A/N- Yes, it's really short. Yes, I'm sorry. No, it's not JJ. It's Lit. I wanted to give them a moment, just a small one. I hope you all enjoy it. As I said yesterday, I promise big JavaJunkie coming and Lit progress too, but for right now I hope you enjoy this. Tomorrow there will definitely be a longer chapter. But just think of it this way. When you get married, do you buy your wedding dress out of a catalog, quickly, so you have it in two weeks and it's cheap? No. Given the choice, you try on so many and don't settle until you're in love. You're willing to work for that perfect moment. Don't we all think that Luke and Lorelai deserve that, after all these years? Please keep reading and reviewing, and thanks for all the great reviews lately, they've been wonderful. You are all wonderful. Welcome new readers, and thanks to the loyal readers I've had from the start. I do not own Gilmore Girls but I wish I owned pie right now.


Chapter 72

Meanwhile, back at the diner, Jess and Rory were getting ready to close up.

"Did you do this part a lot? Back when you lived here?" Rory asked as she went around, shutting off the lights and Jess locked the door.

He shook his head. "Barely ever. I was usually asleep after Luke, and awake after Luke. So the opening/closing thing is new to me."

"Wow, you sound like such a good employee."

"I was employee of the month once, I'll have you know," Jess replied playfully, walking over to her and pouring them each a cup of coffee. They sat at the counter in the darkness.

"Employee of the month until they found the bodies, probably," Rory smirked, gulping some coffee and grabbing one of the two remaining donuts in the case, passing it to Jess before taking the last one for herself. He smiled at her gratefully and she reciprocated, feeling herself blush lightly. If she could end every night like this, she would die with no regrets.

Whenever she sat with Jess like this, at night, sure, her pulse race and she flushed and she felt that deep, low, guttural moan inside her that begged for release. But that wasn't all. He looked at her with reverence and she could see that. Even after all this time, all the things she'd done, all the ways she'd been broken and broken him. He knew every goddamned thing there was to know about her, the ugliest cracks, and he still gazed at her like she was the Mona Lisa and somewhat had told him he could take her home.

Rory didn't think she'd ever understand how he could see her that way. She knew that her having been able to hurt him, after everything he'd been through in his life, meant that she hurt him badly. Really badly. But instead she was still the light to him, in a world that was dark, that he would follow, guide, pursue her warmth. He needed to be near her, close to her, always closer.

One of Jess' favorite things about Rory was the fact that she would stare at him so unabashedly, wrapped up in her own thoughts. Other people would self-consciously look away or feel awkward, but she would just stare into the depths of his eyes, searching for answers that she could pick and choose at her free will. The answers in his eyes were much easier to find than hers sometimes. He knew how unreadable she was to most people. But even he struggled with hers. It took reflection, careful consideration, to come to any sort of definitive conclusion about what she was probably thinking or wanted or didn't want. And he loved thinking about it. But what he liked best about night's like this was the way that the tiny slivers of light fell on the paleness of her arm or the way that she exhaled so lightly that it was almost a prayer. There was such a dignity and grace about her when she was relaxed, calm, satisfied. He often found himself drowning in wondering what it would be like if she were satiated, completely undone, the ultimate tranquility. Such thoughts distracted him to no end on a regular basis, but they just mused past him on nights like this, like beautiful dreams, whispering in his ear before floating off again. And the way she looked, spoke, moved all told of what could be, what might be, little hints of what his imagination would yield in reality. It wasn't just about the physical, though he couldn't deny that those pulses were overpowering. But Rory undone was like seeing a beautiful heroine let her hair down. Rory was always beautiful but often tightly wound, and what most people usually saw was the enthusiastic but compulsive and perfectionist aspects. Only a chosen few, people most carefully selected and trusted intimately, could see her in a state of such vulnerability.

"Are you just gonna sit there staring at me? Because if so, I'm gonna eat your donut," Rory smiled good-naturedly across from him. He smirked, pushing it towards her.

"Fair trade," he answered, his eyes never leaving hers.