Wires and Waves
Summary: 4x21. Rory has enough money for a cab and so doesn't call Dean for a ride home. Jess shows up too early and, while waiting outside her dorm, has a chance to re-think his proposal. Season 5 re-write: What if Rory stayed in touch with Jess throughout his transformation into the guy we see in Season 6?
A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews, the support in coming back has been incredible!
A quick apology to continuity-pedants: the timing here is not always going to be completely true to the show, for the sake of the plot. Sorry! I'll always mention the episode to give a vague idea of where we are in the series, even though the plots won't always track, and I'll be skipping over or combining a few.
Episodes: The Party's Over
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, this would be a lot better written.
Of all the things in the world to be, Rory had never thought of herself as a slow learner. As soon as she'd learned to read (at least a year earlier than the other kids in her grade, she'll have you know), she was reading above her age bracket. While other kids had struggled with each step up from year to year, she'd pretty much had the year's material covered by the end of the first semester. Granted, she'd had a minor setback upon starting at Chilton, and then again at Yale, but she'd bounced back quickly in both cases. And yet, surrounded by eligible and unspeakably dull bachelors at her Grandparents house, Rory was beginning to realise that what applied to the world of academia did not necessarily apply to life in general. For example, someone with a bit more life savvy might have learned from the experience of being set up with the Ivy League's most prominent drunk driver last semester that, when Emily Gilmore comes sniffing around your love life, it is best to beat a hasty retreat.
Unfortunately, Rory had not. When during Friday night dinner Emily had started asking if she was single, and if so, if that was by choice, Rory had replied, doe-eyed and innocent as ever, that she was actually open to starting something new, as her mother looked on with the expression of someone who'd just watched powerlessly as a person stumbles off a precipice.
And so, the following Friday, Rory found herself feeling as though she were being auctioned off, and wondering vaguely whether the reason she'd been forced into enough jewellery to sink the Titanic was to ensure she was unable to make a speedy escape once the bidding began. The first chance she had to slip away for a moment she called up Lorelai to let her know of the trap she'd been led into, and then, after hanging up, was about to head back out to face the torment again when she thought of someone else who might draw some dark amusement from her current situation.
Pulling her phone back out, she quickly typed out a text: You know that scene in Shaun of the Dead where the girl gets dragged backwards through the window by the giant crowd of zombies?
Not expecting an instant reply, she started to head back out again, but as she put her hand on the doorknob she felt the conspiratorial buzz from within her purse. Ignoring the reluctant satisfaction that came from the fact that he had responded so quickly, she pulled her phone back out and read: This better not be the start of another which Pegg/Frost project is best debate, you know my love for Spaced is unshakeable.
Smirking, she replied: No, I have more pressing matters to attend to than your stubborn insanity tonight. Like the fact that that very same thing is happening to me, only the zombies are Yale guys dressed in suits worth a semester's tuition – other than that, their conversational skills are pretty much the same.
Debutante Ball 2: Electric Boogaloo?
Might as well be. My Grandparents have thrown a party. And somehow only invited people from Yale. Specifically, men from Yale. More specifically, single men from Yale. Oh, and they've also made me dress like this, and there she snapped a quick picture of herself on her phone and attached it to the text.
You do realise you've now provided me with a lifetime's worth of mocking material?
It doesn't matter, I'm about to re-join the fray, I don't imagine there'll be much left of me by the end of the night. Expect intermittent cries(/texts) for help.
Will do. Enjoy your party, Princess Diana.
And at that, Rory reluctantly snapped her phone shut, took a moment to brace herself, then headed back out to the meat market that had become of her evening.
A few hours and several drinks later, Rory's situation had much improved. She was now safely ensconced in the pool house with the least dull contingent of the party, the result of a pioneering mission spearheaded by none other than Logan Huntzberger, and was happily being entertained by his merry band of fools. She was currently enjoying (in the loosest sense of the word) Finn's rendition of Passion of the Christ, which he'd thankfully been persuaded to do without his usual full costume of torn sheets and fake blood, a notion which Rory had immediately vetoed after seeing him start to wander towards one of Emily's linen closets. While the thought of Emily's precious sheets being ruined by one of the very men she'd ambushed her granddaughter with did have a certain ironic amusement to it, Rory suspected that she could announce to her Grandmother that she was pregnant and dropping out of Yale and still not provoke as much ire as being complicit in the decimation of her bajillion thread count sheets.
Yet, in spite of all of the festive hi-jinks afforded by the pool party, Rory's attention was still somewhat torn between all that was going on around her and the occasional buzzing of her cell phone, for she'd continued to text Jess on and off throughout the evening. And so, just as Finn was reaching the dramatic high point of the work, she found herself reaching into her purse and typing: Well, I finally found Jesus and he's a drunk Australian.
