I don't own this franchise. If I did it would have ended differently. Sorry Paladino.
Procrastination leads to writing.

They themselves were a great piece of literature. A piece that neither would choose to read but indulge in, on the basis of tradition and classic. Individual stories intertwined but never meeting. Neither believed in fate or destiny, and rightly so. Both were intelligent enough to look past the yearning hearts and "what ifs" but neither had forgotten the other.

He thought of her on clear days when the sky was brightest blue and in the gentle hum of his local record store. As he smoked lonely cigarettes on the pavement outside his apartment he sat with his legs in the quiet road seeing instead of tarmac the cool reflective water through his eyes and almost feeling like the pavement were wood beneath him. He stopped ordering take-out because it reminded him of her. Began cooking; much to Luke's surprise and questioning. He read about her in novels with mistrusting heroines and roguish suitors. She came out of him sometimes onto the page as he scrawled, attempting to quench the paper with ideas, musings and pros as quips they had shared that recurred in his memory. His dreams often involved the constant pouring of coffee for strangers in a vast diner, the waited all faceless and brunette, he struggled through the crowd to find those sapphires blinking. He never found them.

It was on one of those pale cobalt plastered sky days that the invitation arrived. The weighted cream paper threw him off for a second, his usual mail consisted of bills and the never ending, taunting menu selections. Opening the envelope a folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor out of the invitation that he caught the first glimpse of-

You are cordially invited to the wedding of:

Lorelai Victoria Gilmore & Lucas Danes…

Unsurprising. He thought to himself, but felt a sting deep in his gut. I thought he would have told me… He bent to pick up the fallen note and recognised his uncle's writing. The outer gave a phone number he didn't recognise but supplied him with knowledge that his Uncle's number had clearly changed. He read the inner note, a wry smile gathering on his face.

Hi Jess, sorry we had to tell you like this. Please ring asap. New number. Taylor wanted the town phone numbering altered. Long and pointless story. Anytime to ring is fine I could do with a sane conversation.

Luke

P.S. Do ring soon.
P.P.S. (This time a woman's hand he noted.) You'll be needing a tux or nice suit but he refuses to ask you. Hope your well. Lorelai

He reached for the phone lying on the kitchen table and typed the numbers hearing the hollow dialling tone. He waited.

"Luke's Diner! How can I help yo- Kirk put DOWN those donut tongues! Sorry how can I help you?" Luke sounded rushed, Jess really hadn't considered the time of the call, he just figured there was no time like the present. He could hear Stars Hollow breakfast rush-hour in the background, muffled conversations, Kirk making indignant outbursts mingled with a murmur of frying bacon.

"I think I owe you a congratulations." His smile having become more genuine having heard his uncle's voice. He realised it had been months since they'd spoken properly. Jess had been fused to his computer, focused and driven to finish his second book. Slowly becoming a hermit, his housemate cracking jokes about rickets on the rare occasion he graced them with his presence. He had the final draft laying on his dresser – 3 copies to be exact.

"Jess! Ah thank god. Someone with more than 5 brain cells. Kirk I already warned you twice."

"Sounds the usual morning circus," he kept his tone light but the sarcasm unashamedly clung to his words.

"Yeh, how you bin? Good I hope? I am sure you're good. Caesar take these to the window table I gotta take this," he heard stifled complaining and the bouncing cord of the phone against the coffee maker before a hush came over the other end.

"Locked yourself in the store room?"

"Yeah…how'd you..?"

"Space to think. Peaceful even. And the pickles were never as friendly as Miss Patty."

"Ahhh." Silence fell between them broken by a clearly uneasy Luke.

"So, wedding stuff. Erm, we decided, well I asked and she said yes-"

"Yeah I get the general gist of the workings of proposals."

"I er, need you hear next week. What with the close date and such. Sorry for the short notice. Lorelai wanted the whole summer flowers things and to be honest as much as I want to marry her I would rather not wait around for some big party that Taylor will make some town law against or Miss Patty will insist on teaching me professional dance, or Kirk agrees to leave town permanently if he's made page boy."

Jess sniggered on the other line.

"He even showed me the costume."

"Ruffles?"

"Lace."

"Egh, why don't you keep it small? Avoid any instance of Kirk even making an appearance" he questioned although he already knew the answer.

"Lorelai wanted the party. You know Gilmores. To be fair, her parents have chipped in a fair bit to cover a lot of the costs. Though I am aware I'll probably be in their debt now, of which I was hoping to avoid. It's not even like I couldn't have sorted it with my finances yknow," He could tell something else was playing on Luke's mind, but the mystery remained.

"You can cut to the chase Luke, I'll be able to be there next week. Will just hold off the book launch for a few weeks. Not the first time I have needed an extension and what with it all ready to go they can't really complain about my request. I'll be there to help with the afternoon shift next Tuesday" he heard himself saying this without even thinking, "What else did you need?"

Silence fell again.

" Telepathy is a) more difficult on the phone and b) fictional so you're gonna have to use the speech thing we've spoken about." He joked, his tone back to light.

"Best man."

"Not Kirk."

"So….."

"Yeah?"

"You." It was a statement not a question. Jess thought, he was going back to that crazy town for another inevitably mental wedding. But he was extremely flattered to have been asked. Especially as he must have had to convince Lorelai into letting him be a part of the wedding. He thought again. Sapphire burned the back of his eyes but he closed them. Brushed them aside and didn't ask what he wanted too.

