fyi: Rated M scene ahead !

enjoy xoxo

disclaimer: I own nothing.

trigger warning: I know I put one at the beginning of this story, but I just want to state again given the content of this chapter the mentions of miscarriage and side effects etc

They are halfway through Bringing Up Baby and Rory is yawning on the couch, half her body under a blanket.

"Want me to take you home?"

She shakes her head, "Not really. Would you mind if I stay here tonight?"

"I don't mind, but I'm not going to be the one to tell Luke and Lorelai. I may have made a joke to Luke that I planned to kidnap you, take you to Vegas and marry you tonight."

Rory laughs for the first time in hours, and it makes the atmosphere a little less heavy.

"That actually sounds appealing right now, but unfortunately I'm not wearing the right dress. Next time," she grins at him and he smirks back, "I'll text them so they know I'm here of my own free will."

They both fall asleep on the couch before the end of the movie, her head in Jess's lap and one of his hands on her arm. The other in a fist holding his head up slightly. When Rory wakes up early the next morning, they are still in this position. She smiles at the warmth of his hand on her, the feeling of her head against his sturdy body. An overwhelming feeling of comfort fills her. She looks up fondly at his sleeping face. She admires his dark lashes resting peacefully closed, his olive skin and slight scruff of facial hair. Then she fixates on his mouth, the beautiful imperfect shape of it; his entrancing lips in a sleepy pout. She squeezes her legs together as she feels that pull in her lower abdomen again. Subconsciously she finds his hand on her arm and places hers on top, stroking his thumb with hers.

She sees his eyes flutter beneath his lids and then slowly he opens them and looks around. His dozy eyes meet hers and she smiles softly up at him. He matches her smile and moves the hand that was holding his head to the top of hers. He lightly runs his fingers through her locks and puts more pressure where his other hand rests on her arm. The pulling in her stomach turns into an ache between her legs that she hasn't felt in months.

"Jess?" she breaks the silence. Her tone is soft but potent. He doesn't respond, instead giving her a look to go on.

"I want to kiss you."

His hand stops moving in her hair, and his eyes seem to become more awake as he observes her face for anything that negates what she has said. He finds that she's serious and he feels his heart skip a beat. But parallel to his eagerness is caution. He instantly grapples with all the practical questions in his head, and the ethical ones too; she was just sobbing in his arms last night. She's in the midst of dealing with something devastating. Is it the time for this? And as he recognizes the familiar heavy pull of desire and longing within him, he realizes maybe the most important question is what will this mean?

He notices Rory swallow as she anxiously awaits his response and he suddenly knows that his moral wrestling is futile, because the most significant reason to proceed is laying in his lap, looking up at him with desire in her eyes. Of course he will lay himself across the tracks for her; maybe this time she won't run him over.

"Come here."

Her pupils darken at his throaty response, and she deftly moves her bottom into his lap to be at face level. The blanket is tossed to the floor and her legs are bare from removing her tights and shoes the night before. She smiles before leaning in and kissing him. It starts soft and gentle at first, both testing the waters to make sure neither has changed their mind. Heat builds up and one of his hands is on her hip, the other at the back of her head tangled in her auburn hair. Her arms are around his neck, pulling herself as close as she can get to him.

The aching is building inside of her, and she can feel his arousal too. She tugs at the bottom of his shirt, and pulls away from him for a second to help him take it off. Before meeting his mouth again, she moves her legs to straddle his lap, knees sinking into the couch making their pelvises meet. She stifles his groan with a rough kiss, teeth hitting and tongue pushing desperately for entrance. He opens wider and their tongues connect. She boldly reaches a hand between them and places it over the hard on in his jeans. He moans into her mouth, but she notices he still doesn't make any moves on her that she hasn't initiated. The incident at Kyle's party flashes in her mind and she understands that he respectfully won't do anything right now that isn't her idea.

She reaches to the tie on her wrap dress with her free hand and starts to undo it, loosening it enough to take one of Jess's hands and place it on her chest. He pulls away to look into her eyes. He doesn't want to treat her like she doesn't know her own mind, so he doesn't ask her out loud if she is sure about what they're doing, but he gives her a look along the same lines. In response, she grinds in his lap. His head falls backwards and he exhales, "Fuck baby."

She remembers this from when they were teenagers. When their makeout sessions got particularly heated, their clothed bodies pushing up against each other, he would start calling her baby. She never told him, but hearing the term of her endearment in his heady, aroused voice turned her on big time; it's no different now.

