enjoy xoxo
disclaimer: I own nothing.
"You nervous?" Jess asks, glancing over at Rory in the passenger seat as they drive back to New York together for the day.
"A little," she admits with a nod, "but it's nice to have you here to distract me."
Jess smiles slightly and briefly holds her hand to his lips, eyes not leaving the road.
"You didn't really explain what's going to happen now. I mean I'm happy you're driving me to my interview, but then what? Are you coming back to Stars Hollow with me through New Year's?"
"Yeah. I'm going to be in Stars Hollow on and off. Probably for a while," Jess says the last part so quietly, she almost doesn't hear it. She puts a comforting hand on his leg.
"What did Luke say when you spoke yesterday?"
"Okay, so we got the new counter seats ordered, and I ordered only strawberry jam from the supplier this time," Luke tells Jess as they convene on their Kirk related activities, "I got different shape cookie cutters for his sandwiches. No more stars or squares for him."
"And I managed to sneak in and switch his projecting screen at Black-White-Read to a slightly smaller size," Jess smirks, "and you told Miss Patty what we're doing? You know I'm not going to talk to that handsy woman."
"Yes, I talked to her. Everyone but Kirk will be onboard in no time."
"I can't wait to watch his head explode."
"So, I guess that means you'll be sticking around?" Luke asks, and the air in the room is suddenly serious and heavy. Jess frowns and nods slowly.
"I don't have a choice."
Luke stares at his nephew and sees fear and anxiety in his eyes for the first time ever. Even when things were going sideways with Rory and high school, he never gave any indication that he was frightened or nervous. But right now, he looks a whole lot younger and more innocent than his thirty-three years, and Luke feels a protective urge to be a better Uncle than he had been in the past.
"You do have a choice, Jess. This is not your responsibility. She's my sister, and Doula is my niece. Between Lorelai and I, we can handle this."
"And Doula is my sister. I want to be there for her."
Luke sighs and takes a seat at the small kitchen table in the apartment above the diner. He nods to the other seat, and Jess slowly complies and sits across from him.
"You have made a nice life for yourself. You have worked hard to become," Luke pauses, searching for the right words, his hands gesturing at his nephew, "this man. You worked through all the crap Liz put you through, you worked through the crap even I put you through, and you're doing well. Now, I know you're strong, and I know you're stubborn, but are you going to be able to keep all of these things that you worked so hard for? Can your happiness, your…mental health, even your relationship with Rory - can it all sustain the crap that Liz is going to put it through again? Because you know this isn't going to be easy. You know better than I do, probably."
To Luke's surprise, Jess's body language doesn't falter, and he doesn't scowl. He sits quietly composed, staring at the table, taking Luke's words in. It's only a few moments before he looks up and meets his Uncle's eyes with a small nod. The fear and anxiety from before have vanished.
"Yes. And if it can't, I'll put in the work to do it all again. It's worth it."
Luke looks him over for a moment, trying to read him for any indication that he's lying, or putting on a brave face. But he only finds certainty and sincerity. He nods in response and sits back in the creaky chair.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Luke puts his hands behind his head and releases a small sigh.
"You know, I'm sorry for implying that you may not have been ready to support Rory and be a father figure to her kid. I should have known better."
Jess's right shoulder lifts up in a half-shrug, "You were just looking out for us."
Luke nods softly and leans forward slightly in his chair for emphasis, "I always will. And Jess?"
His nephew lifts his gaze to meet Luke's eyes, waiting for him to continue.
"I'm really sorry you and Rory didn't get the opportunity to…experience that dynamic."
Jess's body shifts slightly at his words, and he swallows.
"I wasn't really with her yet when she was pregnant. I found out about it after the miscarriage. It's not something that affects me."
Luke shoots him a knowing look.
"You two were getting close again in the summer. And don't think I didn't see that look on your face after that 'work thing' on the porch before our wedding, not to mention you two dancing awfully close at the reception," Jess rolls his eyes at this, "Just because you didn't know about it doesn't mean she wasn't pregnant and there wasn't the possibility of a future that included the two of you and her baby."
"What are you getting at?" Jess huffs, but the words come out softer than they would have in the past.
"You are allowed to feel something about the fact that you were about to become a family and now you're not. Because I have no doubt in my mind that you and Rory would be together right now anyway if she were still pregnant."
