A/N: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter guys! Keep em coming please and thank you :) Also, I forgot to mention all the songs I used in the previous chapter. They were "New York State of Mind" by Oletta Adams, "I Should Live In Salt" by The National, and "Good Morning Baltimore" from Hairspray.

Eight and a Half

By Imagine Backstory

Chapter Seven – Drinks & Drinks & Drinks

Rory

Jess took me to a complete hole-in-the-wall, a place so out of the way that I would have passed by it a million times and not noticed it. It was warm and intimate, busy but not crowded, and not too loud. Mellow indie music crooned at us through the speakers, and I instantly liked the place. Strangely enough, I felt more relaxed than I had anywhere else in New York thus far. The best part? The far wall of the place was entirely made up of bookshelves, which were bursting at the seams with endless volumes.

We ducked into a booth near the rear of the place; in the middle of the table, a single tea-light burned in a frosted mason jar.

Darting my eyes towards the books, I grinned at Jess. Now that we had settled on a spot, I was able to study him properly. He'd gotten a hair cut since I saw him over the weekend, I noted. It was now short all over—not quite military-style, but shorter than I'd ever seen it. Despite the fact that he had shaved, which revealed the thin scar on his upper lip, his hair cut made him look older; something in the way it emphasized his neck and shoulder muscles—which, I also noted, were considerably more toned than I ever remembered them being. His olive skin was darker, too, as if he'd spent a lot of time outside. "I'm guessing you come here often?" I asked him, trying to shake my thoughts away from his different but undeniably attractive appearance.

Jess hovered his fingers briefly over the open flame, not just long enough to burn. Before he could respond, a server in a Yankees jersey came up to our table. Her smile noticeably got bigger when she saw Jess sitting there. "Jess, baby. 'S been a while," she said warmly, chewing on her gum with fervor. She looked to be in her late thirties, maybe early forties. She reminded me fondly of Babette.

"Hey, Donna," he replied, his voice silky smooth. "How ya doin'?"

She sighed dramatically, propping her tray on her hip. "Oh, ya know. Same, same. Dougie's in juvie. Again." She rolled her eyes, her gaze landing on me. "Well, now, this isn't—"

"Donna, this is Rory. She's an old friend from Connecticut," Jess interjected somewhat quickly.

Donna's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Well, well. A blast from Jess' mysterious past. Don't worry, honey, Jess's told me nothin'. Whether that's a good thing or not, well, who knows!"

She offered me her hand, which I shook, returning her smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I like the bookshelves back there," I said, nodding towards the back wall.

Her eyes slid to Jess and she winked. "You're not the only one, sugar." She handed Jess the drinks menu. "Alright, so. We've got mojitos on special tonight; ten bucks a jug. We also have a discount on cans of Twisted Tea, which I would highly recommend," she added with a pointed glance towards me.

"I think Rory's more of a wine girl," Jess said with a smirk for my benefit.

I met his gaze evenly. "I'll drink anything." I flashed Donna a winning smile. "Twisted Tea sounds great."

Jess' smirk grew wider. "Make that two Twisted Teas, and a jug of raspberry mojito."

Donna gaped teasingly. "I like the way you think, Mariano." She held out her hand for the drink menu, but Jess kept his grip on it.

"We're gonna need this a bit longer," he said, giving Donna his most smouldering gaze. Holding her hands up in mock surrender, Donna retreated to the bar. Jess slid his eyes back to me, nothing but amusement in them now. "Anything?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

I jutted my chin out determinedly. "Anything."

He leaned back in the booth, slinging a casual arm over the back of the seat. "I think we're gonna have that theory well tested by the end of tonight."

It was my turn to raise a brow. "Drinking heavily tonight, huh?"

He chuckled. "Kinda thought that was the point." He bit the corner of his bottom lip. "We never drank together before."

"No, we haven't," I said, surprised at the realization. It wasn't that I drank heavily or even frequently, but still it was weird to remember a time when I didn't drink. Although, I hadn't really started until after Jess left Stars Hollow.

