A/N: Completely self indulgent. Takes place Christmas-time 2010. Everything from the OG series happened, although in this Rory and Jess began communicating some time after the infamous Truncheon kiss and rekindled their friendship through season 7 (although technically, that could have happened even if it wasn't shown on screen).
Also, there seemed to have been some formatting issue the first time I uploaded this, which cut off a big chunk at the end even though it looked fine before I published this. Hopefully it'll go better the second time around, and sorry that it happened in the first place.
Rory knows it's going to snow.
She doesn't have the weird superpower her mother has, being able to smell it before it comes. But she does have the next best thing- the weather channel.
"Mom, I'd rather get to your house now," she says into the phone, gathering her belongings. "I'll watch the house for you and Luke, make sure no crazy snow monsters come in."
"Are you sure? I feel bad not being there while you're there," Lorelai replies, worry evident in her voice.
"It's fine. Draw out the rest of your vacation, and don't come home until you're absolutely sure the roads will be safe."
"How come you get to drive and I can't?"
"Because I'm supposed to be leaving today and you aren't. It's not supposed to snow until later tonight. I'll be fine."
"If you're sure…"
"I am," Rory assures her, trying to slip her coat on with one hand. "I promise. Go have fun with Luke. I'm sure he's dying to entertain you."
"I'll make sure I tell him you think so," Lorelai says. "Love you."
"Love you, too," Rory replies and hangs up the phone. She lets out a sigh, grabs her bag, and leaves her apartment for the parking garage.
Once she's in her car, she checks her phone one more time, and see's she's got a text.
Jess: Leaving soon. Should I grab anything on my way up?
Rory: Maybe some cocoa? I don't know if Mom stocked up on any before she left, so better safe than sorry.
Jess: Got it. You on your way?
Rory: Just about to leave. I'll probably still be there before you, so I'll start dinner or something.
Jess: A regular Suzy Homemaker.
Rory bites her lip, shutting off her phone. This… thing, between her and Jess, was fun at first. A casual thing, no strings attached. She should have learned from past experiences, though, that casual doesn't work for her- the more time goes on, the more she wants what she can't have. So she's made her decision, hard as it is.
She has to end it.
Jess had been hesitant at the beginning.
Maybe it was like some sort of preservation tactic. Back when it started, he had convinced himself nothing would happen- more importantly, he convinced himself he was fine with it. When she texted him two and a half years ago, saying that she was in Philly and asking if he wanted to get a drink, he decided that yes, he could do that. After all, they had been keeping up decent communication once the initial sting of that terrible open house had faded. They were friends. Friends went out for drinks all the time.
Though, friends typically didn't wake up in bed together the next morning.
He had expected a freak out from her that morning, but it never came. He was probably more freaked than her. He couldn't handle having to lose her again- and with the added layer of fuck up that sleeping together put onto their relationship, he had been genuinely worried that he was going to lose her for the last time.
She stayed though. She had started the conversation that ended in their… arrangement? Whatever it is, it is.
Now, Jess turns the key in the ignition, waiting for the car to heat up before he pulls out of his parking space. Runs his hand over his face a few times, takes a deep breath. She probably doesn't know how much it means to him, and he'd like to keep it that way, but any connection he has to Rory is worth something at least. It might never be enough, but at least it's something.
Rory pulls into the driveway of her mom's house and turns the key to shut the car off. Out her windshield, she can see that the sky has clouded over, but there's no snow yet.
She gets out and pulls her bag from the backseat, walking up to the porch and unlocking the front door. The house is dark and cold, no one home to complain about the lack of light or heat. She switches on the hall light and goes to find the thermostat.
There is some pasta in the cabinet, and some plain red tomato sauce, so she gets out some pots and starts to boil some water to make dinner. Contrary to popular belief, Rory Gilmore can cook, even just for survival reasons.
She had cooked for Jess, one night two years ago when they couldn't decide on something to order for takeout. She thinks that might have been the night when everything shifted, the night when things stopped being so casual for her.
