WHAT IT IS: A sequel, to my other Trory, What Happens When. Now, I had no
intentions at all to do a sequel. However, you're getting one, because of
all the Jess/Dean/Rory angst currently on the show—it's stressing me out.
So, since I had decided that fluff was probably all I'd get out of a sequel
and fluff is what I need right now (it's either fluff or unbearable angst
coming out of me right now)—here's a sequel.
WHAT I OWN: Nada.
RATING: PG-13, just to be safe. It is fluff after all.
AN: I'm from Indiana, and weather like this happens, trust me. Not all the time, but I've seen it. I'm feeling all nostalgic, here in the Pacific Northwest, missing all my weather mood swings from the Midwest. All I'm getting here is semi-constant rain. Sigh. That's all from here. Hope you enjoy the chapter.
Tristan woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. He fought the urge, not wanting to leave the warm cocoon of the bed for the hard, cold tile against his feet. He gave in after ten minutes, and stepped quickly and lightly towards the bathroom. He couldn't remember being this cold when they went to bed. He decided to check the thermostat and turn it up a bit. This cold wouldn't do, and it probably wasn't good for Rory. He walked down the hall, and turned the thermostat up. On his way back, he noticed unusual brightness coming from outside. He got closer to inspect what he thought must be snow, and lots of it. He smiled at the virtual blizzard that was coming down outside. There was no way either of them could make it into the city in weather like this. That meant one thing—snow day! As much in shock as he was, due to the fact it was unseasonably warm the day before, he was still excited about the fact that he and Rory would be trapped together 'til the weather cleared.
Sneaking back into bed, his still asleep wife automatically curled up to his presence in the bed. Smiling, he ran a finger down her side in an attempt to stir her. She held onto him tighter, but didn't budge wake.
"Rory," he whispered into her ear.
"Hmmph?"
"Wake up."
"Tristan?"
"Were you expecting Brad Pitt?"
Rory smiled sleepily, "That would be nice, but you'll do just fine. What time is it?" she yawned.
"It's about four in the morning."
"Go back to sleep. We have to get up soon."
"That's why I woke you. You can sleep as long as you want, turn off your alarm."
"What are you talking about?"
"Look outside."
She sat up a little and focused her eyes on the window, seeing a flurry of white and not much else.
"Is that—snow?"
"Yep. Lots of snow. It was freezing in here, so I turned on the heater and noticed the goings ons outside."
"How is that even possible?"
"Well, I heard them say there was a cold front coming down from Canada, but they never mentioned a blizzard. It can still snow in March," he pointed out.
"Rarely, though. Wow, a real-honest-to-God snow day! I thought we were out of those this winter."
"It's still winter, just a few days 'til spring."
"Can we make a snow man?"
"You should make some snow angels, too," he nodded.
"I love snow," she said, snuggling back down against him in bed.
They dozed back off to sleep, happy about the surprise from Mother Nature. It wasn't just snowing in White Plains; the entire eastern seaboard had a chilly wake up call that morning. The cold front had indeed come in from Canada and dumped several inches of snow from Maine to northern North Carolina. Temperatures plummeted and kids everywhere were out in snowsuits building snowmen only to come in to drink hot chocolate. The day before, people had been out in parks, enjoying pre-spring picnics and tossing Frisbees. New York City was shut down for several hours due to the lack of warning, and most people didn't make it to work, just due to the impossibility of the commute.
When Erin's alarm went off the next morning, she woke up rather groggy. The events of last night slowly came back to her as she turned back to see a sleeping form next to her. The mass of brown hair sticking out from under the covers made a smile cover her face. She curled up against Jess and prodded him to wake up. He blinked his eyes a few times and came to rest his eyes on her face. He smiled, a rare thing for him to do so early in the morning.
"Morning." He brushed his lips against her cheek softly.
"We should get up, we both have to be at work today," she informed him rather unconvincingly.
"No classes for you?"
"Not on Mondays."
"That's right. If my brain functioned this early, I would have known that," he informed her, moving to get up out of bed. He stretched his body and wandered over to her window.