As they begin kissing again, she unbuttons his jeans and pulls the zipper down as much as she can. They stand up together, attached still at the mouth, and he pushes his jeans off. He surprises her by spinning them around and laying her flat on the couch. He crawls on top off her, pulls her dress open more and covers her chest in hot kisses. She grinds her hips up into him, and he moves one hand between her legs in response. Her rubs circles on the outside of her underwear, eliciting small moans from her mouth in between kisses. His fingers move to underneath her panties and he pushes two inside of her and she moans louder.

She relishes the roughness of his knuckles moving in and out of her, the skillful angle of his fingers bending to reach the right spot within her. He moves his mouth from her face, down her chest and is soon crouched in front of her center, fingers still inside her. He kisses her knee and begins to circle her clit with his thumb. He watches the enjoyment on her face, smirking at the sounds he's causing her to make. He kisses from her knee and down her thigh, his face now between her legs. As he picks up the speed and pressure of his movements, her stickiness seems to increase around his fingers. The motion of his hand slightly moves her panties out of the way, and he sees red mixed in with her wetness. He doesn't want to stop this opportunity for her to let herself go and feel something good, but he doesn't want her to be uncomfortable; instead he asks, "I'm not hurting you, am I?" as he kisses her inner thigh.

She looks at him dazed and panting, "God no. Don't stop, please." He nods and starts biting and sucking on her thigh, he posits his thumb directly on her swollen clit and strokes it gently, not wanting to overwhelm her. Her legs start to shake and he can feel her breathing become fast and shallow.

"Come on baby, let go."

She groans but she's not there yet. She bites her lip and closes her eyes to focus. He moves his thumb from direct contact to rotate in quick strokes around it. She bites her lip harder and brings a hand to her chest to squeeze her breast.

"Yes," he groans, turned on by the boldness he didn't expect from her.

"You're beautiful baby. Let go for me. Come on," he encourages her in husky whispers.

"Oh my god," her response is deep and drawn out, like she is right there at edge, enjoying the feeling but desperately wanting the release. Moments later she sputters a shrill of "oh fuck, Jess," and he feels her coming apart around his fingers. He sucks on her thigh to increase her pleasure as her body shudders in waves.

As her limbs settles, he looks up at her glowing face, his fingers still inside of her.

"Good?" He smirks, eyes dark and erection hard in his underwear from finally hearing the carnal sounds of Rory Gilmore. The way she says his name, hearing her curse in erotic tones and whispers; it's better than he imagined it would be.

She shakes her head, grasping for the words.

"Not good, amazing. Very…amazing. I haven't…it's been a long time."

Having an affair with an engaged man typically meant quick sessions, with minimal focus on her own satisfaction. Not that Logan was ever the best at that anyway; he would start off strong, touching her in all the right places but he would soon get to the point of no self-control and focus only on his own pleasure, neglecting to help Rory reach her end. It did have its benefits though as it caused her to become less demure and take matters in her own hands as needed; touching herself or positioning herself just right on top of him. She has a feeling that with Jess, this won't ever be an issue.

Jess nods and kisses her leg affectionately.

"There's more where that came from, another day."

"What? No, what about now?" she pouts and grabs his shoulder to try and pull him towards her. He laughs and kisses her on the leg again, slowly pulling his fingers out of her and resting them out of view.

"I don't know if it's a good idea. You started bleeding halfway through, and I don't have any lubricant here, I wasn't really planning on having sex with you, or anyone else, when I packed for this trip. And I really don't want to know if Luke has any in here, not that I would use it if I did find it, except maybe to set it on fire so I never have to see it again. Jesus, I'm rambling like a Gilmore. Anyway, sex will be uncomfortable for you without it. And that's also assuming you would even want to do it. Which, for the record, I am not assuming." He speaks quickly and smoothly, trying to make her understand that everything is cool, because he just knows she will easily overreact. Though as he finishes, he realizes how abnormal it is for him to babble. But it has nothing to do with what happened, and everything to do with her interpretation of his feelings about having sex with her, that he only wants to do what she wants and he only wants to make her feel good. He silently scolds himself for not saying it more concisely, and hopes he didn't freak her out more.

She looks abashed and exclaims, "What?!" her face turns red as she tries to scoot away from him, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry Jess. I'm not supposed to get my period again until late next month. I don't know why that happened!"

