Disclaimer: I'm too lazy to make one. Refer to the first 13 chapters.
Dedication: to Jamie! It's her birthday!
It was some time between the middle of the night and early in the morning when Rory woke up to the sound of light snoring. Darn her internal alarm clock for waking her up at this godforsaken hour.
She was still too groggy to be considered fully awake. Nonetheless, she somehow knew that she was in Tristan's bed (not surprising), wearing one of Tristan's shrunken old T-shirts (not surprising). She also knew that he was only wearing his boxers and he was spooning her from behind (again, not surprising).
Rory wondered why she had woken up. Most likely because she needed to drag her lazy ass out of bed. It was a weekday today and she needed to go to work.
But I don't wanna, she whined to herself.
She was comfortable here. The bed was warm and soft, Tristan was holding her, and his hypnotic light snoring could easily lull her back to sleep. She snuggled closer against him. Besides, she argued, it still looked way too dark for her to go home. But as she edged towards full-alertness, her rational mind slowly took over and commanded her to get up and get out.
Rory grumbled lightly, before she gathered her determination to leave. But Tristan easily torpedoed her plan. As she moved her legs from underneath the covers, he stopped snoring and instinctively tightened his arms and held onto her. He could be such a light sleeper sometimes.
"Tristan," she whispered
"Don't go," he murmured.
"I have to," she said ruefully. She wasn't some sort of masochist; of course she preferred staying in bed and remaining wrapped in his arms rather than having to leave right now. She was all too aware of the way Tristan nuzzled his head comfortably on her shoulders and the way his breathing lightly caressed her skin. And it was distracting her from her current task.
But you need to go to work. She had to keep reminding herself of that.
"No. Stay," he moaned petulantly. His husky voice was doing a fine job at shaking her resolve.
"Tristan."
"Five more minutes," he bargained while raining soft kisses on her shoulder.
"No. Because five minutes will turn into ten, ten will turn into fifteen and the next thing I know, I'll never get out of bed!" She turned around to face him think she could confront him easier. But the plan backfired. His half-awake bedroom eyes only served to remind her how dead sexy he was in the morning.
Rory groaned at her weakness.
"And that would be bad because-"he was obviously too tired for a decent smirk, so that was more like a mischievous smile.
"I need to go to work! And so do you!"
"No we don't. It's Saturday, now go back to sleep." He kissed her forehead and tucked her head under his chin.
"It's Wednesday, you silly goose and you know it."
He didn't offer any rebuttal. Instead, he just held her closer. A little voice in Rory pointed out how delicious he smelled and how nice it was to have him run his fingers through her hair. Once more she questioned herself whether she really needed to leave right now.
Rory sighed in defeat and allowed herself another five minutes in his embrace. She slowly lost count of the minutes and relaxed easily as time ebbed. She was on the edge of sleep when Tristan's light snoring woke her and reminded her of her upcoming workday.
Rory poked his chest, "Tristan. I really should get going."
"Call in sick," he replied automatically as if it was the most natural solution to this problem. He eyes were closed, as if he couldn't muster the energy to stay fully alert. In fact he sounded like he was talking in his sleep rather than conversing with her.
"I can't. I never call in sick."
"All the more reason for you to call in sick. Break the rules for once."
She wanted to tell him resoundingly that she wasn't sick, she wasn't going to lie about it, and she was going to get out of this bed at this exact moment so she could get to work on time. But, intentionally or unintentionally, Tristan's hand slipped south, stroking a path down her flank and onto her hip before cupping one cheek of her bottom. He was doing this wonderful thing with his fingers on her inner thighs that made her speechless every single time.
Tristan's persuasion tactic was obviously working. The only thing coming out of her mouth was a garbled moan instead of her supposedly assertive retort. All her previous plans were momentarily put aside.
Rory allowed herself to enjoy this delightful sensation for a little longer until that pesky alarm bell in her head once more reminded her that if she didn't stop this right now, she would never get out of bed.
That little voiced asked, would that really be such a bad thing?
"Tristan, I have to go. I need to go home and change." That sounded a lot weaker than she intended it to be. But she did try to strengthen her resolve by shifting her legs away from his touch.
"Why?"
"Because I need a fresh change of clothes."
"Just wear the ones you wore." His muddled mind offered any excuses in an attempt to extend her stay.
"I can't wear the same set of clothes to work two days in a roll. People will know!"
"Know what? That you got laid?"
"Tristan!" She instantly swatted his arm.
Her lighthearted swat had jolted him awake. She could feel him stretch out his arms and roll over to lie flat on his back. But he still held onto her waist as if fearing that she would pounce out of bed the moment she got the chance.
"I've been thinking about this."
"About what."
"Clothes."
"What about them?"
"Do you want a drawer?" He pointed to the dresser with his toes. "You can keep some of your stuff here so you don't have to run home at-" he glanced at the clock, "5:30 in the morning to change."
Rory thought carefully. She never had a drawer. Correction, she had never been in the kind of relationship that led to a drawer. Either she didn't sleep with her boyfriend, thus negating the need to have a drawer, or she just cut her post-coital snuggle short and slipped out in the morning, once more, negating the need of a drawer.
But now, Tristan was offering her a drawer! He was willing to share a bit of his personal space! On her scale of important-relationship-moments, this ranked as high up as him saying, "I love you" for the first time.
She smiled, "A drawer? For me?"
"Yep, the third one from the bottom."
"It would be nice to put a few clean shirts and a nice sweater there," she mused.
"There's a catch though."
"What?"
"Well, you'll have to pay for it." For a moment there, she thought he was serious. But then she caught the mischievous glint in his eyes and she decided to play along.
