Title: Keyless Entry
Characters/Pairings:
Rory/Jess
Rating:
PG for this chapter
Warni
ngs: references to teen sex; WIP
Author's note:
Some significant dialogue is taken directly from 3x20, "Say Goodnight, Gracie" because as much as some things change, others stay the same.
Acknowledgment:
Thanks/blame to finnigan_geis for beta'ing, hand holding, and encouraging the damnable idea in the first place.
Summary:
What if Rory and Jess had sex in "Keg! Max!"? What if that didn't actually solve any problems?


Brown paper crackled under Rory's fingers as she extracted the slim, pink compact from its bag. She glanced up, eying herself warily in the mirror, pills in her palm. She really didn't look any different today. Make up a bit smudged, since she hadn't yet had time for a shower. Red mark still visible on her neck. Slight redness to her eyes and lingering pit in her stomach from arguing with her mother.

But different? No, not really.

She opened the compact, pressing the first pill out into her hand. She popped it into her mouth and swallowed before raising her right hand, forefinger and thumb extended, to set an alarm on her watch. The doctor said to take it same time, every day, and she knew how important it was to follow rules.

Rory tucked the birth control pills back into her dresser with an embarrassed, stiff glance toward her door. She was very happy her mother wasn't there, watching her.

It was stupid. It was weird, but she'd actually been excited the day they went to the gynecologist. She'd felt so adult and so prepared and so smart. She was planning ahead – back then, not even so long ago, the thought of sex still made her quiver and blank into academic, clinical analysis But even despite how unprepared she felt emotionally, her rational mind was right on track, problem solving and considering the minutiae.

Now, a part of her was very grateful for that forethought. Another part was angry, cursing herself for cowardice. Why did she wait until now? She could have started taking the pills the day she got them, she could have been prepared and self-reliant.

Or she could have not had sex at a random party.

Biting her lip, Rory met her own eyes challengingly in the mirror. She wasn't mad about that. No, she glared at herself. She was mad at herself for considering being mad about that.

"Sweets, you up?" came Lorelai's hesitant voice from the stairwell.

"Yeah," Rory said, amazed by her own even tone. "We breaking fast?"

"The faster the better!"

Lorelai's head poked around the door. She looked as ill-treated as Rory did, and Rory couldn't help feeling pang of sympathy.

"Truce?" she asked and Lorelai nodded swiftly in eager acceptance. "But, um, can I get a shower first?"

"No. No showers. They are verboten!"

Rory offered a small smile for her mother's forced boisterousness before shooing her out with her hands to find her robe and to undress. She tossed the clothes she'd slept in – still the ones from the party, still the ones that smelled like Jess – into her hamper, laying out what she'd wear for the day. And then, after an almost infinitesimal pause, she grabbed his post-it, folding it and sticking it into her jeans pocket.

Just so she wouldn't forget.

***

Lorelai picked her way across a trash-strewn lawn, throwing a put upon look back at her daughter, waiting just beyond the white pickets with a very large set of identity obscuring sunglasses on her face. Rory smiled back encouragingly, making shooing motions with her hands. Lorelai glowered.

Their venture back to the scene of the crime – and not even Lorelai's crime, she thought, the unfairness of it all striking her deeply – had been inspired by a phone call to Lane. It'd started out as a careful investigation into whether Lane was ever allowed human contact again, or had in fact already been shipped off to a nunnery. It had ended, somehow, in a trek across town, two attempts by Rory to make a break into a bedding store only to be restrained, and finally Lorelai herself going to fetch Lane's bag.

Rory would have gone in herself, she swore, but only if she had fresh sheets on hand and enough time to remake every bed in their house and the neighbors'. Lorelai had politely and carefully explained to her daughter that perhaps such a peace offering, to people who were unlikely to yet know about the offense, would make things worse rather than better.

The sun was casting bright, mid-day rays across the sky as Lorelai walked past where Kyle and his friend bickered, eying the door with trepidation. She had her story down for the off chance someone would ask. She felt the strange echo of the past – the days when she lied for sport and partied down in ways completely unimaginable to Rory – twisted unpleasantly with worry and her own sense of hypocrisy.

Foot on the rounded, outer threshold, Lorelai looked up suddenly to see a large form overshadowing her. Luke was charging angrily toward the door, eyes downcast as he grumbled, apparently unaware.

"Whoa, hold up there, caballero!" she exclaimed, stepping forward to grasp him by both arms and preventing the inelegant tangle of limbs they would have made on the cement.

"Lorelai?" he said with a start, before looking away with a sour twist to his mouth. "Sorry."

"So, they got you, too?" she asked sympathetically. "Is this about the sheets?"

Luke furrowed his brow at her, making that I'm-trying-to-translate-Gilmore-to-English face he always made.

"What?"

"Never mind." Lorelai brushed the question aside with a sweep of her hand. "So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this? What happened to the ski trip?"

Luke's expression darkened.

"Jess happened."

"To your ski trip?" Lorelai asked, tone light. She glanced around the living room quickly, taking in the parental looking figures in the corner and penitent teens searching out their own abandoned wares. Happily, they all seemed cocooned in their own worlds of shame and distraction. The entire point of her coming into the house rather than Rory, after all, was sparing her daughter the public humiliation. If a rant could be avoided, she was all for it.

