AN: Sorry yall! My computer's power cord broke so I couldn't charge it up. It died and I couldn't turn it back on. I'll hope you forgive me! Usually updates will come faster.

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Four long days, three extremely long nights spent driving, and six meals composed completely of convenient store food later, we found ourselves in San Francisco.

"What do you want to do?" I asked Rory. We had parked our car, and now walked hand in hand down a path that promised a view of the Golden Gate Bridge at the end.

"Well," Rory said slowly, teasing me as I waited, watching her lips form each word, "I was thinking a hotel might be nice."

I nodded, and we continued walking.

"Did you know my mom was engaged once?"

I looked at her. "No, I didn't," I replied, then, a minute later, "What happened?"

"She called it off. She said she didn't love him. On the Friday before her wedding, she came into my room and started packing up my clothes, telling me we were going on a trip. She was frantic, really, a mess. Can you even imagine that, my mom, a mess?"

"Really?" I looked at her, half wondering why she was telling me this, half trying to imagine Lorelei broken down. "She's usually so strong. I've never seen her break down or cry. I mean, she's never really all together, but she's never completely apart."

"I know. It was weird." She looked at me, and I kissed her. "Anyway, we went on a road trip. Mom said it was supposed to be about spontaneity, and, when she found out that I had bought a map, she got all mad. What happened was that we ended up staying at this horrible bed and breakfast."

I smirked, a chuckle escaping my lips. We had reached the promised lookout point, but, as not advertised on the sign; a shroud of fog covered most of the bridge, making 'San Francisco's best views of the Golden Gates' useless. Nevertheless, I sat down, pulling her down with me. She slung her legs, crossed at the ankles, over my lap, and leaned her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her, pulling her close to me as my fingers burned on her back.

"Really," she went on, "It was terrible, you would have hated it. There was this wall paper on that had about a thousand flowers, I'm not even exaggerating, and it matched the sheets on the bed. It was pathetic. Once, we went downstairs to find them all watching a hummingbird, saying that "The Marvels of nature can't be kept in the fricken schedule."

"So, what you're basically saying is, my personal hell?"

"Exactly," she paused, tracing unseen patterns on my sleeve. "Anyway, we actually went to see Harvard, that was back when I still wanted to go there. The trip turned out really fun." Another long pause. This one spent looking out over the bay, trying to clear the fog. "Spontaneous, it was never really something that came naturally to me." She looked up at me, staring at me, looking for something in my face.

"What?"

"It always came naturally for you, you know. You're always so, impulsive, you always were. One time, Laine, she didn't even like you, she said that that's what makes you cute, your spontaneity, your carelessness, your free spirit."

"Well, glad to know I'm thought so highly of." I joked, but I knew that I would have to say something. I had barely said something the whole time we had been there.

"So what if you're not impulsive, huh? Why does it matter? You have so many good things about you. If you were impulsive, we wouldn't work. We would just be two wandering spirits. You bring order to my life, Rory. You represent the few things that are real and stable in my life. I bring chaos to your life; I break down all the little borders, so that everything inside of you gets all mixed up, and you love it. If it weren't like that, I couldn't love you." I looked at her, studying her face, reading what she was thinking. She was shocked that I had sad that much. Six months ago, I would have been shocked too, but now, it was comforting, that I could give this insight into me, almost relaxing. "I love you so much the way you are, Rory."

Reaching up, she kissed my neck only once. It wasn't in a sexual way, it was just simple, sincere, loving. She rested her head on my chest, and pulled herself close into me. "Your right," she whispered. I didn't respond, just kissed her hair.

We sat like that for a long time. I don't even know how long. She doesn't either. It was just a little before sunset when we got up.

