The Wurlitzer Prize
By columbiachica (kat2005)
Part Ten: Sunday Morning
Dedications: To emrie (the best beta in the world and one of the coolest people I know), Marissa (for giving me invaluable advice and friendship), Hadar (because she's the head sucker!), Chris (because she understands the SoCo obsession), and all the wonderful Literati authors whose works I love to pieces.
Adjusting to her new job hasn't been the breeze Rory counted on, but she's slowly acquainting herself with the rhythm of the office, learning how to deal with the backlash her editorials sometimes cause (on a small scale), figuring out the subway system. Still, she hasn't sought Jess out. It feels silly, to have come all this way and still not moved on her plan. Her mother calls nearly everyday to ask about developments in the "Jess situation."
So far, Rory hasn't made a real friend in New York, but she reminds herself that it's only been a few weeks. Due to the lack of companionship, Rory doesn't go out much, but instead sits at home, reading, listening up on the latest politics to come up with editorial topics, trying to cook some edible meals. Instant mashed potatoes, she's discovered, really aren't so bad.
But one Saturday night, she's restless. And she knows: it's time. If she's going to do the Jess thing, it'll have to be soon. Otherwise, she'll lose her nerve and forget why she came here in the first place, get caught up in her lonely little life.
Shutting off her TV, Rory lets herself out of her teeny apartment and rides the elevator down. It took her a week to get accustomed to being able to use the elevator and it still feels weird. She nods to the person who's getting on as she gets off at the lobby and walks out into the evening. It's frigid outside, since it's January, so Rory gathers her down coat close and bends her head against the wind.
Her apartment is close to Jess' store, only six blocks away, so she walks. There are a ton of people out tonight, since it's Saturday, and Rory tries to ignore all the happy couples and remind herself that Jess kind of hates her. When she gets to his store, there's only a dim light on inside, and she peeks in the window, wondering if he's still in there. It's eight o'clock, so he's closed, but Rory hopes he's still inside, doing inventory or just reading.
A shadow moves across the wall, and Rory jumps. Moving to the front door, she pounds. It's dark and cold and there are people everywhere, looking at her like she's insane, but Rory just keeps banging.
"We're closed," Jess says, his voice hostile when he finally opens the door.
"I know," Rory says, her breath condensing in the air.
"Rory…?"
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Can I come in?" Jess moves aside, letting her slither in through a small aperture. It's warm and cozy inside, and Rory breathes a breath of relief. She follows Jess away from the door, which he locks, and toward the light at the counter.
"What are you doing here?" Jess asks doubtfully, probably expecting her Nick Hornby thing again.
"I live here."
"What?"
"I live here. In New York."
Jess leans his elbows on the counter across from her. "Since when?"
"Since a few weeks ago. I guess you don't read the Times."
"Why?"
"I have a week-day editorial column," Rory tells him, a little haughtiness in her voice.
"Well."
Rory dampens her lips, wondering where the conversation goes from here. Is this the appropriate time to tell him the whole story? "I like your store."
"Thanks."
"It's cozy."
Jess' face contorts distastefully at the choice of adjective, but he doesn't say anything. "It's nearly unprofitable."
"But do you like it?"
"Yeah," Jess admits.
Rory feels a little breathless. She's really here, really in New York, really talking to Jess in his store. But now what? Looking at Jess, she knows one thing: she wants him to come home with her tonight. So why not tell him that? "Are you done here?"
"Why?"
"Are you?"
"I guess."
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"Home," Rory says, her tone quiet, wishing she could say it with more conviction.
Jess just stares at her in that unnerving way he has and Rory forces herself to hold it, praying she hasn't humiliated herself. Without a word, Jess turns the lamp off and gently presses on the small of her back toward the door, securing it behind them. Shyly, Rory takes his hand as they walk down the sidewalk. It feels warm and rough against hers.
Neither one of them says anything the entire way to her humble apartment. Rory works the obstinate lock open and lets Jess in. It's kind of bare, kind of haphazard so far, but Rory's not embarrassed.
"So commodious," Jess says, a smirk on his face.
"Yours didn't look so big either," Rory says, smiling at him.