Donna came by with our drinks, affectionately nipping Jess' ear with her fingertips before she vanished again. We cracked open our Twisted Teas first, emptying them into the glasses filled with ice that had accompanied them, then held them up to toast.

"Here's to...what?" I asked.

Jess thought a moment, then cocked his head to one side, deciding. "Here's to you writing for the fuckin' New York Times," he began, "and to reuniting, no matter the circumstance."

I smiled gently at him, and met his glass with mine.

"So," he said after we had each taken long sips of our Teas, "spill."

I laughed. "Sheesh, let a girl get a few drinks in her first," I teased, swiping at the condensation on my glass with the pad of my thumb.

"Alright, fine. We'll start with something else. How the hell did you end up reviewing live performances?" he asked, slightly incredulous. "I thought you wanted to be a journalist."

I frowned. "I am a journalist."

"Come on, you know what I mean." Jess tilted his head towards me knowingly. "You wanted to do front-page stuff."

"Well, lots of things change in eight and a half years, Jess," I sighed.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he shook his head, sitting back again. "You didn't answer my question."

I took a sip of my Tea and swallowed. "It was kind of a fluke, really. I was asked to cover for the lady who usually reviewed shows when she went on mat leave. When she decided not to come back, they offered me the column permanently. I enjoyed it, so I took it. And I'm glad I did, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have met James."

"Oh, yeah?" There went his eyebrow, up towards his hairline.

"Yeah," I confirmed, gaining momentum. "He was working backstage on this show I reviewed Off-Broadway. He gave me a tour of the theatre and charmed my pants off. The rest is history."

Jess took a sip of his drink. "And you said he's Irish?"

I nodded. "From Dublin."

Jess stared at his glass for a moment, as if lost in thought. When he met my eyes, they were hard, serious. "He a good guy? I mean...he treat you right?" His voice was low, honey dark.

I didn't look away. "Yeah. He is. He does."

He nodded. "Good." Then, "So what's the problem?"

I frowned. "Problem?"

"Yeah." His voice got that raspy tone to it. "You said you needed to talk about something. I assume it's about your boyfriend. Sorry, fiancé." His famous smirk finally made an appearance. "Trouble in paradise, huh?"

My mouth fell open. "His mother died."

"That's not all, though. Come on, Rory. I know first hand what you're like when you're mad at a guy."

To my dismay, I felt heat rise in my face. "I'm not mad at James."

"Uh-huh." God, the look on his face was infuriating. A cross between smug and amused. "What'd he have to say about your meeting up with me?" My blood boiled. One look at my face was all the confirmation he needed. "Ah. You didn't tell him."

I sat back and folded my arms across my chest. I wasn't going to give Jess the satisfaction of knowing James in fact was ignorant to Jess' entire existence. There had been a close call at Luke's Diner when we had been looking over Luke's bulletin board, which had a few pictures of his family tacked onto it. Jess' employee of the month picture from Walmart was there among them, which Luke had kept as a keepsake or means of taunting Jess whenever he came to town, and James had pointed it out, asked who it was. Before Luke had had a chance to speak I had suggested we get more pancakes, and James had thankfully forgotten all about the picture after that.

Sitting there in that bar with Jess, though, I suddenly wished I had been honest with James about all my past relationships. We had had a long conversation three years ago, shortly after we started dating, about our respective exes and I had just been unable to talk about Jess. It was strange; I'd had no problem discussing Logan, who had been my most recent heartbreak before James, but Jess was a whole different story. Jess wasn't just a heartbreak, he was a piece of my heart that had remained attached but had never fully healed.

Now there we were. I wasn't married. James was on another continent indefinitely. And Jess was right across from me, looking sexier than ever. My hand clenched around my glass. "What about you?" I challenged, finally meeting his gaze. "Are you seeing anybody?"

His lips curled. "We're not here to talk about me."

I exhaled loudly, exasperated. "We're having a conversation. They generally tend to go both ways."

