Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls show and characters, not mine.

Jess' words to Rory right before she goes into the Conference Hall - totally corrupted from Smash (Derek to Karen), so not mine in any way.

Sherwood Anderson's 'Winesburg, Ohio', thoroughly and unfortunately - not mine.

Idea of Jess enjoying 'Winesburg, Ohio' - not mine, either - saw it in one of Green Eve's works ('Shivery' it is, not mine, though highly recommended).

A/N: Thank you LitLove, for inspiring this and thank you, my GENEROUS, PATIENT and INCREDIBLY SUPPORTIVE beta - Ara May - ladies, you ROCK:):):)

~ Part I ~

'In the bed the writer had a dream that was not a dream. As he grew somewhat sleepy but was still conscious, figures began to appear before his eyes.'

She was drawing abstract eights over his pectorals while he was absentmindedly raking a hand through her hair, his eyes fixed on the book in his right hand as he read on aloud.

'... in the beginning when the world was young there were a great many thoughts but no such thing as a truth. Man made the truths himself and each truth was a composite of a great many vague thoughts.'

'Jess?'

'All about in the world were the truths and they were all...'

'Jess.'

He looked away from the book and down at her, letting the strand of hair he had been playing with fall free over her bare shoulder before picking it up between his fingers again.

Rory propped her chin up on his chest.

'What are we doing?' she asked, her eyes unsettling blue.

He studied her face, wrapping another strand round his point finger loosely before letting it free.

'We're lying in your bed,' he answered simply.

She pressed her lips together and let a breath out through her nose. Her eyes started to search.

Sometimes she had the strangest habit of looking for answers to her questions into his outlines. Her eyes would wander his features while he was reading (sleeping, writing). She sought in the dip of his neck and down his chest bone, abs, slightly prominent hipbone, long fingers holding the book, wrist, up wiry forearm, over right toned shoulder before her eyes came back to his face to find him smiling. Not smirking. Smiling. So, he had one of these, too. She watched him, her lips slightly parted, yet not producing a sound.

'You think too much,' he breathed out in her ear as he scooped her up, positioning her fully on top of him.

He leaned his chin on top of her head and read on.

'The old man had listed hundreds of the...' he continued, but she cut in again.

'Jess...' she mumbled against his shoulder.

'Mm.'

'Have you ever felt so happy you thought you would cry?'

'Honestly?' he smirked, despite the effort to keep a straight face, and drew his head back to look at her. She propped her chin up on his clavicle, so that she could see him. He blinked twice.

'Never,' he answered seriously.

She relaxed and pressed her cheek back against his pectoral.

'Good.'

Jess observed her for a second. She seemed genuinely relieved with this answer. Constantly alert, she kept watch that none of this went in too deep, too emotional, too serious, too good, too anything.

Rory Gilmore feared happiness, he had realized. She was so used to living this calculated uptight life she had built up for herself, that being happy (which was non-calculable, thus unprovable and consequently undesired) alarmed her.

She wasn't prepared for this. But neither was he, damn it. Sometimes she was so on and off, that he thought he was simply wasting his time. But then, late at night, after he finished typing some midnight inspiration on his laptop, he would lie next to her, ready to get some sleep, and she would snuggle close, so close to the point of full body contact, and lock both arms tight round his bicep, in a slightly childish manner that implied profound need. And those times would always make him come back after one of their fights, when she got bossy and he got proud, and they were both yelling and claiming territory and promising all of this was over.

'And then the people came along,' Jess read on.

'Each as he appeared snatched up one of the truths and some who were quite strong snatched up a dozen of them. It was the truths that made the people grotesques. The old man had quite an elaborate theory concerning the matter.'

Rory closed her eyes and relaxed against his chest, lost in the steady timbre of his voice and the calm rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear.

The simplicity he found in their situation gave her some comfort, eased some of her guard down. She had asked him once, what they were. And he had said that they were two people spending time together. This answer had satisfied her, somehow. Tamed her worried thoughts.