"Ror," he says gently, smoothly sitting back between her legs, "You don't have anything to be sorry for. Please, relax." He pets one of her legs. She shoves her face in her hands.

"I just don't understand. This is so embarrassing. We finally get beyond making out thirteen years later, I finally make a move on you after wanting to kiss you since the gazette, and this happens. I told you my body is rejecting my happiness."

He smirks for a moment at her revelation and he taps her leg so she will look at him. She peaks from behind her hands and his heart drops to see her eyes red and watery. He quickly gets up and runs to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, and just as quickly is back at her side. His excitement is gone now, overshadowed by the desire to ease Rory. He puts his arms around her and kisses her shoulder.

"It's all…natural Rory, don't worry about it. Don't feel embarrassed. And please don't cry." She leans into him, hiding her face in his chest.

"I just don't get it," she mutters against his skin.

He shrugs, "Sounds like your body's been through a lot lately. All that matters is you felt good. Right?"

She sighs and nods slightly.

"Thank you for letting me finish," she mumbles into his chest. He smiles and kisses her head.

"So, you've been thinking about kissing me for a while?" he teases.

"Is that okay?" she asks quietly. He puts a finger under her chin and lifts it up to meet her eyes.

"Why wouldn't it be? I'm not seeing anyone, it sounds like you're not seeing anyone."

"But you haven't said how you feel."

"You haven't exactly said it either."

"Jess, give me something."

He sighs, "I would be lying if I said I don't think about kissing you almost every time I see you. It's just…who we are. Our connection to each other. It will always draw me in."

She softens at his words and whispers, "I know what you mean."

They sit quietly for a few minutes before Rory speaks again, knowing that she needs to be the one to bring this up.

"Jess, I don't know exactly what this is or what it will be. I just know that I feel something for you, and I really enjoyed what we just did. But I don't have any definitions right now. I'm a little lost all around."

He nods and runs a hand down her arm, processing her words. She's not running him over, but she's also not making any promises towards a future he hopes for. He is familiar with needing patience with Rory and her feelings, and it has had different outcomes at different times in the past. The unspoken possibility is just enough to appease the small niggling in his gut; he has to give them both a fair chance.

"We'll iron out the details as we go. How does that sound?" He offers, holding her hand.

She smiles gratefully, and kisses him on the mouth.

"Just uncomplicated enough that it might work."

"Great, now do you want to shower? I'll find some clothes you can wear."

She nods, "Will you join me?"

"I don't think so. I don't want to give away all my tricks in one day," he winks at her and she rolls her eyes. "But take your clothes off and give them to me. I'll wash them for you."

"That's okay, I'll wash them at home."

"Stop, let me do it. There's some blood on them. Those stains set fast."

"You're just afraid my mom will see and then try to kill you."

"Maybe. But come on, let me take care of it for you." She smiles at his words and gets up. She removes her dress and underwear, standing half bare before him. He gets up and takes the clothes from her hands, kissing her softly and running a hand across her hips.

"You're so beautiful, Ror," he whispers with sincerity. She blushes at his words, gives him a gentle kiss and walks towards the bathroom. Teenage Jess was never so direct with his appreciation of her, and this difference sprouts a tingling fervor throughout her. She knew it was there, he communicated it well through his intense gazes and affectionate touches when they dated, but she didn't know how wonderful it would be to hear him put it into words too.

As she showers, she thinks about the last half hour in her mind, and it's not the monumental orgasm that sticks out the most, but his kindness. His words were so tender in contrast to the roughness of his fingers and mouth on her body. She feels incredibly appreciative of the way that he treated a mortifying moment for her with delicacy and care.

She compares it to a situation that happened while she was at Yale with Logan (because she never really did completely kick the habit of comparing men). Her period wasn't supposed to start for another two days, she knew because she kept meticulous track of it to avoid an awkward situation such as one that was about to play out. Her and Logan were in his bed one morning, barely clothed and hands all over each other. At some point he flipped her onto her back and was planting messy, wet kisses all over her mouth and chest while his hand reached down and spread her legs apart. He started rubbing his hand between her legs when he suddenly pulled away from her and crawled down her body stating, "I can feel someone's really wet for me." She felt excited and thought he was going to go down on her, something he didn't do too often. But when he got between her legs he looked down at her light blue underwear and made a face. He then got off the bed and said, "Um, Rory I think you should go to the bathroom and…shower and change." She was alarmed to say the least so she ran to the bathroom to find that her period had started early, most likely syncing with the other women in Logan's group of friends. The way he handled it made her feel incredibly ashamed, like she did something wrong even though it was beyond her control. He wasn't necessarily rude or mean, but he made her feel confused and abnormal for not just telling her what the problem was rather than sending her off to discover it on her own. Forcing her to live in those few moments of complete terror, unsure of what had just happened, felt horrible. Even worse when she came back out and apologized and he said, "It's okay. It didn't get on the sheets or anything."

