Changing Tenses
Disclaimer: Suing me is worth about three dollars and fifty cents. Heh. I own little. This is known, I'm sure.
A/N: Inspired by episode 21. Written randomly at midnight (mostly). Was that episode not wonderful? And fantastical and superterrific? I admit it by now. I'm obsessed. I do not need that 12-step plan, I swear…;-) Set…well, non-italics set just after that episode. Italics = future, not past. Except that one line that I think you can tell. And the title is not meant to be as literal as it might sound, btw!
To Elise, for the wonderful updates, and you so rock. Thank you! To Mai, for the reviews and everything. Thanks so much, again! To Lee, for the reviews, and of course Jess the Bunny! To Christie…enact the typing reflex! Hehe. To Becka, because you're awesome and for that one parter. To Dani, for all the videos that we've loved…we understand! nods To all the Stars Hollow Literati, because you guys are wonderful.
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Saying it is dangerous.
Saying it out loud, to someone else who's not involved. It makes it true, it means it's real, it means it's happened. And it sounds nothing less than stupid that it scares him. Scares him that it is true, is real, has happened. Scares him that he feels this way and he thought he never would.
She pouts, and he fights the urge to laugh.
"You don't love me!"
"Got to think about that one…" he teases.
"What have I done to deserve this?" she says dramatically.
"And let me count the ways." He pulls her into his arms and smiles into her hair. "I love you, Rory."
He wonders how people think of him—it is something he's never considered in the past. Wonders if she thinks now or thought then that he's said it before, to other people, to many people, and just not meant it.
The words he's said before. They have never been in that order, never said on a dark street in a small town, never to someone like Rory, and they've never been backed with longing or with disappointment.
"You thought it was hell when you first came."
"I did not."
"You lie."
"Why, yes." He grins.
"You've gotten used to it," she smirks, handing him a hammer. He finishes nailing the panel back into the gazebo roof. "And you know, Taylor's going to thank you when you're done."
"Don't remind me."
"Albeit reluctantly…"
"Please don't remind me."
"Aw, you're still our little city kid."
"You better watch it," he informs her, hiding his grin. Luke steps out of the diner and walks up, opening his mouth. The smile disappears and Jess bends to concentrate on his work, but Rory notices the look in his eyes.
He's not used to this and he doesn't want to be. He's had enough experience with the Sylvia Plath side of things, enough even of the Jack Kerouac side of things. The Old Man and the Sea side of things. The Captain Nemo side of things (being alone). Never in a million years would he have guessed that he'd be hoping for one of those classic, perfect, boring happy endings.
She likes those.
But her favorite are those surprise endings that completely turn around, all at once, and still stay plausible.
He can't say he doesn't like those, either.
"It was good," she insists.
"It was predictable!"
"It was supposed to be."
"Huh."
"It was exciting."
"Until they gave it away."
"They did not give it away. It's written by one person," she points out, pleased with herself. He groans, affectionately.
And after the climax—the event a year led up to—crashed around him, he stopped centering the narrative on only the two of them. (Is that up to him?) Brought another character into the story: one who'd always been there, before providing minor conflict, comic—or ironic—relief, and now a parallel situation and potential mentor figure.
Uh, no. Characters don't change that fast. And this is allowed, because right now this is first person: Jess Mariano.
A wannabe mentor figure? Jess can't help smirking, remembering last night; "Philip" and "Judy."
He told someone else that he's told her he loves her. He's officially insane and that's all there is to it.
She can't believe this. He can't either. This is what would never happen. What he would never be doing. He'd never ask anyone that question, and no one would ever say yes.
And yet he's standing here, she's a foot or so away, and she looks beautiful. He's dying to kiss her and knows that part comes in a few minutes… He holds back a smirk, but it turns into a genuine smile, right at her. She smiles back; her eyes are lit up. A slight breeze pushes her hair off her face. The sun sparkles through the deep green of the leaves that belongs nowhere but summer.
God, it went so fast.
There are so many people here, practically the whole town, and Lorelai is right there, smiling and crying at the same time, and he knows that she knows he loves Rory. It's going to work out, after all of that. He dares to think she might be proud of them, of him? He never knows if she means what she says, doesn't get the jokes, but he thinks this time he did—she did. He's come a long way.
Saying it is dangerous. Crazy and stupid and a loss of control. Now he has a witness, despite there having been no one else there. And better yet, a witness who talks to her mother every day. And he really has a witness, because even Taylor or Miss Patty would know he'd never say something like that unless he was telling the truth.
Feeling stupid isn't unusual.
"I shouldn't have expected to get it."
"No!" She turns around, angry, but her expression softens. He sees her temper heating up, ready to burst out with something echoing the swearing session he had about a half an hour ago, before she got home. "You deserved that job, Jess."
He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. His right hand brushes a sharp corner, cardboard, and he jerks back, remembering why. "I found this…" he says, holding it out to her.
She can't contain her interest, because what he finds always makes her smile, makes her laugh. Makes him laugh. She fights the urge to walk away in frustration with the world, have him follow her, kiss her, and then…
What is wrong with her?
He deserved that job, that's what. He may be okay with it but she isn't…
But she steps forward. He grins, a little bitterness at the edges, but it disappears when she kisses him. And then it is all sweetness. She pulls barely an inch away. "So what did you want to show me?" Her left hand curls around his, and he looks at the floor, surprising happiness filling him, despite the lingering 'Idiot!' chanting in his head.
"It's this book they had…the hundred novels everyone should read." And now the classic smirk. "And absolutely no contemporary lit anywhere."
She grabs it, grinning back, ready for one of their regular book arguments. (They ought to put it on their schedule: book fight, Saturdays at one, or something…) He grabs back, ending up with his arms around her waist, and the playful fighting continues, regret forgotten, him looking toward the interview next week.
These thoughts, the faint hopes he's continually shoving to the back of his mind, the pictures of her, and most of all the memories that he's dealing with (although it hurts), that he's now not trying to forget.
His version of breaking down.
He used to be one to live with life the way it is, and hate it, from a safe distance. Wouldn't admit to hoping. Now that's what's left.
"I think I may have loved you."
Does she still think that…?
She crawls into bed beside him, and he wraps his arm around her. She shivers, pulling the covers closer over them.
"It's summer," he laughs.
"It's cold." She makes a face at him. He holds her even closer. She likes the tingly feeling she has when he touches her...
She clings to his arm happily, and he plays with a strand of her hair. She's falling asleep as they sit there. She moves to lie down, and he moves with her.
"Congratulations," she says again, sleepily.
"Why, thank you," he says into her shirt.
"I knew you'd get it. Who could be better for this job than you?" He nods, not sure what to say. How to tell her how he's feeling, particularly since the makeshift party they had, just the two of them, left him a little…crazy? He laughs to himself. It wasn't even alcohol. A natural high and he's enjoying it.
"I love you, Jess."
He nods again, this time knowing exactly what he'll say: "I love you too."
Will it ever change to present tense?