Rory didn't sleep. Instead, she relived kissing him a thousand times. She pictured the emotions whirling in his irises. She worried. She convinced herself that he hated her. She convinced herself that he loved her. And back again. And again and again. She wondered what them both saying what they mean would look like, feel like, sound like. She read her pro/con lists over and over again. She made coffee. She relived kissing him. She invented endless conversations with him in her head, every outcome, every flicker of emotion, every word.

She felt sick by the time the sun rose. She drank more coffee. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, reading the screen.

'Are you awake?'

-break-

Jess shut his eyes against the sunlight and the pain in his head after dropping his phone to his side. He had drank way too much last night, but no amount of alcohol could make him forget Rory, he found. He could still taste her, smell her. He groaned as a wave of sickness and fear swept over him.

His phone buzzed. His hand found it, and it stayed there by his side for a moment while he took four deep breaths, before he lifted it in the vicinity of his face and cracked his eyes open.

'Didn't go to sleep.' It read.

He typed back, 'Are you okay?'

'You?' He didn't miss her lack of answer, and gave her none either.

'Try to sleep for a couple of hours. Call me when you wake up.'

'I want to go to the bridge.' He stared at her text for a moment, before loading all of the significance he was sure she meant onto her words. She texted back again before he could form a response. 'It's been a long time.'

'Rory,' was all he could think to say.

'Not today. Soon.'

'Call me when you wake up,' he repeated, and she stopped replying.

He threw his phone back onto the couch, and struggled into a sitting position, desperate to pee. He dragged himself up and to the bathroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and found her lipstick on his cheek and forehead. He groaned, scrubbing at it, making the skin redder than even before. Leaning on the counter and glaring at himself in the mirror, he wondered how everything had happened last night. Why he'd walked her home. Why he stayed in the bar when he'd spotted her. Why he didn't stop her when he knew she was going to kiss him. Who was he kidding? He was a masochist. He'd known that for a long time.

He showered, trying to scrub the night away.

"Morning," he mumbled, accepting coffee from Chris when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later. The water from his hair dripped down his neck and seeped into the seam of his shirt. He took a drink and avoided Chris' judgemental eye.

"I thought you'd grown out of your self-destructive streak, but I guess you're still out to fuck yourself over, Jess." His friend sighed. "She's damn beautiful, though."

Jess almost laughed. "She is – if only that was all she was. She's beautiful for much more than just ..." Jess cleared his throat. He didn't finish his sentence.

"I get it, I swear. I do," Chris said gently.

Jess shook his head. "I don't," he told him. He looked at him, sure that his eyes were betraying his emotions. "I didn't even know I was capable of this before I met her, Chris."

"Capable of …?" Chris questioned, lifting his coffee cup to his lips and blowing on it.

Jess struggled, and Lia stepped into their small kitchen wearing a t-shirt of Matt's. She watched Jess as he choked on his words with her bright green eyes full of bitterness. She turned to Chris, saying, "Capable of truly loving someone. Even caring about someone." Her eyes met Jess' and they sparkled with tears. "I get that."

Jess took another drink from his cup and closed his eyes, resting his head back on a cupboard door. He felt Chris' eyes on him for a moment longer, and heard him exhale a long, slow breath. "I'm not ...this isn't self-destructive, Chris." He couldn't say that loving her was the opposite of that – that it was the only way he could be his best self, to be with her and have her love him. He cringed at saying any of this at all, and Lia watched him as he censored himself as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Matt joined Lia in the doorway of the kitchen. "You alright, Jess?" He nodded, and he was, in a way. She had kissed him, and Rory wasn't likely to do things she didn't mean. She was always deliberate. It was why it hurt so much when she had kissed him at Truncheon's Open House. She had meant it. She just meant it more with Rockerfellar. But she had meant it last night – he just wasn't sure if there was another Rockerfellar waiting in the wings. Matt watched him for a moment, before glancing first to Lia, then Chris, then back to Jess. "You should just be with her, Jess. Everything between you two is obvious. You should just be together."

Jess exhaled, before placing his cup in the sink, turning his back on his friends. "I really love her. I loved her the moment I saw her."

"So love her," Lia told him.

Jess turned to look at her, and dragged a hand through his wet hair, deep in thought.

"Hey, Jess? You should see the way you look at her, man. It's beautiful," Chris said, grinning in a bitter-sweet sort of way, like an artist admiring a tragedy. "It's oil-on-canvas worthy."