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah that's what I said. I'll see you Tuesday."

"Excellent! And Jess…"

"Yeah?" This silence was beginning to frustrate Jess. It was awkward enough when he and his uncle spoke on the phone let alone the coffee breaks lengths in conversation.

"She's maid of honor." Flash. Sapphire. He blinked trying to lose them. Force them back into the depths. He knew his breath had caught before he could stop himself. I haven't seen her since she walked out on me again. "It is what it is. You. Me." Those words had haunted him since. He had cursed on many the occasion as to how relevant they were to their situation. Always and yet somehow never right.

Luke broke the now uncomfortable silence. "Thought you'd have guessed but just wanted to let you know. Oh and she didn't marry that guy or anything." As if it was an afterthought but Jess knew he would have led with that if they were closer. The sharing types.

He was getting that all too familiar feeling. Brain swimming in pros and need and want and blue and stolen kisses and margin notes and dusty books and bridges and ….

"Good." He whispered surprising himself. He could sense Luke's knowing smile and predicting the need for information to pass to Lorelai he cut the conversation there.

"Thanks Luke, it's an honour man. Will see you Tuesday. Congrats again." And before Luke could question how he felt he turned off the phone.

He needed a cigarette. He found them stuck in his bookcase next to The Fountainhead .He lit it on the gas hob, leaning out of his window. He felt sick. She turned him down. He had thought that was the right time. He didn't think it was love anymore. Infatuation with a 6 year old idea perhaps. But she was more than the one that got away. Modest about her beauty, careless about her laughter and above all, she read Hemingway for him. A girl had never read anything he had recommended before that day. That is what had stuck with him, her love of literature was unrivalled by anyone else he had ever known and seeing her brow furrowed, eyes skimming the page reaching for the coffee teetering on the edge of the table but never knocking it to the floor. It was the sexiest sight he had ever witnessed. She saw past his cold exterior and it had frightened him as a brooding 17 year old but his exterior had mellowed. She'd seen that. Maturity (and a beard) suited him. Both kindred spirits he couldn't help clinging to the slim idea that this time it could be different when they crossed paths. Maybe.

He put out his cigarette and paced to his dresser, flipping open the front cover of the topmost book. He re-read the dedication. For once a witty remark had failed him. This time there was just written one word.

Nancy

She'd been planning for weeks, helping her mum. But she needed a break. Pouring a large cup of coffee she went out onto the porch grabbing a worn copy of a book from the counter. Sipping her coffee she breathed in the scent of honeysuckle and violets which adorned the garden sporadically amongst the grass. He'll be hear on Tuesday. Her mother had informed her of the best man acceptance and his week early Stars Hollow appointment to help Luke out. She really hadn't known how to feel. Today was Tuesday. They'd gone a long time without talking before. Almost 3 years infact, but these last few had seemed worse. Once she got on that bus journey "the travelling reporter" she'd done her fair share of socialising, but the evenings we still spent with good books.

She hadn't intended to pack it. But she wanted to. Something in the back of her mind told her she should. So without question it sat at the bottom of her case til about 6 weeks into her trip. She wanted something with a little more substance, and dug it out from amongst the clothes. What she hadn't realised the first time round was just how much of Jess was jam-packed into this book. His style, the finess; even the vocabulary. Sometimes a page was filled with just short sentences as if he just hadn't wanted to talk that day but had been forced to. It just was him. She'd written in the margins over time. Things she might ask him about if they ever met again.

Slowly he had filtered back into her mind. The intrigue in his notes, was unparalleled. She'd saw him every day, in passing young teenagers in leather jackets, smokers hiding their habit as they blew smoke away from the passers-by. In every ice-cream cone – Then I promise I'll study. It echoed as if it happened yesterday. Sometimes he even made it into her dreams. Always sat across from her. Always wearing that knowing smirk. Looking, what felt like right into her. Then he fades and she tries to grasp his hand on the table but it falls right through. Once she even threw herself across the table to try and place her lips to his but instead fell and awoke suddenly.

She took another sip of coffee and glanced at the book beside her. She'd now read it at least 8 times cover to cover. This nostalgic trip she took with Jess hurt. He used to excite her. Everything he did with his youthful, impulsive nature was so unlike her own he had made her feel braver, if a little wreckless. She had wanted to give herself to him. The day she called Dean's house and Lindsay answered she heard the voice in her head - you know it was supposed to be Jess. But she'd put that away. The Jess box in her mind. He'd told her he loved her and she had done nothing. He asked her to run away and she declined. He'd wanted her then too, in Philadelphia but she wasn't brave anymore. She couldn't follow his eyes. Logan had made her weak, lifeless. Soulless. Regret overwhelmed her when she thought of her actions towards him. She had never expected Jess to state his love for her, or dedicate his first book to her and say he couldn't have done it without her.

Her mind flew back. Why are you here? I moved back. Why? I just….wanted to. The one time she had got it right. This explicit gesture had been for her and her alone. And her reciprocation had been badly timed but never dwelled negatively upon. Their shared kisses were like fire. White hot with passion she'd felt with no one else. The way he grazed her skin just enough that she had always wanted more. She'd never forgotten that feeling.

She cared. But she wasn't sure how to show it. Not yet. But there was unequivocal doubt that she was required to return a gesture. Any one of the last few he'd given. She picked up the book and flipped to her marker. If not at least to preserve a friendship she considered important for her future.

Ernest only has lovely things to say about you.