Sometimes comparison is good, she decides. It can make a person see what they want and deserve. She thinks she wants Jess to be there for every difficult thing in her life. Her chest lights up with something she hasn't felt, or perhaps something she hasn't allowed herself to feel in ages; longing.

"Hi Paris."

"Gilmore, you're harder to get on the phone than Michelle Obama," Paris chides her.

It's now the day that she is packing up her car and heading to Jess's for the night before moving into her first apartment alone. She spent the last four days cleaning, packing, and organizing her things for the move. She skillfully avoided detailed conversation with her mom and Luke about staying at the diner Thursday night. The story, true enough, of them falling asleep during a movie and Rory waking up early and coming home seemed to satiate them. Jess had dropped her off in the clothes he loaned her on his way out of town, before Lorelai was even up for the day. Luke was conveniently in the stock room when they left the diner.

Her and Jess shared a last passionate kiss in the apartment before he took her home, in case Babette or anyone else was up early, they wanted to avoid romantic contact in his car. They parted in her mom's driveway jovially, both looking forward to her upcoming sleepover, and both privately looking forward to living so near so soon.

She had missed Paris's calls the last few days because she was caught up in getting ready for the move.

"Michelle Obama? Do I wanna know?"

"Someone needed to tell her that her school lunch crap was like sticking a band aid on a gunshot wound."

"I'm guessing that someone was you?"

"She hardly addressed food insecurity and food deserts at all. Just because kids may be getting a slightly more nutritious meal at school, assuming that their families have it together enough to get them to school, doesn't fix the fact that they have no access to it at home or anywhere else. It's all smoke in mirrors with politicians. How can I in good conscience help people start families knowing the government is failing children left and right?"

"Um, aren't you doing that anyway?"

"Of course I am! I'm a freaking miracle worker, it would be an injustice if I stopped. It's a paradox, Rory. But it doesn't need to be, and I believe Michelle Obama has the contacts and the power to change that if she really wanted to. We need localized food systems. Globalization is a capitalist mistake."

"The Obamas are not even in the White House anymore. And how can she have the power to completely change our food systems?"

"Please, their political power extends to every aspect of their life for the rest of their lives. And anyway, I have been calling her every Thanksgiving since 2010."

"Why Thanksgiving?"

"To really lay it on thick. I like to think she cries over her dinner plate after listening to my annual voicemails."

"I somehow doubt that she actually listens to them, and on Thanksgiving at that."

"It's all about wearing them down Gilmore. Anyway, you haven't answered my calls. I thought you spiraled into a deep depression and pulled a Plath."

"No, I have a general rule of staying away from ovens. I'm okay Paris, I'm good actually. I'm moving into an apartment, my first one by myself, tomorrow in New York."

"I have to say I'm surprised. Bambi wouldn't have bounced back so quickly."

"My life shouldn't stop because of this, right?"

"I know that, I just didn't know that you knew it. But more importantly, I live in New York and you're just now telling me this?"

Rory sighs, "I know. I'm the worst friend. But I'm moving to Queens, I won't be close to you."

"Oh, please. It's New York, not California! I'm on the Upper West Side, you can get to me on a subway in less than an hour."

"Okay, so I'm a really terrible friend, I get it! I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you had grand plans of avoiding me because you know I make you face the hard stuff. You're lucky I'm still in California through Christmas or I would be waiting at your door tomorrow morning to ambush you."

"I'm sorry, I really am. We will get together as soon as you're back. Wait, why are you in California for so long?"

"Doyle and I decided it would be best to do the holidays together as a family, or an imitation of a family anyway. We plan to switch every year, this year California and next year New York, but I'm going to push for California every year."

"Well that's very big of you Paris."

