23 - The Ironic Taste of Coffee & Ice Cream

"Save and close, then we're done," Rory muttered to herself, having just completed her latest article on the new mayor and his plans for the future of Chicago. She leaned back in her seat and thought back to how she managed to score a private interview with the mayor, especially when the newly elected politician had reputedly been refusing every other major news media outlet thus far. What was even more surprising was the fact that he'd asked for her by name, stating that the only way he would agree to an exclusive interview with the Tribune was if Rory was the reporter at the helm of the story. She had wondered why before and during the interview, but refrained from asking until actually having done her job. Turned out that the mayor's college aged daughter remembered meeting Rory at the Inaugural Ball last month. The girl was impressed by the reporter and advised her father to grant Rory an exclusive after reading some of her previous work with the Tribune, particularly her pieces to do with the Ragged Dolls. The irony that Andy was unintentionally aiding Rory's career while simultaneously stealing the man she loved was not lost on the reporter.

Then again, you can't really call it stealing when Marty wasn't really mine to begin with, she thought while pouting slightly at the photo that acted as her computer's background. Rory touched the screen and gently glided her fingers over the image of her and Marty sharing a coffee outside the offices of the Yale Daily News while in some deep conversation on a now long forgotten subject. Despite wondering where Paris had gotten the picture and why the blonde had decided to e-mail the thing to her in the first place, Rory had immediately made it her desktop without any sort of hesitation. The reporter drew her hand away, frowning to herself. Was her best friend trying to tell her something? It took Rory a moment to remember that this was Paris Geller, the girl with the subtly of a sledgehammer to the back of the head. The journalist rolled her eyes at just now realizing the message, but she chose to ignore the well-intentioned doctor's not-so-subtle nudging to go for the gold. The 'gold' being Marty in this case. Sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Geller, but I'm not that girl anymore. I'm not going to make the same mistake with Marty that I did with Dean, thank you very much.

"In either case, I should probably change that desktop sometime soon," the reporter thought aloud, deciding that sitting here staring longingly at that image was bordering beyond the realm of pathetic. She stiffled an unexpected yawn while lazily closing the laptop, azure eyes rapidly blinking in a bid to hold back fatigue fueled tears. She rose from her desk chair and walked into the kitchen in search of coffee, momentarily surprised that she felt so tired at a quarter after seven in the evening. After finding none in her cupboards though, a caffeine deprived Rory decided to head to the nearest place that sold coffee in order to take care of her fix immediately. Unfortunately for Rory, that place happened to be the dingy excuse for a diner that Marty's brother Dan had taken her on the night of her birthday. Desperate times called for drastic measures though, and this definitely classified as a desperate time. A Gilmore girl without her coffee? Oh, the humanity!

A few moments later the reporter opened her door with the intention of leaving only to find Marty standing there with a takeout tray of coffee in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, looking more or less the same level of surprise that Rory felt at that instant.

"How'd you do that?" Marty asked, his expression one of bewilderment. "I literally just got here. Spooky."

"Actually, that is kind of spooky, because I was just heading out for coffee," she nodded in agreement, then pointed at the tray of coffee in his right hand. "Speaking of which, are one of those for me?"

"Yeah, take the tray," he replied, a knowing little smile on his lips. "You got caught up in your writing again, didn't you?"

"You know me too well, Mr. Harrison," the brunette laughed, taking the tray from him before spinning on her heel. Marty followed her inside the apartment and shut the door behind himself, then made his way into the living room where Rory was sitting down on the couch, trying to drink her hot liquid caffeine fix as fast as humanly possible.

"Careful, you're going to burn yourself," he warned, taking the space on the opposite end of the reporter. The tall dark haired architect placed the plastic bag on top of her coffee table, then proceeded to remove a tub of ice cream onto the mirrored table top. "Luckily for you though, if that does happen, I've got the remedy." Marty turned towards her, eyebrows raised. "You got a pair of bowls and spoons, right?"

"Kitchen," the reporter motioned with her head, both hands still gripping the Starbucks takeout coffee tightly while watching him leave the room. "Um, I don't mean to sound rude or ungrateful, especially after you brought me such wonderful gifts, but what brings you here?"

