A/N: So what is Rory to do with 20,000 dollars? And with Dean? There's so much left to tell! Anyway, thanks all :)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It took her mother exactly two seconds into their trip home before she asked. "So, what are you going to do with it?"
Rory stared at the check still in her hands, looking over the numbers, all those zeroes and her grandfather's signature across the bottom. "I don't know," she said.
"You can do anything, you know," her mother said. "Travel the world, invest in stocks and bonds, give all the money to charity and become a hobo on the streets of New York. Ooh, or you could even start a collection of really old tea sets. I hear they've changed a lot through the ages. I bet you could find a lot of good ones with that much money."
Rory was hardly listening. She kept looking at that check. It felt so heavy, so impossibly heavy, and yet light enough that it might disappear if she looked away. "I don't want to disappoint them."
Lorelai scoffed. "You could never disappoint them," she said. "Me, I will always disappoint them. But you--you are the golden child. You will only make them happy."
"Even if I invest in antique tea sets?"
"Especially if you invest in antique tea sets."
"What if I don't do anything?" Rory asked. "What if I never leave this town?"
"Are you kidding?" her mother said, and Rory glanced at her for the first time since they got in the car. "That would make them happier than anything else. As much as they want you to succeed, they want you close to them. I can't say I blame them."
She cocked her head. "Mom, I--"
"That's why you don't live your life for other people," her mother continued. "That's why we've always wanted you to do what you want to do."
"What if it doesn't make me happy?" Rory asked. "What if I do everything I want, do anything I can, and it still doesn't make me happy?"
"Aw, sweetie," her mom said. "I think you still don't know what you want. When you do, you'll know. You'll know."
And suddenly Rory felt like she was ten, like she was younger than ten, younger than she'd ever been. "Promise?"
Lorelai just looked at her for a long moment, and the look on her face spoke of nothing but love. "I promise."
-o-
In some ways, it was easier now. Dean was less evasive to her presence overall. He was less likely to shy away from would-be dates and didn't ask her to leave when she showed up at the stereo shop. Which was good, she supposed, but there was a certain finality to their interactions, if an ambiguous one. Like some door was half-shut between them, the boundaries solidified and clarified.
Really, she figured Dean had too many other things on his mind to worry about Rory's feelings for him--what with medical condition to maintain and a business to run and a family to support. He'd said his peace to Rory. He'd clearly made his peace with Rory. As far as Dean was concerned, the case was closed and their friendship could resume.
Too bad as far as Rory was concerned, that would never be enough.
Still, she had to respect the boundaries. She already felt responsible enough for Dean's medical meltdown and she couldn't bear to witness another episode, much less feel like the source of one.
Besides, things were changing--slightly and she could have been imaging it, but it certainly seemed to be there. The way his face lit up when she came by to see him. The way he laughed as she helped him unpack his belongings and made his room his own. The way he said yes when she asked him over for a Friday night movie, just her and him and her mother and Luke.
"And he said yes?" Lorelai asked.
Rory glared. "You could sound a little less incredulous," she said.
"But I thought Dean wasn't interested."
"We're friends," Rory said. "Friends can get together and watch movies. Besides, you and Luke will be there."
"Did you think about running that by me and Luke?"
"Come on," she said with light exasperation. "What else are you going to be doing?"
"Oh, that's right," her mother said. "I forgot that I have no life outside of you and that I've spent the last few years pining after my daughter to fulfill my pathetic solitary existence."
Rory let her shoulders drop and her forehead crinkle in an attempt to evoke sympathy. She had some daughterly prowess and she wasn't afraid to use it.
"That worked better when you were four," her mother said. "You know, back when your head was, like, a third of your body height."
"For Dean," Rory said finally. If she couldn't elicit sympathy for her own romantic plight, she could certainly exploit Dean--for all of their benefits. "Come on, he needs to relax and you know it."
Her mother's eyes narrowed. "That's low."