Finn had barely got out his next few (slurred, barely intelligible) lines, when she felt the buzz of a response: Huh. When I saw him he was a stoned Norwegian.
Rory chuckled, slipping her phone back into her purse. However, this quiet sequence of events had not gone unnoticed by the young Huntzberger, who was sitting next to her in the "front row" (also known as the couch, behind which a bunch of chairs had been hastily assembled for the beginning of the "performance"). With the mischievous grin that always set off sharp twinges of excitement in Rory's chest, Logan caught her eye and asked, "Who could you possibly be texting at this hour, Ace? Is not every respectable male either in bed or at this very party?"
"Really playing fast and loose with the term respectable there, aren't we?"
"No more so than what you're doing with the concept of answering a question."
"It's nobody."
"Okay, Odysseus," he teased.
Rolling her eyes in faux annoyance she overly emphatically zipped up her purse and held up it, "See? Phone in purse. Full attention returning to the very respectable man hanging from the imaginary cross." And so the evening continued for another few minutes, until she felt the familiar buzz from her purse and couldn't help but check her phone.
She just had a chance to scan the message (So, how many proposals fielded so far?), before she noticed a pause in Finn's dying groans. When she looked up, she saw he'd broken character and was addressing himself to Logan: "Logan, pray tell, is that female acquaintance of yours texting during the performance?"
"I'm afraid so," Logan replied, gravely.
Turning to Rory, Finn asked, "Young woman, has no one ever instructed you on the correct code of conduct while at the theatre?"
"I'm sorry, good sir, I was under the impression I was in a pool house."
He turned to the audience in mock outrage, "Impudence! And during my most acclaimed scene!"
"Well, there's nothing for it," Logan said, resigned.
"We must punish her," Colin agreed, stepping forward from the row of chairs behind and plucking the phone from Rory's unsuspecting hands.
"Guys, come on," Rory protested, but they could all hear the tipsy laughter behind her voice.
She went to grab for her phone, only for it to be tossed over to Finn, who said, "I fear by this age it might be too late to instil some manners, but we can but try. Now, who is this rapscallion with whom our young Rory has been corresponding?" And he tossed the phone neatly back to Colin just as Rory, still giggling, reached him.
"Why, whoever he is, he appears to be interested in the marriage prospects of the young Gilmore here," Colin replied, skimming the new text before throwing the phone to Logan.
"Well, I think we owe this inquisitive fellow a quick status update, don't you think boys?" They all chanted their agreement, as Logan, quickly dodging around the room to evade Rory's grasp, pressed the call back option on the text. Rory, although slightly uncomfortable with this uncontrollable spiral of events, in her very slightly inebriated state could not help but be amused by these antics, and ever so slightly gratified at Logan's clear interest and maybe even annoyance at the possibility of her texting another guy.
"Logan, stop it!" she cried, not entirely sincerely.
He gave her a fake scowl, "Now Rory, it's very rude to yell at someone who's on the phone – oh look, it's ringing!"
There was a pause, and she thought she heard Jess pick up and answer, and her amusement quickly turned to discomfort as the reality of the situation set in. "Seriously Logan, give it back," she said, quieter this time.
"Relax, Ace, I'm only telling the man what he asked for," he said, continuing to dodge away from her now more frantic attempts to re-capture her phone. "So, I believe you were enquiring after the marital statements of our Rory?" Pause. "What? No answer? No matter, ask and you shall receive," and he held the phone out towards the room and shouted, "boys, who's planning on pledging themselves to Miss Gilmore tonight?" There was a chorus of raucous cries from the room. "There, are you answered? You want to throw your hat into the ring, as well?" Pause. "Still nothing? Oh well, sorry Ace, doesn't look like you've got a contender here," he said, with mock sympathy, snapping the phone shut and finally handing it back to her.
"That wasn't funny," she said, snatching it back.
"Agree to disagree," he replied, playful as ever. "Oh come one, are we back to severe and disapproving so soon? Don't you want to see how this ends?" he asked, gesturing at Finn, who was resuming his dying position. The jollity of the evening and the various drinks consumed throughout still coursing through her veins, she struggled to control her expression, but couldn't help a slight twitch of the lips at seeing Finn jump straight back into his role with such aplomb. "There we go, relax, Ace, I'll be sure and call Nobody in the morning with my sincerest apologies," he smirked, and Rory gave a slight grin back in spite of herself, tucking her phone safely back into her bag and settling back into the evening, though with slightly more reserve than before.