'No need to label it', Jess' trademark smirk and the delicious feeling of him being around, near, inside her, made it easier to suppress the fear that she was rapidly losing herself into this. Whatever it was.

He made love the same way that he wrote - by instinct. And the experience was just like that - real, overwhelming, genuinely different from anything she'd been through. And then there was that thing - pillow talk. Reading. Watching a movie. Sometimes just staring at the wall in silence. Just... being. It wasn't that she hadn't had pillow talk before. She had. With Tris, it was all friendly and natural, and they did talk, of course. Yet, with Jess, this couldn't be classified as simply sex. With him, nothing was simple.

It rose her alarm how comfortable he felt around her apartment. He would light a smoke in the middle of her living room and rest back into her beige leather armchair in only his boxers, driving her to the edge of reason. He would mock her lack of social skills because of living alone for too long. She would hit him in the chest. Hard. Not with so much venom, but because he was right. And then she would push him out onto the balcony to finish his smoke, make a face as he laughed out loud, letting his laughter roll down her shoulders. She would toss him a blanket and ignore his further comments on how he would drive Literati to bankrupt once he got severe pneumonia and sent her the hospital charges. Dwarfs in Snow White were just a bunch of lonely fellas who had been on their own for a long, really long time. Seven years, in her case.

And then he would do that, he would bring tea and place it in her kitchen, next to her coffee supplies. Sleeping over doesn't mean rearranging her coffee heaps, she would remark. He would ignore.

'It was his notion that the moment one of the people took one of the truths to himself, called it his truth, and tried to live his life by it, he became a grotesque and the truth he embraced became...'

She lay her palm flat over his ribs, staring at the mild contrast of porcelain white against olive, carried in small ups and downs by the easy movement of his chest.

And she was glad to hear he wasn't in too deep. Because she feared she already was.

Rory Gilmore, ex Managing Director of Literati Ltd., was standing two meters from the massive wooden door of Literati's Conference Hall, trying to remember how to breathe.

She had been rehearsing this moment, preparing herself for the fight. She had spent the last couple of weeks, joining Jess in his sleepless hours of violent midnight typing, bringing more and more files from the office to add to the pile in the middle of her spacious living room. Working on this, she wasn't simply overworking, she was hectic.

Today was the Board equivalent of 'hearing', her one shot to get her position back, one chance to come up with a brilliant prospect for Literati's future and make the Board of Directors reconsider.

Last week she had been so excessively nervous, she went into a huge fight with Jess that she couldn't even remember the occasion for. She hadn't spoken to him since, refusing to apologize and pay attention to 'who said what' when her empire was so close, waiting for her to win back.

Plus, she was frustrated with this gnawing feeling at the back of her mind. As if she had put on a wrong pair of shoes - somehow she felt something came out wrong in every step. Just nerves.

She shivered and looked to the side. Empty corridor. She looked to the other side then (Checking for ambush? Jeez, Rory, get a grip). No snipers, only the elevator.

Rory blinked.

The elevator doors slid open and there, of all people, he was, reading. Before the doors slid closed again, there was the shortest moment when Jess looked up and their eyes met. Movie moment.

Heck.

She swallowed uncomfortably. As much as she had been trying to ignore the fact that they were both acting childishly, she couldn't deny the pang at the pit of her stomach as she saw him, even for the shortest moment.

Collect yourself, Gilmore, she shook her head. Literati's waiting. She sighed and closed her eyes. It was no use. She couldn't move an inch. Her eyelids burnt. Her palms were sweating. And, jeez, why was it so hard to breathe in here?

She felt a light touch over her shoulder then, accompanied by a hint of tobacco and aftershave as he stood behind her and his chest brushed her back. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

'Weren't you going downstairs?' she asked faintly, biting back a coy smile. Her knees felt weak. Okay there, punk, I might have missed you the slightest.

'Weren't you going into that Conference hall?'