"To my ski trip, to this house, to my life!" Luke waved a hand in wild gesticulation. "This morning, I'm in bed. I'm sleeping and the phone rings. And rings and rings, and when I pick it up, who's on the other end?"

"Your otologist?"

"My what?"

"Your ear doctor, to check on you. For the ringing..." Lorelai said lamely, trailing off with a sigh. "Continue."

Luke rolled his eyes, but was not deterred from his rant. Lorelai chanced another look around the room, relieved to see that no one was listening.

"And on the other end of the phone is someone named John who says he's Kyle's father, and Kyle threw a party last night without permission. And two guys got into a fight and tore the place apart, so John wants me to come down and take a look at the damage and discuss some sort of solution to the problem of the damages. Now, I don't know John, and I certainly don't know Kyle, but I do know someone who would get into a fight at a party and leave the place completely trashed. It's a wild guess, but I think his name rhymes with Tess. So here I am, heading in there to talk to John about Kyle and discuss what is to be done about the Hummel. "

Lorelai stared at him, blinking slowly as she took in the full breadth of information she'd just been presented with – and then, much more keenly, she took in what she had not been presented with.

Luke didn't know.

"Well," she said haltingly, "good luck with that."

"We're paying him off installments. No, correction. Jess is paying him off in installments, from the afterlife, after I wring his scrawny neck," Luke growled. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"You want to get right on that? No problem."

Lorelai scooted out of his way, watching his broad back as he stalked away from the house. Her lips pursed, eyes skipping away from him to again land on Rory, who waved hesitantly.

Oh, Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do, Lorelai thought angrily, turning away to look for Lane's bag. To the good fortune of Kyle's family, she found it quickly, hidden away behind a miniature date palm. It did little to quell her destructive impulses, but she was left with no channel for them. She'd just have to wait until she got to the inn. Maybe she could turn over some chairs and kick a fire-scorched wall.

Lane's bag dangling from her fingertips, held a safe distance from her body – bacteria couldn't jump through the air, right? – Lorelai marched back over to her ill-disguised daughter. She thrust the bag at her, enjoying a thrill of malicious joy in the face of Rory's panicked flailing and disgust. Lane's bag dropped to the ground.

"So," she started, arms crossed. "About the party. Anything else you'd like to add? Something about a boy named Tess and Hummels, maybe?"

Rory winced visibly. She looked uncertainly behind her, searching out Luke's long gone form. She looked back at her mother, taking off her sunglasses in the process. Lorelai was very aware of the effect her daughter's big blue eyes had on her, and scowled in response. Save it for your Grandma, girlie, she thought.

"You heard about that?" she said, voice cracking on a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, so, there was a fight."

"Tess and Jean?"

"Yeah."

Rory's voice was very small and Lorelai became distantly aware of her own anger, like a thing apart. She could easily see herself reacting differently, happily, singing for joy at her daughter the newfound trouble maker and party bombshell. But this idea, this situation, Dean and Jess fighting because of Rory the night she lost her virginity in suspect circumstances that still left Lorelai with a dreadful aftertaste of worry in her mouth... there was nothing funny about this.

"They fought over you," she pronounced.

"Yes, okay! Yes!" Rory burst out with unexpected agitation. "Yes, they fought and yes, it was over me! And I know I should be angry, and I am, because it was so wonderful and then it was ruined, and I'm not even sure who I'm angry at besides myself!"

"Whoa, honey, calm down," Lorelai said, reaching out to steady her daughter. She took deep breaths to swallow her own anger, reminding herself that she was the adult here. "Tell me what happened."

"And you'll tell me who to be mad at?" Rory asked. It wasn't quite clear from her tone if resented the idea or welcomed it. Maybe both.

"I'll give you my highly biased opinion."

Rory huffed out a breath, looking away as she said, "We were on the stairs, just walking down, but it must have been so obvious, because everyone knew immediately. And, I don't know, Dean thought he was protecting me, or that Jess did something, and he hit Jess, and I don't know why Jess fought back, but he did and they wrecked the place."

"They wrecked the place."

"Yes," Rory said shortly, glaring at her as she waited for Lorelai's final judgment.

"They?"

"Yes! They! What, you think it was only Jess?"

"No, hon, I'm just trying to wrap my brain around a visual. Was Dean perhaps picking Jess up bodily, and throwing him down on things? Or did he fall asleep, only to find that Jess and also Lilliputians had bound him to the floor, and when he awoke he was angry, but also confused, and he proceeded to rampage around the house?"

Rory stared at her.

"I'm saying that Jess is tiny, honey."

"I realize."

"I mean, seriously, itty bitty. That's an awful lot of trouble in that little package."

"He does not have a little package!" Rory said heatedly, before flushing bright red.

"Oh, ew! Too much information!"

"Well! You brought it on yourself! Are you going to tell me who I'm mad at?"

"Yes, I am, in fact!" Lorelai said, before allowing an awkward silence to fall. She shifted on her feet, craning her neck to peer around her daughter. She thought she could see Babette and Morey out for a walk, rounding the corner, and waved to then. She turned her attention to the sky. She had moved on from puzzling out the night's weather and the shapes in the clouds to working on optimal planting times right when Rory jabbed her hard in the side.

