Dusk

"Who was it?" Jess asked as Rory walked back into the living room a few minutes later.

"My mom. She's, um…running late."

"Oh."

Rory stopped in front of the couch and considered him for a moment. There was something in her face that Jess couldn't quite decipher. It almost looked like pity, but he wasn't convinced that it was, because he didn't feel angry looking at it. Curiosity simmered underneath whatever it was, and then she looked away. Out the living room windows, where the world was just beginning to glow gold and languid, a deep sigh after a busy day, because the day is always busy, somewhere, to someone, always to the animals, but even the birds and the bees seem to slow down as the shadows grow long across the grass and the sun yawns before yielding to the moon. These are the last hours of the day, the last moments before finding a place to tuck in and feel safe.

Jess noticed a strange burning in his chest and realized, in an absent-minded sort of way, that he had been holding his breath for a few moments too long. He let it out, carefully, quietly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere in the room that was changing in a way that he couldn't identify. He looked at her and found it difficult to look away. The warm light from the windows soaked into her and shone brighter from underneath, somehow. He thought of Renaissance paintings and all his favorite books and understood the urge for a canvas, a blank page. The peaches and corals of her skin were stronger now. Chocolate hair suddenly melted through with caramel and honey. The color of her eyes, usually deep, dark, hidden Atlantic depths, was now brought up to shore by the arrangement of the planets, cerulean, turquoise, moving, crashing against a rocky shore.

The black of her pupils dilated slightly, and his breath caught in his throat. At some point, he wasn't sure how long ago, she had stopped looking out the window and fixed her eyes on him. The corners of her mouth lifted into the smallest smile he'd ever seen, and she reached out and took his hand. He stood and let her lead him to her room, trying to push away the panic. This was not a step he could handle, psychologically, right now.

But when they were both in her room, she stopped with her back to her desk, and, facing her, he felt the setting sun warm on his face. She took him in like that for a few moments, calmly, without saying anything. He glanced down at the trunk at the end of her bed, noticing with a little burst of something bright and happy in his chest that her copy of Howl was there, looking much more worn and softer than it had the last time he'd seen it. She really had read through it a lot. He picked it up and glanced back at her, humor in his eyes. He found her grinning at him, and when all she did was nod at him, he wondered, bemused, what she was thinking about. Then she turned them so that his back was to the desk, and she was in front of him. The expression on her face didn't read as heat and desire, which was a relief because he was overwhelmed, but there was something else there, confirmation, a cheerful sort of satisfaction that he didn't understand. She seemed to be taking in all of him, occasionally letting her eyes bounce around her room, appreciating something about the change of scenery.

"I was right," she said, and it seemed to be more for herself than for him.

"About what?"

Her gaze drifted unhurriedly along the scene in front of her. The windows behind him, the sheer curtains, him, backlit, a halo of light that made his edges glow golden and everything in the middle soft and diffuse. Her eyes met his, and she smiled again, a little sheepish.

"I had a dream about you. The night before I came to talk to you at Luke's with the letters. I didn't know at first that it was about you. Or maybe I did, but I didn't let myself know it until later. Anyway, when I woke up, I just laid there for a long time, thinking. More or less entirely about you, but also my life in general, and how I have pieces of it in here, y'know, souvenirs, things I like. It's comfortable. I love my room. Especially the way it looks at this time of day, when the sun goes down. It reminds me of sunflowers. And I wanted to see you in here, like you are now, all…golden." She hesitated before continuing. "It's probably silly, but I knew you would fit in here…look right, good…in here with me and all my stuff and memories." She looked down at her shoes and smiled again, and something in his chest squeezed tight. Before he could think of what to say, she looked up at him again. "Do you…we could keep watching the movie, but I thought maybe we could read. I picked up a copy of On the Road. I want to know which parts you like so much to keep reading it over and over."