Jess doesn't reply with words. He runs a hand through his hair and then crosses his arms over his chest.
"I understand the protective need you have to put your own feelings aside for Rory's sake. I've been through it many times in situations with Lorelai," Luke leans forward and places a hand on the table in front of Jess, he points to him, "and if I were in this situation you're in, I would feel…pretty down about missing out on something so great."
Jess sinks back in his chair, mulling over Luke's words.
"I'm more upset that Rory had to go through all those things at all. Logan was the one missing out, and I'm sure that wouldn't have changed if she had his baby."
Luke grunts, "Fuck Logan."
Jess looks up at his Uncle and smirks slightly at his words.
"I didn't know that you knew that word, Uncle Luke."
Luke rolls his eyes and states, "I only use it when I really mean it."
One of Jess's eyebrows lifts, "I guess she gave you all the grimy details then?"
"I don't want to hear anything," Luke shakes his head but then pauses, "wait what do you mean grimy details? She spoke to him?"
"Guess Rory didn't tell you everything. Ask Lorelai."
"Jess," Luke barks, "What did he do?"
He shakes his head in response, "It's not my shit to tell. Ask Lorelai. If Rory told her, I'm sure she will tell you."
Luke groans but nods, "Fine. I respect your loyalty to her."
"It's more that I won't be able to talk you down from murder."
"I never liked him," Luke mumbles, then looks up at Jess, "but you've avoided telling me the truth. How do you feel?"
Jess breathes in deeply, leaning his elbows on the table. He puts his face in his hands and gathers his thoughts.
"It would have been nice. Hard. Really difficult. But nice," Jess removes his face from his hands and looks at his uncle, "I do wish it wasn't taken from us. But more than that, I wish she would have told me at the wedding, and I could have been there for her sooner. It kills me knowing that she went through the anxiety of getting pregnant, and then the loss of it all by herself. I wish she would have…let me in sooner."
"Listen, you especially know how hard it can be to let someone in. Especially when you've convinced yourself you should do it all on your own. Like she did. Like you did in high school. What matters is that you were there for her continuously once she did let you in. Right?"
He nods resignedly in response, "And I will continue to be as much as I can with all this shit going on."
Luke leans over and grips his shoulder supportively.
Jess looks away from him and admits, "As soon as this situation is dealt with, me and Rory are going all in."
Luke's eyes widen at his nephew's words, before his face settles in to a knowing grin, "Ah, now I see why you're ready to put yourself through this. You've got something waiting on the other side."
The corner of Jess's mouth perks up, but he quells it before Luke can make fun of him.
"So. Your message said Liz is doing bad, and you think it's from money problems. First things first. Do you think Doula is unsafe at the house?"
Jess shakes his head slowly.
"I don't think so. Not physical danger anyway, except that Liz tried to drive her home drunk when she got pissed at me yesterday."
"Jess, that sounds dangerous." Luke stands up from his chair and begins to pace back and forth.
"I don't think it's a regular thing, she was upset with me. We can't just rip Doula from her home. She doesn't really understand any of what's going on. And, trust me, removing a kid from the comfort and familiarity of their home is a precarious thing. It could turn out worse that way. Also, she does have TJ."
Luke grunts as he continues his anxious movements.
"I'm more concerned about the way Liz talks to her. The driving thing I think, or rather hope, was a onetime issue."
Luke stops his pacing and turns to Jess, "What does she say to her?"
As Jess explains it all to him, he continues his pacing. With each detail, his anger visibly increases. When Jess stops talking, Luke inhales deeply, his eyes closed as he considers all that he said.
"You know," he exhales, "when she got pregnant with Doula, she blew up on TJ. Kicked him out. Told him he wouldn't be able to handle a kid, that he would ruin its life. But she was projecting on him her own fears and pushing him away in the process to keep him from seeing that part of her. Now, and I am not excusing any of her crap, it sounds like that's what she is doing with Doula too."
Jess nods perceptively, "Because she thinks the money issue is going to ruin her family. She expects everything to go downhill with it. Self-fulfilling prophecy and crap."
The two men are silent as they quietly try figure out the next step. Luke continues pacing around the apartment, while Jess stares down at the kitchen table. He looks up minutes later when he feels Luke's hand on his shoulder.
