts her, easily, into his lap until she is facing him. She doesn't even have time to breathe before he crushes into her, all heat and greed and teeth and tongue.
When she pulls away again she's breathless, her eyes are heavy and her lips are swollen.
"I love you," she says again, quietly, without apology.
It feels wonderful.