Story Title: Razor

Chapter Title: We Could Spend A Lifetime Waiting Here

Pairing: Lit

Rating: T (for now); some language

Summary: Future Lit; Rory's trying to get a foot in the door in the journalism world and she's dragging Jess along with her against his will. If past performance is the indicator, he wants to avoid any contact with her; professional or otherwise. Story and Chapter titles taken from the Foo Fighter's song, Razor off In Your Honor.

She checked her watch for the fifth time in the last half hour. The watch face glittered up at her, the diamonds catching the light, but as beautiful as it was the timepiece only served to remind her that she was allowing herself to be bought.

It'd started small. Apologies in conjunction with lingering kisses and hours spent in bed. Books and coffee and donuts delivered to her doorstep. All things she loved as much as she thought she was falling in love with him. As time went on, the offerings became more about a higher price tag and less about her interest in owning the objects. She hoped she wouldn't stick around for the cars and houses, and she admonished herself for accepting trips and jewelry already. These things weren't what she wanted from him.

What she wanted was her boyfriend, but that had always seemed like too much to ask of him. Sure, he promised his devotion and attention, over and over again. She believed, over time, that there were not even any other women. But that didn't make him a faithful boyfriend.

"Rory, how lovely to see you," a woman she barely recognized came up and air-kissed her cheek. She responded in kind, though hesitantly. "Where is Logan this evening?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere. He went off in search of a refill," she lied smoothly. She'd gotten used to covering for him at these things. He'd come in, hopefully more sober than drunk, though by the time he arrived at these events everyone else was usually too tipsy to care, except for her. She never had understood why so many in the literary world took so easily to the drink—it was something Jess had always understood and Logan had taken as a birthright.

"How lovely," the nameless woman then drifted off like they always do, into the crowd to see and be seen. It was the only reason to come to these parties, apparently. She used to think they sounded so glamorous, and that Logan had simply become jaded and oblivious to the opportunities over his lifetime, but hanging out with a group of drunken namedroppers got old after a while—faster if the only person you wanted to see couldn't show up on time. Hell, she'd take fashionably late.

She must have had one too many cocktails while she waited and made the obligatory rounds, because she could feel the heat of impending tears. Her eyes were already stinging. She downed what was left of her drink, placed it on a waiter's tray, and headed off to find a safe place to vent her frustrations and possibly leave a strongly worded text on his phone.

She ducked into the coat check to find her wrap and purse. She slipped her phone out and checked the messages. She had one text, from her mother, asking if she remembered the name of the teacher from her elementary school with the glass eye. With a sigh, she placed the phone back into her purse, message unanswered. She leaned back against the wall, behind the coats, and closed her eyes. She let the tears start to fall and wished that she were anywhere else.

She didn't hear anyone else come in—she would have wiped the tears and mascara streaks away if she had. She probably also wouldn't have been muttering to herself about how she should just leave, and how it would serve him right to show up and have to worry about where she had gone for once.

"You're going?"

She opened her watery eyes to see Jess Mariano standing inches away from her. The look in his eyes wasn't that of pity, but it certainly hinted of concern. She supposed that was okay; they had decided to try to be friends after all. It had been her idea, but with deadlines and trying to ride the Logan Huntzberger roller coaster, she'd not exactly had time for her existing friends, let alone trying to cultivate new ones with ex-boyfriends. Her track record wasn't so good in that department anyhow.

"Um, yeah. Maybe. I'm not sure yet."

"Are you here alone?" he asked, taking a step closer. Was that hope in his eyes? She shoved the thought away. She shouldn't be here alone. And she shouldn't be crying in the coat check about her pathetic love life, either.

"Apparently," she said, unable to mask the hurt and annoyance in her voice.

He took another step closer. She could smell the light application of cologne he'd used—the same one he'd worn so many years ago. It made her remember snippets of other memories from years past. It occurred to her that maybe she shouldn't be here alone with him in her current state—tipsy and upset with her boyfriend. They'd never been able to be very good friends, after all. There were only two things they were good at, and he didn't look like he was in the mood to fight with her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, his tone light but his voice thick.

She gave him a wary look. "As friends?"

He shrugged. "That's what you wanted, right?"

She sighed. "I don't really want to talk about him."

"Okay. So, I read the article."

Her eyes met his. "And?"

He shook his head. "You were entirely too nice. I didn't come off as a jackass at all."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought it was fairly unbiased, considering."

"Considering what?" he asked, his intense gaze fixed through her.

"Jess," she shook her head and somehow lost her balance. She reached out behind her and tried to hold the wall, but his arms were suddenly around her waist, supporting her.

Her head instinctively rested against his shoulder, her cheek turned in toward his chest. He kept his arms around her, not saying a word. She let a few tears fall, and then wiped them away with her fingertips before pulling back.

"I'm sorry. I must have lost count of my drinks before," she looked down at her shoes. Another gift from Logan. Nothing she ever would have been able to afford on her own.

"Drowning your sorrows?" he asked, but didn't move away. She wondered if he anticipated her taking another spill or if he simply couldn't resist. It'd been a really long time since she'd stood this close to him, since she'd felt his hands on her. She hated that she enjoyed the sensation so much.

