A/N: A semi-long chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy! Also, I might get one more up tonight, if possible. I'm kind of on a writing-streak here, induced by having figured out what the f*ck I'm doing with this story, so I hope you all enjoy it. I'm going to try to keep posting like this for the next few days or so, but I'm traveling so I make no promises. Please read and review (seriously! review! feedback is what makes me better at this!) and please favorite it or tell your friends about it if you feel so inclined. Also, follow it. I kind of didn't realize that was as much of a thing as it is, but hey, it seems pretty convenient (I wouldn't know as most of my favorite Literati fics are dead). Also, not many people have mentioned their opinions on my Paris-Rory semi-AU fic (by the way, it would also eventually be Literati and Poyle), so I guess from that I'm going to take that no one's really interested in that right now. Which is cool. Maybe I'll gauge interest again once things get more active, plus I have plenty to do with this one. I just always love writing Paris, to be honest with you guys. Speaking of which, she was supposed to make an appearance in this chapter but didn't, so I will be MORE than making up for that ASAP, I promise. Paris fans should rejoice, there's something earth-shattering around the corner!
I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of its characters or concepts, and I worship ASP and her talent. I spent part of today reading her original script for the Pilot, and my god, is it amazing. Her writing. Even the stage directions and descriptions just...sigh. If I had half that talent I would have a head the size of Saturn. Seriously though, she's amazing. Speaking of which, there's something related to her that I'll be gauging interest on soon, so stay tuned for that. Oh, but anyway, I also found a Gilmore Girls complete playlist on Spotify with (what appears to be) all of the music from the series, so I'm a happy writer with a great soundtrack. You gotta have tunes!
Oh! One last thing. This is probably a long shot but does anyone who read this draw or do fan art or anything like that? I don't know much about it but I've been trying to find an image to use for this story for a while now, and I'm kind of not thrilled about the idea of just using another generic Lit photo for it. If not, no worries, but I figured I'd put it out there that if someone WAS interested in doing something like that, I'd be very open to it and eternally interested/grateful/etc. If not, opinions on which Lit photo to use are also being accepted.
Chapter 109
"Jess! Where's my black bag?"
"What?"
"Black bag!"
"Downstairs in the office," he shouted back up to her from the stairs. He heard her groan. "Hold on, I'll bring it up."
"Hurry! I'm already running late!"
"You are not running late, he said, rolling his eyes as he returned with her briefcase, "You're only running late from your completely anal-retentive, OCD daily schedule, which conveniently includes a ton of cushion to prevent you from ever being actually late."
"Usually I could combat the mocking, but right now you're just being unhelpful," Rory huffed, "Except for the bag. That I needed."
"Was that 'thank you' in crazy?"
"It was 'don't push it' in panicked."
"You need to calm down," he said, walking over to her with a mug of coffee, "Sit. Drink."
"But I don't have…"
"Your interview doesn't start for another two hours, Rory, and the place is twenty minutes away, thirty max. Sit."
She sighed deeply and sunk into the chair, taking the mug and gulping from it greedily. "Ugh, this is awful."
"Decaf."
"Jess!"
"I have to draw a line somewhere, you've had seven this morning."
"I've been up for hours!"
"2 hours to seven cups of coffee still isn't a healthy ratio."
"Jess," she pouted.
"Not the doe eyes," he said sternly, before sighing in exasperation, "Fine, I'll make you another cup. But while I do you will relax, and you're also going to drink some water. Everything will go fine but not if you go into cardiac arrest from overcaffeination beforehead."
"Is that a thing?"
"I don't know. With you, I bet it could be."
"It's just…it's not just a job. It's everything. It's a life."
"Rory, you're beyond overqualified for the position."
"So they probably won't hire me!"
"Is that what I said?"
"It's the truth!"
"The truth is that you're crazy," he corrected, sitting down opposite her. He looked down at the table and grinned. "Nice reading material."
"Shut up."
"Really?"
"It helps me relax."
"It's Hemingway."
"It's simple."
"Hey, he's not simple."
"He's simple and boring and it will lull me into a sleep-like state so I stop panicking."
"You shouldn't be panicking in the first place."
"Have you met me?"
"Yes, but you lose all perspective when you're nervous about something or when something important comes up. Like the fact that you've been preparing nonstop for this ever since you decided it was what you wanted, and the fact that all of your preparation is going to make you the most desired potential employee of the Philadelphia Tribune ever to exist."
"You're biased and sentimental."
"You're anxious and fatalistic."
"Match made in heaven."
"Very Austenian."
"No, we're not."
"You like Austen."
"But we're not Austenian."
"Then what are we?"