She could tell he was smirking, although she couldn't actually see him. Queen Gilmore staying outside freaking out? Honestly?

He leaned over her shoulder and she held a breath.

'Just relax. You're great in this,' his breath grazed her earlobe. She shivered.

The next moment she felt him step back and retreat.

Rory opened her eyes and breathed in. Out. In. Out.

Two minutes later, she got into the Conference Hall.

'Why did you do this?' she exhaled noisily when she finally found him in a narrow storage room, kneeling over a new stack of printing paper.

She had flown in panting, hardly catching her breath, but her tone was nowhere near belligerent. It was excited. A little surprised, maybe. But mostly excited.

He had a smirk over his face when he looked up.

'So, you did it.'

She grinned foolishly, nodding back.

Jess rose to his feet, smiling, too.

'Congrats, boss.'

Their eyes locked and for a moment she held a breath and stood perfectly still before she made a few quick steps forward and threw herself over him, making him stumble back. He had been half expecting this, though, and his arms closed around her immediately.

Her laughter rolled down his cheeks as he lifted her up in the air and she held onto his neck.

Still half smiling, her lips trailed light kisses down his forehead. Temple. Cheekbone. Outlining his chin. Her lips at the corner of his mouth where he caught them with his.

The kiss started slowly, lazily, in a way that celebrated happiness and didn't rush. Tongue, lips, only a hint of teeth. No rush. Simply getting lost.

He slowly let her slide down his torso, enjoying the friction her weight created against his skin until her feet touched the floor again.

She licked her lips, tasting him there, and smiled coyly.

He could spend hours, just watching her blush.

Next kiss started differently. Searching, insisting, anticipating. Murmuring forbidden promises and giving out secrets that would never come out properly in a bunch of words. There were secrets that were only told skin to skin.

At some point they had started breathing through each other. Breaking contact would mean suffocating. Breathing got labored, hands urging, lips seeking. Nicely ironed beige shirt was tucked out, followed by olive cotton pullover and undershirt, recently purchased heels and worn sneakers kicked to the side.

His hands slid down her sides, pulling her close, closing the gap.

She stepped up on her toes, trying to cling on to him and fit her curves against his. One hand splayed flat at the back of his neck, pulling him close. Closer. Yet not close enough.

She helped him unbutton her shirt. After a few unsteady steps shirt was shoved to the side.

They bumped into a wall. Neck, throat, collarbone. He kissed back up milky shoulder and then again - neck, throat... The room started spinning. She threw her head back.

He smirked at the way her skin got goose bumps under his breath, not realizing the way his own neck hair stood up when her nails grazed his back.

When he came back to her lips, she started unbuckling his belt, leading him backwards until his bare back pressed against the storage shelves. Staplers, paper and empty files began to fall. Both chuckled.

Skirt was kicked to the side.

For a split second they stood facing each other, wild heartbeats going wilder. Then he scooped her up and turned them around against the closest wall.

Two legs wrapped round lean waist, both figures trying to keep their high while rocking in a frenzied lullaby, could be the most fragile structure in universe. But there is that thing, if they clung on to one another, a balance could be found, and that moment of high could be prolonged.

When he looked up at her, she was biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. He slowed down and moved a hand up from her thigh to remove a stray from her damp temple.

Her eyes opened. Lips were parted into a sloppy smile and Jess could swear there was a tear at the corner of her eye. Have you ever felt so happy you thought you would cry?

He started moving faster, losing his head as she shuddered against his chest, her fingers clutching at his shoulders wildly.

Right at this moment, Rory Gilmore thought she had everything. She was in the middle of a narrow storage room, hardly catching her breath, and she had never in her life felt happier.

~ Part II ~

In a richly decorated conference hall in Manhattan, Logan Huntzberger, ex Managing Director of Literati Ltd. was holding a speech.

'As I've always told, Rory is an amazing woman, her contribution to Literati is an outstanding proof of what a sophisticated and hardworking director can do for the prosperity of a corporation like Literati...'