"Hey, turn on the news," he instructed her. She did as he asked and flipped the television on to the local news station. The story running across the screen was the blizzard of '08, showing a blanket of snow covering the city.
"Guess we aren't going to work quite yet."
"What ever will we do with all this free time?"
"Turn the television off," he suggested, climbing back into bed.
She giggled as he climbed over her, pulling the covers up over their heads.
A few hours later, Rory emerged from the most restful sleep she'd had in weeks, to see Tristan still out cold. She propped up and looked at him, his even breaths, and his tousled hair. She remembered the scene last night before they drifted off to sleep. She was never amazed at the skill he had when it came to seducing her. She couldn't ever imagine not being attracted to him. It wasn't just that he was a perfect physical specimen. Well, save for the few scars on his body from sports or the time he fell out of the tree when he was younger and gashed open a line above his left knee. There was something fundamentally sexy about him—more than the husky tone of his voice when he whispered and demanded things of her in her ear. There was this innate spirit in him that just seemed to overwhelm her when she got near him. Even the writer herself couldn't put whatever it was about him into words.
He woke up to find Rory staring dreamily at him. He smirked a little and pulled her closer to him so he could give her a kiss.
"What were you thinking about?"
"How sexy you are," she truthfully admitted.
"That's what I like to hear," he moved so she was on her back, him leaning over her.
"So, last night was, amazing," she breathed, powerless due to the tone of his voice. It was at least an octave lower when he had just woken up, and it drove her crazy.
"I must say, this new found hormone overload of yours is definitely working in our favor," he informed her, kissing down the side of her neck.
"Tristan, if you keep doing that, we won't get out of bed all day," she warned.
"That was sort of the point," he quieted her by covering her lips with his.
She said no more, giving into the feel of him. An hour later, she lay on his chest, him stroking her hair.
"Do you think we'll ever lose this?" she asked him simply.
"Lose what? Our sex drives?"
"Well, that and the overwhelming rush when you touch me, I get so light- headed. You know what I mean?"
He nodded and smiled at her. "I know. I don't think we'll lose that, it's been a few years now, and I've been feeling queasy all of them," he joked.
"Seriously."
"Seriously. I am hopelessly in love with you, and see no cure other than spending every day of my natural life next to you, being able to touch you and adore you," he said, his face serious, still a glint flashing in his eyes.
"You talk good."
"Well, one of us has to," he poked her lightly in her shoulder.
The phone rang, and they both looked at the other.
"NOT IT!" they both said. She looked at him and opened her mouth in shock.
"Seriously, I'm carrying your child. You're not going to make me get out of bed and freeze my butt off are you?"
"Damn you, woman! I warmed you and the house up just fine, I highly doubt you are in any danger of freezing," he mumbled as he got up to find the phone. She smiled and pulled the covers up over her tighter. He came back into the room, cordless phone at his ear, and pointed at her. She smiled, enjoying the fact that he hadn't even bothered to grab a robe.
"Yes, we're fine. ... Our heater does work. ... No, we do have food in the house, we will survive the storm. ... Yes, I promise. ... She's right here. ... Well, if you'd like to talk to her, I'm sure she'll tell you the same thing, I--," he threw the phone on the bed, next to Rory. "It's for you."
"Hello? ... Mom, it's me. ... No, I didn't realize Tristan cut you off while you were talking. I'm so sorry. ... Mom, slow down. ... Yes, it snowed here, too. ... I don't have an inch measurement, we haven't been outside. ... No, we haven't been out of bed yet, really," the blush crept up into her cheeks unavoidably, "Mom, how bad is it there? .... That's too bad. ... Tell Luke he's crazy, who would venture out in this? .... Oh, right, I remember that!" she started giggling, and Tristan rolled his eyes, walking into the bathroom to shower. He cranked the hot water, and let it warm up. He took his time, realizing Rory would most likely talk to her mom a long time. He just finished up his shower when he heard her voice in the room.
"Hey, Tris, your mom is on the other line. Do you want to talk to her right now, or call her back?"
"I'll call her in a few minutes."
"'Kay, I'll tell her."