"We will go to Liz today. Try to talk to her. But for right now, If you're staying, let's clean up the apartment so you can stay here. You'll want your own space through all this."
"Thanks. That would be helpful," Jess nods, and stands up. The mood is still heavy, and he wants some relief, so he gets it in one of his favorite forms: antagonizing Luke.
"Especially when Rory visits. Her childhood bedroom is just slightly too small for our activities."
"God, Jess!" Luke groans, pulling at the baseball cap on his head, "Why are you like this?! You need to respect her and her body! Don't talk like that!"
"Oh, I respect the hell out of her body. I practically worship it. Don't you worry about that, Uncle Luke," he winks with a mischievous grin.
"You know what, you clean the goddamn apartment by yourself. I need to get away from you and this disturbing subject. Come down to the diner when you're done. Bye."
"See ya, uncle Luke! Hey, do you think they still make those vibrating mattresses? Rory might enjoy one of those."
He hears Luke grunt in disgust as he slams the door and walks down to the diner. He grins to himself, glad that he will at least have the pastime of annoying his Uncle to get him through all this.
"We decided that I'll stay in the apartment above the diner whenever I'm in town. How often I will be there isn't really clear yet. We tried to talk to Liz yesterday and didn't really get anywhere."
"She'll come around. I hope," Rory tries to ease his concerns. Jess shrugs in response.
"Are you going to be okay staying in Stars Hollow? I know it's not your favorite place to visit."
He shrugs again, "It's not that bad."
She raises an eyebrow, "Not that bad? Since when? Just yesterday you wanted to kill Kirk."
"Kirk is a nuisance, but now that we get to slowly torture him it makes it all better."
"I see. So, you plan to entertain yourself through someone else's pain, got it."
Jess smirks slightly and nods.
"But even besides Kirk, I didn't think you really liked to be there."
"I don't hate it."
"Is it because we made new memories there?"
"Yep, now when I walk around the hollow I can just picture you naked in your teenage bed. It will stop the scowling every time."
Rory rolls her eyes.
"Of course, you go directly to the dirty memories. We made some sweet, happy ones too."
He doesn't say anything but reaches over to grab her hand. He brings it to his lips and rests it there for a moment before letting go.
"Your mom talked to me."
Rory turns in her seat to face him, "Uh oh."
"That's the thing," he shakes his head, "It wasn't bad. She actually hugged me. Thanked me. It was nice. Weird. A little unsettling even, but nice."
Her chest flutters at the thought of this interaction.
"Aw, Jess. You know she's liked you for a long time. I know she was a little mean at Thanksgiving, but that's just because she thought I was pregnant and being stupid."
He continues to drive quietly, thumb tracing over the top of Rory's hand. She is mesmerized by the movement, staring as the rough skin of his finger circles over her soft skin. She's jolted out of her trance as Jess suddenly releases a humorless chuckle.
"It's kind of ironic," he begins his thought, but when he doesn't finish it, Rory squeezes his hand.
"What is?"
"That finally the obstacle of your mom and Luke is gone. But now it's my mother that's standing in our way."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rory. Please, have a seat," David, her interviewer, motions to the chair in front of his desk.
"Thank you, it's a pleasure to meet you also. I brought a copy of my resume if you need it," she slides the clear folder across the desk to him. He takes it, and smiles as he lifts a piece of paper off his desk to show her.
"Already have a paper copy, though I appreciate your preparedness. I know it's not exactly environmentally friendly, but I prefer everything in print. I like to hold it in my hands."
She smiles, "Me too. Must be why we are both interested in news."
He chuckles and nods, "It's a passion indeed. So, your resume has range which is great. I understand you have been freelancing since Obama's campaign ended, but I didn't see any recent samples here. I'm curious as to what you've been up to?"
Her stomach drops slightly, as this starts to feel like her interview at Conde Nast. The feeling of irrelevance tries to creep its way into her conscience, but she resists it. She keeps her smile on and her head high.
"I was working on writing a memoir, actually. To be honest, I became burned out from the constant work and traveling since graduating college. And if I am being even more honest, I was burning myself out before that through school. Everyone is quick to praise intelligence, hard work, and good grades, but no one acknowledges the mental toll of it all or offers help. At least in my experience. I needed time after the campaign. I did search for work, but not as hard as I could have been because I really needed some peace and stagnancy for a while."
