A/N:
I don't own the characters, I just play with them. No copyright infringement intended.
02. Of Shoveling, Uncles and Happiness
Jess hurtles down the stairs in a rush with a vague plan to slip out the back door while Luke is busy wrestling the morning onslaught of caffeine addicts, but just as he makes it to the point where the gateway to freedom is within visual range, his elbow catches a precariously placed box on a shelf. The box promptly topples over, and the ensuing racket is nearly loud enough to wake up the dead, and therefore definitely loud enough to alert Luke who, unfortunately, has become somewhat of an expert in thwarting these early morning vanishing maneuvers. Cursing silently, Jess pushes the box away and aims for freedom again, but as expected, he hears the door behind him creek open, closely followed by the familiar throat-clearing sound.
"This is getting old," Luke calls from the doorway.
"I've got school," Jess says quickly, glancing at the exit again.
Luke walks over and returns the box to the shelf. "It's Saturday, Einstein."
"Okay, so it's an extracurricular," Jess shrugs.
Luke chuckles. "I'll tell you what – if you can name three extracurricular activities that exist in that school, you never have to work in the diner again. Hell, I'm feeling generous today, so, you know, just name one and you're off diner duty forever," he says casually. "Oh, and just for the record – detention? Not an extracurricular activity," he adds as an afterthought and folds his arms, waiting.
Jess throws him a dirty look, and Luke lifts his eyebrows. "Nothing? What a shock," he declares with another chuckle.
"Okay fine, you win, I'll serve the bloody coffee, but I should tell you I'm feeling somewhat clumsy this morning. I hope you're well stocked on cups and such," Jess warns irritably.
Luke frowns. "You know, I'm kind of getting this vibe that you don't really like working in the diner all that much," he says bemusedly.
"Whatever gave you that idea? Pouring coffee, wiping tables, and enduring mindless chit-chat from an endless procession of potential mental patients? It's the highlight of my day," Jess clips ironically.
"Yeah well, maybe you could use a break," Luke sighs, "some fresh air and so on…"
Jess squints at him, suddenly feeling like he's navigating a mine field. "Fresh air sounds good," he cautiously affirms, waiting for the impending explosion.
"Yeah, I think so too," Luke agrees, scratching his head. "Fresh air, maybe some exercise…" He reaches behind a shelf and in the next second, Jess finds himself presented with a shovel.
"What's this?" he asks suspiciously.
"Exercise," Luke shrugs.
"What, that latent paranoia involving pesticides finally kicked in and you're starting your own vegetable patch?" Jess chuckles. "As much as I'd love to witness this farmer transformation you're embarking on, I think I'll do it from a distance, because sadly, I just don't do well with dirt," he adds and pushes the shovel back at Luke.
Luke grins, then shakes his head. "Do you ever bother to look out the window?"
"Why? The view never changes," Jess points out indifferently.
Luke grins wider, then pulls the door open, and Jess finds himself faced with an endless, knee-high mass of snow.
"What the hell is this, Northern Exposure?" he gawks at the scene incredulously.
"Pretty much," Luke nods, "minus the moose. But watch out for the occasional squirrel, they can be vicious," he adds with amusement and pushes the shovel back at Jess.
"You can't be serious," Jess says, looking at the shovel, then the snow, then back at Luke.
Luke looks around, inhaling deeply. "There's really nothing quite like some fresh air," he informs Jess, throwing in a shoulder pat for good measure. "When you're done here, move to the front and you know, spruce that up a bit too. I cleared it once already, but I did a somewhat sloppy job, you know, having to deal with breakfast and everything."
"This borders on abuse," Jess grits through his teeth, fuming silently.
"Yeah well, I'm sure there's a hot-line you can call when you're done," Luke says cheerfully, retreating into the diner.
Jess curses the shovel, then the snow, then winter in general, then Stars Hollow winter in particular, but most of all, Luke and his bat-like hearing. Pushing the shovel into the snow, he digs through his pockets and finds his cigarettes; he lights one, then leans against the shovel and contemplates his options. There aren't that many, and upon closer inspection, subtle variations included, they basically boil down to two – shoveling and not shoveling. Shoveling is definitely not his first choice, but not shoveling would mean making himself scarce for the day and enduring endless nagging sessions from Luke upon returning. It's not really an appealing prospect since Luke really has no problem with nagging, he can keep at it for ridiculously long periods of time, and on many levels, enduring that would be much worse than waving a shovel for a few hours. Resigning himself to his unfortunate fate, he gets rid of the cigarette and digs through his jacket again in search of his earphones; sticking them into his ears, he grabs the shovel and attacks the snow with a vengeance.
