AN: Hello my pretties! I hope everyone had a great Halloween. No trick-or-treaters at the new house, but oh well (more Nerds for me!). Maybe next year a haunted house will lure - I mean - draw them in. I hope all of you who could vote did!
Many thanks to my beta, Jewels12 for fitting me in. She's in the middle of a ton of midterms, so in honor of her ... Brickabracka brickabracka sisboombah! Jewels12, Jewels12, rah rah rah!
Also, a big thank you to all who added this story to your alert/favorite list or left a review. That reminds me: I have some reviews I haven't answered yet, which I'll be doing ... NOW!
What? Oh yes, the real reason you're here :)

"You're going to ask for names, right?"

"Nope."

"Rory!"

"Back off, Paris," Rory begged.

"I won't. You need those names so you can call back later. Do you have any idea how many undergrads were scared into grad school a couple years ago due to the bad job market? And now they're all graduating. That means in addition to competing in a bad economy with the standard undergraduate population, you're also up against the over-inflated graduate population. As a freshman, I might add."

"I know all this, Paris! Has it ever occurred to you that you're doing a better job of motivating me to freak out than to become a stalker like you?"

"And yet, I'm the one with a summer job lined up," Paris replied self-righteously.

"Listen, okay? I talked to the people at the career center. I'm calling at the appropriate frequency."

"Only suckers call at the appropriate frequency. When everyone calls at the appropriate frequency, it's only the ones who step it up a notch that'll be noticed."

"A notch? Paris, a call a day to no less than 5 different people at each place, plus emails? That is not a notch. That's – That's–"

"A skyscraper?" Marty suggested from the edge of her bed.

"Yes, thank you," she said to Marty then pointed her hairbrush at Paris. "Look, I'm trying to get ready for this interview and you are not helping."

"Are you kicking me out of my own room?" Paris huffed, an incredulous scowl on her face.

"You kick me out all the time!" Rory cried out in exasperation. "Now, if you have your own reasons for being here, then fine, stay. But if you're only here to get on my case, then … Yes, I'm kicking you out."

"Fine!" Paris yelled - not that it was much louder than her regular speaking voice. She stalked over to the doorway and turned back to Rory, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. "But when we graduate, and you're passed over for job after job because all the recruiters who go over résumés think, 'Hmm, I could either hire this person who did something meaningful all three summers, or Rory Gilmore who sat on her ass for one of them. Clearly she didn't have the drive to take her freshman summer seriously, so I'll hire the other person,' don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, Paris slammed the door behind her. Seconds later, they heard the muffled sounds of C-Span through the wall.

"Can you believe her?" Rory grumbled, glancing at Marty in the mirror as she resumed working on her hair.

"She just does it because she cares about you."

"Do not tell me you're on her side."

"Oh, I'm not. She's certifiable," Marty assured her. "However, under that crazy candy coating is a friend who just wants the best for you."

"I know," Rory mumbled reluctantly. "I just wish she didn't terrorize me while she looked out for me." She fumbled the hair clip and had to pick it up off the ground. "God, look at this. I can't even put my hair up because my hands are trembling."

"C'mere."

"You planning on doing my hair for me?" she teased.

"Of course not. No one would hire you if I did. Just c'mere."

Rory dropped her playful demeanor. "I can't. If I don't leave in the next fifteen minutes I'll have to run, which would undo everything I'm working on here," she said, her hands waving around her head to indicate the current primping.

"I won't take long, I promise," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Rory hesitated. She really didn't have time. On the other hand, she also knew she needed to calm down, and Marty was always so good at calming her down and helping her to regain her confidence. Rory set the brush and clip down and walked over to him. He took her right hand in his and guided her so she was sitting sideways on his lap. She watched Marty's long lashes rest on his cheek briefly while he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. He opened his eyes and smiled at her, putting her hand on her lap and picking up the other one. His eyes closed again when he pressed his lips to her skin.

"Still trembling?" Marty asked, returning her hand to her lap and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She smiled at him and shook her head in response.

"She's wrong, okay? You're not competing with the grad students, or even the seniors. They're all applying for full-time jobs. You're going for an internship. Yeah, they're more likely to offer a junior a position than a freshman, but the situation's not quite as dire as she made it out to be, okay?"