He finished toweling off and stepped back into the bedroom. Rory had put the phone down on the bed and was in her robe, sitting on the bed looking at him.
"Are you really going to call her back?"
"Yep. I promise, I won't avoid her. Besides, she'll just call back; she knows we're stuck here today. What was so funny on the phone?"
"Oh, Luke went to work! They got about a foot of snow, and he went to the diner at 4:30 this morning like usual. I told mom he was crazy, no one would be out in this, but she reminded me of the time Luke didn't open due to a blizzard, and Taylor tried to fine him for not sticking to his posted business hours. It took the better part of a town meeting, and came down to a really narrow vote, but eventually the town sided with Luke. It was really dramatic, Kirk cried, Mom threw food and Luke and Taylor had the longest documented shouting match they've ever had. Patty timed it."
"Again, I say, what a strange little place," he shook his head, grabbing the phone as she pranced off to the bathroom to use what was left of the hot water. He dialed his mom's number, hoping everything in her house was still working. He wasn't sure what servants would have been in the house, and he knew his mother wouldn't have known how to keep the pipes from freezing up.
"Hello?" came the deep voice on the other end of the line. Tristan knew the voice, though he hadn't heard it in a while. He remained quiet, in shock.
"Hello?"
"Uh, is Elizabeth there?" Tristan managed.
"Tristan?"
He didn't say anything. He knew this was his father, and anger crept up in him at the thought of him being there all night.
"Tristan, are you there?"
"I'm here. Is mom there?"
"Yes, she is, but I'd like to speak with you."
"Well, I would have called you if I had wanted to speak with you, but I didn't. Put mom on the phone."
"Tristan, I know you're angry, and I don't blame you. Please, just listen to me."
"Look, I really don't want to do this right now. Either put mom on, or tell her I called her back."
He heard an audible sigh. "Fine. Hold on a moment."
He heard some scuffling, and hushed tones. After a moment, he heard his mother's voice.
"Tristan?"
"Mom, what is he doing there?"
"Honey, calm down."
"It's an honest question."
"He dropped me off late last night, and I told him to take a guest room. Good thing I did, too, I saw on the news that the snow got you too."
"Mom, I really don't want to talk about the snow."
"Tristan, you know your father and I have been seeing each other a lot lately."
"Yes, I know," he replied blankly.
"I wish you would just meet with him, talk with him. He's changed, darling."
"I highly doubt that. I do believe he's conned you into believing he has."
"Tristan Michael, listen to me. I am still your mother, and I will not listen to you insult me. I am not some gullible waif of a woman who takes what your father did to me lightly." Her tone had shifted to that of anger, and suddenly he felt five years old.
"I didn't mean to imply--," he started.
"You didn't imply, you said it outright."
"I'm sorry," he responded emphatically.
"I know I can't change your mind, but you need to speak with him. If you are so set on hating him, at least hate him with all the appropriate knowledge of who he is now."
Tristan sighed and relented. "I'll think about it."
"Well, it's not like you can come today, with this freakish weather. Are you two alright, have everything you need?"
"Yes."
"How's my grandchild?"
"Still developing organs," Tristan replied sarcastically.
"Funny. Alright, go take care of your wife," she instructed.
"I'll talk to you soon," he promised and hung up. Rory emerged from the bathroom, seeing his expression and walked over to stand in front of where he was sitting on the bed.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"Dad answered the phone at Mom's."
"Whoa," Rory cringed.
"Yeah, whoa."
"So, did you talk to him?"
"Well, enough to get Mom on the phone. She wants me to talk to him."
Rory nodded, and he leaned forward to lean his head lightly against her stomach.
"I don't want to talk to him, Rory. I've said enough to him."
"I know. But can it hurt, I mean, if your mom has forgiven him, just to see if it's for real?"
"Stop being so sensible," he begged.
"Why?" she laughed.
"Because now I have to talk to him. I should find out how he got to Mom. I was horrible to her, and I feel bad, but I don't trust him."
"What did you say?"
"I basically told her that he conned her, that she wouldn't be able to tell if he was being straight with her or not."