She doesn't mean to say all of those things but feels good about it as she sees the smile on his face. She breathes a quiet breath of relief; she is strong, she can handle any questions thrown at her. She is confident. She repeats all of this in her head as she awaits a response.
"I understand. I went to Columbia. I was completely rundown by college graduation, and ended up spending a year of my life doing all of the things I missed out on in college because I was studying so hard. Mainly partying. Everyone was so disappointed in me, but it was worth it. It was freedom, it was peace, it was therapy. Got tired of it of course, and as us overachievers tend to do, I jumped in to as many roles as I possibly could to get me closer to journalism and finally made it here a few years ago. So, I get it. I'm not judging you at all," he leans forward with a smile to convey his point.
Rory returns his grin and nods, "Thank you. And thanks for sharing that."
"What happened with your memoir, if you don't mind me asking?"
She swallows and her smile falters slightly.
"It is still in progress. I experienced a loss recently that made it difficult, emotionally, to devote all of my time to writing the book."
"I see. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks," she clears her throat and sits up straight, "I know that all of this makes me sound a little…weak, maybe? Or unprepared. But I can assure you that I am ready to take on an opportunity with the New York Times. I'm ready to travel again, to tell stories and experience the world. It's been a dream of mine for a long time, and though I've deviated from it for various reasons, the goal has always been in my head."
"You don't sound weak. The opposite, actually. I know you came here a few weeks ago and asked about a job. My secretary said you wouldn't leave until she accepted a copy of your resume and promised to pass it along. I have a great respect for that sort of hustle."
She blushes slightly and smiles guiltily. But then, as if just digesting his words, her head quirks.
"Oh, so this isn't because of my…references?"
He clears his throat and leans back in his chair.
"Well, I was planning on reaching out to you at some point based on your visit. But with the endorsement of Mr. Huntzberger, I acted a little faster."
Her shoulders slump slightly at the confession, but she keeps her smile plastered on.
"Don't get me wrong, it's not because the Huntzberger's hold a huge influence on me or anything. But, I do know they have a lot of influence over other places. And I know that if he reached out to me, then he must be reaching out to multiple papers. So, I wanted to get you in here quick and make you an offer before someone else does."
Rory perks up at this, excitement radiating through her body.
"Wow. I'm honored. And to be frank…relieved. It's been difficult trying to find work in the world of journalism, but it was even harder asking a Huntzberger for help."
He laughs at this, "I get it. Got a lot of pride myself. No, it's not about Logan. I liked your resume, and I appreciate your level of intellect and maturity. Journalism looks for fresh faces, straight out of college, so they can exploit them - pay them too little, take up a lot of their time, give them crappy benefits. I prefer quality over quantity, and you and your work are quality."
Rory beams proudly, sucking in a deep breath to keep from letting emotions escape her.
"With that being said, what do you plan to bring to this newspaper? How do you see your voice? What's your edge?"
Rory takes her time thinking about this before responding. For a long time, she didn't think she had any distinction from other journalists. Partly because of what Mitchum had said to her, and partly because sometimes she felt herself struggling to add her own voice to her work. It could be a daunting task especially when she harbored intense self-doubt and tried to push back against her own mind. But she knows now who she is, and what she has to offer.
"I've worked hard to find my journalistic voice. I worked against my limitations for so long, trying to be something I'm not. But, now I realize that the things I tried to overcome about myself - my naivety, my kindness, my small town upbringing - are all strengths. They give me a particular perspective that helps me learn with my audience. It's not me dictating information to them; it's me analyzing it, reporting it and finding answers that others may not see because of their assumptions. I'm not jaded or unimpressed. I can find an important and interesting story in almost anything. One of the first articles I ever wrote was for Chilton about a new parking lot, and I made it into something so much deeper. it's part of my charm. It's my voice. I'm not the worldliest, and I'm not cunning or conniving, which are qualities that some people think are required to work in this world. I care, and I'm always yearning to learn. My work is not about me. It's about the people and places that I will be experiencing. And that's my edge; my perspective, or lack thereof if you will."