She looks out the window at the darkening sky, because a watched pot never boils, and tries to ignore the heavy feeling in her chest.
The sky is almost black when the"Welcome to Stars Hollow!"sign greets him. Almost a decade ago, he was itching to leave at the first chance. He felt crowded and claustrophobic, seemingly always being watched at the point in his life where he was most insecure. And now here he was, savoring the few days he had here. Although, it was less about the town, and more about who was in it.
He passes the dark diner, parks a few hundred feet away from it to head into Doose's.
She hears his beat-up car pull into her driveway, and her heart speeds up in excitement before practically falling out of her chest as she remembers that this will probably be their last week together as they are now. She's decided she's going to tell him she wants out after New Years, so she doesn't ruin everyone's holiday break.
It shouldn't be this big of an issue. They aren't together together. But it still hurts to think about. It hurts even more to think about continuing on like this when she's practically in love with him at this point. She's scared of having him, scared of not having him. She's just scared.
But she opens the door with her best fake smile and lets him put his duffel bag on the floor of her childhood room. She lets him set the table while she finished up dinner, lets him kiss her before they sit down.
She's never felt more sick in her life.
They're walking down the street, snow finally starting to fall, bundled in coats and scarves. He looks at her while she stares straight ahead, admires the flush of her cheeks and nose that contrasts her pale skin, and the way her mouth quirks into a slight smile.
When they get back to her mother's house, they ignore the small pile of dishes in the sink and head for the couch to watch whatever Christmas movie is on.
"When are Luke and Lorelai coming back?" he asks, his arm around her shoulders.
"They're supposed to start driving back early Christmas Eve morning. Much to Mom's dismay."
Jess nods and focuses on the movie, absent-mindedly playing with her hair. He feels a strange mix of peace and conflict- he's never felt more content, but he always feels like they're on borrowed time when he's with her. Maybe because he knows, deep down, they probably are.
He had told her about his friends in Philly over dinner, told her of Chris and Matt and Isabel and Bonnie. He didn't expand on any of them, past the generic "They're okay," suddenly shutting down. She didn't press. He's glad. And she changed the topic before the lull of silence got awkward.
The topic of friends had seemed like a good one when he brought it up, but halfway through he had realized that that meant she would have likely gone into what her friends were doing. And in a sick, horribly selfish way, he doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to know who she sees when she's not with him- after all, they aren't in a relationship or anything. They're both free to date whoever they want. He can deal with that when it's just in theory, but the thought of solidifying it just hurts too much.
Rory wonders if Jess has seen anyone since they started this two years ago. She has, but only one person, and it ended quickly. The third date had been a disaster, and she never went out with him again.
She won't ask Jess that, though. The whole point of this… fling? Is it even appropriate to call it that? The whole point of the arrangement was to have each other when they were together, but to be free to see other people when they were apart. She doesn't want to sound judgmental if he has seen anyone, or to sound pathetic that she can't date anyone else because of him, so she doesn't broach the topic.
"Here," he says, handing her a mug of hot chocolate, settling down on the couch next to her with a mug of his own.
"My hero," she gushes over dramatically, putting on a mask of silliness to cover up her previous mood.
He wakes up in an awkward position on the couch- half slumped against the armrest, with Rory tucked into his side. The early morning sunlight filters through the curtain edges, casting a faint glow over the living room.
His arm feels somewhat stiff from being pressed between Rory and the couch all night, so he tries to gingerly move it without waking her up but fails. Her eyelids flutter open, and she gazes up at him.
His heart constricts.
"Mornin'," she grumbles, rubbing her eyes.
"Morning," he replies, shifting a little now that she's awake. "Coffee?"
"Duh," she says, sitting up a little more, her eyes focusing out the window. "Huh. It was supposed to snow last night."
"Maybe it'll snow later. Come on, I'll make pancakes."
When she had realized that maybe traveling all the time wasn't for her, he was the first one she told.
