Disclaimer: No.
A/N: Much bigger response to this than I thought I was going to get; thank you all so much for the reviews. I actually have another fic that I'm putting out tomorrow – and yes, it's another continuation, but I'll find a way to balance this, Must Be Fate, and the other fic. They'll all get their fare share of updates in a (hopefully) timely manner.
Now be my best friend and review this chapter too, please!
--
Rory lets out a heavy sigh and sinks back against his chest, curling her legs up underneath her. Jess shifts against the end of the couch slightly, allowing her to curl into his side as he lies down across the cushions. She bites the inside of her bottom lip and cuddles closer to him, the familiar scent of him setting off small piles of explosives in her head.
Almost like a sensual atomic bomb.
She idly traces circles on his chest with her index finger, half-watching the movie that's on the screen in front of her. It makes her cringe every few minutes from the horrible dialogue and equally-awful acting, but she's more focused on the measured rise and fall of his chest, anyway. He sighs and looks down at her, brow furrowing in concern.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," she whispers, nodding against him. Jess runs his hand down her back in a calming gesture and she takes a deep breath before turning her attention back to the movie.
"He sneaks out to go bar-hopping with Colin and Finn," she said quietly. "And he comes home at night smelling like so many women I can barely decipher the different brands of perfume."
Jess clenched his jaw and looked down at the couch cushions beneath him. "You're living with him?"
"Not anymore," she laughed nervously and pushed her hair behind her ears. "I don't know why I even … it's like he came into my life and just flipped it totally upside down with no instructions as to how to right it again."
"So I take it you didn't want to be swept off your feet this time."
"There was no sweeping," she argued. "Pushing, maybe, but no sweeping," she smiled softly at him and his expression softened a little. "Last time I was swept was when …" she trailed off and he nodded in acknowledgement.
"Yeah," he whispered.
"I didn't want things to get this screwed up," she said brokenly. Jess glanced up at her and she swallowed thickly, crawling across the couch and into his lap. He sighed against her shoulder and wrapped her up in his arms, letting her cry against his neck as he rubbed her back in soothing patterns.
"This is really bad," she comments, laughing against him when he nods his head in agreement. "Why did we decide to rent this?"
"You wanted to see the new version of House of Wax; I just didn't put up an argument."
Rory looks up at him and purses her lips together. "Next time; argue." Jess laughs and reaches for the remote that's sitting on the coffee table, keeping his arm wrapped around her back as he does so. He pushes stop on the DVD and tosses the piece of plastic back onto the table when the television glows blue from the screensaver.
"I think the best part of that was watching Paris Hilton die," he comments dryly. She grins at him and sits up slightly, stretching her arms above her head. The cotton of his t-shirt glides comfortably against her skin and she shivers from the sensation, nails idly running through her ponytail and scraping her neck as she lowers her arms back to her sides.
Jess watches her through tired eyes, a small smirk playing at his lips when she looks back at him.
"What?" she whispers delicately, suddenly shy under his gaze. He shakes his head and pushes himself down on the couch until he's completely stretched out on the cushions, Rory still sitting beside him. She sighs and lies down next to him.
They lay there in a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the blue glow of the television fading when Jess reaches over and clicks the screen off.
"You know, I read your book about ten times," she says softly. Jess looks down at her but she keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, studiously avoiding his eyes.
"Why?"
"It was familiar," she shrugs and rests her head on his shoulder. "It calmed me down when I was particularly upset over Logan's little … adventures."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, quietly, against her ear. She sniffled against his neck and pulled away, staring at him in confusion.
"For what?"
"For leaving."
"You never deserved this," he whispers vehemently. Rory turns her head to look up at him and frowns. She leans up on her elbow next to him, tracing her other hand down his cheek.
"I'd think that you of all people would love to hear what I've been through lately." Jess jerks his gaze away from the ceiling and stares hard at her, brown eyes darkening as she rests her hand on his chest.
"Why would you think that?"
"Oh, please, Jess."
"Don't do that," he says seriously. "Don't avoid this, Ror."
"Can you honestly sit here and tell me that you don't hate me for that night?"
"Rory," he shakes his head, "I-"
"No, Jess," she bites out, sitting up and frantically scrambling off the couch. She slumps against the wall across the room and stares at him as she protectively crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Don't lie to me, please."
"How can you think that-"
"I said no!" she shouts. Her eyes flood with tears and she gasps to catch her breath, which is suddenly coming in barely-there pants, and she buries her face in her hands as she leans against the wall. "I said no," she whispers, attempting to control the wavering of her voice. "And I slept with Dean to forget about you, and it didn't work but I tried to pretend like it did, and now I'm here, with you, just like it was supposed to be but everything's so fucked up and I-"
Jess cuts her off by placing a finger over her lips, shaking his head and furrowing his brow. He works his jaw and lowers his forehead to hers before taking both of her hands in his and intertwining their fingers.
"I jumped the gun that night," he whispers. "I saw Dean and I got scared and …"
"I'm sorry," she breathes.
"Don't be. We wouldn't have made it then; you know that as well as I do."
"We could've tried."