Once he gets started, however, he gets the hang of it quickly; the music provides the rhythm and the righteous anger provides the drive, and he soon admits to himself that brandishing a shovel is really not a half-bad way to vent. On some level, he actually suspects Luke knew this, that he sent him out here with that very purpose, and for the first time, he grudgingly allows that maybe there's more to the guy that meets the eye. Granted, he's irritable and overbearing, meddlesome and much too controlling for Jess's taste, but there's a consistency about him that's strangely… well, reassuring, really. If nothing else, Jess has learned that he can count on the guy to nag him senseless when he screws up, and as irksome and annoying as the ritual is, it's also the most genuine show of concern he's ever witnessed. Not that this concern really matters one way or the other, he shrugs inwardly, but the phenomenon is new and as such, mildly interesting.
Not two hours since he first faced the polar conditions, he's ready to move on to the sidewalk in front of the diner, and he does it with a weird sense of pride, the existence of which he'd rather choke on a dozen times over than admit to another living being. The shoveling process is somewhat slower here because the spot is an excellent town vantage point and he occasionally gets distracted by the freak parade that is the Stars Hollow residents - even though he's been here a while now and has somewhat grown accustomed to the local weirdos, some characters still provoke a chuckle and an incredulous head-shake.
Looking up between two swings, he spots Rory across the square, bag-boy in tow, and as usual, he wonders what she sees in that guy, thinking he'd give anything to witness an conversation between the two. He can't begin to imagine what they talk about, and he'd gladly trade a week of his life to see Dean suffer through a Howl discussion. Maybe it's a chemistry thing, a voice sounds in his head, but he dismisses this with a chuckle – the displays of affection between these two basically boil down to holding hands and an occasional kiss, none of which even remotely resemble passion in any shape or form.
They reach Doose's and before Dean disappears behind the door, Jess watches them exchange one of those proper kisses; it's so polite and appropriate it's borderline tragic. This relationship, whatever it may have been once, is now just a force of habit, he thinks with amusement as he watches Rory start across the square, making her way through the snow. He pushes the shovel into a snow pile at his feet and starts after her. She's wading through the yet uncleared snow in the middle of the square; he comes up a along her side, but sticks to the sidewalk a few feet away.
"Hey," he says with a smirk.
"Oh hi," she smiles, turning to look at him.
"Any particular reason you're choosing to plow through this natural disaster while there's a perfectly clear stretch of sidewalk available?" he asks with a smirk.
"It's the first snow this year," she smiles wider. "And it's not a natural disaster, it's a natural wonder."
"Okay, my question still stands," he says after a moment of contemplation.
"Snow makes me happy," she beams at him.
"Yeah, I can see that," he smirks with amusement.
She smiles with delight. "Everything is white and clean and fresh and weirdly quiet…"
"...with occasional electricity short-outs, traffic jams and ice-induced fractures," he continues helpfully, smirking at the dirty look she throws him.
"I take it you're not impressed," she says playfully. "Shocking."
"Well, if you spent the morning shoveling this… natural wonder, your perspective might be slightly different," he points out, cringing.
She stops and glares at him. "You shoveled?"
"I shoveled," he confirms with a smirk.
"That's so unfair," she mumbles, frowning toward the diner.
Not quite expecting such a blatant display of sympathy, he's caught off guard for a moment, but he recovers quickly. "Yeah well, tell it to Luke," he chuckles.
"Oh, I will," she assures him. "I can't believe he did that to me," she mutters to herself. "He knows he's supposed to save the shoveling for me," she says with disappointment.
For a moment, Jess just gawks at her incredulously, hastily employing every available brain cell to in an effort to make sense of what she just said, but to no avail; finally, he gives up and shakes his head.
"Okay, did you really just imply you actually wanted to shovel snow?" he asks, frowning at her.
"Amazing, you just show up out of nowhere, and he just lets you have all the fun," she continues, completely disregarding him.
He shakes his head again, thoroughly lost. "I'm… sorry, I guess," he says after a minute, wondering if he's really just apologized for shovelingsnow… it's beyond insane.
"Yeah, well… it's Luke's fault, not yours," she shrugs and starts walking again.
"Right…" he says slowly and follows. "What's with the competition, anyway? Don't you have a driveway at your house? Plenty of snow to clear over there," he offers with a smirk.
"Yeah, right," Rory laughs. "That's my mom's turf, I know better than to get caught with a shovel there…"
He looks at her again, and bursts out laughing. "I swear, I'll never get this town," he declares with resigned certainty.
"Probably not," she agrees with a smile. "I've lived here all my life, and the best advice I can give you is, the sooner you stop trying, the better off you'll be."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he smirks.
They've reached the end of the square; he expects she'll be on her way home now, and it catches him by surprise when she just turns around and starts back the way she came, kicking the snow with her feet. Just as he's about to open his mouth to ask for an explanation, he suddenly realizes she's not really on her way anywhere, she's perfectly happy to just be wading through the snow. In accordance with her earlier advice, he decides to just take this in stride and not waste any time making sense of it.
"So, the snow makes you happy," he smirks, turning around as well. "What else?"
She shrugs. "A good book. Music, occasionally. Old movies. Traveling, although that's mostly an assumption at this point," she says sadly.