He hadn't coddled her; instead, he gave his honest opinion- told her that if she didn't want to do it, she shouldn't. For some reason, she hadn't expected that, but she probably should have.
Jess had never put her on a pedestal- he had always respected her, and she likes to think at one point in their lives he had even admired her the way she admires him- but he's always very real with her. Strangely, as long as she doesn't think about too much so that it doesn't become weird in her mind, it's almost like having a male version of her mom, or maybe more like a less cheery version of Lane, or a far less aggressive version of Paris.
She looks over at him. Maybe it's best not to draw parallels because Jess isn't a different version of anyone else; he's just Jess, and trying to draw parallels to other people wouldn't do him justice. He's a companion, a constant in her life- a best friend, really.
One night, he had asked him about his life before Stars Hollow, his childhood in New York with Liz. He had gotten defensive at first, but decided to tell her one of the happier stories he had about a wacky neighbor he had when he was seven.
He doesn't tell those kinds of things to anyone. He doesn't tell people good stories from his childhood, and he sure as hell doesn't tell people the countless bad stories from his childhood, either.
But when she tries to comfort him about a small issue with a printing press that could possibly hinder their income at Truncheon, stroking his arm, offering possible solutions and words of comfort, he thinks that maybe, a little further down the line, he might tell her more. He's never tested what it would feel like to take all the weight off his shoulders, but he thinks it might not be so bad if it's Rory helping him carry it.
"I like riding in your car," she says, looking out the window.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the road, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. They're in some town about twenty minutes away from Stars Hollow, driving just to drive.
"Yeah. The seats are nice. Plus, you have good CDs."
Jess lets out a bark of laughter. "I think that's the first and only time these car seats will ever be referred to as 'nice'."
"They are!" she defends, laughing. "They're worn in, but that makes them comfortable."
He doesn't say anything to that, just nods. She turns up the radio a bit, bopping her head along to the song.
Something lands on the windshield, then another, then another. He turns to her to watch her face light up.
"There's your snow," he says. "Let's head home before it gets too heavy."
She remembers one day, maybe a year ago, when he had gotten sick right before she came and tried to cancel their plans. She didn't let him, and came to his apartment and laid with him, made soup for the both of them, read on the opposite end of the couch with him, for the entire weekend. She wonders if that weekend meant as much to him as it did to her. If he over-analyzes every single thing that happens between them like she does. Probably not.
"I can practically hear the wheels turning in there," Jess says, and she snaps her head up at him. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just worried that they won't be able to make it home in time tomorrow, with the snow and all," she lies. His face makes her think he doesn't believe that she's fine, so she kisses him to try and prove that she is. "Do you think it's too snowy out to order food in?"
Jess glances out the window. "Probably. No biggie, though. We've got leftover pasta in the fridge, and enough junk food to feed an army," he says, then pauses. "So, with you added into the mix, we should be able to just scrape by."
She lightly shoves him in the shoulder.
After dinner, he decides that they should probably tackle the growing pile of dishes. He gets three plates in before she practically attacks him with a kiss.
I don't want to be in love with him, she thinks as she watches him sleep, his chest rising and falling under her arm evenly. It's a useless thought, though. It doesn't change the fact that she is.
He wakes in the middle of the night, his throat dry, so he untangles himself from her to get a glass of water, adjusting his shirt that had twisted in his sleep. They had put on clothes before they fell asleep, their body heat not enough to battle the bone-chilling cold that seems to settle over the house once the sun goes down.
When he comes back, he almost can't look at her. It feels wrong. Which is weird, because technically, he's allowed to look at her while she sleeps when they meet like this. But he definitely shouldn't be feeling what he's feeling while doing so.
He figures that's what happens when you can't shake the whole "being in love" part.
When she blinks awake on Christmas Eve, it's early, but not as early as they woke the morning before. Jess's eyes are closed, but she knows he's not asleep. He kisses him to let her know he's awake.
"Hi," he says, smiling at her. Her heart stops, and she feels giddy. Until she's yanked back to reality.