He stares at her for a beat before smiling and standing up. He reaches out a hand and she takes it, shaking it confidently despite her internal feelings of anxiousness.
"It's truly been a pleasure. I will have an offer sent to you by the end of next week. Normally it would be faster, but our administration and HR team takes off a lot of extra time around the holidays. I hope to see you in our ranks soon."
Rory stands up with a big smile and nod.
"Thank you so much for your time and words. I look forward to receiving your offer."
He ushers her out and walks her back to the elevator.
"Happy holidays, Rory. Take care."
As soon as he turns and walks back towards his office, Rory skips into the elevator with a huge sigh of relief. Alone in the elevator, she takes the opportunity to shriek and bounce on her toes. Her future is suddenly beaming down on her in an effervescent light. It's no longer shadowy or mysterious, no longer weighing so heavily on her that she can't move. On her way to the subway, she stops at a hot dog cart for lunch. And as she descends the steps, food in hand, she grins at the memory of taking the subway with Jess all those years ago. Do they allow hot dogs in the subway? Now she knows they allow just about everything down there. But her thoughts remain on young Jess, his infuriating and equally enticing smirk. His confident yet welcoming demeanor. How he didn't ask her one question about her presence in New York City that day until the end of the trip, like she was always supposed to be there. Like it was a plan that they had telepathically setup together. All those features and characteristics that pulled her in years ago are still there in her man now. Including his unwavering support and belief in her abilities. And as she sits on the lawless train, eating her nostalgic lunch, that teenage-feeling of fresh excitement for her life coursing through her, she thinks Jess was right. It got better. Just like the underwear.
As she walks peppily down the hallway to her apartment, she notices a familiar blonde standing at her door. She gasps and smiles in delight.
"Paris! What are you doing here?" she greets her friend with a quick hug.
"I told you I was coming."
"You did? Oh shoot, two days after Christmas. You're right. Sorry a lot has happened recently, I totally forgot."
"I figured. Did you get a real job? You're all dressed up," Paris asks, looking over Rory's business outfit.
"Not yet but I will. Hey, how did you know where I live?" she asks, as she starts to put the key in her apartment door.
"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to."
"Noted," Rory nods and opens the door for Paris, "Come in, it's cramped and a mess, but I have coffee."
"What about wine?" Paris asks as she follows Rory into the shared living room and kitchen area.
"I might have that too. Definitely vodka."
"Sold."
"What's got you drinking at noon?" Rory inquires, grabbing the bottle from her freezer and some clean glasses from her cabinet.
"Ugh a lot. But mostly that I had sex with Doyle before I left California."
"Oh. Is that so bad?"
"Five times Rory!"
"Oh my. Well, what's wrong with that? Are you afraid of getting pregnant again?"
"God no. Do you really think a woman of my profession, with my education, doesn't know her way around birth control?"
"Well why are you upset about it? It was obviously something you wanted to happen. I've known you a long time, and you don't get talked in to things you don't want to do."
"I know. I did want it. But that makes me feel weak. It's Doyle. Freaking Doyle! How does such a man keep drawing me back in? I'll take vodka on the rocks please."
Rory lifts her eyebrows at her friend, "How about vodka and orange juice at least? It's the middle of the day. We should be prudent and not put ourselves in a position similar to the legendary Miss Patty's punch fiasco."
Paris huffs but nods, "Fine. You make a good point. Screwdriver it is. Speaking of screwdriver, it's one of mine and Doyle's favorite positions. Really hits all the right spots. We were in it just three days ago," she concludes with a forlorn sigh.
"Oh god! That's an image I did not need," Rory groans as she pours their drinks.
"Oh sure, you can act all Mary if you want but I know what you've been up to. I can tell you have been getting properly -"
"Uh uh. Do not finish that sentence or I will withhold the booze," Rory warns sternly, bottle of vodka frozen mid pour.
"Fine. Though I bet you don't even know what the screwdriver position looks like."
"I can imagine well enough," Rory mutters, finishing their drinks and leading them to the nearby couch, "but I guess I understand. That's how I felt about Logan."
"Don't even talk to me about that manipulative Lothario. We are done with him."
"Well, sort of. He did help get me the interview I had this morning at the New York Times."