"Well, I was sitting home alone at the house, bored out of my mind, and began wondering what you were up to," he answered, re-entering the room with the items grasped in his hands. "And then I realized that it's been forever since you and I just hung out and vegged in front of the TV."

"It's nice to be thought of, I guess," Rory shrugged, secretly touched that Marty wanted to spend time with her even though he had a gorgeous fiance at home. She frowned in confusion, suddenly wondering at the mention of being holed up in the townhouse by himself without anything to do. "Wait, where's Andy?"

"Her and the band booked some studio time downtown and will most likely be at it all night," Marty replied, handing the brunette a bowl and utensil before he ripped the lid off the ice cream tub. Stopping halfway in his action, Marty slowly turned to her with a concerned expression on his face. "Um, it is okay for me to be here, right? I'm not intruding on any plans you might have had, am I?"

"Yeah, John Mayer was coming over for some hot and heavy one-on-one action," she joked, rolling her eyes playfully. "You can stay and watch if you want."

"I'll stay, but I think I'll just sit here and watch some television instead, if that's okay with you," the architect deadpanned. "Try to keep it down though, okay?"

"I can make no promises," Rory quipped, then held her bowl out to him. "You plan on sharing some of that stuff with me, mister?"

It was a few hours later that Rory suddenly jerked awake, a little confused to find Marty dozing down the couch from the reporter with her feet resting in his lap. The memory of why he was there brought a little smile to her lips. It reminded her of all the times they shared like this back in Yale. Her smile faltered though when the journalist began to wonder if this was how it was for Marty all those years ago, looking on with silent longing while the object of his affection was blissfully unaware of how madly in love he was with her. How many nights had he been where Rory is now, wishing that things were different between them? That they were lovers instead of just friends?

For the second time in as many minutes, Rory found herself jolting up in her seat, only this time because the relative silence of the room was broken by the very loud ringing of the reporter's telephone.

"Could you get that, babe?" Marty groggily asked, his eyes still shut as he shifted in his seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. "Turn down the ringer, too, please."

Must think he's at home with Andy, the reporter deduced, sighing in disappointment at the thought. Reaching over to the table located behind the couch where the cordless was usually kept, Rory picked up the receiver and answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, have you seen Marty? He's not answering his cell, and I can't find him," the now almost familiar voice of Andrea Walker asked over the line, sounding a little worried to Rory.

"Yeah, he's right here," the reporter muttered, nudging her guest's thigh with her left foot to wake him up. "Hey, sleepy head, your fiance's on the phone."

"What? Oh, right, thanks," Marty sputtered, looking completely bewildered and foggy from his unexpected nap on Rory's couch. He took the receiver after Rory shook it in front of him. "Oh, hey, babe, when did you get home? Oh, we were just watching some movies and fell asleep."

Feeling like she was intruding on his conversation, Rory removed her feet from Marty's lap and rose from the couch to begin cleaning up the mess made by their impromptu movie night. After Rory had gathered everything and mustered up a smile for Marty, the ever graceful hostess then headed into the kitchen with her burden. She placed the bowls and spoons into the sink, then threw the half-melted remnants of ice cream and empty coffee cups into the trash bin. With that finished Rory leaned back against the counter top to stare up at her ceiling, unintentionally letting out a tired sigh.

"You alright?" Marty asked, catching the brunette offguard. "Rory?"

"I'm fine, Marty," she said with a weak chuckle, brushing back and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Still just a little tired, I suppose."

The tall charcoal haired architect seemed to accept that answer, much to Rory's relief, then hiked his thumb towards the door. "Well, I've gotta get going, because Andy's waiting for me at home. See you later though?"

"See you later," she promised, somehow managing another smile.

"Okay then," Marty smiled back, waving to her before turning around and heading towards the exit. She followed him to the door, that forced smile still plastered to her lips. Once he was in the hall, Marty turned to face her with a smile of his own. "Guess this is goodnight, huh, Rory?"

"Guess it is, Marty. Good night," Rory returned, closing the wooden portal on the young man who'd unintentionally captured her heart. The reporter pressed her forehead against the door and let out another sigh, beginning to wonder if she'd actually be strong enough to fulfill her promise of supporting Marty's relationship with Andy. Please, please, please let me be strong enough, she prayed to no one in particular.