Story Title: The Seven Deadly Sins: A Series of Lit Vignettes
Chapter Three—Wrath: Angry Works for Her
Rating: T, for some possible language
Summary: A series of looks at moments we were robbed of in Season Three. A look at Rory and Jess being Rory and Jess.
She didn't come out at first. In fact, he saw the face of every last outraged, if not a bit confused, townsperson before she emerged. No one had directly spoken to him, not even his uncle, who had given him a look like he wanted to push him off a bridge (oh, how he knew that look.) No, no one overtly blamed him for what had transpired during the course of the last hour; though he was sure they had their suspicions of his guilt.
Rory was a different story all together. She knew he had been responsible for every last mishap that had taken place at the bi-monthly town meeting. She probably envisioned him setting up the whole prank as it unfolded, and while disgust played on her face, she couldn't control the laughter that pulled at her lips and originated deep down in her stomach. And while she might have defended him to those who blamed him in their witch-hunt style, her mother included, she wouldn't be playing dumb with him.
"Hey," Jess smiled at her, true amusement playing across his features. He was leaning against a lamp post, the light falling down over his body.
She shook her head and tightened her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath and then proceeded to walk past him, away from the diner. This was fine by him, but he thought he warranted at least a greeting or acknowledgement of some kind. He was quick to pick up her pace.
"Ro-ry," he sing-songed her name, hoping for her to slow a little.
Nothing. She was almost to the town square. Clearly she wasn't quite as amused as he'd anticipated. Maybe they'd given Luke the run around about shipping his smart ass back to New York, again. That would upset her on several levels, the first and least of which would be any duress this caused Luke. No girl wants their boyfriend banned from the state. Though at the moment, it would have been nice for her to give him a sign that she'd be upset at the notion, because she clearly didn't want to see him now.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," he reached out to slip his fingers around her right elbow.
She stopped in place, so fast that he feared getting whiplash from the sudden braking. She turned on him like a provoked animal. "Yeah? Well, I'm not talking to you!"
"Why not?"
She looked at him like he was the most ignorant man she'd ever encountered. "You're kidding me, right?"
He shrugged. "You were talking to me this morning, when I gave you coffee and Danish. Since I haven't seen you since then, shouldn't I assume you're still talking to me?"
"You are not dumb, Jess," she glared at him. "I know you're not dumb, and yet, you do truly asinine things. The only thing I can't figure out is why."
He cocked his head, waiting for her to continue in her angry rant.
"I mean, I understand why you used to do it, when you first got here, before …," she paused for a moment, then shook her head and continued, "but now? I mean, why do you continue to do these things?"
He licked his bottom lip. "Before what?"
She looked down at the pavement. "I don't know, before things got comfortable here for you."
He cocked an eyebrow. "You think I'm comfortable here?"
She ignored his question. "I mean, clearly you're just trying to get attention."
"What did I do that was so bad?"
Her mouth gaped. "Taylor's fingers are superglued together!"
He couldn't help it. He had to smile. "Huh."
She narrowed her gaze. "Kirk now has to shave his eyebrows."
Nope. That smirk wasn't going anywhere. "You don't say."
"And Gypsy nearly strangled Andrew, whom she swore was behind putting the whoopee cushion on her seat."
"What did she try to strangle him with?" he inquired, his eyes sparkling.
"The whoopee cushion," she admitted, her lips curling up. "They're much stretchier than I thought they were."
They shared the smile until she regained her indignance. "That's not the worst part."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Taylor called Dean up to help put up some charts, and he couldn't get up from his seat."
"Huh," he did his best to feign concern. "Why not?"
"Why do you hate him so much? What did he ever do to you?"
"It must be a family trait. Luke really loves to piss him off. Think of it as a family feud situation."
"Not Taylor. Dean. Luke doesn't hate Dean."
"Luke doesn't really like Dean," Jess informed her. "It could probably grow to a Taylor-like hate, if nurtured enough."
"Did something happen between the two of you?"
Jess balked. "No."
"So, you just hate him for no reason at all? Do you just look at someone and decide you either like them or don't? What happened to giving people chances?"
"That's sewn on your sampler, not mine."
"You're impossible. I know this, and yet I try anyhow. I must be crazy."
"Why are you upset? Nothing happened to you, did it?"
"What if it had? What if I'd sat in the seat Dean was supposed to be in and my pants were glued to a folding chair?"
Jess couldn't help himself. He let out the first part of a snicker before swallowing it back in, and she glared at him in disgust before stamping her feet as she marched back along the sidewalk toward her house.
"Rory, wait," he sighed as he caught up with her again. She didn't run, but she could move fast when she was angry. "Do you really want me to admit I am responsible for all of those things?"
She crossed her arms. "I don't care what you do."