Not sure he would survive the feeling in his chest that was making it difficult to breathe, he decided to forego a verbal answer. He reached for her, one hand sliding up her forearm to her elbow, pulling her gently closer, the other tracing her jaw, tipping her face up, disappearing into her hair as his lips met hers. He tried, again, to pour everything unsaid into a kiss, realizing that at some point, she would need actual words. But for now, she seemed to understand. When he pulled away, she moved wordlessly to her bedside table and picked up the book, taking his hand and walking back out to the living room. They settled into the couch, reclined against the arm with their legs stretched out, tucked into each other so that they could both read the pages. She was already into the second half of the book. He flipped back over what she had read so far, surprised to find that she had underlined a few things, written notes in the margins. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. He had some of the same pieces underlined, and they talked about why they liked it, why it was important. They read a little. They talked about all the places they would go in the future, vaguely, believing in jinxes. They read a bit more. They shared light-hearted stories about the places they had been to in the past. Then, when the windows were black and the only light they could see by came from a dim yellow lamp across the room, when their tongues were loose with sleep, they murmured through a little game of secrets.

"Tell me something only I'll know," he said.

She didn't have to think very long to find what to give him. "I love this town, but sometimes it's too much and not enough, all at the same time," Rory said quietly to Jess's shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean everyone expects so much. But they're so small. I'm only somebody here. And sometimes…I don't think I can…or I don't want to…live up to it all. What they want from me."

"Hm," Jess said, nodding. She liked that he accepted it without pushing back.

"Your turn. Tell me something only I'll know."

He was quiet for a long time. She looked up to see if he'd fallen asleep, but his eyes were open, unfocused. She looked away again, giving him time.

Eventually, he spoke. So quiet, but it didn't matter. He was so close that she could hear everything.

"I'm…you're the only…" His teeth were grinding. "You know the debate about nature vs. nurture?"

She nodded.

"I'm fucked either way."

She looked up at him and even in the dim light, she could see the fear and anger in his eyes, trying to swallow each other up.

"No," she said simply, with a small shake of her head.

Her tone was so sure, her voice so soft, that he didn't argue. He even tried to believe it.

Hours later, Lorelai found them asleep on the couch, the book on Jess's stomach, Rory's head on his shoulder. She'd told Rory that she would be home, so she knew this was an accident. Still, she felt the panic, knowing they'd been alone together for hours, but, sleeping, even Jess looked chaste, and she noticed they both still had their shoes on. It was obvious that nothing had happened, but she couldn't quite silence the alarm bells in her head. Rory was asleep with a boy. She was sleeping with a boy. Not in that way, but the words, in that order, were accurate, and it completely freaked her out. She stood over them for a moment, struggling. She could wake Rory up and tell her to sleep in her bed. But they looked so peaceful that it made her chest ache. After what she'd seen in New York, she wanted Jess to have a few hours of quiet rest, somewhere safe, where he wasn't alone, even like this. Luke had stayed in the city, so if she sent Jess back to the diner, she knew it would be dark and lonely. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, unable to commit to a decision, something she was not used to. But then Rory's eyes fluttered open, and Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief. She brought a finger to her lips to signal Rory not to freak out and watched as her daughter extricated herself from her boyfriend's side. Jess shifted slightly, but didn't wake up, and mother and daughter walked into the kitchen.

"Mom, nothing happened. We fell asleep. It was an accident," Rory whispered quickly, trying to get the words out before she could be interrupted.

"I know, but hon, you've gotta stop reading with boys. Apparently, it turns you into Dorothy in the field of poppies, and I don't know if I can take another heart attack," she whispered back, trying to strike a balance between teasing her daughter and impressing on her how serious she was.

"I know. I'm sorry. But can he…are you going to make him leave?"

Lorelai paused, taking in the concern on her daughter's face that mirrored her own. She wondered how much Jess had shared with Rory about his mother, about New York. "No," she said finally. "But you're going to sleep in your bed for the rest of the night," she added, with a warning in her voice.

"I woke up because my neck was hurting," Rory said, tilting her head to one side with a wince. "That is a one-person couch, and I'm more than happy to leave it that way."

Lorelai watched as Rory stood and shuffled into her room. "Goodnight, sweets."

"Goodnight, mom," Rory said. She hesitated from her doorway before continuing. "And…thanks. For letting him stay."

Lorelai nodded and gave her a small smile. Once Rory's door was shut and Lorelai was sure she'd heard her daughter get into bed, she stood and walked quietly towards the staircase in the living room. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and glanced back at Jess. She huffed impatiently at herself before crossing the room, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, and covering him with it.

The next morning was going to be weird as hell.