"Yeah, but see, I don't really want to talk about my personal life with you," he said sharply. "You show up in Philly, you let me kiss you, make me think—then you're gone again. Eight and half years go by, you don't call, you don't write. And then an invitation to your wedding randomly shows up in my PO box, after all that time? Forgive me, Rory, but I don't think being friends is really in the cards at this point. Stop trying so hard."

He might as well have slapped me. Reaching for my purse, I blindly tossed a handful of change onto the table.

He sighed. "Rory—"

My vision blurred as I got up and stormed out of the bar, and I felt my face scrunch as the tears began to fall. It wasn't until I got out into the street that I realized I had no idea how to get back to my hotel from here. I reached into my pocket for my phone, but it was empty. Panicking, I dug through my purse. Coming up empty-handed, I groaned, picturing my phone sitting helplessly on the table inside the bar, left behind in my haste to get out.

Swallowing my pride, I turned on my heel to go back for it, but Jess was already emerging from behind the door, my phone in his hand. Wordlessly, he took a few steps forward and held it out to me. I snatched it from him, sniffing, and casually brushed a hand across my face, humiliated that he'd caught me crying. "That was so uncalled for," I muttered.

"Was it?" he asked, but the bite was gone from his voice. "Because I've been wanting to say that for a really long time."

I bit my trembling lower lip. "Did you mean it?"

"It was all fact, Rory."

"Even the part about not being friends?"

"Do you want to be my friend?" he shot back, taking another step towards me. He was now at arm's length; I could touch him if I reached out. "Cuz to me, it seems like you don't really know what you want."

"That's because I don't," I admitted quietly, hanging my head. "You know me too well."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning his head down towards me. "I'm sorry. I was a dick."

"Asshole," I corrected, a slight smile escaping onto my lips.

He rolled his eyes, though a hint of a smirk showed through. "Semantics." Hesitantly, he reached out and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, ducking his head to meet my eyes with his. "Wanna go back inside?"

I scoffed. "After my dramatic exit? Hardly."

He chuckled. "No one in there gives a shit. Besides, I told Donna we'd be back."

"How'd you know I'd want to go back in there with you?" I asked incredulously.

"It's like you said." He slung his arm around my shoulders and steered me towards the door. "I know you too well."

Jess

"Is your favourite colour still green?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the simplicity of the question. "Really?"

Rory giggled along with me. "Hey, be impressed that I even remembered that."

Rory and I were now well into our third jug of mojitos and in the midst of a heated game of twenty questions; although, I was sure we had surpassed twenty ages ago. We just went back and forth. One of us would ask a question, then we would both have to answer it, then the other would ask and so on.

I smirked at her as I took a long sip of my mojito, enjoying the increasing buzz I had going on as I gazed at her through the dim light. There was a delightful flush spreading over her neck and chest, a sure sign that she was tipsy, at least. "I think my favourite colour is purple now," I answered honestly.

She looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"

I nodded, downing the remainder of what was in my glass. Reaching for the jug to refill, I said, "And I am."

"You are what?"

"Impressed. That you remember that." I raised my glass and clinked it against hers. "I'm not gonna even pretend that I remember yours."

"It was blue," she said. "Still is, I think. Your turn."

At this point, I was too tipsy to really contemplate my questions anymore. "How did you find out that I'd left?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When I left Stars Hollow. After the accident."

She sipped her drink thoughtfully. When she put the glass down, she stared at her hands. "My mom told me," she replied quietly. "Luke told her. After he saw that your stuff was gone."

"Huh."

"It was a long time ago," she deadpanned, waving it away with her hand. "Ten years."

That concept alone baffled me. I ran a hand over my hair; I kept forgetting how short it was now. "Wow."

"You broke my heart," she said.

I nodded. "I know."

"Then I broke yours."

"Yup."

"Twice?"

I looked at her, feeling the room tilt with my gaze as I cocked my head to one side. "Twice?"