"Hey," she says back, putting on a fake smile. He reaches out to caress her cheek.
"Can't fool me," he says, brushing her hair behind her ear. "What's wrong?"
Her face crumbles and she bursts into tears almost instantly. He sits up, reaching out to hug her, to comfort her, but she twists away from him. She looks up at him through her blurry eyes and can make out the hurt expression on his face as she gets up out of the bed and hurries out the door of her bedroom.
He's got to admit, he feels a little ridiculous chasing Rory. Been there, done that. It didn't end too well then.
She turns to him in the living room, when she probably realizes that trying to run away from him inside a house is basically pointless.
"God, Rory, what's wrong?" he asks, concern evident in his voice. It only makes her sob harder.
"I think we should end this."
His heart stops.
No, no, no, no! She screams at herself inside her head, over and over. It wasn't supposed to happen now, certainly not in this way, they were supposed to have a few more days and then the split would be easy. A clean break, so to speak. Then, he'd go back to Philly, she'd wallow in New York for a few days, and life would go on.
This could not be any more different than what she had in mind.
"What?" he manages out, and she thinks his voice sounds very small.
"I don't think we should do… this, anymore," she gestures vaguely with her hand.
His gaze hardens and his shoulders tense up. "Why?" he demands.
"I… what?"
"I want to know why," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, are you dating someone now?"
She narrows her eyes. "No, I'm not dating someone. It shouldn't matter, anyway. We're not together."
He takes a moment to process. "So if you're not dating someone, why do you want to end this?"
"I just do, okay? It's none of your business, anyway."
"It kind of is my business, Rory, especially since you're telling me this with absolutely no warning."
"It's not fair!" she spits, tugging at her shirt hem. "It's not fair to me, 'cause I can't move on with anyone else when all I think about is you, and wonder if you feel the same way when really I know you don't, and it's not fair to you because this isn't what you signed up for, it was supposed to be casual."
He blinks at her. "You're ending this, because you have feelings for me," he says, more like a statement than a question.
"Yes," she replies nervously.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. "And you never thought to just ask me what my feelings were towards you?"
"Well-"
"Because, you know, if you had bothered to just ask, you wouldn't have to wonder if I was still in love with you, because you'd fucking know," he says. His voice cracks halfway through the sentence, and it's the only thing that gives away that he isn't as calm as he seemingly looks. His voice is laced with hurt and something that almost sounds like desperation.
"What?" she squeaks.
He takes a step towards her. "Rory, you have to- I mean, you can't possibly not know-" he cuts himself off, and Rory realizes he looks scared.
She feels pretty scared too. "What now?" she asks, feeling awkward and not quite knowing what to do with her arms.
He takes a big breath in. "C'mere," is all he says, and seconds later she's wrapped in his arms. Her breathing is beginning to go back to normal. She clutches his back, burying her face into his neck.
"When are Luke and Lorelai supposed to be home?" he asks her while he looks out at the snowy backyard from the back porch.
"Within the hour, if they survive the highway," she replies, squeezing his hand through both of their layers of gloves.
"They should be fine. They started clearing the roads already," he assures her, squeezing back. "It didn't snow all that much anyway, I'm sure they'll make it home before sundown."
"We'll have to tell them," she says, referring to their relationship. Their actual relationship, he thinks to himself, in every sense of the word.
"Honestly, I think they already have an inkling," he chuckles, thinking back to the summertime when even Luke of all people started giving him weird looks when the topic of Rory came up between them. "You know your mom will have aplethoraof jokes and comments."
"Whatever. Don't care," she mumbles, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head into his coat.
He smiles at her and strokes the strands of hair that stick out from her hat. He can't really find it in himself to care, either, and instead watched the steady fall of snowflakes as he listened to Rory's steady breathing, warming him from the inside out.
A/N: As I said, completely self indulgent. And pretty cheesy. What can I say, it's the holiday season! And again, sorry for the stupid formatting thing if you read this the first time around. Gotta love FF.N 3
Reviews are welcomed (and encouraged!) :)