She barely contained her grin. "You know I'm right."
"For Dean," her mother said. "Only for Dean."
Rory leaned in, throwing her arms around her mother. "Thank you," she said. "You have no idea what this means to me."
"Yeah, yeah," her mother said dismissively. "You're just lucky I have a soft spot for hot younger guys that suffer from obscure medical conditions."
Pulling away, Rory stood. "Does Luke know that?"
Her mother laughed. "It's a fetish Luke shares."
"Are you sure you two have a healthy relationship?"
"At least we're on the same page," her mother countered. "I don't have to stoop to subterfuge to manufacture ways for Luke and I to be together."
"I never shy away from a situation to exercise my tenacity," Rory said with a flippant shrug. "By the way, I told Dean there'd be pizza."
"Well, if you told Dean, then I guess I better order."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You're kind of demanding."
"Just pick up the phone."
Her mother rolled her eyes, relenting. "We need to move you beyond having dates with your mother. The cool kids don't do that."
"I'm not cool."
"I suppose that's well established."
Rory sighed, moving toward her room. "I'll see you tonight."
Even from behind the closed door, she could hear her mother's chortle. "You're welcome!"
Flopping on the bed, Rory couldn't help but smile. Double date, pizza, and Dean. She was quite welcome, indeed.
-o-
It didn't occur to Rory until the doorbell rang that this might have been a bad idea.
After all, this was Dean. Dean who had an ulcer. Dean whose father died. Dean who had given up all his dreams and resigned himself to running the family business forever.
It was Dean who needed a night away and she'd invited him to pizza and a movie--which would be fine and dandy--but with her mother and Luke. Her mother who could scare small children with her endless chatter and who had a habit of not knowing how to turn on the filter from her brain to her mouth. Luke who had physically tried to manhandle Dean out of the diner and who had never thought that Dean was good enough.
And Rory. Herself. Rory who hadn't known how to say I love you and who had led him on time and time again only to let him drive away thinking that he wasn't good enough.
The last time they'd tried this, it had been a disaster. No, it had been more than a disaster. It had been Pippi Longstocking and Bop-It and Dean walking out rejected and Rory letting him.
What had she been thinking? She needed to avoid this. She needed a change of plans. She needed to get him out of the house and someplace neutral, someplace easier, someplace--
But by the time she reached the door, her mother was already closing it behind Dean. "My God," Lorelai was saying, "I think you've actually grown since I've seen you last."
"Maybe you're shrinking," Dean said with a shy grin.
"Hey, watch it," her mother said. "You were always the polite guy and I don't see why an ulcer would have to eat away your manners along with your stomach lining."
Dean grimaced a little. "That's a lovely image."
"Ha, yeah, and the pizza's already here. And we even order a few salads for those of us with holes in our stomachs."
Dean moved forward, looking toward Rory. "Hey," he said.
"Hey," she replied, feeling suddenly very overwhelmed by the situation. "You made it."
"Pizza and a movie with the Gilmores," he said with a shrug. "I figured if I didn't, Lorelai might track me down and torture me with random movie quotes."
"I plan on doing that either way."
"At least this way I'll know what you're talking about."
Luke came in from the kitchen, carrying a handful of beers in his hands. "You won't know what she's talking about no matter how hard you try," he said, holding out to Dean.
Dean took it with a chuckle. "How many years did it take you to figure that out?"
Her mother reached for her own and grinned. "Who says he's figured it out?"
Luke rolled his eyes, offering the last beer to Rory, and it suddenly occurred to her that she was still part of this scene. Out of place, a little perplexed, but clearly still there.
That didn't meant she had any idea what to say. She could barely manage to bring her hand up to accept the bottle.
Not that anyone else seemed to notice. "It's a certain form of masochism," Luke was saying, moving toward the living room.
"Aw," her mother said, following. "It has its perks."
Dean was moving in that direction, stopping as he neared her. "Thanks for inviting me over."