We ended up staying at this little hotel called the Renaissance Inn. It had green carpeting. With green and white striped wallpaper. In the corner, there was a brown mini fridge, complete with those little bottles of liquor that were always so overpriced. On the dresser, there was a cheap boom box, I guess in case anyone wanted to play cd's. On one wall, there was a window seat that looked over this little street. The windows opened and everything. There was only one bed, but Rory didn't seem to mind. I know I didn't it. I guess after the first night, she had gotten over that whole fear, that whole awkwardness.

We had only been in our room for about an hour. I took my shower first. When I came out, I found her reading on the window seat with the windows open. She had some music playing, something by Soul Coughing. I pulled on a pair of pants and a t-shirt, and sat next to her on the ledge.

"What are you reading?"

She looked up at me, oddly, almost surprised to see me. "East of Eden."

"Ah, Steinbeck."

"Yeah," getting up to stretch, she put her bookmark in and handed it to me. "Ever read it?"

I examined the cover, flipping the book open to the first page. When I was little, I developed this habit of reading the first page to help me decided whether the book was worth buying or not. "Can't say that I have. It's on my list of books to read though."

"Well, I'll pass it on to you when I'm done then."

"It would be greatly appreciated."

She nodded. "Ok, well, I'm going to shower. Hey, you find someplace for us to eat."

I looked at her, and she cocked her head to one side, smirking at me. "Why me?" I asked.

"You used to live in California, that year that you lived with Jimmy. I know it was in the south, but still, I've never even left the northeast before, except to go to Europe." She made a pouty face at me. "Pwease Jessy Wessy?"

I rolled my eyes in mock frustration and forced a phony sigh out of my lips. "Fine Rory Wory." She skipped over to me and just barely touched her lips to mine, giving me a slow kiss. Her lips smoldered on mine. I held her face close to mine with one hand on the back of her head and the other on her cheek. She pulled her hands away from where they preciously lay cupped around the back of my neck. Then just abruptly as she had walked over to me, she walked away.

When she reached the bathroom door, she twirled around and beamed at me. "Love you Jess." Then she went in the bathroom and I heard the shower turn on.

When she came out of the shower, she found me in a similar state that I had found her in. I sat on the floor with my back against the window seat, reading, only I had replaced her Soul Coughing by an old Pixies cd I had handy.

She emerged wearing a faded jean skirt with a frayed edge and an oversized t-shirt. She sat, cross legged, next to me one the ground, and looked ever my shoulder.

"What are you reading?"

I felt my lips spread into a smile as she imitated my actions of a half hour before. I lifted my head to face her. "Middlesex."

"Ah, Jeffery Eugenides. Didn't that win the Pulitzer?"

She quizzed me. I knew she knew the answer. She knew I knew she knew the answer. Of course I knew the answer. I was reading the book. "Yeah, it did."

"Virgin Suicides was great," she added.

"If not slightly depressing, but I agree."

I got up and stretched, pulling her up with me. "So, Rory, I have this incredible spontaneous idea."

"Really?" She lifted her hand to her chest in feigned shock. "Do tell."

"Sorry lady," I admit, slightly taking pleasure in her, well, what would be, frustration. "No can do."

"Je-e-es," she whined, turning my name into a three-syllable word.

"Sorry Rory, it's a surprise. Think of it as romantic, if you will."

"Whatever," she sighed.

I thought back to years ago, my first year in Star's Hollow, when I had crashed her car. But what will you do? She had asked. Whatever. I remember the way she looked at me, almost, concerned. Well where will you live? My answer was so silly, naive. Where ever. She had only stared at me, and then, as if she knew she was never going to change me, sighed, almost mockingly so. Whatever, where ever.

Now I stood, not a yard away from her, watching her as she peeled off her giant shirt to reveal a plain white tank top as she dug through her bag for a green sweater, and, upon retrieving it, pulled it over her head. The static from the sweater rubbing against her made her hair stand up frizzy. I walked over to her and ran my hands through her hair, smoothing it down. "Whatever, where ever," I sighed in reminiscence.

She put her hands on my chest and giggled, clearly remembering too.