-break-

She didn't call him for hours, and Jess was sort of thankful, really. Several rounds of aspirin later and he'd gotten over his hangover. He could see in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows of Truncheon's front. He could concentrate on the page in front of him, finally, which were return notes from his non-fiction supplier. Business didn't care whether you had a hangover or not, it seemed. Chris was stacking shelves and helping customers, since he'd fared better. Lia and Matt were in the back, 'doing a stock take' before they hit the road back to Philly that night. Jess smiled a bit when he heard them both laughing at whatever Lia had said, and was thankful that Lia was able to stop being an ass to allow it to happen.

"Does Rory have any friends?" Chris sighed behind him, placing cash in the register. Jess quirked his eyebrow at his friend in question, and Chris sighed, shaking his head. "No-one loves the artist. Geez, they're supposed to be falling all over me." He wondered off, and Jess couldn't help but laugh at him. He was being ridiculous, of course.

He didn't look up when the buzzer on the door sounded someone's arrival, but he felt it – he could never explain it, but he always somehow picked up when she was near him. He bit his lip, dragging a hand through his unruly hair and placed his book down.

He wasn't an uncertain person, he didn't feel. He had always been pretty confident – especially around women. But with Rory … geez. He was unsure of everything. He tried to play it off, bravado firmly in place, from the first time he met her. But when she got to know him – and know him, she did, she could see straight through it. Her mind intricately intuitive and, for Jess, completely invasive, not entirely unpleasantly, and unlike any other person he had ever met. But sometimes she got locked up inside that intricate mind of hers, and Jess wasn't always able to drag her back. Not only that, but sometimes he got locked up inside his, and he couldn't handle either – not when they were kids.

Uncertaintly plagued him. He just wanted a sure thing. He wanted her, without complication, without questions, without confusion and pain and everything they had both caused the other. He just wanted her, the way they had been when they were together. Kisses and books, movies and touches, intelligence and heat, passion, love.

"Sorry – I didn't call, I just ..." She was in front of him, a counter separating them. His eyes found hers, forcing his natural front away, his thoughts laid bare to her, honest and open. Her eyes were startled by his expression, and her words stopped in her throat. She swallowed, keeping eye contact. "I wanted to see you."

"Okay," he said, his voice soft. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. He stepped around the counter, and touched her elbow, motioning for them to descend the stairs to his and Chris' apartment. "We have an audience," he told her quietly, throwing a warning look over to Chris who had gone to the store room and dragged out Matt and Lia to watch, too. Matt had the grace to look apologetic, but the other two smirked. Rory hugged herself a little, before looking towards them with a discomfited smile and gave them a small wave.

She followed him silently into the back and up the narrow staircase to their apartment. Nervous energy buzzed and vibrated around them as he opened the door and held it for her, before closing it with his back against it. He stayed there for a moment, watching her taking in her surroundings – the small New York apartment was nothing special, and a particular mess, with books and coffee cups and art equipment everywhere. Chris' desk was in one corner, an easel with a half-finished (or possibly completed – Jess really never understood what Chris deemed 'finished') portrait of some woman he'd met in a Philly coffee shop, sat in the window. He called her Elenora, because he didn't know her name, and it sounded 'artistic'. Jess' own desk was filled with half-read manuscripts and books and an old typewriter he'd bought at a Philly flea market for forty bucks – it was greenish oxidised metal. It was his favourite possession.

He watched her as she headed for it, lightly touching the keys, smiling as though she were alone – quietly and serenely, lost in thought. It wasn't rare for Jess to wonder how she could be so beautiful, but … wow. He loved her more than his own heartbeat keeping him alive.

"Your apartment is how I imagine the inside of your head would look," she smiled, not looking at him over by the door. He felt the tension leave him as he let out an unrestricted laugh. She laughed with him, turning her eyes, sparkling, towards him.

"Sounds about right – a total mess and full of books," he agreed.

"And utterly, unquestionably beautiful," she added softly. Jess bit his lip, still laughing a bit. But Rory wasn't. He sobered, knowing she was serious. He took compliments just about as well as she did, of course. "I'm sorry about last night – but … No. I take that back. I'm really not sorry, Jess. I really wanted to kiss you, so I did. I just … I'm sorry if you didn't want ..." She was rambling, but Jess let her continue, stepping away from the door and standing on the other side of the coffee table, his hand clasped around his elbow with his hands behind him. "... If you didn't want me to kiss you. It's just … it's rare for me to act impulsively, and when impulse strikes … I over-think, and I need to start to not over-think this, because …" Rory cleared her throat, embarrassed for a second. She paused for another second, looking at him wildly. "You know it's difficult to say what we mean to each other. You know, especially, that it's particularly difficult for me to say – I never say it first, Jess. I don't put myself out there to be hurt, and I know you've noticed that." She tugged at her soft cotton blue sweater sleeves, tears beginning to sparkle in her eyes as the emotion welled up inside her. "But you said that the only way we can understand each other is by saying what we mean, so … so here it is -" She paused again, gathering herself and taking a much-needed breath.