"I hope this kid gets my sense of tact."
"What are you saying?"
"That your foot and your mouth are intimately linked."
"Hah. Funny, very funny."
"Deny it."
"Alright, I hope the kid gets your tact, too."
"But I hope it gets your sense of humor," she added, padding the last statement a little.
"As long as it gets your eyes, I'm happy."
She smiled at him, and took his hand to pull him along behind her. "Come on, you can make me breakfast!"
They ate breakfast and ended up on the couch, flipping through the stations. Most of the local channels had continuous coverage of the breaking weather situation.
"It's just snow!" Rory yelled at the television, willing them to return to regular programming.
"Let's watch a movie. We have tons," Tristan pointed out.
"Fine. Pick one out, I want to make a call real quick," she said, giving him a kiss as she got up to get the phone. She dialed the numbers and waited. She got an answering machine, so she dialed another set of numbers. It rang three times and she was about to give up when a real person finally answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me."
"You all snowed in, too?"
"Yeah. I called your house, tell me you aren't at work."
"Oh, I'm not at work," he replied, looking at the door to the bathroom that Erin had just disappeared behind.
"Jess, where are you?"
"I'm at Erin's."
"Reeeaally?" she drawled.
"Stop it."
"Did you two make up?"
"Several times."
"Eww, that was unnecessary."
"You asked."
"So, is she staying?"
"Yeah, she is."
"I'm glad."
"Me too. You guys okay up there?"
"Yeah, we're good."
"Sorry about yesterday, with everything."
"As long as you guys are good now, that's all I care about."
"We're definitely good. Heard from Lorelai yet?"
"Yep. They're fine, Luke's at work."
"Is he crazy?"
"That's what I said."
"Yeah, well, he must be nuts."
"He didn't have much of a choice. They got a foot of snow, though."
"We didn't get quite that much here. Eight inches, they're saying. Enough to keep us inside. I should go though."
"Tell Erin hi for me. I'm really glad you worked this out, Jess."
"Thanks."
They hung up the phone and Rory went back into the living room to find Tristan had made a little nest out of blankets and pillows on the couch, and had a DVD already in the player. He held open the blankets for her to slide under, and they spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies, curled up and enjoying this extra day alone they were gifted with.
WHAT I OWN: Nada.
RATING: PG-13, just to be safe. It is fluff after all.
AN: I'm from Indiana, and weather like this happens, trust me. Not all the time, but I've seen it. I'm feeling all nostalgic, here in the Pacific Northwest, missing all my weather mood swings from the Midwest. All I'm getting here is semi-constant rain. Sigh. That's all from here. Hope you enjoy the chapter.
Tristan woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. He fought the urge, not wanting to leave the warm cocoon of the bed for the hard, cold tile against his feet. He gave in after ten minutes, and stepped quickly and lightly towards the bathroom. He couldn't remember being this cold when they went to bed. He decided to check the thermostat and turn it up a bit. This cold wouldn't do, and it probably wasn't good for Rory. He walked down the hall, and turned the thermostat up. On his way back, he noticed unusual brightness coming from outside. He got closer to inspect what he thought must be snow, and lots of it. He smiled at the virtual blizzard that was coming down outside. There was no way either of them could make it into the city in weather like this. That meant one thing—snow day! As much in shock as he was, due to the fact it was unseasonably warm the day before, he was still excited about the fact that he and Rory would be trapped together 'til the weather cleared.
Sneaking back into bed, his still asleep wife automatically curled up to his presence in the bed. Smiling, he ran a finger down her side in an attempt to stir her. She held onto him tighter, but didn't budge wake.
"Rory," he whispered into her ear.
"Hmmph?"
"Wake up."
"Tristan?"
"Were you expecting Brad Pitt?"
Rory smiled sleepily, "That would be nice, but you'll do just fine. What time is it?" she yawned.
"It's about four in the morning."
"Go back to sleep. We have to get up soon."
"That's why I woke you. You can sleep as long as you want, turn off your alarm."
"What are you talking about?"
"Look outside."
She sat up a little and focused her eyes on the window, seeing a flurry of white and not much else.