"Well, in Philly...?" She was playing with her straw, sticking it in amongst the ice cubes and crushed mint at the bottom of her glass.

"Is this your question? Are you asking if I was still in love with you when you came to Truncheon?"

She shrugged in response.

I returned the shrugging gesture. "No, I wouldn't say I was. You didn't break my heart, then. Not in the romantic sense, anyway."

"Romantic sense?"

"Well, awhile before, when I went to the bar with you and that guy—"

"Logan."

"Whatever," I grunted. "I just saw you not being you. In a way, that...broke my heart. The thing in Philly just pissed me off, frankly. And added to my disappointment. I really hoped I'd talked some sense into you about that guy."

She was staring intently into her glass, but at least she'd stopped fiddling with her straw. "You seemed to expect something to happen," she said quietly. She looked at me, then, her eyes searching my face.

Smirking, I took a sip of my drink. "Yeah, you could say that."

"You kissed me."

"Uh-huh."

"That what you were expecting?"

I scoffed. "Not entirely."

It dawned on her, then. She dropped her gaze, bringing her hands down into her lap. "Oh."

I stared at her a moment, challenging her to look at me, but she wouldn't. Sighing, I rolled her eyes while she couldn't see. "Like you said. Was a long time ago."

"Did you really think I'd do that?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper.

The corner of my mouth lifted. "It's my turn, now." She glared at me, lips pressed together. "First, you gotta answer your own question."

"My question?"

"Were you still in love with me when you came to Philly?"

She was solid in her response. "No."

I nodded. "Okay. Still my turn."

"Go for it."

"Were you still a virgin?"

Her eyes widened and the flush on her chest spread quickly to her cheeks. "When?" When I gave her a knowing look, she pressed her lips together. Surpressing a smile, she shook her head.

"Well you were with that guy. Makes sense." I shrugged. It really wasn't a big deal.

"Were you?"

I grinned at her provocatively. "Was I a virgin?"

She rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat. I delighted in the sight of uncomfortable Rory. "Well obviously...with Shane, but...I mean, were you ever, while we were together? While we knew each-other?"

I put my glass down, watching the condensation roll over my fingers. I exhaled loudly. "I lost my virginity when I was fourteen," I said softly.

"Huh." I could see her biting the inside of her cheek as she pondered for a moment. "It's weird. We never talked about this stuff."

I smirked. "Still makes you blush."

"I blush easily," she countered, a smile breaking onto her face. "Really, though? Fourteen?"

"Hey, I was bored, she was horny. Wasn't rocket science."

"Was she a girlfriend?"

I shook my head, biting my lip. "I never really had a girlfriend before you. Not a serious one."

"Who was she, then?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "You're seriously wasting a question on who I lost my virginity to?"

She smiled. "Yes I am."

I sighed. My drunk brain was seriously outweighing my sober one at this point, but my sober one was fighting for control. I stared at the candle on the table as I responded. "She was a neighbour. We used to hang out whenever my mom wasn't home."

"Oh?" Rory pressed, leaning her cheek onto her closed fist, her body loose with alcohol.

My cheek twitched as words came tumbling out of my mouth. "I guess you could say she was my babysitter?"

Her expression shifted from amusement to confusion. "Babysitter? At fourteen?"

"I got into trouble a lot; Liz didn't trust me." I downed the rest of my drink, half a glass, all at once. "Her name was Emma. She was, I think...maybe nineteen? Twenty?"

"Twenty?" Rory gasped, a hand coming up to her mouth.

"Relax," I grunted, suddenly very uncomfortable with all this. "'S not like I didn't want to."

"Jess, that's...you were a minor. That's statutory—"

"My turn," I snapped, reaching suddenly for the jug. I nearly sent it flying into Rory's lap. She squeaked in surprise and caught it. A silence fell over our table as she poured the remainder of the jug's contents into my glass.

When she put the jug down, she said quietly, "Don't you want me to answer the question?"

I nearly winced, but found myself nodding.

"It was Dean."