Jess squinted. He felt sick.

'He's gonna propose, you know?' Mitchum Huntzberger smiled conspiratorially, moving to stand next to Jess. 'It's all set, in a couple of months,' he added, his eyes fixed on his son up on the stage.

Jess looked back at the older man, maintaining a poker face.

'So, big welcome from an ex Managing Director to Rory Gilmore, ex ex Managing Director. Welcome back, Ace.'

Applause.

'No need to worry, though,' Mitchum's smile showed his teeth when he leaned towards Jess, applauding absentmindedly.

Predator, ready to snatch.

'Rory may decide to keep you around after the wedding, have some fun when Logan's busy.'

Jess held a breath.

Next thing he remembered, he was rubbing his fist, regaining balance. The pain in his knuckles was delicious.

He blinked, listening to the blood roar in his ears. Seconds passed. He didn't keep track how many.

He realized a couple of people were clutching him, holding him back while he was trying to get free. Whoa. Do I get the slow mo, too?

'Jess, what the hell...'

Oh, Rory, hey. Everything's under control, babe. Just having a chat with your future father-in-law here.

She was hurrying towards him, pushing bystanders aside. She passed Mitchum by and her eyes narrowed at the guards who had somehow appeared next to Jess.

'What the hell are you doing?' she hissed in a lower voice that bore a mixture of anger and concern.

He must have been smirking, judging by the growing fury in her eyes.

'You're done!' behind Rory's back Mitchum, supported by two of the guards, pointed his finger at Jess. 'You're out of here!'

Who would tell your face could turn that red, huh?

'You're reading my mind,' Jess snarled, shrugging the hands that were clutching him off.

He made his way out, people in expensive clothing stepping back as he passed them by, watching him dumbly.

'Of all people, you had to mess up with Mitchum,' Rory fumed into his apartment, passing him by at the front door, not waiting for an invitation. She was still in her evening dress.

'Are you out of your mind?' she kicked her heels on the floor of his living room and turned back to face him abruptly.

His shirt was hanging untucked round his waist, its upper buttons undone. Under different circumstances, this could be the beginning of a great night.

Jess shrugged tiredly, leaning against the door frame.

Rory huffed in frustration.

'You must be goddamn kidding me. Do you know how hard it will be for me to make the Board keep you, Managing Director or not? Punching a Board member, Jess. Jeez...'

He stared at her with an unreadable expression. Eyes narrowed, lips tight.

'Please tell me at least it was worth it,' she sighed and collapsed into his sofa, stretching her feet forward.

'It was,' Jess smirked bitterly.

'Good,' her lips curled an inch up. Part of her was glad the bastard got what he deserved. 'I'll think of something, okay? Next Thursday we've got Board meeting, I'll come up with something until then,' she sighed, massaging her temples.

'Don't.'

'Yeah, sure. I'll just leave it to chance then, why not?' she shook her head sarcastically. 'This would go really well, right? Here is this employee from Ant floor, he's quite the brain, like most people who work here, by the way, and he punched a Board member, dislocating his jaw an inch in the right direction, to the right, I mean, he dislocated Mitchum's jaw to the right. So, what do you say, do we keep him in his current position or do we...'

'I quit, Rory,' he cut in evenly, interrupting her ramble.

'Uh?'

'I quit,' he repeated quietly.

'No you don't.'

He lifted an eyebrow.

Rory stared at him, trying to collect herself, but feeling more and more panicked.

'Look,' she started hastily, 'I know things are messy right now, but I can get you out of this. Hell, I can even make them promise you a lifelong contract.'

He shook his head and the resolve she read over his face scared her.

'I'm not coming back, Rory.'

'But wha... why?'

He shrugged.

'Decided it's time to move on.'

'Move on? Move on to what?'

'I got a job offer,' he said calmly.

The room shrunk in.

'But I...' she trailed off, lost for words. 'I need to see you around,' she whispered, the look in her eyes insisting, trying to go past his resolve.