"I didn't mean to. I've been here a while."

"I know."

"I'm surprised you're here. I thought you were going to start that life of solitude thing."

He shrugged again. "My agent didn't give me much choice."

"It's not like you, to listen to anyone else."

He cocked his head. "It's a necessary evil."

"Better than unnecessary evils, I suppose," she let her eyes flicker to his mouth momentarily, but she wasn't fast enough. He'd caught her. He gave her a look so familiar that she wondered if she were dreaming.

"Are those so bad?" he asked.

She reached out with both hands, sinking her fingers into his thick, black hair as her lips crushed against his. Every kiss with Jess Mariano was always the same for her—the same as the first kiss she'd ever given him. Even when they were together, each kiss had always felt illicit somehow. Feeling his lips against her, and inevitably his tongue parting her lips, made her feel out of control and desired. Those were the two things that she hadn't felt in too long.

They parted, both breathing a bit more labored. She didn't open her eyes, but she imagined he hadn't either. She hoped that he was just as taken off guard by her actions as she was.

"You're not going to apologize and run away, are you?"

She had no choice but to open her eyes now. "I should."

"Damn it, Rory," his hands grasped her arms at the shoulders. She wondered if he wanted to shake her. She couldn't blame him.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's not fair to you."

"Don't make this about me. You don't care what this is to me."

She gripped his elbows. "No, I do care about you, Jess."

"Because you want to be friends?" he asked, his tone laden with sarcasm.

She looked up at the ceiling, tears giving her no warning before they fell this time. "I'm a horrible person. I'm using you of all people to get back at Logan, and he doesn't even care that I'm mad at him," she explained.

"Rory," he touched her cheek gently, as if she might break. "You're not a horrible person."

"Everything is so messed up. I should be celebrating tonight."

He stroked her cheek, having wiped away the tears and now just giving her the kind of comfort that should have been given by someone else. But Logan wasn't here—Jess was. Jess was standing in front of her, making her feel everything that she wanted; she'd wanted them so long.

"How badly do you want to get back at him?" he asked, making her dizzy again.

"Jess," she breathed and looked into his eyes. "I can't ask you to do that. I've disrupted your life enough as it is."

His hand brushed down her neck. "What are friends for?"

She put one hand on his chest. His heart was beating as hard and fast as hers was, despite his cool exterior. "What are you saying?"

"I told you, I don't send Christmas cards," he kissed the corner of her mouth. "And after everything we've put each other through," his nose grazed her cheek, "I don't think we can be friends."

"Oh," was all she could say.

"But I can do this for you, if you want," he kissed her hard, taking her off guard by pressing her back against the back wall. Her mouth opened against his, and he lifted her off the ground. She turned her head to the side and his lips continued on to her neck, not waiting for permission to do more. She gripped his shoulders and gasped.

She was on her feet moments later, and his head was resting on her shoulder. Her breath was heavy in his ear, and she was terrified to speak. She knew she had to tell him that despite how incredible it felt, she couldn't allow this to continue. It had to be a one-time mistake.

"Rory," he prodded.

"Jess, don't make me say it."

"I don't want to make you do anything. I'm not asking you to choose him or me. I'm not asking you for anything."

"So, what, then?" she blinked. She couldn't process any kind of thoughts, not with him still soaking up her air, when all she could breathe was him.

"If I thought you were happy with this guy," he raised an eyebrow, "and if you tell me to fuck off and go back to Philly, I will. But there was always something so… unfinished with us."

"You want to finish things?" she tried to grasp this proposal.

He smirked. "Think of it as tying up loose ends."

"It's a bad idea," she bit her lip, hoping to keep it away from his.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with pain and longing. "We always were. It never stopped us before."

"Jess," she leaned forward and kissed him softly. "This could get so complicated," she began, the logistics of carrying on an affair behind Logan's back while juggling a full work schedule and all the other things that made up her life calculating in her brain.

"No," he shook his head. "That's the best part. You and I, it's so simple, don't you see that?"

She frowned. "I would never say that about us."

His face lightened, if just a little. "But you already did. It's in the blurb they reprinted on the new book jacket."

Her mouth dropped open and her heart dropped in her chest. "It was… us?"

He just nodded. He'd already said so much already.

"I… I couldn't… see," she shook her head, unable to believe that story that she'd loved so much had been about her. "Tragically simple, right?"

"Tell me to go," he urged.

"Jess," she pleaded and closed her eyes. "I…." She needed an answer, but the only one she could come up with was wrong, so very wrong. She could stay in this place forever, and never come up with a better option. Telling him to go would leave her raw, in pain on both sides. Asking him to do this would tether her to two sides of the same coin—an unavailable man that wanted to be with her, and an available man that could never be with her. In that instant, her heart made up her mind.

"Do you have a hotel room for the night?" she opened her eyes and searched his.

His eyes softened at the defeat of her better judgment. She wasn't sure he was getting his way, or if they'd both signed on for a living nightmare. But he took her hand, she grabbed her personal effects, and they hailed a cab, all before she could find out just exactly how late her date would be that night.