"Jess. We didn't treat each other well when we dated, and haven't since. It's been an entire saga of … pain … and just … It's been so awful, Jess. You leaving was inexplicable. I understand why you did it – I really do, now – now that I've come to know your reasons. I've done worse, by now, anyway, I think. I'm sorry for how I've treated you since you came to me at Yale. I can't really explain my actions, other than … I wasn't really me. I don't think I've really been me since you left Stars Hollow, Jess. I'm not blaming you, definitely not – I'm not even really sure I knew it was happening – it's just that I think I shut myself up tight because … I didn't want anyone to know me like you did – I didn't want other people to uncover all the things you had when we were together. Your brain understood mine, and … Well, I guess it still does. I probably don't really have to explain myself – not really. But there's some things we need to say out loud, don't we? Because some things just don't translate well when you're trying to say them without speaking." She laughed nervously for less than a second, looking all over his face, but not meeting his eyes.

"I was scared of how much I loved you so quickly, Jess – that had never happened to me before, and it hasn't since. I honestly don't believe it will ever happen again. I don't think I want it to." She paused again as Jess stared at her, his heart beating wildly in his chest. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Jess cut across her.

"I thought I was broken," he murmured, low. "Then … I saw you, and …" He couldn't believe he was speaking. He'd written this down, before, trying to explain it all, sure he'd never have the opportunity, nor effrontery, to voice it. And here he was. Her eyes were like fire. "I saw you and I couldn't feel my body, like I wasn't a body – we weren't bodies, and instead we were … fire or … elemental or … I don't know – like my whole world shifted. Like I could feel things the way they were felt by other people, maybe more than other people, much more than the dispassionate way I'd dealt with everything else in my life that far. I'd had a crappy life, and then, finally, there was this … fucking glorious, beautiful reason to … to not hate it. You have no idea how important you were to me, Rory. How important you still are. You're the reason I started … writing … caring about anyone, caring about me.

"It's never been a question of loving you. I knew it in a second, instant and complete – that I loved you with every cell. It has always been my struggle to love me. You don't deserve someone broken, Ror'."

She was biting her lip, hard, when he looked up to meet her tear-filled eyes, trying to stop them running down her cheeks, but ultimately, she was unsuccessful. "Everyone's broken, Jess." Her voice sounded strangled by her tears, and she wavered on the spot in her effort to say what she meant to. "I'm broken, too. What I don't deserve is a life without you."

Jess watched her, carefully. Anger was clear in her demeanour. His sparked too, as he spoke again. "Don't you get that I want more for you? That I always wanted more for you?"

"Don't you get that you are more for me?!" She just about screamed it, tears now pouring down her face. She wavered on the spot again, and finally gave in, sinking into the couch to her left. She was sobbing, and Jess felt like his blood, which, until a second ago had felt like fire, had now turned to ice. Jess struggled with himself, battling with what he thought was best for her, which was to move as far away from her as possible, or what he wanted, which was to take the seat beside her. He stayed where he was. "Is there someone else?" she asked softly, her anger dissolving in her tears.

Jess shook his head, frowning, sadness filling him like a sand timer. He could feel it rising up past his chest, filling his lungs.

"Then - ?" she started, but he cut her off, again.

"I couldn't … handle you regretting this, Rory."

"You really think I could?" Jess didn't know the answer to that, and he could tell that Rory knew what he was thinking. "You think I regret our relationship, Jess? Honestly? You're the only boyfriend I could actually be myself with – who didn't make me feel embarrassed for being such a –"

"– dork?" he asked, smirking, trying to lighten the mood. To his relief, he was at least a little successful. She laughed.

"Yeah, because despite the James Dean impression, you were one, too. You understood me, Jess."

"I was a jerk," he corrected.

"Yes, but at least you know that, now." She was still laughing. "You've grown up. And well, I might add."

"You too," he told her, and he meant it.

She was silent after this, but she smiled, maintaining eye contact with him for a long moment. Eventually, she sighed, leaning back in the couch. He took a ragged breath, wanting to clarify something, too. "There's no-one … for you, either?" he asked carefully.

Her eyes found his in surprise, before she said, "No, Jess. No-one else."