It now seemed she was supposed to speak. "Yeah," she said. "I just was hoping that it wouldn't be...awkward."
Which was true, but now, seeing him there, the only thing awkward was her.
"No, it's good," Dean said. "I got past awkward a few years ago with these two."
She just stared. "Right."
Dean fidgeted, clearly feeling the weight of Rory's uncertainty. "I guess CPR and head injuries opens a guy up to people."
"CPR?"
"You know, the electrocution? Surely you heard."
Yes, she'd heard. She remembered thinking about, thinking about how it could be a turning point in his life. She'd thought she'd known so much about him; she'd thought she'd known everything. "Yeah, I heard," she said. "Apparently, you have quite the reputation."
"Me and the summertime--synonymous with disaster."
"Well then, at least this year you tried something new."
"Keeping it real," he said.
"Very not fake."
He looked at her funny. "Are you okay?"
Was she okay? Was she? What did she know, anyway? She'd thought this was a way to help Dean relax, to help Dean want her more. She'd thought that she'd have to take control, to make sure he was okay, to make this situation feel normal.
Problem was, it did feel normal. Her mother and Luke, her mother and Dean, Dean and Luke. The only person who didn't fit here was her.
"Yeah," she said. "It was a long day at work and all. Writing."
Dean nodded. "I feel your pain. Work never seems to go away." He paused, looking toward the living room. "Shall we?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," Rory said. "I just needed to go grab the popcorn. That's our appetizer before we dig into the pizza."
"What, no candy?"
"In our old age, we have moved it to after the meal."
"Very mature of you."
"What can I say, we're growing."
"I'm just surprised Luke's letting you eat pizza."
"It's half veggie."
"Seems right."
"So, I'll be right there."
He smiled at her, his eyes lingering on hers for a minute, before he turned and went into the living room.
Rory started to leave but she couldn't help but watch a moment longer as Dean settled himself on the floor, long legs crossed as he laughed, looking between her mother and Luke.
Even Luke chuckled, pulling a small drink of his beer while her mother prattled off on some story.
Her misgivings, her distance, gave way to hope. She may not have understood it, she may still need to ingratiate herself back into this group, but this was a group. This was as much her family as anything ever have been. Not just her and her mother. Not just the Gilmore girls and Luke. But Dean, too. He fit. He fit so perfectly with them and Rory could only hope that she could fit there, too.
-o-
Two movies, two pizzas, one salad, and three bags of candy later, she was walking Dean home. The night had been comfortable, so filled with laughs and banter that sometimes Rory felt as though it'd always been this way. Gone was the uncertainty between Dean and Luke. Dissipated was the distance between her mother and Dean. And, for a night, even the space between herself and Dean felt infinitely smaller.
No, this was quite the best night she'd had with Dean and it had little to do with her.
Which meant she might have every chance to capitalize on it.
It wasn't just about scheming; it was about taking it all to the next level. Things were moving in that direction and she wasn't about to let it end.
The walk to Dean's was familiar now, more familiar than her path downtown or even to the Inn. "So," she said. "You realize what you've been missing?"
"Friday Night Movies?"
"Gilmore style."
"Even better than I remembered," he said. "Though I had forgotten just how much commentary two people can give in four hours."
Rory beamed, leaning closer to him as they walked. "And we were just getting warmed off."
"Right, after, what? A four year hiatus?"
"You were here for the big reunion tour."
"I feel like I should ask for your autograph."
"I'll save you a t-shirt," she assured him.
They were in front of his house now, and Dean paused at the edge of the walkway, looking at her in the glow of the streetlights.
He licked his lips and shuffled his feet, swallowing a little.
Rory felt her anticipation rise. It had been very nearly a perfect evening. Not quite romantic, but a little more than friendly. There was an intimacy about it all in almost beyond platonic way. It felt more natural than before, more two-sided this time. She was sure of it.