She rubbed at the spot, pulling a face at her daughter, trying to ignore the impatient tap of Rory's foot, the desperate look on her face. Lorelai really didn't want to say this.

"It sounds," she started, gritting her teeth, "like you should be mad at Dean."

"I should," Rory repeated dumbly. "I mean, I should!"

They both waited a beat, and then Rory bit her lip.

"Um, why should I be mad at Dean?"

"Sweetie, there's nothing you said that makes it sound like he was in the right to hit Jess. So he took a look at you and knew you and Jess had done the deed. So what? You're not his girlfriend anymore – and that was even his doing, not yours. So he thought you might have been hurt. Again, sweets, so what? You weren't and it doesn't sound like he had any reason to think that."

"Except that it was Jess," Rory whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

"Except that it was Jess," Lorelai agreed. And yes, she was quite aware of the irony of her saying that, thank you.

"So what now?" Rory asked. She had looked down, long brown hair falling into her face, and now peered up through it at her mother. She seemed ridiculously young in the moment.

"Now we go to Luke's and eat breakfast. No, brunch," she corrected herself. Rory squinted up at the sun, and Lorelai asked sheepishly, "Lunch?"

"Lunch. According to the Julian calendar, anyway."

"And then we make sure Luke doesn't kill your boyfriend."

Rory smiled tentatively at Lorelai, who took the opportunity to pull her close in a one-armed hug.

"I'm glad you're being cool about this, Mom," she said quietly.

"Oh, I am the coolest," Lorelai said. If she repeated it often enough, maybe she'd convince herself. Maybe she'd be okay with Rory and Jess and... key taking. And maybe she'd also learn to spin the Earth backwards on its axis, marry David Cassidy, and join the Partridges as a triangle player.

Kissing Rory lightly on the forehead, she squeezed one more time and then released her. Nudging Rory with a hip, hands held far from the offending item, she said, "Remember Lane's bag. I am not touching that thing again until it's been dipped in a hand sanitized vat of burning bleach."

Rory's mouth pulled into a moue of displeasure, and she shot a betrayed look at her mother – who skipped on ahead, pleased with herself. It may not have been catharsis for the whole affair, but it was damn satisfying nonetheless.

***

The townspeople were crazed. Always, in Jess's opinion, but particularly this morning. The diner was crowded full of happy, chattering patrons, voices grating on his every nerve.

He'd been in a mood since awaking, weird and wary – the stiffness of his muscles a reminder of the night before. He'd brushed his teeth with smooth lethargy, stretching and flexing his back, one eye on the mirror, raking over his own appearance suspiciously. He could see a glimmer of some emotion in his eyes, almost hidden under his unmoussed hair. His jaw ached from Dean's heavy blows, and he could see fresh purple darkening on its edge.

Jess felt altogether unwound, put back together strangely. His eyes kept twitching toward the door, his body half turning every time he heard the ring of the bell.

He tried to tell himself that wasn't pathetic.

Navigating amid the hum and din of the crowd, Jess delivered plates, ignored Kirk, and fended off demands for ham. The woman had been asking for a twenty solid minutes, damaging the semblance of cool Jess was struggling to maintain.

"Sorry, ma'am," he smarmed back. "We've gone kosher."

"But it's on the menu!" the woman snapped.

"Take it up with the proprietor. And be sure to give him your name – that'll be a real help when he writes the Anti-Defamation League."

Jess turned before he could take in her reaction – shocked or outraged or angry, he didn't really give shit. She had shut up.

He slid away from the table, turning toward the unkempt man at table two. Against his will, he could feel his eyes lift up and scan the window over the man's shoulder. Yep. Another bland block of the most idyllic town in the lower forty eight, Jess thought, a curl coming to his lip. Nothing to see here.

Shaking himself, he glared down at the customer – who had not yet just partaken of any custom.

"Know what you want yet?"

"Oh, uh, no. Not yet."

Jess shook his head slowly in aggravation. He hated indecisive customers. He snatched the menu from the table, thrusting it to the man without looking. His eyes had again settled on the familiar sidewalks outside the diner. He twitched, noticing two familiar figures deliberately marching his way, one flanked by women, walking with great fanfare and the other noticeably more tense and staid.

Taylor and, fuck, Luke. Making his way back from Kyle's it looked like. Double fuck.

Suddenly suffused with anger, Jess clunked his carafe of coffee down on the table, pulling his order pad out with a sneer.

"Well?" he said.

The man fumbled the menu.

"I'll just have more coffee."

"You already do," Jess drawled, jabbing his pencil toward the carafe. The man shifted awkwardly. "How about you pour yourself a cup, order something, or get the fuck out of here?"

The tenor of the diner buzz changed pleasantly in Jess's ears, with multiple murmurs of one refrain: "Did he really just...?" Oh yes, he had.

The man at the table looked spooked, gathering his things up hastily and bolting for the door. It occurred to Jess that, bruising visible on his face, sneer on his crooked lips, maybe he looked more intimidating than the average waiter.

Whatever.

Luke was going to kill him for driving off a customer. But he was already going to kill him, so at least this way Jess was treated to the man barreling into Taylor, throwing off his song and dance routine before he even got two notes into it, and scattering taffy all over the floor.

