Declaimer: I own nothing. The quotes you recognize are from episode 5.03. "Written in the Stars"

AN: I wasn't planning to update so soon but here it is.

Some of you may be a little irritated by the slow progress and the lack of Rory-Finn action but everything will reveal in future. And the "real" confrontation between Rory and Finn will be in next chapter, I promise.

Please review,

Edith

-

2nd Stage – Irritation

Anyone know how's the pipe smell like.

Well I know. I'd smelled it few times when my grandpa had smoked it and even I'd liked the smell a little.

But not for twenty-four hours straight!

Okay, I realized that Paris was hurt, that she was missing Asher and all, but could she put that thing away for at least one hour and open some windows.

Of course I won't tell her that. First of all, I was not some devil who didn't understand other's pain. Secondly, I didn't want to get another lecture from her.

So I was sitting in my living room and "enjoying" the wonderful smell of pipe.

Well, the pipe's smell wasn't the only thing that distracted my from my book.

One thing was pipe, other Paris running around the room organizing everything for the wake, and…

Yeah, the Marriage Of The Century!

I thought that I really had beaten the Princess Dina and Prince Charles. Of course mine wedding hadn't been that spectacular and well-known.

Thank God!

I could imagine it. My grandparents having hearts attacks because they'd found out that their only granddaughter had eloped in Vegas with a guy she hadn't known, while been drunk.

Really nice imagine!

Could make your day!

I wanted to scream, groaned or punched something but I couldn't because of Paris. She would get suspicious and I really didn't need that. What a lecture I would get from her.

Oh, she just rushed into the room with another pile of books and the smell of pipe behind her. How on earth she'd got all that books? She put them on the table and rushed out.

I tried to go back to my book but it wasn't working. I couldn't concentrate. The events of the previous day was flushing in my mind like in the kaleidoscope.

So I'd met him again.

First time since the night in Vegas.

I had been looking for him half of the summer and here he was.

In Yale. Probably not further than a mile from me.

Now I could approached him anytime and do everything right. Simple.

Somehow it didn't seem so simple in realization.

Okay, I keow that I'd decided to do it after a wake, but it was still bugging me. The voice was telling: "Do it, Do it! Because it may turned for worse!"

Well there wasn't many things worse. Except maybe my grandparents finding out.

Back to the matter in hand.

What about his reaction or rather lack of it!

I'd really tried to make some sense out of it, explain it somehow but any of the options seemed very convincing to me.

Okay maybe he hadn't recognized my. But Marty had said my name rather loud so even he must have heard it! And it's not very popular name. He must have got some clue even if he hadn't remember my much – he saw my face, heard my name.

For God sake, he had my name tattooed on him arm!

Thank God I hadn't got one! That must have been the only time that particular night that the reasonable part of my mind had been conscious.

But he hadn't done anything that could show he'd recognized me. Anything – the expression on his face, some realization in the eyes. I would even be glad if he'd smirked at me.

Or maybe not.

I wouldn't be sure if he smirked at me because I was that girl, meaning his wife, or because I was any girl for that matter. Judging by the way he had been acting and the whole voice mail and the girls who had picked his phone it would be the second option.

ARG!

Bang of the door. Paris rushed in again.

"I need more candles."

Oh a distraction. Good thing.

"Check my trunk. I think my mom put some in there," I watched as she stacked Asher's books into a pile on our coffee table. Paris in all the black glory.

"That's a lot of books you got there," I pointed out.

"The very fact that the bookstore had any in stock shows the sad nature of American reading habits," sarcasm even in grief.

Okay, I should not be such a cruel person. My friend was having a hard time and I needed to be there for her, "Do you need some help with those?" I asked.

"I got this, but here -- you can put these up," and I was in temporary possession of hundreds of posters with a huge face of Asher Fleming on them.

"You made flyers?"

"Anyone who wants to pay tribute to this great man deserves the opportunity."

Only Paris could thing that. But hey! She's my friend and I needed to help her. Even by doing things I thought were nuts.

"I'm on it."

I got up and exited the room. At least I won't think about my little problem.

Yeah, right!

-

I was looking for some space in the notice board near my dorm when I heard that Colin from yesterday.

"Okay, Finn, last building. Please say it looks familiar," he said as the three of them, yes the blond one and Finn, passed me.

"Ahh, uh" Finn was making a weird noises while looking around the hall.

"Apparently it doesn't look familiar," the blond sounded irritated.

My beloved husband was still looking for something in fervor. And guess what! He still didn't even spot me and I was standing in his way.

"No, hold on. Hold on. Yes. Here. This is where she lives." I heard him and he disappeared around the corner. His friends followed him.

"Excuse me. Can I help you?" I was a little curious what was going on.