"Is that—snow?"
"Yep. Lots of snow. It was freezing in here, so I turned on the heater and noticed the goings ons outside."
"How is that even possible?"
"Well, I heard them say there was a cold front coming down from Canada, but they never mentioned a blizzard. It can still snow in March," he pointed out.
"Rarely, though. Wow, a real-honest-to-God snow day! I thought we were out of those this winter."
"It's still winter, just a few days 'til spring."
"Can we make a snow man?"
"You should make some snow angels, too," he nodded.
"I love snow," she said, snuggling back down against him in bed.
They dozed back off to sleep, happy about the surprise from Mother Nature. It wasn't just snowing in White Plains; the entire eastern seaboard had a chilly wake up call that morning. The cold front had indeed come in from Canada and dumped several inches of snow from Maine to northern North Carolina. Temperatures plummeted and kids everywhere were out in snowsuits building snowmen only to come in to drink hot chocolate. The day before, people had been out in parks, enjoying pre-spring picnics and tossing Frisbees. New York City was shut down for several hours due to the lack of warning, and most people didn't make it to work, just due to the impossibility of the commute.
When Erin's alarm went off the next morning, she woke up rather groggy. The events of last night slowly came back to her as she turned back to see a sleeping form next to her. The mass of brown hair sticking out from under the covers made a smile cover her face. She curled up against Jess and prodded him to wake up. He blinked his eyes a few times and came to rest his eyes on her face. He smiled, a rare thing for him to do so early in the morning.
"Morning." He brushed his lips against her cheek softly.
"We should get up, we both have to be at work today," she informed him rather unconvincingly.
"No classes for you?"
"Not on Mondays."
"That's right. If my brain functioned this early, I would have known that," he informed her, moving to get up out of bed. He stretched his body and wandered over to her window.
"Hey, turn on the news," he instructed her. She did as he asked and flipped the television on to the local news station. The story running across the screen was the blizzard of '08, showing a blanket of snow covering the city.
"Guess we aren't going to work quite yet."
"What ever will we do with all this free time?"
"Turn the television off," he suggested, climbing back into bed.
She giggled as he climbed over her, pulling the covers up over their heads.
A few hours later, Rory emerged from the most restful sleep she'd had in weeks, to see Tristan still out cold. She propped up and looked at him, his even breaths, and his tousled hair. She remembered the scene last night before they drifted off to sleep. She was never amazed at the skill he had when it came to seducing her. She couldn't ever imagine not being attracted to him. It wasn't just that he was a perfect physical specimen. Well, save for the few scars on his body from sports or the time he fell out of the tree when he was younger and gashed open a line above his left knee. There was something fundamentally sexy about him—more than the husky tone of his voice when he whispered and demanded things of her in her ear. There was this innate spirit in him that just seemed to overwhelm her when she got near him. Even the writer herself couldn't put whatever it was about him into words.
He woke up to find Rory staring dreamily at him. He smirked a little and pulled her closer to him so he could give her a kiss.
"What were you thinking about?"
"How sexy you are," she truthfully admitted.
"That's what I like to hear," he moved so she was on her back, him leaning over her.
"So, last night was, amazing," she breathed, powerless due to the tone of his voice. It was at least an octave lower when he had just woken up, and it drove her crazy.
"I must say, this new found hormone overload of yours is definitely working in our favor," he informed her, kissing down the side of her neck.
"Tristan, if you keep doing that, we won't get out of bed all day," she warned.
"That was sort of the point," he quieted her by covering her lips with his.
She said no more, giving into the feel of him. An hour later, she lay on his chest, him stroking her hair.
"Do you think we'll ever lose this?" she asked him simply.
"Lose what? Our sex drives?"
"Well, that and the overwhelming rush when you touch me, I get so light- headed. You know what I mean?"
He nodded and smiled at her. "I know. I don't think we'll lose that, it's been a few years now, and I've been feeling queasy all of them," he joked.
"Seriously."
"Seriously. I am hopelessly in love with you, and see no cure other than spending every day of my natural life next to you, being able to touch you and adore you," he said, his face serious, still a glint flashing in his eyes.
