AN: Thank you for the reviews, I really appreciate it.  Keep comments, criticisms, anything except flames coming. Thanks again, and on to chapter 8…

Don't Panic – Chapter 8

I attacked him with questions before he could even close the door. He sighed heavily and opened the fridge, I didn't stop asking, and words were raining out of my mouth. He takes out two beers, he holds one up, I take it from him and nod thankfully, all the while jabbering on incessantly. He ushers me to the couch and sits down, I'm still talking as he opens our beers. He took a couple sips and smiled before I finally stopped talking and drank. I chugged, heavily. I was stressed, legal and the beer was really good. Jess laughed slightly at the sight of me. He casually rested his hand on my knee, I stiffened at the contact. His hand didn't move.

"Did you hear a single thing I said?" I asked spitefully, holding my bottle in my lap and eyeing his hand.

"Nope." He smiles.

"We've got to talk, you know." I say, I was full out staring at his hand at this point.

"Yup." He was grinning ear to ear, watching my eyes bug out at the sight of his hand. I squirmed slightly, he didn't move.

"About you and me, and you and me, and things about me and you – and, I," He was toying with me again, he knew the reason I couldn't think was because his hand was on my knee and I was trying too hard to avoid giving him the satisfaction of me confirming it. Even though I knew I had confirmed it the moment he put his hand on my leg. I had to sit it out though.

"Before we can," I hitched slightly; he was moving his thumb in slight circles on the inner side of my leg. "Continue this week, we've got to talk." I finished relatively smoothly. But the damage had been done. We were both fully aware of the power he had over me.

"Talk." He was still smirking, "Ok, Go."

"See, here's the thing Jess," my eyelids fluttered slightly, his hand had moved but not in the direction I had expected, it was on my thigh. "I'm not going to settle for minimal verbalization of thoughts and feelings," I bit my lip slightly, "In fact, I'm going to insist that you start from the beginning."

"Of?" He leaned closer to me.

"New York. Your life in New York." I stammered. It was killing me, torn between sticking it to him and giving into him. "And this monosyllabic thing you have going tonight? Yeah, it isn't going to work."

"You know about my life in New York." He said simply, hand still on my thigh. "Anything worth knowing, you know."

"That's not cutting it. I know the name of a couple of your friends, I know the name of your favorite restaurant, I know you picked up smoking at age 12, and that you learned to read at age 5. I know that you read because you're smarter then you let yourself believe and you needed an outlet for that. I know you tried to tell me that it was because you got stood up in the library a couple of times and were bored. But you can't cover the vast expanses of literature you've read after being stood up. And you tried to convince me you were on a date, but you know I know that that's not true. You were just going to make out with a girl in the library because you were too young to think of any place more creative."

"I thought you said I didn't go to the library to get action."

"I said that's not why you started to read."

"Ah, so you think I made out in the library."

"You aren't denying it." I smiled, biting my lip again, his hand still hadn't moved. While the dizzying effect hadn't gone away I could at least ramble. Rambling was a perfectly fine way for a Gilmore to communicate, in fact it was pretty much the only way.

"Well, I plead the fifth." God dammit he was still smirking.

"See, this is what I mean, anytime New York comes up, you avoid it completely. You're avoiding it now, and you avoided it then but before you would just kiss me, now you're being all constitutional on me. I want to know why you got sent to Stars Hollow, I want an answer more then just kid stuff, because I did kid stuff too and I never got sent to a different state to live with an Uncle, granted I don't have any Uncles, but that's besides the point. You've alluded to drugs, and drinking and girls. I know that you've been hurt. I know that you did stupid things. I know that your bad boy face is just that, a face. But I don't know anything about you."

"Really? Because it sure seems like you do. In fact, I'm pretty sure you do. You pretty much just summed up my life. In fact I think you summed it up with words I used a couple years ago. I think a better question is Rory, why do you feel like you don't know me?" There was an edge in his voice, but his hand hadn't moved.

I sighed, it was a frustrated sigh, but what I was frustrated about was up for debate. "Because I don't Jess. I don't know you."

"What's my favorite color?" his thumb was pressing into my thigh a little harder then before. "I promise it hasn't changed."

"Blue." I gasp slightly at the pressure change.

"Right, author?"

"Hemmingway. Bu-" my protests were interrupted.

"Remember when I told you I was going to 'whatever' 'whenever' 'wherever' and work when I needed the cash? Later on one night when were at Luke's making out on the couch you came across something that I had written. You told me in that naïve but persistent way of yours that I was going to be a writer one day. That whatever, whenever, wherever wasn't always going to work."

"So! Jess anybody could have told you that!"

"But they didn't."

"You didn't let them in Jess! Anybody could see it when you let them in, anyone, I mean even Paris Hilton could probably struggle to put two and two together and realize that you have so much more to offer then just this whatever business."

"But I didn't let Paris Hilton in Rory, I let you in."

"No Jess, no you didn't! Because you didn't tell me you were leaving, you didn't call me, you didn't write me, you didn't do it right!"

"I didn't." It was a statement and it burned. I wanted him to argue with me, I didn't want confirmation that he screwed up. I didn't want closure. I didn't want this to be over. I was stinging all over. I was clinging to the past because it was the only parts of him I had left. I was ready to fight.

"Is that all you can say? You didn't do it right? You hurt me. I never told anyone how bad, but god Jess. I thought I knew you, I really did. I did until Dean came up to me talking about his wedding and in the same breathe how badly you treated me. I did until you didn't tell me about school. I did until that stupid party for that really annoying kid. God, Jess, I really thought I knew you. I was the stupid girl who thought she could change the bad boy, I thought I could Jess. I thought I could help you. But towards the end I stopped feeling that way and I felt like Sandy from Grease, I felt like the only way I could be happy with you was if I became Slutty Rory, and I didn't want to become Slutty Rory." I was trying my hardest to not be hysterical.

"I didn't ask you to become Slutty Rory."

"Don't be so dense, John Travolta didn't ask Sandy to become Slutty Sandy – she did that all on her own."

"I'm not John Travolta. I see myself as a more James Dean type of persona."

"Fine – James Dean didn't ask Sandy to become Slutty Sandy!"

"You're right. He didn't." He was looking me straight in the eyes, and I shivered. "John Travolta may have opted for Slutty Sandy, but James Dean wouldn't have."

"James Dean ran away before he could change his mind."

"James Dean ran away because he had nowhere else to go."

"He could have said goodbye."

"Everybody does things they regret." He said quietly. My head was spinning, even though he had moved his hand back to his lap as soon as I started my hysterical ranting. I fought the urge to cry; he was being sincere.

We were quiet for a while, settling nicely into a silence that didn't carry any weight. It wasn't awkward, or heavy, or filled with things we weren't saying, it was just quiet. Jess moved down to the end of the couch slightly and allowed me to lay my head in his lap. He gently ran his fingers through my hair. We both knew that the conversations between us weren't over but we didn't need to rush it. The remaining conversations were for another time. Things were alright for the moment, not perfect, probably not lasting, but we needed a moment to breathe and think.

"Hey Rory?" I made a small noise. "Maybe you couldn't change the bad boy the way you wanted, when you wanted. But I couldn't – I - without – Thank you." I smiled, he was cute when he was nervous.

Sorry this was a little on the shorter side –but hopefully I made up for it with my fluffy Litness.