"Dean?" he offers casually.
"Dean," she nods quickly, throwing him a curious sideways glance.
"I kind of thought he'd be at the top of the list," Jess comments innocently.
"I wasn't prioritizing," she points out, rolling her eyes. "Or he would have been."
"Right, sure," he smirks; she frowns at him and he decides not to push it. "You forgot pancakes," he reminds her. "They must make you ecstatic if the sheer amount you can consume is any indication."
She laughs. "Okay, yeah, pancakes too…" She looks at him curiously. "What makes you happy? Everyday mundane things like driving any adult within reach insane not-withstanding," she adds hastily.
He laughs, then shrugs his shoulders. "That's about it, I guess."
"Wow," she says quietly, kicking some more snow around. "That's… sad," she continues absentmindedly, and he feels curiously scathed by the remark; regular defensive mechanisms rear their heads quickly and several sarcastic comebacks run through his head in quick succession, but somehow none quite make it out of his mouth when she stops and smiles at him. "How about you try this for a change?" she suggests, pointing to the snow at her feet.
He looks at her for a moment, standing there in the snow, hidden under a jacket, wrapped in a scarf and armed with mittens and ridiculous fluffy earmuffs, and somehow, there's something so overwhelmingly beautiful about the scene that he just can't bring himself to even remotely mock the suggestion. As far as he can remember, that's a first, and he racks his brain in search of an alternative response.
"Seems much too tame," he finally smirks. "Not really my thing."
"You can't know that unless you try," she points out reasonably, a subtle challenge dancing in her eyes. "I promise I won't tell anyone," she adds in a dramatic whisper.
He shakes his head and pushes his hands into his pockets.
"Oh come on, just get over yourself and get over here," she rolls her eyes. "You shoveled my snow, this is your chance to ingratiate yourself, so, you know, just take it," she chuckles.
"I can put it back if you want," he offers with a smirk.
"Right now, I want you to get over here," she returns playfully.
"Wow, you're stubborn," he chuckles.
"Well, it takes one to know one," she shrugs. "Now walk."
"I'd love to see how long this can go on," he wonders, amused.
"Well, I have dinner plans so I'll have to take a rain-check on that," she smiles. "For now, how about you just go out on a limb and try something completely crazy and out of character, and do this simply because I'm asking you to?"
Their eyes lock together, challenge versus determination, and curiously, Jess finds his determination fading. "Okay," he shrugs, and wades over to her.
"Wow, that was almost too easy," she chuckles and starts walking again.
He smirks and shakes his head. "You have no idea."
"Well?" she says after a few steps.
"Still not really my thing, sorry," he shrugs.
"Figures, I guess," she chuckles, "since kicking snow is unlikely to irritate anyone."
"Well, indirectly, it might irritate Luke, so I guess that's something," he smirks.
Rory laughs. "I don't really think Luke will have any strong opinions about you walking around the square."
"Normally, I'd agree, but considering the fact that I'm supposed to be clearing the sidewalk in front of the diner at the moment, he might have a thing or two to say," Jess points out hopefully.
She's not smiling anymore, and she says nothing; she just glances at him thoughtfully, and he doesn't like the look in her eyes.
"What?" he says with a smirk.
"Nothing," she says quickly and looks at her feet.
"It's painfully obvious you're choking on something," he chuckles.
"I'm not," she counters, frowning at the snow.
"You're the worst liar I've ever seen ," he points out casually, "so just spill."
She shrugs. "He's just really great," she says simply. "Luke."
Jess says nothing; he just quickly registers the second historic moment in which he held back a sarcastic remark, and suspects something might be seriously wrong with him.
"I mean, you've been here a while now, and being fairly intelligent and all, I would have expected you to pick up on that by now," she continues evenly.
"Fairly intelligent?" he repeats with a smirk. "What is that, a notch above stupid?"
She swallows a chuckle and shakes her head. "I'm not getting into a terminology discussion," she warns sternly, "or falling for this pathetic attempt to change the subject."
"Well, at least I tried," he shrugs, grinning.
She stops and frowns at him. "Why do you hate him so much, anyway?"
"What? I don't hate him," he counters quickly.
She folds her hands on her chest. "Then you like him?"
He rolls his eyes. "That's overstating it a little," he warns.
Her eyes narrow. "What then?"
He shrugs. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"And that's not ambiguous at all, thanks," she quips ironically.
He laughs, then turns around and starts back toward the diner. "See you around, Rory," he says over his shoulder, still chuckling.
"What would it take to get a straight answer out of you?" she yells after him, frowning.
He turns around. "I gave you one," he smirks. "You're just not listening."
A/N:
All writers love reviews, good or bad. They are precious insights into our reader's minds. They usually make us try harder. They often make us get better at what we do. They always motivate us to keep going. They show us what we've done well, what we've done badly and what we could have done differently. Ultimately, they make us happy.
Just something to think about :)