Paris looks her over, scrutinizing for a moment and then nods and sips her drink.
"At least he's good for something. So, you finally made some decisions about your future? What happened to the book?"
She shrugs, "I needed a break. I'll get back to it at some point. But I'm ready to get into journalism again."
Paris holds her glass up to toast, "Here's to you not buckling under the bullshit."
"And to you for not letting me."
"Hear, hear."
After several hours, half a bottle of vodka, a full bottle of wine, pizza, two movies and a load of debates later, Paris and Rory sit drunkenly in her living room attempting to play a game.
"Never have I ever…dated someone three times my age," Rory mumbles with a sloppy smile. Paris rolls her eyes and drops a finger.
"This game is asinine. Especially with only two people that have enough dirt on each other to fill a graveyard."
"Come on, drink up!"
Paris huffs and takes a sip from her wine glass.
"My turn. Never have I ever slept with a married man."
Rory's first instinct is to be saddened by her words, but after a moment she breaks into a fit of giggles.
"Does Logan count too? If so, I lose and need to chug my drink."
Just then, they hear someone outside her apartment door.
"Hey, who's there? I know Krav Maga and I'm not afraid to use it!" Paris shouts at the intruder, stumbling as she stands up from the couch.
"I'm not sure that's very threatening in your current state, Paris," Rory comments, standing up on wobbly feet. Her front door opens and Jess strides in slowly, taking in the room. Paris looks back and forth between them for a moment, regarding Rory's pleased smile and Jess's demeanor.
"No, Logan doesn't count. You're still in the game and I'm taking another turn," Paris smirks at Rory.
"It smells like a distillery in here," Jess observes, placing his things down on the floor.
Paris ignores him, and exclaims at Rory, "Never have I ever had sex with Jess Mariano!"
"Wow, two of the most intelligent women I know playing a college drinking game. I guess even Einstein needed to let loose sometimes," Jess smirks at Rory, waiting for her to respond to the situation. She looks at Paris guiltily as she drops her last finger, picks up her glass of wine and chugs it.
"I knew it. He's the one that made you bleed, right?"
"Why would you put it that way? Gross."
"She's not wrong," Jess shrugs, picking up the wine bottle on the counter, "Jesus you guys finished a bottle of vodka and wine? How are you standing right now?"
"Very unstabley. Is that a word? You're an author, you ought to know," Paris slurs, slumping back down on the couch. Rory nods in agreement and flops down next to her.
"Have you had any food?"
"A whole pizza for lunch. And some snacks."
"Right, how about I order you guys some burgers and fries from the diner around the corner? And in the meantime," he grabs two water bottles from the fridge and holds them out, "drink only water."
"Yes sir," Rory slurs and gives a lopsided nod, "can we get cheese fries?"
"And onion rings! On the burgers," Paris chimes.
Jess rolls his eyes but cannot contain the amused smile on his face.
"Okay, but you two are going to support each other when you start throwing up, right?"
"Pfft, big strong man afraid of vomit," Paris drunkenly rolls her eyes, "sure thing Adrian Monk."
"He's not afraid of vomit, Paris. He helped his sister throw up a bag of Swedish fish. Isn't that nice?"
"How very Brady," Paris sits up slightly on the couch, scrunching her eyes at Jess, "you know, you're very symmetrical. And I'm three sheets to the wind, so you must be extremely even for them to still appear to me that way. You got a bubble level here? Maybe if he stands flat against the wall, we can check that way."
"Do I want to know what she's talking about?" Jess turns to Rory, who starts giggling.
"Paris! Stop checking out my man's junk."
"Your man? Well if it's that serious, I suggest you start making babies stat. Those gonads would be a terrible thing to waste," she turns and stage whispers to Rory, "both you I could make a lot of money off of. Let me know if you're interested."
"Jesus Christ," Jess mutters, backing away from the living room, "I'm getting out of here before this gets weirder. I'll be back with food. Please, for the sake of at least my sanity, only drink water while I'm gone."
"How are you feeling, Dorothy Parker?" Jess whispers to Rory a couple hours later. Paris is passed out on the couch across from them, and Rory looks close behind.
"Drunk. Tired," she yawns and then clutches her stomach, "A little sick. And I have cramps."
