Pairing: R/T…eventually
Rating: PG, if that
Spoilers: Up to and including the season 2 episode "Run Away Little Boy."
Disclaimer: The characters referenced here are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, and Warner Brother Television. No copyright infringement is intended. The characters are being used solely for entertainment purposes, and no profit is being made from them.
A/N: I know, I know, this part took forever to get posted. I've actually had it written for a while, but I wasn't all that crazy about it. So, I hope you like it.
Please Mr. Postman
Part 4: 1 Hot Guy, 2 Hot Guy, 3 Hot Guy, More!
By Grace
January 18, 2002
Dear Tristan,
I apologize for taking a little longer than normal to respond to your letter. Just when I think my life is calming down, someone pushes the insanity button yet again.
Where to start? Oddly enough, Chilton has been the least stressful part of my life recently. In an unusual reversal of my life's trends, getting out of Stars Hollow has been a relief the past several days. For starters, Lane slipped on a patch of ice last week, and ended up with a broken ankle. Mrs. Kim is now refusing to let her out of the house for anything except school. I've gone to see her a few times, but it's a bit too reminiscent of a prison for my taste. My mom did let me smuggle her cell phone into the house for a week, so Lane could at least call out without her mother knowing.
The Lane saga, however, is minor in comparison to the Jess saga. First off, let me say that I really resent the fact that you were right. Secondly, I'd like to refute your statement that I'm oblivious. Just because I didn't realize that Jess… But I'm getting ahead of myself. It was Wednesday night, and I had gone to Luke's to study. My mom was in the midst of one of her rare cleaning frenzies. In other words, the house was chaos. I had a trig test yesterday, so I knew I was going to be up for a while. Luke closed up around ten, but he let me stay. Eventually, he went upstairs to his apartment, and I was all by myself.
Right in the middle of reviewing hyperbolic tangents, I could feel somebody staring at me. When I turned around, there was Jess, sitting on the steps, with a goofy expression on his face. I knew something was up, because Jess doesn't do goofy expressions.
To make a long story short, after staring at me for another five minutes, he asked me out. I didn't know what to do—Jess is a really good friend. I just don't feel that way about him. Still, I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so…I said yes. We're supposed to go out tomorrow night. I hope I can make him understand that we can only be friends.
Anyway, I have to get going so that I can have my panic attack in peace. Please write with some advice!
Love, Rory
* * *
January 19, 2002
Dear Tristan,
Let me start off by saying that Rory has no idea I'm writing to you. I snuck a peek at your address the last time I was at her house—which I'm guessing she told you was prior to my crippling injury.
She would kill me if she knew I was interfering, but I can't sit idly by and watch the two of you make colossal messes of your lives. Besides, I'm bored.
She's going on a date tonight, with Jess. Did you know that? And if you did know, why aren't you doing something about it? Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that she didn't reconcile with Dean yet again, and let's face it, Jess is a hottie. Still, I know how you feel about her—I could see it in your eyes, in your face, in the way you acted around her. Rory may be blind and clueless, but I'm not.
Rory cares about you a lot. She hasn't admitted it to me, and she probably hasn't admitted it to herself, but I really think it goes beyond friendship. For someone she professed to hate for so long, she certainly invested a lot of time and emotion into you. And you know what they say, "It's a thin line…"
I know that she's here and you're there, and that complicates things. I also know that Dean was right (did I just say that?)—you have a thing for her. The question it, are you willing to fight for her? You're in military school—you ought to be able to!
Gotta go—if my mom catches me writing a letter to a strange boy in another state, there will be hell to pay.
Lane
* * *
January 21, 2002
Dear Rory,
I got your letter today. I'm sure you could hear my self-satisfied cackle about being right all the way up in Connecticut.
Details, girl, I want details! Your mom hasn't called me to inform me of your demise, so I'm assuming that you survived the date. The question is, did Jess? Did you let him down easy? Break his heart? Or did you chicken out at the last minute and decide that going on a few dates with him was a more appealing option than telling him the truth?
Okay, so I know you wouldn't do that last one. Seriously, though, how did it go?
Random side note: why is Joan Rivers still allowed to show her face on television? I was bored yesterday, so I turned on the Golden Globes pre-show (I was actually hoping the E! True Hollywood Story would be on instead—it's a bizarre addiction of mine), and there she was, yammering away, shoving her microphone into people's faces, while her own face screamed "Too many trips to the plastic surgeon!"
Anyway…my life here doesn't seem nearly as exciting as yours has been lately. My parents and I have been maintaining radio silence since our one and only conversation this year. I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised by it—they barely spoke to me when we were living in the same house.
I have to get going, but write soon. Oh, and tell Lane I hope she heals quickly!
Love, Tristan
* * *
January 25, 2002
Dear Tristan,
"Maintaining radio silence"? We have got to get you out of military school! I'm sorry to hear that your familial relations haven't improved, however.
So you want details, huh? Well, it wasn't a complete disaster. Close, but not quite. On the plus side, Jess didn't try to make a big production out of our date. I would have been really freaked out if he had showed up with a dozen roses or something. He got to the house, said hi to my mom, and then we went to a movie. The Lord of the Rings, to be exact. So, to answer your question from a couple letters ago, yes, I've seen it. I really enjoyed it, despite its three-hour-plus running time. I would highly recommend that you see it in the theater.
Getting back to the date, everything was progressing smoothly until Jess put his arm around my shoulders. It wasn't quite the "yawn move," but close enough. I then proceeded to accidentally dump my extra-large iced cappuccino in his lap—onto his surprisingly-dressy-for-Jess khaki pants. He went to the men's room and got dried off a little, but there was still a huge stain in a rather inopportune place.
To make matters worse, as we were leaving the theater, who should we run into but Dean and his blonde bimbo-of-the-week. I seriously thought smoke was going to start pouring out of his ears when he saw me with Jess. He immediately went into full jealous-ex-boyfriend mode, and came storming over to us. I think he was just trying to pick a fight with Jess, which I found rather idiotic. Sure, Dean has a couple inches on Jess, but I'm pretty sure Jess has more experience beating the crap out of people. Anyway, Dean ended up with a bloody nose and a split lip, and Jess ended up with…well, bruised knuckles.
After that disgusting display of testosterone, I hauled Jess over to the diner and sat him down for a little heart-to-heart. I explained, as calmly and rationally as I could, that although I care about him very much, he and I can only be friends. He actually handled it pretty well—much better than, say, Dean would have.
And that's pretty much all there is to tell. I have taken to crossing over to the other side of the street when I see Dean approaching, and Jess and I are still working through the awkward "redefining our friendship" phase. Other than that, it's about as normal as life in Stars Hollow ever gets.
So I hope you're happy. Did I mention how irritating it is when you're right?
I need to get going—there's a basketball game at Stars Hollow High tonight, and since Lane joined the cheerleading squad, I promised to come and be supportive. (Even though she's just going to be sitting in the bleachers in her uniform, thanks to her ankle.) Write soon.
Love, Rory
To be continued…