"Okay," he said thoughtfully, keeping eye contact for as long as she would let him. He said nothing more on the matter, but did turn towards his kitchen, his intention to make coffee for the coffee-addict before she started Jonesing. He made his best Luke-imitation coffee, and returned to her with two mugs of the stuff, both black. Handing one to her, she took it with complete glee on her face. He smirked and sat down next to her with his own cup.

"I love you, anyway, but if I didn't already, I'd love you for this coffee," she told him, looking as though she were having a religious experience. He laughed at her, trying not to count how many times she had told him she loved him. She laughed too, turning to look at him with her eyes glittering. "If you ever wanted to know how I felt, Jess, that's how I feel," she joked. He took a sip from his own cup, still smiling.

"Damn – all this time, I'd been thinking it was my smile."

She laughed a little more, setting down her mug on the coffee table before she spilled it. He set his down, too. "Just so you know," he said, seriously. "I love you too, Ror'. I probably haven't made that clear." He sighed, closing his eyes as she settled against him in a hug. She was crying again, but he hoped her tears were happy. He hoped she understood his words – that he loved her and wanted to love her, wanted to be with her, fuck, wanted more than life itself to marry her, have children with her, grow old with her, die before her so he never has to know a world without her. He hoped she could hear all of that in his simple 'I love you'. He wasn't sure he had the words to express his meaning. Maybe he'd have to write her a library.

He bit his lip, before pulling her up to him, watching her closely, her tears streaking her cheeks, her hair ruffled. He placed a hand on her shoulder, her neck, then his lips followed, making intricate patterns on her snowy skin towards her jaw. She pulled herself closer to him, looking as though he were the only thing stopping her from floating away or passing out (the latter more likely). He smirked as she let out the slightest of sounds. Her fingers were digging into his shoulders as she anchored herself to him, and he kissed her jaw, holding her waist. She turned her head, crawling further towards him, settling over his lap, leaning her forehead on his as she stared into the heart of him. He stared right back, before sliding his hand through her hair. She made that sound again, and his lips pulled into their smirk once more, before he leant into her, their chests pressing together as he ghosted his mouth over hers.

"Jess," she whispered against his lips, and Jess' willpower snapped, kissing her agonisingly, passionately, holding her to him as though she might disappear if he didn't.

He was suddenly painfully aware that they were no longer teenagers. That Luke wasn't going to barge in, having forgotten a map of Maine, or a book on 17th Century Spain, or a socket wrench. That her mother wasn't going to murder him with a Hello Kitty cushion for sleeping with her (actually, that may always be true). That they were both adults and could make their own decisions. Breath left him, knowing that his bedroom was a little less than five paces away in his tiny apartment. He leant his forehead on hers, breathing heavily as she did the same. If he were honest, he wanted to take her into that bedroom and do what he'd wanted to do with her since they were seventeen. But Rory … he knew she wanted build-up. Wanted romance. She had back when they were teenagers, surely that hadn't changed much?

He got his answer when she asked, breathlessly and frustratedly, "Why'd you stop?" Her cheeks were pink, her lips swollen and red, and dear God, Jess had never been more attracted to her in all his life. She made another frustrated sound, and leant to the side, pulling him on top of her on the couch. He groaned, too, this time, her mouth attacking his in fervour. Her hands were on his stomach, sliding down, and his own were trailing up her sides as his hips hovered above hers, hesitant at making that contact.

"Ror'," he gasped between searing kisses. "We should ..." he continued, trying to speak, but his words got lost every time she moved underneath him.

"Stop?" she asked, surprised. "Why?" She had paused in her surprise, and semi-coherent thought filtered through his brain.

"Room-mates," he told her, leaning up on his knees, taking deep breaths and trying not to pounce right back onto her. "That, and the store is open right below us."

"Oh," she blushed, deep crimson, drawing herself up instantly and fixing her jumper that had slipped off her shoulder. He started laughing at her embarrassment and handed her her coffee, and sat down on the couch again, taking a sip of his too.

He was happier than he had been in a very long time. "I love you, Rory."

"Love you, too," she said softly, smiling, her cheeks still tinged scarlet from embarrassment and passion. He watched her, grinning, as she calmed herself down, taking deep sips from her cup, her chest moving deeply up and down. She turned her eyes on his smirking, and rolled her eyes, before smirking right back. "Shut up," she told him, and he couldn't help but laugh.

-break-

A/N: Hey again! So … this finally happened. Sorry it took so long to write. (Usual apologies, I suck, yeah).

I wrote another Harry Potter fanfic in the meantime, when I probably should have been writing this. Oops. My first Dramione. If anyone's interested, it's there. I had a long hiatus from HP fics, so I thought I'd give it a go again.

Hope you enjoyed this – the slow burn is finally at an end. Please review :)

Eutony xx