Disclaimer: I don't own 'A Plain Morning' by Dashboard Confessional or Gilmore Girls.

A Plain Morning

It's yet to be determined but the air is thick and my hope is feeling worn, I'm missing home.

The conference room in the tall New York City skyscraper was quiet and tense as each man tried to figure out the others. After four long days, the meeting still went on, the issue unresolved.

Personally, I was not very invested in the meeting anymore. The subject had become stale and the account no longer one I was interested in. Not like I had been very attentive at the beginning of the meeting but my level of concentration had declined considerably since then. I only had one thing on my mind.

I'm missing home. And I'm glad you're not a part of this. There's parts of me that will be missed.

I keep picturing our big, seaside home and my comfortable king sized bed and the ocean. But naturally, my mind always strays back to you. You're lucky that you don't have to participate in this torture. And I hope that you're thinking of me as well. I latch on to the memory of you because it's the only thing keeping me sane right now.

And the phone is always dead to me. So I can't tell you.

But oh how I want to tell you. I want to tell you how much I miss you. And how dreadfully awful and interminable this meeting seems to be. I wish I hadn't left my cell phone charger on the nightstand at home. I also wish I had a spare ten minutes to buy a replacement. Of course, we do take short breaks to sleep but by the time we dismiss the meeting for the night, there is not a single, solitary soul left in a store willing to sell me a cell phone charger.

The temperature is dropping. And it's colder than it oughta be in March.

It's horribly cold here. And I am not just talking about the atmosphere in this conference room. It does not matter that I'm used to warm, comfortable weather. The weather here is just cruel. I don't care if it is Hartford, Connecticut. It's March and it is not acceptable for the daily snowstorms to be accompanied by negative twenty degree temperatures and extremely bitter windchill factors.

And I've still got a day or two ahead of me. Till I'll be heading home, into your arms again.

I wish I was wrapped in your warm embrace this very moment. We could be anywhere but here and I would be happy as long as I was with your. I can only hope this torture will end soon and I can return to you.

And the people here are asking after you. It doesn't make it easier to be away.

Last night Lorelai was still awake when I slipped into the house. Unsurprisingly, she wanted to know how you were and what you'd been up to. It pained me to answer her because I was forced to think of you once more and I miss you more than ever. I don't believe I've ever felt this way.

I'd like to hire a plane and see you in the morning. When the day is fresh, I'm coming home again.

Feasibly, I know I could jump on the nearest private jet, my own, in fact, and be home in practically no time. But you know my father and what his reaction would be to my little excursion. It would not be a pretty sight. No doubt he would chase me down and promptly return my to this meeting, depositing me directly back in this uncomfortable chair.

Well, it's warmer where you're waiting. It feels more like July.

The sun is shining down on you, making your hair gleam and your eyes sparkle in delight. A light sheet of sweat makes your tanned skin glitter. The waves are lapping at your toes and the birds cry out from around you. It's a pretty picture and clearly, I would prefer to be seeing it directly in front of me and not have it in the back of my mind at all times.

There's pillows in their cases. And one of those is mine. And you wrote the words, 'I love you.' And sprayed it with perfume. It's better than the fire is to heat this lonely room.

As I lay on the couch in your old living room, a fire crackles across the room and Paul Anka whimpers from upstairs but I barely notice. All I can smell is the scent of 'Unforgivably Woman' on my pillow. The smell does things to my heart that I could not possibly manage to describe. There is a small piece of stationery clenched in my fist, your handwriting neatly lining the crinkled page. A small love note that you'd skillfully placed in my suitcase that made me miss you even more, if that was even possible.

And I'd like to hire a plane and see you in the morning, when the day is fresh. I'm coming home again.

The moment I set foot in the airport I could already feel the difference. During the short journey from the airport to the waiting car I inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh sea air. I don't believe I've ever driven as fast as I did to get home to you. And it was worth every law that I broke on the way.

Because when I reached home, I could see you in the distance. You were slowly sauntering down the beach, gazing out at the boats on the horizon as the sun rose, turning the sky a beautiful shade of pink and red, a sure sign of rain later in the day.

I left my shoes on the front porch and set out across the sand, waiting for you to turn and spot me. Instead, you turned your back to me and gave the ocean your full attention.

I was able to sneak up behind you and slip my arms around you. When you gasped and started in fright I felt bad for a moment but that feeling was instantly forgotten when you turn in my hug and realized that it was me.

For the first time in nearly a week I felt your arms around my neck and you legs around my waist. It seemed like a new sensation, the way you felt, smelled, breathed and tasted. As our lips met I stumbled backwards, nearly falling in the sand. I managed to catch myself, and you, but still sat down rather hard.

You pulled away from my, giggling and grinned broadly at me. "I missed you."

Rather than answer you, I pulled you in for another kiss that left us both fairly breathless. When you finally pulled away again, you wiggled in my lap and bit your lower lip in a manner that I found unbelievably attractive. I reached for you again but you evaded my grasp and leapt from my lap. I stared at you, speechless and slightly confused until you wiggled your eyebrows and ran towards the house.

Understanding dawning, I got up and chased after you. "Lorelai Gilmore Morgan! You are dead!"

"You'll have to catch me first, Finny-love!" And with that she disappeared inside.

When I reached the door I slowed to a walk. I wasn't concerned. I knew you wanted to be caught just as much as I wanted to catch you and that this game of cat and mouse would be short lived.

I'm coming home again.

Authors Note-It's been a while since I've written any fanfiction, let alone posted it so please let me know what you think (good or bad reviews are ALWAYS welcome.) jessica