The only one that heard my question was the blond one, "No thanks," he replied not even looking at me.

Oh joy, Mr. Jerk was back.

"Hey!" he didn't react so I followed them.

They were standing in front of my dorm's door and Finn was writing something on the board. Maybe something like that: "Hey! It's your husband – we need to talk about the divorce, call me!"

Horrible thought. I could imagine the reaction of everyone – the prim and proper Lorelai Leigh Gilmore gone wild. And with such results.

Okay stop, concentrate Gilmore!

I started to listen to them.

"Don't put your number. Don't put your number!" Nice that they have the self-preservation instinct.

"I'm not putting my number, I'm putting your number!" Finn replied indicated Logan.

Confused was a light word to describe my mind state.

"That's my room," I stated still having no idea what was going on.

I got their attention, they all turned to me.

"Okay, put my number," the smirk of Mr. Blond Jerk won the tournament of the most annoying smirk on earth and set the new record in "how much time it will get to smirk and then piss off Rory".

Put into that blond head that not every girl likes to by ogle! Again, that was in my mind only. How was that I lose all my "loud" wits in front on the dear husband of mine.

"Are you sure this is your room?" Oh my God! He spoke to my!

"I'm sure!" It's not that I forget here I live or who I'd married!

Had someone invited a machine which transfer your thoughts into words when your mind decided to stop suddenly. I would really like something like that now.

"I could have sworn it was her room," he looked really disappointed.

It's really nice thing – talking about other girls with your husband who didn't even realized he was one.

"What's her name? Maybe I know her?" Rory Gilmore the helpful one even at the edge of the disaster.

Maybe it was me. You'd had a suddenly enlightenment the previous night about what happened in Vegas, but my face was blocked out of your mind. You'd had a vision of my door instead.

"Uh, it was short!"

Or maybe your vision was complete blocked by your male parts doing all the thinking.

I started to be really irritated, "I can understand your disappointment, losing a potential soul mate like that," nice to know I was not the only one forgotten, "but that is my room."

You could loose much more if you continue that act!

I thought that my pissed face told them something, although husband dear didn't react at all. He was looking around again. Apparently I wasn't so much of interest to him.

Mr. Blond Jerk turned out to be a reasonable one of the trio and he sensed the storm that was coming judging by my expression. And probably by the dark cloud that was gathering above my head.

"I'm sorry about the mix-up. My friend here means no harm. He just has to learn that Guinness and blondes - they don't mix." He had to learn many other things too – like for example remember who he'd married.

"Redheads!" Okay, I didn't care that I would spend the rest of my live in jail. I would kill him… if he didn't run to the stairs before I get the chance.

Damn!

Of course I was still frozen on the spot so I didn't do anything to stop him.

The blond one reminded. And he even had the guts to talk.

"We sincerely apologize, and we will now leave you to finish putting up your poster of..." he looked down at the posters which I was holding, "this really old guy."

"Professor Asher Fleming" I informed him despite my murderous mood.

"What, they were out of Orlando Bloom?" That was supposed to be funny?

"Professor Fleming died last week!" I said a little irritated. "We're throwing him a wake," I added.

"Okay, so were you and Fleming…"

What the hell he was suggesting. Uww!

"No!"

"Sorry," he tried to look apologetic but it didn't work on my. What an asshole! "Just you're putting a poster of him up in your hallway. You can see where I get the impression he's a little bit more than a teacher."

Oh, what a smart deduction.

At least my mind was still sarcastic.

"Well, he was more than a teacher. He was a great writer and an inspiration in many other things that you couldn't possibly understand," I told him trying hard to calm down. I really needed to think but he wasn't letting me.

He shot me a surprise look, "You don't like me. You don't know me, but you don't like me."

Well that's pretty obvious. You acted like a jerk and one of your friends was a bastard who hadn't recognized me!

But of course my good manners or rather the rest of them, prevented me from telling him that.

"I know you," I replied dryly.

"You do?"

Great, I had the pleasure to meet the great forgetful-trio. Their motto: "We meet them – we forget them." There's also an option - you could change the word meet to marry!

"We met yesterday. With Marty." I reminded him.

"Marty?" he looked confused.

On my ten degree scale of irritation I was heading toward 8, "Marty - my friend Marty. He bartended for you."

He got it, "Yes, Marty. I'm sorry. It slipped my mind. Of course I met you yesterday with Marty. Nice to see you again...?"

"Rory!" I should tattoo it on my forehead so maybe I won't be that forgettable. Preferably with the "I Love Lucy" heart so Mr. Husband would get the clue!

"Nice to see you again, Rory. You're looking well. Angry works for you." Oh, he was trying to be charming.

Wrong way mister.