"Come here," he pulls her down, so her head is in his lap. He reaches a hand just under the band of her sweatpants and strokes calming circles on her stomach.
"I love your hands," she mumbles and closes her eyes, "so rough. But sooooo comforting."
"You can thank barbells and pens for that. Calluses on my palms and fingers."
Rory opens one eye and looks up at him, "What's a barbell?"
He bites his lip to quiet his deep laugh, "Don't worry about it, couch potato."
She opens both eyes and pouts.
"Hey, you're the cutest couch potato I know. It's not a bad thing."
Her pout turns into a grin, and she closes her eyes again with a small sigh.
"Can I ask what inspired your reenactment of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas?"
Rory giggles, "Well, I am going to be a journalist soon I hope. Needed some practice."
"I thought your influence was Christiane Amanpour, not Hunter S. Thompson."
"But what if the Times wants me to do a story on a motorcycle gang? I need to be prepared," she jokes with another giggle.
Jess shakes his head with a smile, but it turns into a frown as he asks earnestly, "Ror. Everything's okay right? I don't need to worry about whatever caused this today?"
She shifts her drunken eyes to his and forces them to focus. She reaches a hand up to touch his face.
"Everything is totally okay," she assures him and then gasps slightly, "Oh, god. Your mom. No wonder you're freaked out. I'm sorry. I'm an insensitive scoundrel."
He quells his smirk, "You're not insensitive. Or a scoundrel. I don't think anyone has been called that in the last fifty years."
"Paris wanted to drink because she slept with Doyle. Five times. While she was in California. And also, to celebrate my potential new job slash future."
"Potential new job? As if you're going to turn down any offer they give you," he smiles down at her, "and what's a Doyle?"
"He's like Paris' Logan except without the wife and kid on the way. And he's the father of her children."
"So…a privileged and bigheaded, but charming, egomaniac that keeps pulling her back in?"
Rory's jaw drops slightly, "Wow, tell me how you really feel about Logan."
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Then brings it down to her head to caress her face.
"Sorry. Just acknowledging what I've seen and heard about the guy. Recently and in the past."
She frowns and turns her head to the side, avoiding his eye contact. His eyes roll up to the ceiling momentarily, then back down to her. He turns her head to face him again.
"The way I feel about him isn't a reflection on you, you know that right?"
She shrugs slightly, "Why not? I'm the idiot that kept being pulled back in by a 'bigheaded egomaniac'."
His eyes go wide, and he holds tighter on to her face, fixing her with an intense look, "Rory. Please. You know I don't think that."
She chews on her bottom lip and then nods slowly, "I know you don't. But sometimes I do."
"Don't. There's nothing wrong with being kind and forgiving. Or wanting to see the best in people. It's beautiful and rare, and it's not your fault if a jerk took advantage of that."
Her mouth slowly changes from a frown to a warm smile, and Jess visibly relaxes.
"Thanks for saying that."
He shrugs one shoulder, "It's the truth, Ror. But, I should be more respectful of Logan I guess. He did do the right thing and help you."
She nods in agreement.
"And…he was going to be the father of your child. I would have had to be respectful of him in that sense," his words are soft, eyes roaming over face as images of that almost-situation run through his mind, "I'll try to keep that in mind from now on."
She looks up at him with a watery smile. She opens her mouth to respond, but suddenly her lips twist into a grimace and she quickly places a hand over her mouth. She shoots up on the couch like she's going to run but Jess places a hand on her arm.
"I've got you. Here," he picks up the small trash can that he moved from her bathroom earlier just for this possibility. She takes it and places it in her lap before leaning over and unleashing the boozy contents of her stomach. Jess pulls her hair out of the way with one hand and moves the other in calming sweeps on her back.
"Ugh, that orange juice burns on the way out," she groans as she leans back slightly from the trash can to catch her breath.
"I'm sure that's the vodka. Or the red wine."
She shoots him a deadly look before she begins to heave again. He grimaces as she hunches back over the trash can but continues to hold her hair and rub her back.
"I haven't been this sick from drinking since…Miss Patty's punch," she begins to heave again at the thought of the punch. He kisses her shoulder sympathetically.
"Just let it all out, baby. You'll feel better," he drones comfortingly.
Once her stomach seems to calm she leans back into his arm. He takes the trash can from her lap and places it carefully on the floor.