The next morning, Rory woke up blearily, now back in her bedroom in Stars Hollow. She smiled to herself in bed as she remembered the events of the previous evening: the pool house shenanigans, the impromptu one man show, the ride back to her house in the limo. Despite the unpleasant surprise of the grandparental ambush that had begun the evening, it had ended up being the most fun that she'd had in a while. She slipped out of bed and padded towards the kitchen, noticing her Grandmother's jewels carefully taken off and arranged on her bedroom table – Good drunk Rory, she thought, pleased to discover she was just as responsible tipsy as sober. On her way out she grabbed her purse, which she hadn't treated with quite so much care but rather hurled into a corner on her way to bed, and absently checked her phone to see if her Mom had left any messages, seeing as she'd slept in past the time that she'd left for work.
And it was in doing that that she saw that last text message from Jess, and that particular aspect of the night suddenly came back to her. A creeping wave of unease gradually swept its way through her, as she began to think about Logan's phone call to him: what had seemed like a silly joke the night before seemed more like flouting her new semi-flirtation to her ex-boyfriend when examined in the cold light of day. While it was true that it hadn't been her doing, she could have stopped it if she'd really wanted to, and she hadn't checked up on Jess afterwards to make sure he wasn't mad, instead returning to her evening with minimal persuasion.
Although a large part of her felt sort of indignant that she should be so worried about his feelings after the mess he'd left her in the year before, she couldn't help feeling slightly guilty. Hoping that everything she was feeling was just a huge over-reaction, she decided to do the unprecedented and go against the call schedule, dialling his number as she started preparing her morning coffee and pop tarts.
The first thing that struck her was that she wasn't used to waiting this long for him to pick up. But she soon chastened herself for reading too much into everything, and was rewarded by his voice on the other end of the line, "Hello?"
Was it just her or did he sound a bit offhand? "Hey…" she started, tentatively.
"Hey, yourself. Eventful night?"
No, she definitely wasn't imagining things, she could almost sense his clenched jaw of annoyance over the line. A substantial part of her wanted to crumble and apologise straight away, but then another, pettier, slightly hungover voice in her head piped up: And when has he ever apologised? Surely if he gets to ditch you in favour of his deadbeat Dad, you get to have one bout of slight tipsy insensitivity? So instead she replied, "Yup, I fielded at least five proposals and an offer to be the producer of Finn's next one man production," with a hint of defiance, as if daring him to make an issue of this.
"Only five? From what I heard it seemed like a whole football stadium's worth of rich, entitled assholes."
Well, if there was any ambiguity about the matter before, that decided it: he was pissed. And while the words Yeah, about that, I'm sorry… attempted to assert themselves on her lips, that second Rory once again pushed them down and replied, "You seem to have gleaned a lot about them from a few seconds of interaction."
"Not too hard to intuit, those are pretty much the standard requirements for making it into the Gilmore household, it seems."
"No, those would be not showing up with a black eye and bailing halfway through," she bit back quickly, surprising even second Rory with that abrupt U-turn into the past.
There was a brief pause. "So this is how it is between us now? You can do pretty much anything you like because I messed up two years ago?"
"Messed up?" she parroted in disbelief. "For months you lied to me over and over – the hours you were working, the prom tickets, the stupid swan! Yes, I know about that swan, Luke is an awful secret keeper. And then you bail! Again! Oh, but wait, the fun's not over, you still get to drop back into my life periodically to dump the odd confession of love at my feet before gracing me once again with your retreating back just to add a nice visual component to the other times you left. And that's not even mentioning…" but she cut herself off in the middle of the tirade that she didn't know she'd been holding back for months, because the incident that she'd been about to mention, the thing that happened at Kyle's party, still conjured up so much hurt and shame within her that bringing it up risked reducing her to tears, and she refused to let him hear her cry about this. "And now, when we've managed to salvage some form of superficial friendship from the ruins of our relationship, you get to insult my family and the people I hang out with just because you're jealous?"
"You think that's why I'm mad? Because I'm jealous? Not because you let a bunch of privileged douchebags try to humiliate me? I guess who can blame them, the torment of the blue collar charity case is probably an important part of the courting ritual."
"It was just a stupid joke, and it was mainly aimed at me anyway!"
"Oh of course it was, how could I forget, there's no aspect of your world that doesn't revolve fixedly about you."
Rory paused, seething, before taking a long breath and replying in a slightly more measured tone, "Look, I thought this was a good idea. I thought, since we'd done such a crappy job at not bumping into each other over the past year, we might as well find a way to be civil when we did. But this is obviously not working, so I guess we'll just have to get better at avoiding each other."
"Works for me."
"Great," Rory spat out and hung up the phone, tossing it across the kitchen worktop in rage. It took about as long her long-forgotten pop tart took to spring up from the toaster for her righteous indignation to fade slightly, and doubt and regret started to take its place. Squashing these down, she grabbed her breakfast and skulked back into her room, mentally running through all the wrongs she had just listed so confidently in order to steel her resolve.
A/N: Again: long term game plan, I swear!