He looked sad. If it makes you sad, why do you wanna leave?

'You still can.'

'But...'

'But we won't be colleagues,' he finished for her.

So, that was it. So far with 'no need to label it'. If he left Literati, this couldn't pass as hanging around with a colleague anymore.

His jaw tensed when he met a stubborn glint in her eyes. He placated a stoically indifferent expression on his face.

'Matt and Chris are opening a small publishing house. They want me to join them. In Philadelphia.'

'What are you asking me, Jess?'

'You have to make up your mind, Rory,' he sighed and his eyes were the deepest shade of brown. 'I have to know if I have a reason to stay.'

Pulling. They were always pulling. Tristan, Jess, they were only pulling away to make her fetch. Why couldn't things just stay the way they were? Why couldn't he just stay in Literati and go on like this?

Because it can't go on like this, a voice in her head said, because sooner or later, you have to choose.

With or without. He was right. She had to make up her mind.

~ Part III ~

He let his eyes undress the two girls sitting on the high stools on the other side of the counter, slowly peeling their party dresses off their shoulders, enjoying the view.

The redhead handed him her empty glass and leaned forward over her elbows, in a way that surely granted him a good view of all that had been barely concealed by the lowcut V of the dress. He threw a glance down and when he looked back up, his eyes flashed, considerably darker.

Rory felt the tight grip inside her chest knot up. She knew exactly what was on the other side of this look. He was imagining them, tangled up. But he was imagining him and the redhead.

Her mouth felt sticky. She took one of the glasses from the small table to her right and drank, letting the liquid burn her tongue.

Jess put another refilled glass before the Emma Stone wannabe. She made him a sign to lean closer and whispered something in his ear, making him smirk. His eyes met Rory's and he held her gaze as he whispered something back, still leaning over the woman's shoulder. The redhead turned to look aside to the staircase that most probably led to his room. A fire ball in Rory's chest started spreading a severe flush over her cheeks, and she knew it wasn't the alcohol.

Seriously? Great show, Jess. Cheap but great, all by the book.

She knew, though, it wasn't just a show. Given the chance, he would have the redhead upstairs, in his room. He would climb her on his waist and make her pant against the inside of his bedroom door, and then he would have her again over his messy sheets, hoping she would at least be any good to grant him release.

Rory bit her lip. It hurt physically to imagine him with another woman, the pain bitter with the fact that she had made things this way by her own will.

Suddenly he was out of sight and she searched the room, trying to catch sight of his messy hair, his smirk, a shrugging shoulder somewhere. Anywhere. She felt a sudden need to see him smirk. Or shrug. Or both.

Had he gone upstairs with the redhead? Thank God, no. The chick was still there, looking around the room, probably checking out the alternatives. Rory sighed.

The truth was she had messed up. She had let him go. She had watched him gather his stuff from his cubicle. She had signed his resignation file. Damn, she had wished him 'Good luck in Philadelphia'.

She had missed every chance to make this seem less like separation and more like a fight between lovers. They had had enough of these, had they not? Yet, this one was different. She had to make up her mind. And she thought she had. But then, he wasn't around and all she could think about was how wrong it felt. She knew that, if she came to look for him, all the way to Philadelphia, their makeup would mean more than resuming things as they were. It would mean they would be together. Not simply as lovers. And she didn't have this in her plans.

Had he left his own birthday party? Wouldn't be a shocker. And yet...

She went across the room and out through the narrow corridor, considering leaving his house and his life, when she saw the open door to the storage room.

For a moment her eyes paused on his back, adjusting to the dim light and to seeing him without a full room of buzzing people around. He was kneeling next to one of the shelves, taking bottles out. She stood silent and stared at his outlines, trying to memorize them, comparing them to the ones she had imprinted in her mind.

He seemed to sense her presence as his shoulders stiffened and he sucked a breath in before he rose and turned towards her.