Pleased with himself, Jess sauntered back to the counter to affect an air of nonchalance, ignoring the customers scooping candy from the floor on their hands and knees as Taylor shouted at them in flustered bafflement. He seemed particularly betrayed by the large pile Kirk was scooping on his table, right in front of him, in the middle of the diner.

He had only just cobbled together enough of his dignity – if that was an accurate word to use – when Luke entered.

"Who can take a sunrise," he sang, only to be interrupted.

"Can it, Taylor! And while you're at it, get out. And while you're at that, how about you write this month's rent?"

"Now, Luke," Taylor sputtered, "I'll not have you slandering me in public. We both know my rent checks are both timely and written with excellent penmanship."

"You write like a girl," Luke replied, voice low. His eyes were on Jess, who returned the look coolly. "Now leave."

Taylor grumbled, pressing fliers for his opening into hands and onto empty table corners before turning with a huff and leaving. Luke didn't move from the door, forcing Taylor to turn sideways, taking in a deep gasp of air before sidling past him.

"You know where I was this morning?" Luke started. The diner resumed its previous noise level; evidently Jess-in-trouble was hardly gossip worthy anymore.

"No, where?" Jess asked sarcastically.

"Kyle's house." Jess's heart sank just a little at the confirmation. He'd hoped it was something else for a short, stupid moment. "His parents called me this morning."

"I didn't start it," Jess cut in. The fight. He was going to make this about the fight. No way in hell was Luke going to talk about him and Rory. No fucking way. Not here. "Dean started it."

"Oh, you're not really going to use that one, are you?"

"Well, he did. He sucker punched me and I was just defending myself."

Luke rolled his eyes.

"Oh, apparently you defended yourself all the way through the house and out into the front yard. You defended yourself with a chair that is now broken. You defended yourself with a coffee table. You defended yourself with an ottoman."

"I don't need a recap," Jess snapped. He was torn between sincere thanks that Luke didn't care enough to question motives and anger that it apparently didn't fucking matter if he was in the wrong or in the right.

Luke snapped his mouth shut, big hand coming up to point angrily at Jess.

"You're paying the money back."

No, he wasn't. He was saving – saving up the insult Luke called a paycheck, saving up the reduced hours he was working at Wal-Mart since his car was stolen, saving all the tips and change and pennies he found on the sidewalk left without return addresses.

Jess opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself at the ring of the entry bell. He stiffened, craning his neck to see around Luke's bulk. It was her. He couldn't see her, but the distinct sound of Gilmorese suddenly flowed under the currents of diner conversation.

His anger shriveled instantly.

"Fine, whatever," he said in distraction, pushing past Luke to the door.

Rory stood awkwardly next to her mother, both of them scanning the diner for an open table. Her eyes shone as they fell on him; Jess was almost repelled by the amount of relief he felt.

"Hey."

A faint smile curved her lips. Rory slipped her hand into her pocket, extracting a yellow note.

"You already said that."

"Adorable," Luke ground out, suddenly looming between them. "But if you'll hang on just a moment, Rory, I need to finished berating my nephew here."

"Um, actually, Luke, I need to have a word with you about that," Lorelai said. Jess's eyes widened in panic. Not good.

She took Luke by the bicep with one hand, leading him away. She circled the other and pointed to their usual table by the window, eyes widening with purpose as she compelled her daughter to stake a claim.

Rory furrowed her brow and mouthed back to her, "Taken."

Lorelai sighed, grousing, "Are you my daughter or not?"

Luke pulled on her grip, trying to turn back to address Jess, but Lorelai took full command of his body, steering him back behind the counter. The sheet in front of the stairwell fluttered as she pushed him past it, but remained curved with the outline of her body. Apparently she hadn't managed to actually get him more than two steps up.

"So," Rory started, pushing her hair behind her ear and biting her lip delicately. "What's going on?"

Jess shrugged. He probably had about three seconds to live, but he was trying not to dwell on it.

"Free taffy day," offered Kirk thickly. He held up a handful for Rory to inspect. She selected a few merrily before Jess dragged her away, glaring at Kirk all the while.

"Jeez," he groaned. "Let's get you that table."

Rory put a hand on his arm, sending a shock through him.

"I'm fine right here," she said, turning into his body.

She smiled up at him, and why did she have to do that? He exhaled carefully, bringing his hand to touch her hair where sunlight from the windows made it shine. He slid his fingers through it, hesitantly brushing against her cheek. She turned into the touch, tilting up ever so slightly on her toes, and he curved his palm to fit against her jaw, drawing her into a soft kiss.

Rory pushed up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a long, quiet sound that Jess thrilled to hear in public. They were in public. Everyone in the diner was watching them, dark disapproval in their eyes, and Jess could not love this moment more.

But Rory wouldn't. Jess jerked back from the kiss at the realization. A loud thump sounded on the stairs at the same time, saving Jess from explaining as Rory's eyes drifted over to the source. Luke and Lorelai were making their way back, a discontent but partially mollified look on Luke's face. Lorelai, for her part, offered a conciliatory shrug: I tried. Jess frowned at the unexpected sentiment.

He dragged his attention back to Rory.

"So, um," he struggled for something to say, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His fingers touched up against metal. Right. "So, you forgot your key."