"I know."

"And what's the worst that could happen?"

"They don't make me an offer, and I take the job at the Stars Hollow Gazette," Rory recited.

"Right. Okay, all done," he said, taking his hands from her and leaning away.

Rory placed her hands on his cheeks and gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks," she said then hopped off his lap. Her hair went up properly on the second try, and a couple minutes later he was walking her past a petulant Paris and out into the hallway.

"Knock 'em dead," Marty said in an attempt to rouse her spirits.

"If they're dead then they can't hire me," she teased. "Hey, thanks for taking a break and seeing me off."

"No problem. Love you." With a kiss, she was on her way.

"Stupid freakin' waste of time," Rory grumbled as she exited the student center a little over an hour later.

She was frustrated because she wanted to gripe and rail, but Paris wasn't going to be a sympathetic ear on this subject, and her boyfriend was still holed up in his room, catching up. Marty wasn't in danger of failing Euro Lit anymore, so a lot of the pressure and panic had subsided. However, he was still pushing himself to at least cross over into the 'B' range. Though Rory didn't want to distract him or make him lose momentum, she really needed a little bit of cheering up.

Oh, suck it up, she scolded herself as she walked past her suite and up the stairs. Despite what Paris has to say, it's not the end of the world. Just let him know how it went and then move on with your day.

"Come in!" Carl and Marty called out in unison when she knocked on their door.

"Hey, Carl," she greeted as she walked to Marty's desk.

"Hey, Rory." Carl raised his hand in greeting, not looking up from his work.

Rory placed her hands on Marty's shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

"Onnnnnne sec," he dragged out while he finished the sentence in progress. Slapping his pen down, Marty twisted around to face her. "So how did it – Oh." His upbeat expression fell when he saw Rory's less-than-joyous one.

"Let's just say I'll be calling the Gazette to accept the position there."

"I'm sorry. What happened?"

"It's no big deal. I just wanted to give you the status report. So!" Rory said, trying to liven her tone. "What do you want me to pick up for dinner?"

Marty lowered his voice to avoid drawing too much attention to her. "Well, wait a sec. Seriously, what happened?"

Knowing he wouldn't drop it, she set her bag down next to his desk and sat on the end of his bed. "It went fine. It was just a waste of time. He asked me questions and seemed to like my answers. I showed him my portfolio, and he had me talk about some of my key pieces. But when I started asking questions about the job and start dates and when they planned on contacting candidates, he let me know they weren't actually hiring."

"What?"

"I know. That's what I thought, too. I said, 'Oh,' and just sat there. God, I must have looked so stupid. Even though I was still trying to smile like it wasn't a big deal, I could tell I had confusion written all over my face, and I can't imagine the combination was flattering. He explained that they had to show up for the career fairs in order to hold their spot for next year, and they're conducting interviews in case they lift the hiring freeze."

"I hate it when they do that," Carl chimed in.

Rory twisted in her spot and saw Carl facing them, an arm draped over the back of his chair. "Wait, this happened to you, too?" she asked.

"Mostly at the career fair. You know, you wait in line for twenty minutes just to drop off a résumé they say they'll pull up when they start hiring again. But yeah, once or twice in interviews. It's not really a waste of time, though."

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "How it is not a waste of everyone's time?"

Carl gave a half-shrug. "Well, you were at least able to practice interviewing. I don't know about you, but I was pretty nervous during my first few. Now? I don't know. They don't seem like that big of a deal anymore. Which means I'll already have most of the nervous stuff out of my system by the time I'm interviewing again next year."

Rory turned back to Marty when he added, "Yeah, tons of freshmen, like yours truly, didn't bother going to interviews. So you'll be ahead of the curve next year. Thanks for psyching me out, Carl," he said sarcastically.

"I guess," she said, dropping her gaze to the crooked seam in her business skirt. To a certain degree, Rory accepted their vague reassurances and knew there was some truth to them. Deep down, though, she was still so very disappointed. She was Rory Gilmore, child star of Stars Hollow, and yet she felt like she had already burnt out. Unlike the other interviews that didn't pan out, this time she didn't have the luxury of looking forward to focusing on the next one. This was it. She had thoroughly scoured the schedule at the career center, and no other companies that had journalistic-type positions were coming in.