"You talk good."
"Well, one of us has to," he poked her lightly in her shoulder.
The phone rang, and they both looked at the other.
"NOT IT!" they both said. She looked at him and opened her mouth in shock.
"Seriously, I'm carrying your child. You're not going to make me get out of bed and freeze my butt off are you?"
"Damn you, woman! I warmed you and the house up just fine, I highly doubt you are in any danger of freezing," he mumbled as he got up to find the phone. She smiled and pulled the covers up over her tighter. He came back into the room, cordless phone at his ear, and pointed at her. She smiled, enjoying the fact that he hadn't even bothered to grab a robe.
"Yes, we're fine. ... Our heater does work. ... No, we do have food in the house, we will survive the storm. ... Yes, I promise. ... She's right here. ... Well, if you'd like to talk to her, I'm sure she'll tell you the same thing, I--," he threw the phone on the bed, next to Rory. "It's for you."
"Hello? ... Mom, it's me. ... No, I didn't realize Tristan cut you off while you were talking. I'm so sorry. ... Mom, slow down. ... Yes, it snowed here, too. ... I don't have an inch measurement, we haven't been outside. ... No, we haven't been out of bed yet, really," the blush crept up into her cheeks unavoidably, "Mom, how bad is it there? .... That's too bad. ... Tell Luke he's crazy, who would venture out in this? .... Oh, right, I remember that!" she started giggling, and Tristan rolled his eyes, walking into the bathroom to shower. He cranked the hot water, and let it warm up. He took his time, realizing Rory would most likely talk to her mom a long time. He just finished up his shower when he heard her voice in the room.
"Hey, Tris, your mom is on the other line. Do you want to talk to her right now, or call her back?"
"I'll call her in a few minutes."
"'Kay, I'll tell her."
He finished toweling off and stepped back into the bedroom. Rory had put the phone down on the bed and was in her robe, sitting on the bed looking at him.
"Are you really going to call her back?"
"Yep. I promise, I won't avoid her. Besides, she'll just call back; she knows we're stuck here today. What was so funny on the phone?"
"Oh, Luke went to work! They got about a foot of snow, and he went to the diner at 4:30 this morning like usual. I told mom he was crazy, no one would be out in this, but she reminded me of the time Luke didn't open due to a blizzard, and Taylor tried to fine him for not sticking to his posted business hours. It took the better part of a town meeting, and came down to a really narrow vote, but eventually the town sided with Luke. It was really dramatic, Kirk cried, Mom threw food and Luke and Taylor had the longest documented shouting match they've ever had. Patty timed it."
"Again, I say, what a strange little place," he shook his head, grabbing the phone as she pranced off to the bathroom to use what was left of the hot water. He dialed his mom's number, hoping everything in her house was still working. He wasn't sure what servants would have been in the house, and he knew his mother wouldn't have known how to keep the pipes from freezing up.
"Hello?" came the deep voice on the other end of the line. Tristan knew the voice, though he hadn't heard it in a while. He remained quiet, in shock.
"Hello?"
"Uh, is Elizabeth there?" Tristan managed.
"Tristan?"
He didn't say anything. He knew this was his father, and anger crept up in him at the thought of him being there all night.
"Tristan, are you there?"
"I'm here. Is mom there?"
"Yes, she is, but I'd like to speak with you."
"Well, I would have called you if I had wanted to speak with you, but I didn't. Put mom on the phone."
"Tristan, I know you're angry, and I don't blame you. Please, just listen to me."
"Look, I really don't want to do this right now. Either put mom on, or tell her I called her back."
He heard an audible sigh. "Fine. Hold on a moment."
He heard some scuffling, and hushed tones. After a moment, he heard his mother's voice.
"Tristan?"
"Mom, what is he doing there?"
"Honey, calm down."
"It's an honest question."
"He dropped me off late last night, and I told him to take a guest room. Good thing I did, too, I saw on the news that the snow got you too."
"Mom, I really don't want to talk about the snow."
"Tristan, you know your father and I have been seeing each other a lot lately."