He knew she didn't mean that. Even when she hated his actions, she gave him another chance. It was who she was, but he liked to think he would never run out of chances—or her good graces. Sometimes when she was mad like this, he felt something like fear run through him, though only briefly, at the thought that someday he might push her too far.
"Would it make you feel better if I promised not to do it again?" he looked at her with his sweetest expression, though he knew it made him look unnatural and more than a little ridiculous. He wasn't sweet, and she knew that.
"Would you?" she tested him.
He bristled. Had it come to this? Was he really ready to make promises that he would have to force himself to keep for her? Not that he'd die if he never pulled another prank, but honestly the people in this town made it too easy, and he got such pride in a job well done. Frankly, it would be a waste of his talents to agree to such a thing.
"I don't want you to make me promises like that, Jess."
He looked up, relieved that he hadn't had to give her an answer. "You don't?"
She kicked at a piece of gravel and shrugged. "You shouldn't do things you don't want to do, just because it's something I want. I would never ask you to do anything you don't want to do."
He appreciated her sentiments for about five seconds, until he got the feeling there was something she wanted him to do. Something she was beating around the bush about—something he really wouldn't want to do. He racked his brain to think of what it might be.
"Rory," he began. "What exactly is it you want me to do?"
"Nothing," she began. "At least, nothing you don't really, really want to do."
"For instance?"
"Well, just as an example—a completely theoretical one—I was talking to Lane the other day. And it seems that Dave mentioned wanting to take her to the Stars Hollow Prom."
"Mrs. Kim would allow that?"
"That's beside the point. Lane was really touched that he would even bring it up, even knowing that in order to even take her to the prom, he'd have to go through tons of hoops and possibly loads of deception to make it happen."
"Uh-huh," he narrowed his eyes.
"And so Lane and I were talking about how when we were freshman we planned to go to the Senior Prom together. We had it all planned out—we'd get a limo, we'd eat before we got there at some fancy restaurant we'd never go to normally, and we'd dance together when our dates just couldn't stand to dance to one more crappy boy band song."
Boy bands. Bad food. Paying for a hotel room she would no doubt give him shit for getting in the first place. Sex on prom night was too cliché for her. His stomach lurched. She was circling the airstrip. He would wait until she touched down.
"And I was telling her how even though I've spent most of my high school years at Chilton, no way would I want to go to their prom. It'll be really stuffy and the girls will be competing over who has the dress by the most famous designer, whereas my mom will probably make mine, and you HAVE to be a student at Chilton to go to that prom, whereas Stars Hollow lets pretty much anyone in, as long as their date is a senior," she hedged.
"You want to go to the Stars Hollow High Prom?" he cringed.
"Well, personally, I do, yes. But I'd need a current senior to bring me as their date. And Lane can't do it if she does manage to figure out a way to bring Dave."
"Huh."
"I mean, if I could find someone that was actually going to prom already that wasn't bringing someone else it would be great."
He nodded, not wanting to commit so readily. He couldn't say the thought of asking her hadn't crossed his mind. It was the kind of thing she'd love. And seeing her all dressed up and cutting out early held a certain appeal. Even if all they'd do in the hotel room he reserved was order room service and watch a bad movie in fancy clothes.
"It's not the kind of thing you'd enjoy at all."
"Nope," he agreed.
"So, I'm just pointing out that that's just an example of something I want, but I'd never ask you to do."
He sighed and looked at his girlfriend, who was all but begging him to ask her to the prom. Normally he'd say no, like he had to almost every other town function she'd asked him to participate in with her since they began dating. In fact, he was shocked when heard himself speak.
"Do you want to go to the prom with me?"
Her eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"
"Rory," he warned.
"Sorry. Yes!" she launched her arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly that he feared not being able to breathe unless she let go. She pulled back suddenly, a worried expression crossing her beautiful features. "You know this means you have to wear a tux."
"Well, in that case," he began.
"Too late, you already asked!" she responded gleefully. She kissed him gratefully, and he pulled her in closer to show her he had no hard feelings for being manipulated. He felt her respond until she realized they were standing in the middle of the street. If they continued on like this, a concerned citizen would call her mother, who would have no qualms about coming to interrupt them. He might be in Rory's good graces, but Lorelai always looked at him like she'd be happier if his head were being served to her on a platter. Rory pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Jess," she sucked in a breath, her voice letting him know she felt the shift as well.
"You have to go?" he asked knowingly.
She nodded. "But we're on for tomorrow night?"
He nodded. They made plans now. He looked forward to their plans now. More importantly, he always showed up. "Eight o'clock, after you get back from Hartford."
She nodded. "Are you sure you want to go to prom?" she asked, unable to stop herself.
He kissed her again and leaned into her ear. "I'm sure I want to take you to prom."
She smiled at him brightly, her anger forgotten. She nodded before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and turning to go back home, leaving him to go back to the diner and work the slow part of the closing shift, where he'd have plenty of free time to plan his next elaborate prank.