I did everything right. I had the career center review my résumé. I went to practice interviews. I went to any and all of the booths that were applicable. I followed up on all my real interviews. How am I here when I did everything right?

Rory lifted her head again and saw Marty eying her carefully. She gave him a wan smile. "Well, on the bright side, my mom will be thrilled to have me home for the summer." Though she tried her best to sound chipper, Rory knew he was seeing right through her.

"Hey, what do you say we take a break and go do something fun tonight?" Marty whispered.

Rory scoffed and shook her head. This was exactly what she wanted, but she didn't feel right going along with it. "No, Marty. I'm fine. I'm not going to let you lose your focus just to throw me a pity party."

"Who said anything about a pity party? Maybe I'm the one who needs the break. It's not always about you, you know," he said with a humorous glint in his eye. Resuming his regular speaking voice, Marty called across the room. "Hey, Carl. What are you doing tonight?"

"Same thing I do every night, Pinky – try to take over my textbooks," Carl droned.

"You up for a change in plans?"

Carl's ears perked up at this, and he turned to them again. "Depends. What are you suggesting?"

"Not sure yet. Something fun – Rory's call – and we'll see if the rest of the crew can join us."

"My call?" Rory asked. The wheels in her head started spinning as she considered the possibilities.

"Your call."

"You're saying anything I pick, that's what we're doing?" she asked, making sure he wasn't going to work in any loopholes.

"Preferably something legal, but otherwise, yes. Whatever you pick."

"It's Tuesday, right?"

"Yup," Marty confirmed. Rory broke out into a grin, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "Uh, why?" he asked warily.

She hopped off the bed and walked to the corner. "Three words," Rory said. She reached into his case, pulled out his guitar, then spun on her heels to walk back to him. "Open–"

"Rory," Marty said, his tone warning her to stop.

"Mike"

"No, anything except–"

"Night." She stopped in front of him, triumphantly holding out the instrument.

"–That," he finished dejectedly. "Please, Rory. Pick something else."

She shook her head in mock sympathy. "It's not illegal. That was your one condition."

"The rest of the crew won't wanna hear that," Marty tried to argue.

"Oh, I beg to differ," Carl interrupted with a look of glee on his face.

Marty shot a scowl toward his roommate. He stood up to take the guitar out of her hands and set it on his bed. As he wrapped his arms around her, Rory knew he was going to try again to change her mind. "You know I haven't practiced in weeks," he pleaded.

"You don't need practice. You just need to warm up. I guess you better get crackin' while I change and call Julie and Steve."

"So that's it? That's your final answer?"

"It is indeed, Regis," she said with a pert little nod.

"Let me make sure I understand. To you, 'fun' equals 'humiliate Marty?'" It was his last ditch effort to guilt her out of this.

"Yes," Rory and Carl said together.

"Nice," Marty said with a roll of his eyes. "Fine, go call Julie and Steve," he muttered.

"Thank you!" she chirped. She leaned up on her tiptoes to firmly whisper, "You're going to be great," then planted a kiss on his lips.

When Rory closed the door behind her, she heard Carl cackle, "Dude, you're so whipped."

"All right. See you then!" Rory snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the bed so she could root through her closet freely.

"What was that?" Paris asked suspiciously.

"That was me making plans for tonight."

"Shouldn't you be writing your 'thank you for seeing me today' email?"

"Maybe, but I'm not," she said casually, dismissing the topic. "Hey, do you need a break?"

"Rory, I thrive on stress. I can't function without a million tasks on my plate."

"Fine. Do you want a break?" Rory threw various articles of clothing onto her bed and proceeded to free herself of her suit. She took her roommate's silence as a reluctant 'maybe.' "Sip has an open mike night today, and we're going to see Marty play something. You can join us as long as you promise not to be mean."

"When am I mean?" Paris asked indignantly.

Rory raised one eyebrow at her roommate as she zipped up her pants.

"Fine, I won't be mean."

"Good. The crew is meeting here in about twenty minutes. We'll leave shortly after that."