Rory blushed, but she didn't resist when he pressed it back into her hand, fingertips tracing slowly over her palm as he drew back. Rory gave a shuddering gasp at the contact, gaze heated as she pinned him with a look.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Same thing I'm doing this afternoon, I hope," he said with a smirk.

"This is a good plan," Rory said. Then her eyes widened in horror. "Oh, no! No!"

"You're busy."

"I am," she cried woefully. "Paris and the paper and then my grandparents tonight."

Jess tried not to let his disappointment show. He'd ask her to cancel, but he knew better. He twitched his shoulders up in a shrug.

"Maybe tomorrow?"

"Maybe tomorrow what, Jess?" Luke interrupted. Jess slouched sullenly at the interjection. He'd somehow managed to forget that Luke was watching. Okay, no. He'd just assumed that Luke would be as dim and oblivious as he usually was.

He turned on his heel to glower up at his uncle.

"Tomorrow I work until child labor laws intervene," he predicted, hard edge in his voice.

"You're not a child," Luke replied. He took Jess by the arm, tossing an apologetic look to Rory. "And we're having another talk."

"Great. Because I really thought we were drifting apart, as people."

Jess shook off Luke's grip, following him unwillingly upstairs, to the apartment. The was a brief, welcome moment of silence before Luke closed the door behind himself, wheeling around on one foot to loom into Jess's personal space. Jess steeled himself, crossing his arms and pretending he hadn't just taken an involuntary step backwards.

"You had sex with her!"

Jess thought about playing dumb: I had what? With who? He suspected that would not play well.

"And?" he asked.

"And you got into a fight, with Dean, at a party on the same night! Are you going to tell me these things aren't connected?"

"Would you believe me if I did?"

Luke let loose a growl of frustration, stalking away from Jess toward the outer wall of the apartment. He stood there for a moment, gazing down at the happy, nutty townsfolk. He slammed his hand against the wall, rattling the windows in their frames.

"What is wrong with you, Jess? We had a deal! You go to school, you stay out of trouble, and you don't do anything to that girl!"

Jess's jaw dropped open incredulously.

"You think I hurt her?"

Luke turned, big arms folded across his chest. His voice was nearly flat as he said, "You tell me, Jess. Why else would Dean have hit you?"

"I can't – You're taking his side? He hit me to hit me! He hit me because I'm with Rory and he's not!"

Luke snorted softly in disbelief.

"Dean's a stand up guy. You know, he was there this morning. He was at Kyle's house, earlier even than me, talking to John and apologizing. They worked out a deal for how to pay for the damages and by the end, John thankedDean. That's the kind of kid Dean is." His lifted his chin, eyes boring into Jess, making him shift defensively. "Where were you?"

"Covering your diner!" Jess shouted back. "Although, you're right. Maybe I should have gone out, too. Left the place to burn down. I'm sure that's exactly the kind of stand up thing Dean would do."

Luke ignored the sentiment, continuing as if he'd never even heard Jess, "And he's going to college, too. You know that? Southern Connecticut State. So, tell me, Mr. Barely Graduating, why exactly I should take your word over his?"

Jess stared at him, before letting out a surprised, hollow laugh.

"You got that wrong, Uncle Luke," he said. What little frayed pride he'd managed to hold onto the past few days disintegrated fully as he admitted, "It's Mr. Not Graduating."

"We had an agreement." Luke's voice was very quiet. Very angry. Not at all like him. Jess was used to the shouting and the flailing – it usually amounted to all of jack, and if he was quick about it he could slip on earphones without Luke noticing. This was different.

Shaking his head slowly, Jess cast his eyes up to the ceiling.

"No, you had an agreement."

"You were going to go to school. You were going to graduate!"

"Past tense," Jess said, trying to sound indifferent.

Luke's jaw worked silently for a moment.

"Same to you. Get out."

Well, fuck.

Jess turned without a word, holding his head high, ignoring the persistent itch of his eyes as he stormed out. Fuck this and fuck Luke. He nearly ran down the stairs, half hoping Rory was still there and they could... something. Something that would feel better than this.

Dangerous thoughts, Mariano, he thought to himself. That was exactly how this had started, back at the party. The stupidest reason possible they could have sex, one he already cursed himself for, and yet he couldn't help himself from wanting to run back to her and make the exact same mistake again.

His self-restraint, his self-respect, was not put to the test when he got to the diner, however. Rory was gone, and Jess didn't know whether to curse his luck or thank it.

"I'd like to pay," Kirk said, standing by the register with his odd, flat expression and odd, stiff posture. "Mother wanted me to use the swear jar today, so it's all dimes."

Oh, definitely curse, Jess decided. Groaning mentally, he walked over and waited for Kirk to count out his bill, wondering why he was even bothering. He was kicked out. He didn't live here anymore and presumably didn't work here anymore. He wasn't lingering down here in the hope that Luke would change his mind. That would be truly sad.

Fuming, Jess tried to talk himself into just walking out. And going... where?

Finally, Kirk pushed a stack of dimes toward Jess, who swept them up, dumping them into the register without verifying the amount.

"Thanks for your business," Jess gritted out.

Kirk turned to leave, halting briefly to turn half his body, giving a parody of a conspiratorial look to Jess. He jerked a thumb toward table two near the window.

"She left something for you."