"Thanks," Dean said, his eyes roaming the pavement beneath them. "I think I needed a night off."
"I told you it'd do you good," she said, hoping to keep her voice light, her intentions pure.
He glanced up at her, rubbing absently at the back of his head. "Yeah, all work and no play, I know," he said.
"Seriously," she told him. "You need to make sure you take a break from the stress. That's not just me talking; your doctor has told you the same thing."
Dean grunted a little. "What I really need is more hours in a day," Dean said. "There's more to running the store than I ever imagined. And do you know how much it costs to send someone to college?"
"I avoided looking at college bills," Rory said.
"Lucky you," Dean said. "I just...don't want to screw up."
"Dean," she began. "You're not--"
He shook his head, smiling. "I'm just being stupid," he said.
She let the moment linger, trying to see if Dean would elaborate, would say something more, anything. When he didn't, she scuffed her foot on the ground. "You know, you don't have to do all this alone," she said.
He actually laughed at that. "Are you going to bring out my long lost twin from the woodwork to help share the load of this family business? Audrey's too far away and has her own life to deal with. Clara's too young. My mother's too busy."
Rory shook her head. "No, I mean, you don't have to be so alone with it. One thing I've always learned, or maybe just always kind of known, is that when things are tough, that's when you need to talk about it. Talking is very therapeutic. It helps."
He was watching her, a little hesitant, a little bemused. "You mean Rory Gilmore has a reason for talking? And here I thought it was just a nervous habit or some kind of perplexing and rare birth defect."
"I'm serious."
His expression fell and his shoulders sagged. "I'm just tired," he said.
"That's because you never take a moment to even stop and breathe," Rory told him. "You know you need to take care of yourself better and since you seem incapable of doing it, I figured I'd lend a hand."
He laughed a little, shaking his head. "Do you remember when we were younger and all I wanted to do was to hang out with you?"
Memory churned in her painfully and she tried not to let it show. "We were quite inseparable for awhile."
Nostalgia passed over his face. "I wanted every night, every Saturday, every Sunday. All I could think about was calling you, about being with you. All I could think about was you."
She hadn't expected it to hurt so much, to hear him say that, to hear him remember. To hear him say how much he had loved her, because it only reminded her of how uncertain he seemed about it now.
"And that weekend you had to build a house and you were all worried about your extra curricular activities," he said. "I was such an idiot."
"What? No, you weren't," Rory said. "You were right. I was nuts. Stuff like that, maybe it matters, but not like people. Not like spending time with people you care about."
"I must have been so annoying."
She'd actually thought him a bit stalkerish at times, but that was neither here nor there. Because she knew why. She knew now. She knew that it was all someone could do when they loved someone. "I was young."
"And I was dumb."
"You were never dumb," she chastised him. "You were young, too, and I just never appreciated how much you loved me."
He paused at that, taking a long minute to look at her. And for a moment, she could see it in his eyes. The words he wasn't saying. The words he wouldn't let himself say.
That he still loved her.
And worse, that maybe it wasn't enough.
That she'd had it all back then, everything she wanted now, but she'd just been too stupid to see it. Too young to recognize it. So she'd thought he was a stalker. So she'd thought he was the boring choice. So she'd thought he was safe and uninteresting and the guy she could always come back to which was why he was the guy she'd never go anywhere with. She'd flirted with Jess and she'd never invited Dean back to her grandparents and she'd done a thousand other things to make him think he wasn't good enough and now she was wondering why he'd gotten the message.
"Relationships," he said with a humorless chuckle. "Always full of drama."
"Which is why it's better we're friends," she said even though the words wanted to stick in her throat.
Resolve hardened on his face. "I had a good time tonight," he said. "Be sure to tell your mother thanks again. Luke, too."
She nodded tightly.
He offered her a slight smile. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah. Later," Rory agreed.
With one more smile, he turned away, moving up the street toward his house.
It wasn't until he had disappeared around the corner that she realized she was crying.