A little later, Rory and Paris were waiting in the common room. The crew gradually trickled in, catching up on what was new while carefully avoiding the topic of schoolwork and summer plans. When the last of them arrived, everyone stood up to leave.

Marty immediately pulled Rory aside in a panic. "Paris is coming?"

"And you said I was mean," Paris said wryly as she passed.

"It'll be fine," Rory reassured him. "She agreed to behave."

During the walk over, Julie peppered Marty with questions about what he was going to play, and Steve tried to distract her so she wouldn't psyche Marty out. Rory walked a couple steps ahead with Paris and frequently glanced over her shoulder to beam at Marty encouragingly. She wanted to make sure he knew that his efforts to cheer her up were definitely working.

They found seats that were a couple tables away from the stage and fairly well centered. Food was ordered, but Marty didn't touch his, insisting that he'd eat after he played. Eventually someone signaled to him that he would be up soon.

Rory put out a hand to keep him from standing for a second. "Hey," she whispered. "Knock 'em dead."

"That's a horrible plan, with you in the audience," Marty teased. He accepted her kiss then walked behind the curtain.

Once the person on stage finished, Marty came out with his guitar and sat down on the stool. He was so pale that he almost seemed translucent. "Uh, hi. My name is Marty Fischer, and I'll–"

"Wooooo! Ow ow ow! Yeahhhhh!" the crew shouted, banging on the table enthusiastically. Paris simply crossed her arms and looked away.

Marty leaned around the microphone to avoid having everyone in the place hear him. "Would you cut it out?" he gritted through clenched teeth. Once the screaming had subsided, Marty returned to the mike. "Uh, please ignore the lunatics at table twelve," he said with a slight laugh.

"Oh good, he has a little color in his cheeks now," Julie whispered as Marty introduced his song.

Rory watched him adjust the microphone and settle his guitar on his lap. While she could tell he was still a little nervous, he appeared a lot more relaxed than he had a minute ago. Marty dropped his head while his fingers began strumming the tune. He raised it again, his eyes now closed as he sang.

She smiled serenely, tapping her foot and swaying to the upbeat music. He finally opened his eyes and they found hers right away. She broke out into a full power smile. Rory knew he had momentarily forgotten the roomful of people, just as she had briefly forgotten anything related to interviews or summer jobs. As she gazed at him, she pictured visiting him while he worked at his uncle's bar, or having him down for a weekend in Stars Hollow. It was going to suck being apart for the summer now that they were used to spending every day together, but Rory figured that would just make their visits all the more special.

Closing his eyes again, Marty scrunched up his face, tilted his head to lift his jaw, and let out a jazzy "Ow!" Their table, minus Paris again, erupted into delighted hoots and hollers of surprise that quickly died down as Marty continued singing.

He was enjoying himself, and Rory knew it. She could see him laughing slightly, even though it was usually accompanied by a disbelieving shake of his head. At one point, Marty flashed her a look that plainly telegraphed, 'I can't believe you convinced me to do this.'

His hand strummed faster and faster on the strings until he clapped them into a muted hum with a slap. Rory and the crew broke out into approving shouts again, hands clapping or pounding the table. She could tell the rest of the audience was merely clapping politely like Paris, but from the halo of noise around her it sounded like the whole place had gone wild.

Marty disappeared backstage again to store his guitar. Once the next number had ended, he darted out and was welcomed to the table with stage-whispered congratulations. Carl clapped him on the back as he walked past, and Julie fanned herself, pretending she was about to faint.

"You were a little sharp. I'm assuming that was just from nerves."

"Thank you, Paris," Marty said with strained patience as he passed behind her.

Without a word, Rory stood up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and attempted to kiss the living daylights out of him. "You are amazing," she whispered when they finally pulled apart

"Is this the kind of greeting I'd receive every time I sang here?"

"There's one way to find out," Rory said impishly.

They remembered themselves and took their seats again. Steve shook him by the shoulder and said, "Good job," preventing Marty from taking a controlled first bite of his dinner.

Did he blow the crowd away? No. But he blew her away, just by going up there and giving it his all. And for the rest of the evening, that was all that mattered to Rory.