A/N: Again, thanks to gracie55 for catching my mistakes and reassuring me that I can write Jess, after all.

2: Sudden Heart-to-Heart

"Read." His opinion of the man is growing dimmer by the second. Read. What is he—in second grade? Seriously. Who gives a verb as a nickname? TJ, apparently, that's who. Jess would be surprised if he even knows the difference between an adjective and a verb.

The truck is deathly silent as they drive back to Stars Hollow. Jess can see Luke's jaw muscles working, a sure sign that Luke is upset—beyond upset, actually—and is trying to control himself. Jess is already plastered as close to the passenger side door as he can get. If he moves any further, he'll fall out. Which, given the atmosphere, might not be such a bad idea.

He pulls out his book, which he had managed, barely, to rescue from the fray at the strip club, and begins to read. Tries to read, at least. The silence in the cab is too thick, too deafening to concentrate, though.

For someone so taciturn and sparse with his words, Jess hates silence. He can ignore and tune out yelling, lectures, background noise, taunting, and just about anything else, but he's never been good at being on the receiving end of the silent treatment. Everything else indicates life, a spark, but silence is dead. Silence gives up.

Jess stares at the book, glowering, turning pages after an appropriate amount of time passes. He'll have to go back and read this again later, but he needs something to do, and staring gloomily out the window is just too melodramatic.

Read. He still can't get over the idiocy of it. Even the kids in every elementary school he was dumped in had come up with better insults than that, even though none of the childish nicknames ever stuck. Of course, that was probably due to the fact that anyone who mocked Jess' love of books usually ended up with at least one black eye, and sometimes a broken nose, too. Being slugged by a bookworm usually threw the bullies off so much that Jess had an unfair advantage, at least for the first few punches.

Still, most of them never messed with him again. No matter how many schools he went to, within a few weeks his reputation as a loner was firmly established and grudgingly accepted. Respected, even. He beat up the biggest threats, and the rest left him alone.

Liz never cared, either, which was the beauty of the whole plan. No matter how many notes and phone calls went home, she never dealt with them, leaving Jess to deal with his issues at school in peace, and he fell into his own rhythm, doing his work quickly and usually accurately, going back to his books as soon as possible. Even as a good student, he never had to worry about his reputation, because "Jess the Bad-Ass" had already been firmly established, and no one would dare challenge his mind or his fists.

"What were some of those nicknames?" he thinks, mentally compiling a list. Four-eyes, which was, of course, beyond ridiculous, and had earned the bright young lad who had thought it up two black eyes. Fruitcake. Fruitcup. Teacher's Pet. Sir Read-A-Lot. Dumbo, because apparently being academic is equated with being an elephant? Or maybe someone was (unsuccessfully) going for irony there. Big Brains. Nothing too original; still, he should compile a list and give it to TJ. He can brush up on his insults for next time.

Jess turns a page in the book and glances at Luke, who's still staring straight out the window. The jaw has stopped twitching, Jess notes, but Luke still isn't saying anything, and the silence isn't any less threatening. If anything, it's grown, filling the truck until Jess wonders if it looks like a balloon from the outside.

Luke seems to feel Jess' eyes and takes his eyes away from the road to look at Jess for the first time since they got in the truck. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then shakes his head and clenches his jaw again, looking away. The silence grows even more oppressive, unbroken even by movement, let alone sound. Jess feels like he's suffocating, but he's not going to be the first to crack. He's overcome everything that has ever come his way, and he's done on his own—a quiet ride home isn't going to be what breaks him.

They pull up in front of the diner, and Luke gives Jess a look that clearly tells him to not even think about ditching. Jess sighs and pulls down a chair, doing his best to look like a chastised little boy awaiting his punishment, and he's not disappointed.

"Tonight I got into a fight. With my nephew. In a strip club."

Jess grins inwardly. This is better. He can handle this. Let Luke rant, and Jess can tune it out and finally think about something besides the colossal disappointment he seems to be lately.

He listens to Luke with one ear, hearing what he's saying, but mostly relaxing into the comfortable familiarity of the lecture. The silence has been broken; this, he can deal with.

"Doodyhead," he hears Luke say, and thinks that even that's better than "Read," He adds it to the list to give to TJ.

Luke sits down. "But, I mean, if you really hate your mother that much, then you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't walk her down the aisle, and you shouldn't go to her wedding."

"I don't hate my mother," Jess blurts without taking the time to think about what he's saying.

Luke is, apparently, taken back by this revelation. "You don't? Well, then, I don't get it. Why weren't you coming -- because of me? You hate me that much?" It's said as a defense, but Jess can see an undertone of hurt in Luke's eyes, something that says that Jess' opinion of Luke actually matters.

"And suddenly," he thinks, "we're having a heart-to-heart." Oddly, though, he doesn't balk at the idea the way he usually would, surprising himself. Yes, Luke has been acting strangely and spouting off this nonsense about being at peace and all that junk, but something about him really seems to be changing. Even the fact that he seems to really be listening, wanting to hear what Jess has to say, looking at him intently, is different.

Well, if Luke can change, so can Jess, and he'll start by indulging this little chat, sans most, but not quite all, of his usual eye-rolls and smart remarks.

"I don't hate you. I came here because of you."