The bell clattered softly as Kirk left. Jess moved slowly, eyes following his body as he turned to look to the table. He squinted and frowned. It was hard to tell from this distance. Something flat, held down with a single, brightly wrapped taffy. A letter.

Jess's heart thumped in his chest. He boosted himself over the counter, striding over in a blink. He gave a physical flinch at the table when he took in what she'd left, not a letter or a book, just his order pad. Jess looked up, glaring at Kirk's retreating back. Very funny.

He was about to turn, about to fucking walk out, when he realized there was something written on the pad after all. He brushed aside the candy and picked it up, looking closer.

On the thin sheet of paper, he could make out the faint press of a pencil – echoes of writing left from the pages above. Most were his own hastily scribbled orders, but very distinctly, in the middle of the page, there were deeper imprints. The long stroke of an "l". The loop of an "o".

Almost obscuring both, though, was the broad sweep of Rory's handwriting, real and in dark blue ink: "Hey, you."

Jess smiled.

He sat down at the table, wanting at the same time to clutch the paper closer, to tear it off and keep it, and to never touch it again for fear of damaging it. He shifted in his seat, casting a look back to the counter and the stairs behind it. He made to stand, not quite sure what he was going to say to Luke, but sure there was more he could do.

His shoe kicked up against something, and Jess stopped mid-movement. He crouched down and picked up the offending item. A wallet. The man he'd scared out of the diner before must have dropped it.

***

Rory found Lane on the porch outside her house, furiously waxing a table. Her heart clutched at the sight – although Lane had explained everything about the party fallout and her self-imposed punishment in a frantic whisper over the phone earlier, much of it hadn't really hit home for Rory, caught up in her own fallout as she was. Lane was prone to some small degree of exaggeration and overreaction, though. Rory hoped none of this meant she had truly given up on the band or Dave.

"Hey," she said. She raised a hand quietly, Lane's bag held a generous distance away from her body. Lane's head darted up and, taking in the sight of her friend, she immediately applied herself more heartily to the table.

"Hi, Rory," she huffed out. "Thanks for bringing my bag."

"Um, Lane," Rory started. She walked up the steps, placing a cautious hand on Lane's arm. "I think the table is as shiny as it's going to get. And Mrs. Kim isn't going to disown you for taking a break."

"Oh, but she should! She's not even punishing me, you know? Unless this is the punishment – the waiting, the not knowing, the driving myself crazier and crazier. I've polished everything in the house, you know. Twice."

Rory winced.

"Is she still Stepford about the party?"

"Stepford doesn't quite encompass the full depth of calm and weird. Mama is being a Stepford zen master of chill. From the moon."

"They're more chill on the moon?"

"It's space. Space is cold."

"Oh," Rory said, nodding along gamely. She tried on a smile for Lane. "Of course."

"So how did you do it?" Lane asked suddenly, dropping her cloth onto the table to look desperately into Rory's eyes. "How did you explain things to your mom?"

"Things?" Rory was a little ashamed of how squeaky her voice had just gotten. She could have sworn Lane was passed out for most of that argument. Damn.

"You know. The fight and," Lane trailed off, flushing as she fumbled for words. "And, um, your key?"

Oh God, was that going to be a town-wide thing now? Rory had always wanted to make her mark on the local lexicon, but not like this.

She shrugged awkwardly.

"I didn't. Mom was just... cool with it."

"Yeah." Lane straightened, thinking out loud. "Yeah, she would be. I mean, she knows all about youthful indiscretion... not that you were indiscreet! But if anyone can bring the empathy, it's totally your mom. She's cool that way."

Rory felt very much that she was eliding the facts of the situation, projecting what she hoped for herself, but Lane's wistful expression made it impossible to point that out. Uncomfortably, she agreed, "Yeah. She sure is cool."

"So. Um. How was it?" Lane asked in a rush.

Rory stared.

"How was what?"

"The you know. When he... " Lane said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She looked behind herself in a panic, trying to peer into the windows of her house in case her mother was lurking. Even more quietly, she added, "When he took your key."

"I, um, oh, I forgot!" Rory said, stumbling backwards off the porch stairs to get away. "I have newspaper. So, I kinda... have to go. I'll talk to you later!"

"Yes! Talk to me! Please!" Lane called after her.

Embarrassed, Rory offered a noncommittal smile and wave before pelting away down the street. She really was late for the newspaper meeting, she told herself. Paris would be furious. She was just trying to mitigate the damage.

In fact, Paris was not furious when Rory arrived more than an hour late. She was coolly dictatorial, the only reproach she offered Rory a wry eyebrow lifted in her general expression as she gestured toward Madeline and Louise, who were both hard at work on the layout. That alone was a blow to Rory's ego, particularly when she caught the hushed complaints from the pair about the boy-limo-dress coordination scheme Paris had forced them to abandon in favor of actual work.

Rory line edited the final articles with both fury and distraction. Every few minutes she would find her attention drifting to the night before, to remembered gasps, to the way Jess breathed her name into her shoulder, shuddering all the while. Breathing harshly, trying to shake the feel of his touch away, she would look to the table with Madeline and Louise's unfinished prom plans and feel a tight knot form in her stomach. She was moving too quickly – moving away from such high school, girlish things. She didn't even know where she stood anymore, what she wanted, if the prom was a possibility anymore. Lane's ambition to punish herself had already ruined half of the dream – they could hardly double date to the Stars Hollow High prom if Lane and Dave weren't going. But beyond that, there was the Jess question.

