A/N: Yay! Another story up! I'm so happy with myself. This story is just …well, an interlude, just an ordinary moment between milestones in the Literati relationship. It's set mid to late December, but that's really not important. Enjoy!
Interlude
Snow flutters down lightly as I hurry down Main street. I shiver, and pull my winter coat tighter around me as I head to Al's to pick up dinner (lo mein, lemon chicken, and two quarts of wanton soup. Plus shrimp fried rice and extra fortune cookies, of course.) The sky is graying early now, so I start to jog carefully, watching out for those hidden ice patches that can slip one up easily—it happened to Kirk four times, just yesterday.
I do manage to make it to Al's, half-frozen but still quite alive. I barely even have time to shake the snow out of my hair before Al himself gives me the food. I hand him the money and bravely step back into the swirling snowglobe that is Stars Hollow.
As I pass the diner, a huge gust of chilly wind picks up, and I instinctively lower my head, pushing through the cold. It passes, and when I look up again, you're there, smiling and holding a carry-out tray with four cups of coffee.
"Coffee?" you ask. I give you a look—not my withering stare, but a look just the same.
"Jess, you have to stop sneaking around like that! You scared the crap out of me!" You smirk.
"It's cold outside. I figured it would get your blood moving." I just roll my eyes and nudge your shoulder, taking care not to drop my food (or the coffee you're holding.) You grin at me; your smile is beautiful, shining through the dancing snowflakes and dim, faded lighting. We walk home in a snow-flurried silence, mostly just smiling at each other.
We reach the Winchester Mystery House (or the Crap Shack, as my mother so delicately puts it) and step up onto the porch. I turn to you.
"Do you want to stay? We do actually have food." I hold up the bag and give you what I hope is a convincing smile. You glance at the front door.
"I don't know…" Suddenly, the loud crash of drums followed by a loud guitar riff fills the air, and you raise an eyebrow. "Is that…?"
"The Clash? Yes. Actually, it's Lane. She snuck her drums over here, and she's playing along with…Tainted Love, I believe. We're all in mourning."
"Of course. We all should be."
"So come mourn with us. Please? I'll give you an eggroll."
"That's two already," you tell me, eyes dancing. Delighted that you still remember, I grin.
"I'll make it up to you."
"You said that when I reread the Fountainhead for you. And still no Hemingway. So many empty promises. I don't know if I can trust you anymore."
I set my bag of food on the wicker couch, and take the coffee tray from you, setting it next to the bag. You raise your eyebrows questioningly as I wrap my arms around your neck and lean in close.
"Okay…fine. Here's your Hemingway equivalent. I promise." And I kiss you, hard and sweet and deep. I can feel you smile as the kiss deepens, and then you break away.
"But what about my eggroll?" you deadpan, and I laugh.
"Come inside and eat it. Please?"
"I don't know," you say. "Last time I ate Chinese with your mother, it wasn't pretty."
"Yeah, I know, but she likes you now." You raise an eyebrow in a skeptical look. "Okay, maybe not fully like, but she's definitely on that wavelength. I don't think she would mind, just as long as you don't eat her fortune cookies. Please stay. Please?" I even go as far as to bring out the Bambi eyes, and you finally sigh in defeat.
"I hate the Bambi face," you say, making a face at me.
"Liar."
Smiling, I reach in the brown bag and pull out an eggroll.
A/N: I know that's kind of a weird place to end a story, but like I said, it's an interlude. I hope you liked it! Please review!