"We would've failed," he offers her a small smile, "And we would've ended up hating each other in the end."
Rory nods and closes her eyes, breathing deeply to control her tears. "Okay," she nods again. Jess sighs and tugs on her hands as he stands up, pulling her with him and leading her toward his bedroom.
She climbs under the covers silently, wiping away stray tears as Jess wanders into the bathroom to change. She stares at the ceiling blankly and drums her fingers idly on her stomach. He crawls into bed a few minutes later and she looks over at him, offering him a tiny smile as they simultaneously scoot closer to each other.
"I didn't mean for this to be …" Rory pauses and shakes her head. "Awkward," she finishes in a whisper. Jess wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her closer to the warmth of his body, pulling the sheet up to span her shoulder.
"We'll work on it."
--
He groans and rolls over in bed, reaching for a body that he knows he won't find. He lets out a sigh when his hand only comes into contact with cold, white sheets and he leisurely climbs out of bed when there's another knock on the door.
"Coming!" he shouts. "Jesus," he groans and pushes his palm against his forehead in an attempt to calm his raging headache. He throws open the door with a false hope that she'll be standing there and he blinks in surprise at who he sees in front of him.
"No time for polite circles," Paris shoves past him into the apartment. "I'm on a mission, so unless you plan to help me then get the hell out of the way."
"What the fuck?" Logan stares at her as she marches determinedly into the bedroom, gathering his ex-girlfriend's clothes into her arms and throwing them onto the bed in a messy pile. "Paris, what are you doing here?"
"Does she have a suitcase or something I can put this stuff in?" she gestures impatiently toward the pile of clothing on the bed. He raises his eyebrows in confusion.
"Huh?"
"Suitcase? Duffel bag? Backpack? Keep up, whitey," she snaps her fingers at him and he blinks at her for a moment before snapping out of it and pointing toward the hall closet. Paris gives him a disinterested look and brushes past him, retrieving two small suitcases from the closet and packing them with the things she'd laid on the bed a moment ago.
"Do I even want to know why you're taking all of Rory's stuff?"
"Well, better me than Lorelai. I can guarantee she wouldn't be so civil about it," Paris retorts smoothly. She walks around the bed and yanks open the drawer of (Rory's) nightstand and pulls out a small, black, thin-paged short novel that he vaguely recalls her reading a few months ago.
"Lorelai? What does she have to do with this?" Logan grabs for the bottle of aspirin sitting on his bureau and pops back a few of the small, round, white pills and he grimaces when one lingers on his tongue for too long.
"Rory called and asked me to send her stuff. When I asked why she didn't call her mother she informed me that Lorelai didn't want to be thrown in jail for murdering you in the process of gathering her daughter's things. Penalties for female murderers are a lot harsher than they were back in Lizzie Borden's day," Paris explains impatiently. "Toiletries are in the bathroom, I assume?"
"Yeah…" he responds absently. She marches into the bathroom before he can even complete the syllable and he coughs dryly into the back of his hand.
This really is the end.
"Books," Paris crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently. Logan blinks at her and she rolls her eyes, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation. "Her books, Logan? Or have you forgotten what those are? Rectangles normally filled with pages, sometimes colorful with text…"
"Yeah, I know what books are, Thumper," he rolls his eyes and then grimaces from the pain of the action. "I think she keeps them on the shelf over there," he gestures toward the other side of the room and Paris nods curtly when she finally notices the bookshelf.
Paris contemplates the vast amount of books in front of her and crinkles her brow in dismay. She pulls out her cell phone and Logan slumps down on the bed, head in his hands, while she dials and starts to tap her foot again as she waits for the call to go through.
The sound only serves to intensify the pounding in his skull and he grunts. Late nights with Colin and Finn really didn't have such a good after-taste.
"Am I expected to send all of your books, too?"
He looks up at the blonde standing a few feet away from him. She studiously ignores him and winces as she listens to the response from the other end of the line.
"Can you make do with whatever that Kerouac clone has until I can get back here and pack them properly? One more minute in this room and I think my IQ might actually fall into the negatives."
Logan continues to stare at her and she lets out another sigh, saying a short goodbye before hanging up her phone and shoving it back into her pocket as she grabs the suitcases that are on the mattress.
"I'd say it was nice to see you, but I don't like to lie," Paris says dryly. He doesn't bother to follow her to the front door, but he hears it slam as she leaves the apartment.
He thinks she probably did that on purpose.
--
She hangs up the phone and flops back on the bed with a sigh, twirling the plastic above her head as she stares at the ceiling blankly. He walks into the room a minute later, hair still damp from the shower, and she offers him a bright smile when he sits on the bed next to her.
"How'd the raid go?"
"Paris is sending all the essentials. She said she'd send my books another time; apparently spending any longer than ten minutes in a room with Logan lowers her IQ to a negative integer."
"Yeah, well," Jess rolls his eyes, "What else can be expected of a guy who uses names like Tolstoy and Dickens to try and intimidate his girlfriend's ex?"
"Ex-girlfriend," she says softly. Rory bites her bottom lip nervously and he looks down at her affectionately.
"Right," he nods, "Ex-girlfriend."