"You okay?" he asks gently. She takes a deep breath and nods slowly.
"Okay. I'm going to start the shower for you and then take this trash out. Let's walk to the bathroom together, okay?"
She nods slightly as he stands up. She takes his offered hand and lets him lead her to the bathroom.
"Sit on the floor so if you get sick, the toilet is face level."
She tries to laugh but it dies in her dry throat. He steps out to the living room and then returns with a bottle of water.
"Here you go," he crouches down and hands her the open bottle, "take small sips. Okay, baby? If you drink too fast, you'll get sick again."
She nods and takes a few small sips of the water. He stands and turns on the shower for her.
He turns back to take the water bottle from her hands and places it on the bathroom counter. Then helps her carefully out of her clothes.
"I like when you call me that," she croaks as he helps her stand up.
"What's that?" he asks, looking up at her from where he is helping her step out of her sweatpants and underwear.
"Baby. I like when you call me that."
He smirks at her as he stands up, "I know you do."
He kisses her cheek and then helps guide her into the shower.
"You should sit down. Don't want you hitting your head or anything."
She leans onto his shoulder as she slowly sinks to the floor of the shower.
"There you go, baby. I'm going to go take out that trash, but I'll be back. Your body wash is right here if you want to use it," he hands it to her and then stands up.
"If you know, why don't you say it more?" she mumbles before he walks away. He leans down and kisses her on the cheek again.
"I save it for when you need to hear it the most, to keep it special," he responds in a rough whisper, "Like when I'm taking care of you. In bed, or otherwise."
He leaves her with a smile and a wink. Rory smiles and leans forward to let the hot water pound on her dizzy head. When Jess returns, he helps her dry off and watches her brush her teeth. He gives her a couple of minutes of privacy to take care of her other needs before leading her to the bedroom.
He tucks her into bed after getting her into pajamas. Then turns the light off and slides in next to her. He drapes an arm across her and kisses the side of her face.
"Feeling better?"
She murmurs a confirmation with a small nod.
"Good. I'll be right next to you all night. Wake me up if you feel sick again."
She places a hand on his arm and squeezes in gratitude.
"Jess," she whispers hoarsely after a few minutes of quiet.
"Yes? You okay?"
"You would have been the father. Not Logan. In the ways that matter I mean."
His heart skips a beat at her words, and he takes in a gulp of oxygen.
"You're drunk. Try to go to sleep."
She shakes her head, "No. I mean it. You take such good care of me. You would have been the dad, and you would have been such a good one. If you wanted to."
Jess feels a burning in his eyes and shakes his head to try and to make it stop.
"Do you ever think about it? What if when you talked to me at Thanksgiving I was still pregnant? How different everything would be. We would have been a family, right?"
Luke's words from the day before play through his mind. He has purposely pushed thoughts like this away, because they're useless; nothing can be changed. Yet here they are, asking him to finally face them twice within twenty-four hours. He would laugh in disbelief if Rory weren't sitting next to him, waiting with her sweet, drunk patience for a response.
"We would have been whatever you wanted us to be," he whispers in response, "and yes I have thought about it. I have imagined plenty of futures with you."
"Really?" Rory asks quietly, her voice sounding sleepier than before, "And are you happy with how our future is shaping up to be?"
He sits up slightly to kiss her softly on the lips before responding.
"I don't love some of the circumstances that brought us together again," he ponders, "but I do love being together in whatever way we are."
He leans in closer and whispers in her ear, "I love how close we've gotten. How comfortable we are with each other. How I know what you sound like crying in both pain and pleasure. The faces you make when you're frustrated, sad, angry or, my favorite, turned on."
She giggles, "Jessss."
He kisses her face and says gently, "I mean it."
"I know you do…and the future will be even better," she promises in a quiet mutter.
"I believe you," he kisses her face once more, "Go to sleep. You need the rest, you lush. Goodnight, Rory."
She sighs contentedly and mumbles, "Okay. Goodnight, baby."
An unexpected mirthful laugh escapes him, and he smiles. He kisses her shoulder and then rolls onto his back to follow her into slumber.
thanks for sticking with me! I know this wasn't the most exciting chapter but hope you liked it anyway (I personally missed Paris) xoxo