"I'm not angry, I'm just irritated."

"By me?"

No by the British Queen!

"Yes!"

"Because I forgot for a moment who you were?"

No, because you acted like a snobbish jerk. I put it in nicer words – not even knowing why to bother being nice to him.

"No, because you speak to people as if they're below you."

"People?" his question was followed by a yell from upstairs, "Logan I think we've found it." That was Colin.

Oh, so Mr. Blond Jerk had a name.

He turned to me again, "I am really sorry about the whole misunderstanding, I am really sorry that we cannot finished this very interesting conversation" he again tried to be charming but I glared at him, "Tell Marty I said hi, and I promise to remember you instantly next time."

I narrowed my eyes and he only smirked, "By Rory!" and he disappeared upstairs.

AGR!!!

Stupid jerks! All three of them! I stuck my tongue after him.

Well Gilmore, that was really mature.

-

-

I'd finished putting the posters a little shaken. I'd avoided the corridor the trio had gone.

Then there was a wake. Now I was back in my room staring blankly out of the window.

The wake had ended a little ago. It hadn't even be that bad. At least Paris hadn't noticed anything – nor the keg, neither the pot. My grandma had done the good part in distracting her, unwarily mind you. And at least the people had a nice party.

I'd been distracted the whole evening by the morning meeting. And Marty's question about the boyfriend hadn't helped much.

Did I had a boyfriend?

No Marty, I don't have a boyfriend but rather a complicated love situation. How would that answer satisfy him.

What is a complicated love situation?

Sleeping with your ex-married-boyfriend and having a husband who don't know you. I would say that it qualified for that phrase.

I was irritated at myself for not reacting again. That was the second time we'd met and I hadn't done anything to solve my problems. I could only stand there, watch him, and think about what a jerk he was.

Great!

Fantastic way to sort out problems – think about them only!

But that was a thing – I was somehow frozen by him. And hadn't get the clue why.

I was irritated with him also. What the hell he thought! He had to remember my somehow.

Yesterday evening I tried to call him but I'd got the voice mail again. I'd left three massages. Today after the meeting, I'd tried again. Nobody had answered. Somehow speaking to him by phone sounded way better but I couldn't reach him that way.

I didn't have a fucking idea what he had been thinking!

But thanks to him I had another sleepless night!

Okay, declaration – next time I would see him I would deal with him in a proper way.

-

-

After only two hour of sleep I was at the cafeteria eating my breakfast.

Well not exactly, I was just playing with my food. I wasn't in the best mood to eat.

To all my worries Dean had called last night. It had been a little after midnight. I hadn't spoken with him long. I'd told him that I'd needed to sleep because of morning classes the next day.

The truth was I couldn't talk with him then. I'd been exhausted because of events of the last two days. I'd told him that I would call him.

The part of my wanted to call him, to talk with him – someone so well-known and familiar.

I needed to solve everything here first. But that part wasn't going well.

I actually missed Dean, the little bubble of security he always created around me.

I would do everything to be back in high school at that moment…

"He was fantastic… or I should say bloody fantastic?" I heard a girl's voice or rather a squeal.

I turned my head and spotted that two girls had sat down at my table. One blonde and one redhead. They were giggling. How could someone be so cheerful in the morning. I overheard their conversation unintentional.

"God his accent is like, so great. Like James Bond!"

"James Bond is not Australian! And I think Finn is, like so, so much better than any Bond," at that name I started to listen carefully, "and I bet his skills are on the same level with Bond or even better," the blonde said suggestively, "Do you think he can introduce my to Logan?"

Okay, that was enough!

How many guys on this campus had an accent, a name Finn and a friend Logan?

There was big red ten on my irritation scale.

All I could see was red.

It seemed like I was a bull and what the girl said was like a red sheet in front of me. Of course, I didn't react like the bull would, although the option of Finn being crushed by bull looked better than me spending a life in jail because of the murder.

I reacted in the only way that I could think about in that moment.

I flipped open my phone a dialed a familiar number, "Dean, hi, it's Rory…"

Not the best thing as it turned out later.

-

AN: Please, don't kill me because of Dean. I don't like him much but he just fits into the story.

About cutting the conversation with Logan – there was no point in putting it all in that story. Rory and Logan won't be in relationship although Logan will have a huge part in the story.

Thanks to: xanth75, XxCrazy4CassidyCasablancasxX, lmcaselman, just hidden, just all me fred, Coffee91, Hopes2High, Curley-Q, astragail, Shinyobjectslover, fliccolo, mrmp, Isababel.

And a little hint about the next chapter – it will be way longer and there would be some parts of the episode 5.07 "You Jump, I Jump, Jack"

Review, pretty please;)

Edith