I just kept nodding, my brain rushing to catch up with her words and their meaning. But all I said was, "Your turn. I got nothing."

She almost seemed disappointed that I hadn't given more of a reaction. She thought for a moment. "You never answered my question from earlier."

"That narrows it down."

"You never said if you were seeing someone?" She reached for the jug, then, to refill her empty glass. The jug was now almost empty, and I debated the likelihood of ordering another being a good idea. I could tell she was nearly drunk, and I myself was definitely feeling slippery and groggy. I was seeing someone? Nora. Right?

Before I could respond, a bell rang out from the bar area. Rory and I looked up to see Donna calling out to the crowds that it was last call. Rory flicked her wrist out and checked her watch, her eyes growing wide. "Holy shit, it's nearly midnight."

"Hey, the city never sleeps, so you don't have to either," I reminded her, but she was already reaching into her purse for her wallet.

"No, I should get going. I've got the show tomorrow night and I know I'm going to need all day to nurse the hangover I'm bound to have." She tossed a few bills onto the table, enough to cover all our drinks and a generous tab.

I groaned. "You don't have to—"

"Don't worry about it," she cut me off, smiling.

Before she could get up, I reached out and placed a hand over hers, stilling her. She looked at me expectantly. I took a deep breath. "I am seeing someone, Rory," I said quietly. "Her name's Nora. I've been—we've been together for five years. We live together."

She looked dumbfounded for a moment, but then it was gone, replaced by a pleasant smile. "Five years, wow." But that smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "She must be pretty special."

I nodded, smiling, thinking of Nora. Then I remembered how fucking mad she was going to be. Cuz I was with Rory. "She is."

"Are you—I mean." She bit her lip, hard. "Are you going to marry her, do you think?"

I sighed, closing my eyes. Before my head could hit the table I felt Rory's gentle hands holding me, lifting me from the seat. I was barely aware of what was going on; she was leading me out of the bar, into the warm night air. Once the fresh air hit me I sobered slightly, and felt her hands still on my upper arms, steadying me, saw her amused smile as she stared into my drunk eyes.

I looked up at the stars, smiling at them as if they were old friends. "I would marry her," I said finally, to the stars. "But she's toooooo young."

"Okay, Jess," she said in the tone of voice everyone uses when dealing with a drunk idiot, or a five-year-old. She hailed a cab and dragged me into it. "Where do you live? I'll take you home."

"I didn't eat much today," I told her seriously. "That's why I'm so blitzed. Normally I drink way more."

"I'm sure, Jess. The nice cab driver needs your address."

I snuggled my head against her shoulder as I sleepily mumbled my address to her.

Before I knew it, she was dragging me out of the cab, telling the guy to wait while she brought me up to my apartment. I was protesting all the while, Rory, I can handle it, I got it, it's ok, I'm a big-boy I can get myself home.

I was on my couch, and my shoes were off. The throw blanket was so soft; I snuggled into it, sighing contentedly. I opened my eyes and the room was spinning so I shut them again. For some reason, the garbage can from the kitchen was on the floor beside me. Rory's hair tickled my face. Rory's hair? Yes, Rory's hair. She was kissing my forehead. I felt her warm lips, right between my eyebrows. I reached for her; she smelled good. She hurt my nose when I pulled her to me, but it was okay because I felt the warmth of her mouth over mine, her breaths becoming shorter as her tongue darted out to play. Her hair was fine and smooth, running between my fingers, and my lap was warm with her butt, my hands full with her breasts, and both were so soft. Quiet grunts came from me and short little moans from her. I threw my arms around her, just wanting her closer, because I was feeling really good, right then, even though none of these things were really making sense to me, these blurry flashes of images and sounds straight out of a fantasy.

Then she was, all gone, and she was swearing, and, stumbling around, in the dark, and then I heard my front door open, and close. I rolled over and just caught a glimpse of the stars through my windows before sleep came and took me away.

A/N: Review for drunk Literati? Pleeeeaaassseeee?!