"And it has a roommate."
"So there you go."
"Rory, why are you here?" Jess asks, looking at her inquisitively.
"I have a job at the Times," Rory says. Not replying, Jess just looks at her. "And I came here…for you."
"I see," Jess says.
He walks closer to her, pulling her in by the waist. It's easy for Rory to press firmly against him; she's so familiar with him, so used to it, so attuned to him. It seems like it's taking him forever to kiss her, so Rory brazenly reaches up on her toes and crushes her lips against his. They kiss for a long time in her silent living room, just feeling each other.
"Did you mean it?" Rory asks when they break away.
"Mean what?" Jess asks, his lips red and slightly swollen.
"What you said at Christmas."
He doesn't say anything for a while. Then, ducking his head into her neck, he whispers, "No."
"Because I did."
"The part about me being a bastard?"
"Partly. But mostly the other part."
They smile at each other, and Jess kisses her again. Legs brushing, almost tripping, they make it to Rory's cramped bedroom, which is bestrewn with clothing of all kinds, but Rory doesn't care. She just concentrates on the stimulation in her veins, the softly building throbbing. Together they fall onto her unmade bed tangles together in a messy passionate heap.
For a while, they just feel and reacquaint. And when the real thing comes, Rory shuts her eyes, buries her head in Jess' lightly sweaty skin and leans into him, never wanting it to end.
*
Sunday morning, Rory's bed is empty. At first, she panics, wondering if Jess has run off, like he has the tendency to do. But some heavenly aroma is wafting into her bedroom and Rory hurriedly throws on her panties and a T-shirt and goes to the kitchen where Jess is cooking.
"Coffee," Rory says, pouring herself a mug.
"And pancakes," Jess adds.
Rory takes her "Miss Smarty" mug and stands behind Jess while he cooks, resting her head on his shoulder blade, reveling in the scent. She likes the movement of his muscles under her cheek as he flips the pancakes the starts heating the syrup.
"You wanna get plates?"
Rory goes to the cupboard and grabs two plates, standing by. It's their ritual to do this. Rory waits for Jess to finish cooking the pancakes and he flips them onto the plates she holds. Then, she takes the butter and hot syrup and mugs of coffee over to the table, where they sit and look at the rain that is threatening to turn to ice.
"This is nice," Rory says through a mouthful of pancakes.
It takes a while, but Jess says, "It is."
When they're done, they stick the plates in a sink full of hot, soapy water, since the dishwasher is broken. While Jess scrapes off the remnants of grease and pancake from plates and pans, Rory dries and puts them back in their places. They word together in peaceful quiet harmony, their own little melody.
And then it's just them. No dishes, no breakfast, no television, no music. Just them and their breathing, just them and their eyes. Rory slips her arms around Jess and hugs him to her, happy to finally be here, knowing that there's no one else she's supposed to be with.
"Do you have to work?" she asks his chest.
"Not now."
"Closed on Sundays?"
"Sunday mornings."
"That's nice," Rory says, still not letting go. "And when you get off work…"
"I'll come here," Jess concludes for her.
"And I'll be here," says Rory quietly.
They stay like that for a very long moment, Rory hugging Jess around this waist, him hugging her shoulders, his head immersed in her rumpled hair. It's quiet and cool and placid in the room and Rory feels almost the same inside for the first time in a long time. So maybe Jess isn't perfect and maybe she isn't either and maybe they aren't perfect together, but it's pretty damn close.
Pretty damn close.
Author's Note: First of all, this is the final part of The Wurlitzer Prize. I didn't intend to take so long to publish it, but I didn't anticipate the way last year would unfold either. Second, I don't know if/when I will update old fics or publish new fics. The show itself has been of little inspiration to me and I'm gradually moving away from the characters. Who knows if I'll get a burst of enthusiasm again and actually finish the gazillion fics I had in the works? It could happen. In the meantime, I highly suggest reading works by authors who are light-years better than me: Green Eve, RubyKate, kimlockt, Stew Pid, lucia marin, MahilaLily (Becka), Jamie Witter, Angel Grace… the list could go on for a long time.