Rory's fingers closed tighter round the neck of her glass.

'What do you want, Rory?'

Agitation. Impatience. Weariness. He was tired of her ins and outs. God, she was, too.

'I wanna talk to you,' she said in a choked voice, her throat tight.

'Didn't we already go through this part? I don't have anything to say to you.'

He had told her earlier, after recovering from the initial shock as he found her in his living room along with the other guests.

Hey. Can we talk?

I don't have anything to say to you, Rory.

He had repeated that in his head over a million times. He had nothing left to say. It came out pretty naturally. What else was there to be said?

'I miss the smell of cigarettes in my living room,' Rory said, avoiding his eyes.

'I'm sure you do,' he sighed and bent down to take two bottles of Jack's.

'I didn't want you smoking in the apartment, so that the smell wouldn't grow on me,' she continued quietly.

'I miss the sound of your typing. Late at night, I need it to fall asleep.'

He was standing before her, holding the two bottles, his eyes unwavering. Rory licked a lip.

'I searched for your tea. I protested when you started bringing all that tea into a Gilmore kitchen, but I looked for it yesterday and there wasn't any and I panicked.'

He watched her bluntly for a moment before giving a short nod.

'I know.'

'You do?'

He huffed frustratedly.

'Of course I do, why do you think I smoked in your living room? Why would I bring tea when I could well survive on your surpassingly strong coffee anyway? I was trying to leave a mark.'

He stepped aside, trying to go past her. She moved to block his way.

'Well, you did.'

'Good to know.'

Their eyes locked into a silent battle.

'I tried to sleep with a guy,' Rory breathed out.

Jess blinked, grabbed the glass out of her hand and downed it. Then shoved it back into her hands and went past her on his way out.

'I couldn't,' her voice came out almost desperate.

Jess stopped in his track, turning back slowly.

'Do you realize how selfish all this act you're putting now is?' he huffed and bent down to leave the bottles on the floor with a sharp clink.

'You show up here, uninvited,' he started, his voice threateningly low. 'Here, in Philly, on my birthday. You follow me around, talking about how much you missed me. You even decide to update me on your recent sex life, which is really just groovy, by the way. And all of this, just to do what, exactly?' he threw both hands up in the air, 'Get back where we left?'

She couldn't find her voice to answer. He didn't wait for her to.

'We've been through this, Rory,' he shook his head angrily. 'We've been halfway out of it the moment it started, I'm not going in again, we're not flipping between your bedroom and the office, waiting for the corporative giant whose proposal you'll accept.'

Rory blinked.

'Please tell me that's not you being jealous of Logan.'

'Of course it's not,' Jess jerked his head to the side dismissively. Then he looked directly back at her and his jaw tensed.

'It's about sex. It's not enough to fuck, Rory. It simply isn't.'

'We didn't fuck.'

'You're goddamn right. We didn't. You did.'

Her throat felt tight.

'I signed a huge contract yesterday.'

'Oh, great,' he huffed through gritted teeth. Now they were discussing her work life.

'I felt nothing. All I could think about was how pointless it all is. Suddenly, all I've got is not enough. Without you, nothing's gonna be enough.'

He shook his head and bent down to take the bottles from the floor.

'I need you, Jess. It terrifies me how much.'

He remained crouching by the bottles for a moment and then turned to face her. She was shaking.

He let a sharp breath out, left the bottles where they were and went out of the room quickly. Once he was out, he rubbed a hand across his jaw. I need you, Jess. It terrifies me how much, her words ricocheted in his head.

Rory's eyes began to water rapidly and her sight was blurred when she recognized his outlines mere seconds later as he came back into the room and stopped right before her, his breathing ragged.

'I can't even walk out on you properly,' he said bitterly. 'Fuck.'

He placed his arms on both her sides and when she looked up, blue was stained with hope. He stared at her bluntly before he pulled her closer. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, shaking even harder.

Thanks for reading:) Reviews are welcome and highly appreciated:)