There was always the Jess question.

Every time her mind hit up against it, red ink would flow, her pen slashing through commas splices, extraneous adverbs, and what passed for high school wit. When Paris called one her edits "impressively ruthless" she knew it was time to call it a day.

"Wait, I meant that as a compliment!" Paris shouted after her.

She wandered out into the Chilton halls, staring blearily at the walls. She wrapped her arms around herself, book lying unopened on her lap as she watched the tick of a hall clock. It was late afternoon, getting on toward evening. Rory couldn't believe that she had a dinner yet with her grandparents. She'd done so little all day, but she was thoroughly exhausted.

Biting her lip, she made a decision. She was going to beg off.

"Hi, Grandma," Rory said hoarsely into her phone. She'd learned a trick or two from her mother, after all.

"Oh my God, Rory, are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, pausing to cough pathetically. She could almost hear her grandmother's wince. "I just wanted to warn you that I might not be good company tonight."

"Are you sick? You know, last time you were here I thought you were looking a little pale. Didn't your mother notice? Of course not, she wouldn't. She'd rather send you off to us, looking like death, just to make us feel guilty."

Rory opened and closed her mouth, trying to think for a moment how in the world that would make her grandparents feel guilty, rather than righteous and vindicated about her mother's faults. She kept silent, knowing it was better to just let her grandmother rant it out; some traits just bred true.

"… and you should make sure to drink that tea I told you about last time, the juniper tea. Marcus Abernathy's wife was nearly consumptive, and in this day and age, but she swears by it now. She looks flush and healthy as a Georgia peach, which she's not, despite what Marcus may say."

"Okay, Grandma. Juniper tea. Got it."

"And you rest up. I want to see you next week, bright eyed and bushy tailed!"

"I will, Grandma. I'll see you then," Rory said, breathing out a sigh of relief. This lying thing was easier than she'd suspected. "So, um, I'll tell Mom you said hi."

"Oh," Emily said flatly. "You don't have to do that."

"But I will. She says hi, too. She's just, um, sick."

"I'm sure she is."

The line fell silent for a long moment. Rory wondered if she'd just blown the whole thing, but eventually she heard a quiet exhalation from her grandmother. She felt a pang of remorse – she didn't think her grandmother liked tip toeing around the subject of her mother anymore than she did. She'd been stupid to even bring her up.

"I'll see you soon, Grandma."

"You will," Emily asserted. "Goodbye, Rory."

"Bye, Grandma."

Rory pressed the end button happily, feeling light. She was free and clear.

She was ashamed of how quickly her thoughts turned to Jess. She wasn't that girl. She wasn't. She wasn't the girl who had sex at a party, fought with her mother, lied to her family, and snuck off to go see her boyfriend again. She spent the entire bus ride back to Stars Hollow convincing herself of this.

Straightening her shoulders in her seat, Rory watched Woodbury blur into Stars Hollow, eyes lighting on the video store. Yes. Movie night. She had intended to have one with her grandmother and grandfather, so why not just trade it off for a movie night with her mother? It'd been a long time since they'd hung out together and it would go a long way toward making up for her own misdeeds.

She picked her way through the new releases, eying them distastefully, before making her way into the comedies. Something cheesy and eighties would do.

As she paid, she tried not to spare a thought for the old Rory curtain – long defunct since the proprietor, and Taylor, discovered pornography in the Bambi boxes and that somehow Chip 'n Dale had been swapped with a Chippendale performance. Rory really had no idea how Jess had pulled it off. Maybe he was Batman?

There was a shorter route back to her own house, but Rory's traitorous legs took her past the diner regardless. The lights were dimmed upstairs, business bustling downstairs. She slowed, peering through the window, trying to make out ruffled hair and a slouched posture, but Jess was nowhere to be seen.

Until she looked across the street, to the gazebo.

A fine trail of smoke wended into the air, dark red glow of a cigarette burning into the dusk hours. Jess sat on the gazebo steps, piercing gaze fixed on her, long fingers flicking occasionally at his cigarette. There was a large, full duffel bag beside him.

"No!" Rory shouted, shaken by the force in her own voice. Jess rose in startlement, casting a confused glance behind himself. She ran angrily across the street, stopping at the gazebo steps to glare up at him, balling her hands into frustrated fists. She'd never wanted to hit anyone before, never in her life.

"Rory," Jess started, "What's..."

"No!" she said again. "No, you can't do this. You can't just leave every time it gets hard!"

But, of course, he could. He had before. One stupid, little car accident and he ran away. This was so much bigger than that had ever been. Big and scary and she'd thought it'd been good, but maybe that was because she was being a dumb schoolgirl, and maybe everyone in the whole town was right about Jess. Maybe he'd gotten the one thing he wanted from their so-called relationship, so now it was hasta la vista, without even a cursory baby.

"Ror," Jess said, snapping her attention back to him. He was all blurry, face a mottled collage of deep purple bruises and sharp angles; she realized her eyes were filled with tears. He stepped down to the sidewalk, hands coming up to rub at her arms soothingly. "I'm not leaving."

"What?" she croaked.

"I'm not leaving."