"Yes, I know," he replied blankly.
"I wish you would just meet with him, talk with him. He's changed, darling."
"I highly doubt that. I do believe he's conned you into believing he has."
"Tristan Michael, listen to me. I am still your mother, and I will not listen to you insult me. I am not some gullible waif of a woman who takes what your father did to me lightly." Her tone had shifted to that of anger, and suddenly he felt five years old.
"I didn't mean to imply--," he started.
"You didn't imply, you said it outright."
"I'm sorry," he responded emphatically.
"I know I can't change your mind, but you need to speak with him. If you are so set on hating him, at least hate him with all the appropriate knowledge of who he is now."
Tristan sighed and relented. "I'll think about it."
"Well, it's not like you can come today, with this freakish weather. Are you two alright, have everything you need?"
"Yes."
"How's my grandchild?"
"Still developing organs," Tristan replied sarcastically.
"Funny. Alright, go take care of your wife," she instructed.
"I'll talk to you soon," he promised and hung up. Rory emerged from the bathroom, seeing his expression and walked over to stand in front of where he was sitting on the bed.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"Dad answered the phone at Mom's."
"Whoa," Rory cringed.
"Yeah, whoa."
"So, did you talk to him?"
"Well, enough to get Mom on the phone. She wants me to talk to him."
Rory nodded, and he leaned forward to lean his head lightly against her stomach.
"I don't want to talk to him, Rory. I've said enough to him."
"I know. But can it hurt, I mean, if your mom has forgiven him, just to see if it's for real?"
"Stop being so sensible," he begged.
"Why?" she laughed.
"Because now I have to talk to him. I should find out how he got to Mom. I was horrible to her, and I feel bad, but I don't trust him."
"What did you say?"
"I basically told her that he conned her, that she wouldn't be able to tell if he was being straight with her or not."
"I hope this kid gets my sense of tact."
"What are you saying?"
"That your foot and your mouth are intimately linked."
"Hah. Funny, very funny."
"Deny it."
"Alright, I hope the kid gets your tact, too."
"But I hope it gets your sense of humor," she added, padding the last statement a little.
"As long as it gets your eyes, I'm happy."
She smiled at him, and took his hand to pull him along behind her. "Come on, you can make me breakfast!"
They ate breakfast and ended up on the couch, flipping through the stations. Most of the local channels had continuous coverage of the breaking weather situation.
"It's just snow!" Rory yelled at the television, willing them to return to regular programming.
"Let's watch a movie. We have tons," Tristan pointed out.
"Fine. Pick one out, I want to make a call real quick," she said, giving him a kiss as she got up to get the phone. She dialed the numbers and waited. She got an answering machine, so she dialed another set of numbers. It rang three times and she was about to give up when a real person finally answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me."
"You all snowed in, too?"
"Yeah. I called your house, tell me you aren't at work."
"Oh, I'm not at work," he replied, looking at the door to the bathroom that Erin had just disappeared behind.
"Jess, where are you?"
"I'm at Erin's."
"Reeeaally?" she drawled.
"Stop it."
"Did you two make up?"
"Several times."
"Eww, that was unnecessary."
"You asked."
"So, is she staying?"
"Yeah, she is."
"I'm glad."
"Me too. You guys okay up there?"
"Yeah, we're good."
"Sorry about yesterday, with everything."
"As long as you guys are good now, that's all I care about."
"We're definitely good. Heard from Lorelai yet?"
"Yep. They're fine, Luke's at work."
"Is he crazy?"
"That's what I said."
"Yeah, well, he must be nuts."
"He didn't have much of a choice. They got a foot of snow, though."
"We didn't get quite that much here. Eight inches, they're saying. Enough to keep us inside. I should go though."
"Tell Erin hi for me. I'm really glad you worked this out, Jess."
"Thanks."
They hung up the phone and Rory went back into the living room to find Tristan had made a little nest out of blankets and pillows on the couch, and had a DVD already in the player. He held open the blankets for her to slide under, and they spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies, curled up and enjoying this extra day alone they were gifted with.