"But this just gives me another reason to raid your bookcase," she grins. "When do you go back to work?"
"Tomorrow," he sighs and smoothes out a wrinkle in the still-turned-back comforter.
"That gives me an entire day to get started on your new collection, Mr. Mariano," she winks at him. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair, a few remaining drops of water falling haphazardly onto his shoulders.
"Not totally new," he retorts lightly. "I think I still have a few of your books out there, actually."
Rory's eyes light up and she widens them comically, sitting up suddenly and giggling in spite of herself. "The Holy Barbarians?"
"Possibly," he shrugs. "I couldn't honestly say."
Rory impulsively leans over the bed and kisses him on the cheek before scrambling out of the bed and all but running into the living room. Jess blinks at her retreating form and then grins when he hears her squeal from the front of the apartment.
"I can finally finish it!" she exclaims when he walks into the living room. She smiles brightly at him and he nods in agreement. "Did you like it?"
"It was good," he nods. "Not worth losing my hearing over, but …"
Rory throws the book at his head and he laughs when he dodges out of the way. She simply glares.
--
He smirks and leans against the doorframe, nonchalantly crossing his arms over his chest.
"Delivery for Rory Gilmore," she deadpans, holding up the suitcases before letting them fall back at her feet with a clunk.
"I see no brown uniform. How do I know you're not some serial killer come to maim me and sell my liver on eBay?"
"Like the UPS guy can be trusted," Paris retorts. Jess grins and steps back to let her in. She pushes past him and he rolls his eyes when she mutters an insult under her breath as he lifts the suitcases and pulls them into the apartment.
"Rory! Hitler's here!" he shouts as he closes the door. Paris glares at him until Rory comes prancing into the room, running a towel through her hair vigorously.
"Can you two at least pretend to get along for five minutes?"
"No," they reply in unison. Rory blinks and then shakes her head slowly, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"And yet you're so in tune," she gushes. Paris rolls her eyes and glances at Jess before turning her attention back to Rory.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're choosing one Neanderthal over another. So I'm just keeping my opinion out of it," she says seriously.
"Didn't you just state your opinion?" Jess asks, scratching the back of his head. Paris glares at him.
"Okay," Rory smiles and walks over to Jess, roughly shoving her towel into his arms. "Go put this in the dryer for me?" He grumbles but acquiesces to her request, shooting Paris one last annoyed look as he leaves the room.
"Your clothes, toiletries, and that," she waves her hand, "Book you love so much. I'll bring the rest eventually, but for now it'll have to do."
"Thank you," Rory says sincerely. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, scattering droplets of water on the back of her – his – t-shirt in the process. Paris nods a little and scuffs her shoe into the carpet.
"Are you okay?"
"Not … exactly," Rory chuckles lightly. "But I will be," she nods.
Paris nods in turn and takes a deep, awkward breath. "If you need anything… you can call. My cell phone's never turned off."
"A technological girl," Rory smiles, "I like that."
"Here to please," Paris rolls her eyes. She stares seriously at her friend for a moment before walking forward and giving her a tight hug. "Call me when you come back to school."
"I will," Rory nods and gives her one last squeeze before letting go. Jess walks into the living room a second later and Paris levels her gaze with his.
"If you hurt her I'll kick your ass."
"She knows martial arts," Rory stage-whispers, "So you might wanna listen to the girl." Jess smirks a little and nods, locking eyes with the blonde.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he says seriously. Rory swallows audibly and Paris nods her approval, noticing his subtle tap on Rory's elbow. She shivers from the touch and Paris bites her lip.
"Okay. You know the number," she looks at Rory. "And you know the warning," she looks pointedly at Jess. He gives her a salute and she rolls her eyes, spinning on her heel and leaving the small apartment just as quickly as she'd walked in.
Jess brushes his hand down Rory's arm before moving around her to pick up her suitcases again, carrying them back into the bedroom. She follows him with an added bounce to her step and she shoves him out of the way to dig through her clothes as soon as he sets her bags on the bed.
"You'd think Santa delivered those," he chuckles. Rory grins at him and quickly unzips both suitcases, flinging their tops back and grimacing at the messy piles of clothing she finds in each. "Are you sure your mother didn't pack these?"
She glares at him over her shoulder and he gives her an apologetic smirk as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
"Look at this," she says quietly, pulling item after item out of the mess. "Skanky, skanky, slutty, skanky, stupid, glittery…" she huffs in irritation and looks at him helplessly. "What the hell was I thinking, Jess?"
"I take pride in the fact that I don't live inside your head, thanks."
Rory swats him on the shoulder and he grabs her hand, pulling her in front of him until she's standing in between his knees. "Ror," he says seriously, resting his hands on her hips. "It doesn't matter what you were thinking because it's over now. And the fact that you decided to get out and fix it is what matters."
"Yeah," she sighs and rests her forehead against his for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"You guess?" he teases.
"Oh. Right. Insatiable ego; knows everything," she smacks her forehead mockingly, "I forgot." Jess glares at her playfully and she shrieks when he starts tickling her sides, the clothing that's strewn about the room forgotten as she does her best to retaliate through her laughs.