"Oh," she said, feeling stupid. She shook him off, scrubbing at her face wildly with her hands. He didn't allow that long, dragging her back into his arm to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I didn't mean... I know how it looks. I didn't mean to make you think that," he mumbled into her hair. Rory swallowed thickly, grateful she couldn't see his eyes. She hated seeing that guilty, helpless look he got anytime their relationship stumbled – he always took all the blame, and she always allowed it wordlessly.

She tugged at his hand and they separated, sitting on the steps of the gazebo without looking at each other. Rory tried to calm down, shaking away her fear and the sudden chill it brought. Not long after, Jess helped her there, wrapping a warm arm around her shoulders. She cast a shy smile over at him, relaxing marginally. Jess flicked again at his cigarette, casting it toward the ground to join a dozen more cigarette butts, into a cultivated patch of begonias that ringed the gazebo. Taylor would have a conniption, she thought vaguely. The sight did nothing to allay her worry, only to transform it.

Jess didn't usually chain smoke.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

Jess pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket, shaking one out and lighting it. He drew in a deep lungful of smoke, saying on the exhalation, "Luke kicked me out."

"Because of us? Because we... you know?"

Jess nodded shortly, pausing a long time before confirming in a falsely casual tone, "Yep."

Rory's mind raced. She was suddenly furious at herself. She'd always been glad of Luke's protection – he was so much more of a father to her than Christopher had ever been – but now it seemed like a betrayal. It's none of his business, she thought. Not his, not Dean's.

"He can't do that!" she said, trying to stand. The lights of the diner were on, casting a warm yellow glow into the early spring evening. The shapes of Babette, Morey, Miss Patty, and other townies were plainly visible inside. Someone said something, and Miss Patty's large form shook with boisterous laughter. Luke paused next to the group, shaking his head before moving on. He'd probably been in the diner all afternoon. She could easily envision Jess and Luke exchanging silent stares at each other across the short, uncrossable distance between them.

Rory could do it. She could charge in right now and tell Luke to leave his so-called chivalry in the last century, where it belonged.

Well, she could if Jess would let her stand. He refused to release her, pulling her back down onto the steps to sit. She struggled awkwardly for a moment, before crossing her arms in annoyance.

"That's not fair. Using your man-strength against me like that!"

Jess turned slowly against her side, casting a look down at her.

"Man-strength?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows. Lorelai's comments about his relative size came back to her unexpectedly, and Rory flushed. "You know, I'm surprised at Luke. I really thought he would have approved of this development. The amount of money it's going to save him in water bills alone."

Rory stared at him, lips moving in shock as she worked out his meaning. He quirked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to realize what he was saying.

"Oh. Oh, ew!" she said, pushing at him. "Jess!"

"The saddest part is, Luke really thinks I take an hour in the bathroom for my hair."

"Please stop talking," Rory mumbled, covering her ears. She so didn't need to hear this. She didn't need to think it. Jess in the mornings, naked in the shower... Oh God, she could totally see it now, too.

And what was worse, it was turning her on.

"Jess!" she groaned again as he tried to peel her fingers from her face, teasing smile on his face. A tiny part of her wanted to laugh with him.

"Oh, come on, Rory. You're saying you don't?"

"No," she said primly, glaring at him. "I don't."

"Ah," Jess said, bobbing his head, sly look on his face. This so wasn't fair. He'd been able to fluster her with a look before the whole sex thing. Now it was in the mix and he had an entirely new spectrum of topics to harass her about. "You don't know how. That's okay. We'll work on that."

Rory's breath caught in her throat and she looked up into his eyes. Feeling daring, a reply bubbled up in her before she could stop it, "Luke always said he wanted me to rub off on you."

Jess laughed, suddenly and quickly and she smiled back at him, cheeks burning. The corner of his smile touched the bruise on his face, and somehow he didn't wince, like he was trying to prove how little all of this hurt him. Rory's good humor fled her, ache forming in her chest.

"Jess, he can't do this," she said, swallowing thickly. "He's your guardian. He's has to give you a place to live, at least!"

He shrugged.

"I'm eighteen. Legal obligation ends there."

Rory stared at the diner. She couldn't believe this.

"He'll come around. He has to," she said to herself. A little louder, she asked, "Have you tried talking to him?"

Jess laughed roughly, puffs of smoke delineating each separate breath. "How do you think I got packed so quickly? I wasn't waiting for you all afternoon. I tried, we went three more rounds, and after the last one, he threw my bag out after me."

He let go of her to lean back on his elbows, throwing his head back to study the gazebo roof as he smoked. Rory watched him silently. She had no idea how he could be so calm about this. After some time, his eyes turned back to her, inscrutable and dark.

"I didn't have to come here," he started. "Liz bought the ticket and then forgot. She didn't even know the day I was supposed to go. I got to Grand Central and wondered what the fuck I was doing. It didn't matter if I even got on the bus. It's not like Liz would get mad about it."

Rory reached for his hand, recognizing the moment for what it was. Their fingers interlaced lightly.

"So why did you come?"

Jess shook his head slowly, looking again to the roof. Rory wetted her lips, a selfish anxiety singing in along her nerves. She knew the answer she hoped for; she knew it was equally unlikely to be the truth.

When he did speak, it was hardly any kind of relief: "I don't know."