"And what kind of payment do you expect?" She easily mimicked his impish smile.
"Do you know that Wednesdays are also called hump day?" He drew little light circles with his fingers on her taut stomach and it caused this tingling feeling. She pulled him closer.
"I don't think they meant that when they come up with that name," she laughed.
"Well, I guess we should give it our own definition then." Those circles skirted close to the top of her panties. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to call in sick. After all, she had never called in sick and she must have had a bunch of sick days accumulated under her name.
Tristan languidly crawled on top of her and gave her a soft kiss on the tip of her nose before kissing her full on the mouth. It was at that moment when all her resolve flew out of the window. She reached down to tug off his boxers as he did that nibbling thing with her ear that also could render her speechless.
Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of things that Tristan could do to render her speechless.
"Hmm. Tristan."
"Yeah."
They were still kissing when they flipped so now she was straddled across his lap, her shirt slid up as her legs parted around him. His hands continued to stroke her naked bottom. Rory sighed and steadied herself onto him.
"I think both of us should call in sick today." She placed her palm on his forehead and mocked taking his temperature, "I think you're heating up."
"Really." He drawled. "And what's your solution to that?"
"I think bed rest would be a good idea." She suggested throatily as she peeled off her shirt and tossed it onto the floor right next to his boxers.
"I'll stay in bed alright. But I don't think I'll get any rest." Rory let out a surprised shriek when he pulled her down onto him. Her panties soon joined that small heap of clothing on the floor.
It was well past noon when Jess figured it was time to roll out of his bed. In his head, he constructed the perfect excuse for sleeping in. He was heading abroad on his next assignment tomorrow and he was adjusting his biological clock ahead of time in order to avoid jetlag.
Yep, that sounded right.
Except there was this fatal flaw in his excuse: he was only flying to Lake Louise, Canada. The time difference wasn't that big.
He scratched his stubble and stretched out before he stumbled out of his room. He mumbled some mild obscenities when he stubbed his toe against a hardcover book on the floor. He was too lazy to pick up the book right now, so he just kicked it underneath the bed to avoid similar encounters in the future.
So far, that was normal.
He continued to stumble into the bathroom and brush his teeth. Jess took a toothbrush from the holder and squeezed a liberal gob of toothpaste on it. He was this close to inserting it into his mouth, but there was something subconsciously jarring about his reflection in the mirror, so he retracted the toothbrush.
He didn't know what exactly was throwing him off, so he carefully examined his reflection. Messy hair that could use a haircut, normal; his old Ramones T-shirt with the words so faded that he could only make out the truncated "Ra-o-s", normal; his green toothbrush ...
Not normal!
He stared at the toothbrush. When did it become green? He jogged his memory, even though his brain was still too groggy for such activity. He remembered her fanatic colour-coding system. Rory had a pink toothbrush and he had a blue toothbrush. She even made a haiku for him to remember.
When did she change her colour coding and give him a green toothbrush?
Then he looked at the holder again. There, sitting innocently next to Rory's pink toothbrush was his own blue toothbrush.
That meant the toothbrush that he was holding right now was-
DuGrey's!
He couldn't believe the way he was tripping over Tristan's stuff in here. He should just wash off the toothpaste, place the toothbrush back on the holder, and pretend this was all a bad dream or just ignore the implications. But he was only half-awake and he was not entirely in control of his rational mind.
This prompted him to absolutely flip out and went on a scavenger hunt in his bathroom. He dug around the medicine cabinet and found a bottle of pills, painkillers or some sort, that had Tristan's name on the prescription label. Why would his medication was turn up here?
He looked more carefully elsewhere. Somewhere in the back of the cupboard, he found a can of shaving cream. He knew it wasn't his because it wasn't Jess's preferred brand. Next to the shaving cream was a bottle of shower gel that he recognized as neither his nor Rory's.
He was not happy at the way these inanimate objects accumulate and the way it had started to invade his bathroom.
Jess looked at a newfound razor. On the bright side, at least he wasn't unwittingly sharing his personal hygiene products with DuGrey. On the down side, who knew how much more of his stuff would Jess find around the house. Did Rory get a new cup for him? Did he keep a fresh set of clothes in her room? Was that newly acquired plant actually his?
He sat down on the edge of the bathtub to steady himself. Really, he didn't know why he was this upset or surprised. It had been almost four months since they bought that light bulb, which, incidentally was right above him. Was it that surprising to see her relationship progress this far?
Jess couldn't help but remind himself that he was seeing Paris right now. (Though he wouldn't exactly call himself her boyfriend and they both thought it was best to keep this away from Rory, so he wasn't sure how much of a "relationship" that was.) And if he should ever get worried over one person, that person should now be Paris and not Rory.
That's right, Paris. Paris, not Rory, was the one that went out with him and treated him to a nice going-away dinner. Paris, not Rory, was the one who made him laugh when she told him of her misguided attempt at university student activism.
At the same time, he wondered would he get a similar reaction if he found Wilbur's things strewn all over Paris's apartment?
Honestly, he didn't know.
But he knew he should. Theoretically.
When Jess finally collected his wits, he looked at that green toothbrush again. He wondered how long had it been sitting there, blending in amongst the other toothbrushes. Was this a recent development, or did this happen a while ago, back when he was in Chile? He wondered how he could've missed it.
He resisted doing something juvenile, like throwing away the toothbrush or emptying the entire can of shaving cream. Instead, he just gave Tristan's toothbrush a meaningful glance before he washed off the toothpaste and put it back where he first found it.
It was hard, but he did it. He might have willed himself to let go.