"I don't know what you are, but I'm late," Rory stood up, grabbing her bag and a leather portfolio containing her writing samples, as well as an array of samples from her work as editor of the Yale Daily News, "And wrinkled. Fuck. The iron?"
"Left it out just in case."
"I still can't believe you have an iron," she grumbled, unceremoniously kicking off her heels and pulling off her skirt, leaving only a long-sleeved shirt over black tights as she lifted the garment to iron it.
"I am a functioning adult. Plus, when Truncheon first started I needed to be taken seriously."
"And now?"
"I need an excuse to get you to strip in front of me," he smirked, walking over and grazing her lower back teasingly.
"Jess…"
"Is that my shirt?"
"Are we really going to do this now?"
"That's my shirt!"
"It's good luck."
"Since when?"
"Since today, hopefully."
"I can't believe you're wearing my shirt to your interview."
"You can't even tell! It's tucked into the skirt and then once the blazer's over it you don't even notice and really it fits perfectly, it doesn't look…"
"Rory?"
"What?"
"You can wear my shirt. As long as I can help you out of it later."
"Deal," she grinned at him, "In spite of the cheesy line."
"My brain stopped functioning as soon as your skirt came off. Blame human instinct or testosterone or something."
"Rather than calling you a pig?"
"Hey, you readily agreed…"
"I didn't say I was any better."
"Hey," Jess walked over to Rory, who had just struggled back into her shoes and was rapidly walking towards the door. He handed her a paper cup. "Coffee for the road."
"Thank you."
"You're going to be amazing."
"Jess…"
"No, wait you're not. You're already amazing. You're going to wow them with your already-amazingness."
"And you get paid to write things."
"Not that often anymore."
"I see why."
"It'll be great," he said, "And if it's not? Nothing changes. I'm here. Period."
"Thanks, Jess," Rory replied, a smile gently playing at her lips, "Believe it or not that actually calmed me down."
"For…"
"Three point five seconds."
"New record."
"You're an amazing man."
"I thought I was a god."
"Most of them do."
"So…"
"So…I'm waiting on a call."
"But what do you think?"
"I don't want to jinx it."
"So it went well?"
"Hello, not jinxing it!"
"Sorry, sorry."
"We need to un-jinx it."
"No."
"You don't even know what I'm talking about."
"I don't want to."
"So…"
"I made dinner."
"You…"
Rory walked into the kitchen and stared in shock.
"You made pancakes."
"Yup."
"For dinner."
"Yes."
"And bacon."
"So the pancakes wouldn't be lonely."
"And French Toast."
"So the bacon would have options."
"You made breakfast for dinner."
"I thought you'd like it."
"I do."
"There's coffee."
"Those might be the two best words I've heard all night."
"Well, that would've saved me some cooking time. Here," Jess handed her a mug, "Sit. I'll get you a plate."
"Jess, this is…"
"It's nothing fancy, but…"
"You know I wouldn't like anything fancy."
"No lobster?"
"Nope."
"Oysters Rockefeller?"
"Eugh."
"Bow ties?"
"Only if you're naked."
"Keeping that in mind," he grinned, "Hey, do you want to change into something more comfortable?"
"After," she grinned, "I'm starving. I didn't even stop for lunch."
"Crazy woman," he shook his head, passing her a plate piled high with bacon, pancakes, French toast and scrambled eggs.
"Jess, really…this is perfect."
"I'm glad you like it."
"So is this what I'll come home to every night if I get the job?"
"This, or pie."
"Did you wash the windows?"
"And vacuumed?"
"Really?"
"No."
"Damn. So close," she grinned, "This is amazing." Rory stuffed more bacon into her mouth.
"I think you've mentioned that."
"I think instead of having anniversaries, we should do this."
"Celebrate your job interview every year?"
"No, you should cook. Or I should cook. We could alternate."
"Meaning every other year we'd get takeout?"
"Basically."
"Sounds good to me. Oh, I actually did have something else," he said, taking their empty plates and putting them by the sink. After that he walked over to the DVD player and held up a case.
"Picture Perfect!"
"You should've seen the look the guy at the video store gave me. It was like the look I give Taylor every time he mentions one of his committees."
"That's a withering stare."
"And not in the sexy way."
"Speaking of which…before we start the movie…" Rory stood up, and slowly unzipped her skirt.
"Wha…"
It dropped to the floor. "Hey, I promised."
"And you never break your word."
"Integrity is a skill on my resume."
"Probably not applied to stripping there."
"It's a flexible characteristic to have."
"I wholeheartedly concur."
"So the movie…"
"Is a three day rental."
"Smart man."