"Please, it's a setup that works totally in my favor. Doyle feels guilty about not spending enough time with the kids, takes them to do god knows what for hours every day. I get to attend conferences and panels and try to increase my reach out to the West Coast, go to expensive gyms to scout and recruit new surrogates, and sometimes I even sit outside by the pool and do nothing for a whole twenty minutes, and enjoy it."

"Wow, you are living the dream. Good for you."

"Yes, it's a win for me and for my kids. And I don't even get that annoyed by Doyle this way."

"That's great. Hey, can I ask you something since we're on the phone?"

"Shoot."

"See I have a friend -"

"Oh not this again."

"I didn't say hypothetically!"

"Just ask me your question already."

"Well, I got…intimate with someone recently. I started bleeding at some point. But the hospital said my period wouldn't come back until late December at the earliest, and I stopped bleeding from the miscarriage way before that."

"Was he hitting your points of pleasure? Was there engorging of your sex organs?"

"Ew! And yes."

"It probably shook something loose."

"Sorry, is that supposed to be the medical explanation?"

"There were probably cells still waiting to come out from the miscarriage. The flow of blood to your sexual organs might have given it a push. And if you orgasmed, the contractions could have pushed it out too. If you hadn't had sex, it likely would have happened with your next period. Is that a good enough explanation for you?"

"Yes, thank you Dr. Geller."

"Any time, and please tell me it wasn't Logan."

"No! I haven't seen or talked to him since…"

"He got your pregnant? I had a feeling it was him."

"How?!"

"Just a hunch. Out of all your men, he makes you act the dumbest."

"I was on birth control!"

"Yes and I assume you checked to make sure he was wearing a rubber every time you got down?"

"I can tell if someone is wearing a condom or not."

"Were you drunk?"

"Just tipsy."

"Right, you were drunk. Everyone knows the senses are dulled under the influence. Did you tell him?"

Rory quietly responds, "No. I don't think I'm going to either."

"Why not? You can blackmail him for some of daddy's fortune. I know he's married now."

"It doesn't seem worth it, Paris. He would just feel bad and throw gifts and money at me that I don't want. It would all be a secret from his wife and I would feel like the woman on the side again. There's no point."

"I guess, but if you ever need me to play devil's advocate I'm here for you."

"Now that I know I can count on. Thanks. Can I ask you one more question?"

"As long as you don't pretend it's for someone else as if I'm some brain dead bimbo."

"It's for me. I was going to just look it up online but I was afraid of falling into a rabbit hole," she pauses, then asks quietly, "how common are miscarriages?"

"Finally you want to talk about it," Paris responds, but it's not harsh or impatient; it's relief, "Very common. One in eight pregnancies and that doesn't include ones that happen without being aware of pregnancy. It's easy early on to mistake it for a period."

Rory feels the weight in her chest lighten slightly, "Okay. That's good to know."

"You're far from alone Rory. I bet if you opened up to the women in your life about what happened, you'll find that out."

The way she says it flicks a light on in Rory's head, "Paris…has it happened to you?"

"You didn't really think I got into the business of surrogacy just for the money did you?"

Rory swallows, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sure you know why. We aren't that different, you and I. Even though you act all innocent and soft, I know you're strong and stubborn and try to fight your battles alone. You get it from your mom, and I get it from having been forced to deal with things on my own since I was a child."

"I guess you're right. Have I told you how grateful I am for your calls?"

"I told you I wouldn't let you deal with this by yourself."

"Thank you Paris. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Good. And I'll see you two days after Christmas. Bye Rory."

Rory hangs up and places her phone down on her old bed. She feels an odd mix of guilt, sadness and relief. She may not have realized it, but she did purposely avoid talking to Paris about her move. She feels remorseful and foolish for not putting together obvious information such as Paris' intimate knowledge about miscarriages as well as her turn towards surrogacy in her career. It's one of those rare times where she can see what her selfishness has been hiding from her. And while the facts that Paris provided gave some comfort, it made her equally sad. To think that she was feeling so much pleasure and joy at a moment where her body discarded a piece of her revoked future; it's a bit unsettling. She starts to cry but stops herself a few minutes later as she hears the sounds of Lorelai arriving home to help her pack up her car. She leans over and opens the drawer of her small side table next to the bed. She pulls out the hospital bracelet she had thrown in there when her mom came home from the honeymoon, runs a finger over it, and stuffs it deep into a packed box. It feels like the only connection left to an untraveled path.