thank you for reading/reviewing! and for your patience.
Rated M scene ahead (because I can't seem to go more than one or two chapters without one! sorry)
enjoy xoxo
disclaimer: I own nothing
"This is my sister Doula. Doula, this is Brooke and Liam. You do whatever Brooke says, okay? I'll be in my office."
"Jeez could you hand me off any faster?" Doula jokes, then turns to them, "Nice to meet you."
"I've got work to do," Jess explains, "and so do you. Brooke will tell you how to answer the phone and transfer calls if needed. Okay? Just listen to her."
"I've answered a phone before, Jess."
"You sure? I've only ever seen you text on yours."
She shoots him a look and then gives him that identical smirk they share.
"How should I answer calls? 'Truncheon, this is Doula speaking, younger sister of the incredibly annoying, and sometimes rude, owner'."
"I like her," Brooke grins and gestures for Doula to join her behind the counter. Jess rolls his eyes and goes to walk away, waving his sister off. But before he leaves the room, he catches Liam smirking at her and glares at him until his face drops.
He walks to his office and steps inside. He closes the door with a sigh. Living with a teenager has been more exhausting than he expected. On top of that, his book has officially been released for a couple of weeks. His time has been sucked up completely between work and his sister; the only silver lining being that he hasn't had as much time to spend worrying about Rory. She is set to be gone for the rest of June, the plan is to return the first week of July. Everything felt great during that first week that Doula came with Rory there too. It was just as wonderful as he had pictured it, the two of them doing things like best friends and talking about everything and anything. Now that Rory is gone, it's become more of an obvious responsibility to take care of her. Trying to wake her up on time to catch the subway to ballet is a daily battle. Reminding her that she should go to bed early to get enough sleep for all the physical demands of dancing. Then, when she doesn't go to bed, hearing her moving around the apartment in the middle of the night while he's trying to fall sleep. Getting her to eat a full, healthy dinner and trying to get her to eat breakfast in the morning.
He finally decided to have her work at Truncheon at the end of her camp days until he's done. He figured it would give her something to focus on, and hopefully exhaust her enough to sleep like a normal person.
Now sitting at his desk, he scrolls through his endless emails about the book release. Matt and Chris want him to talk to local magazines, go to other bookstores, they even asked him to record himself reading a chapter so they can put it on Facebook. He shut that down before Matt could even finish his sentence. He sees an email from Chris about a bookstore in the city that wants him to come tomorrow and do a reading/meet and greet. In his email, he begs it's so close to you, and it's just for a couple hours tomorrow night. It will be a piece of cake, and it will make us and your readers happy. Please!
He groans and rubs his eyes with his palms. But realizing he can't possibly get away with doing zero promotions for his work, he decides this is acceptable enough. At least it's close and will be short and easy. He replies, fine. But please ask them to advertise it as a reading and book signing. Not a meet and greet. I'm not a freaking Marvel superhero at Comic Con.
He grins, satisfied with his clever response and that he still found something to be difficult about. He laughs out loud, and feels a surprising surge of normalcy, when he reads Chris's quick reply: really? Because you're sure acting like one with all your demands and stipulations. Would you like to provide them with a rider too? I assume you'll want skittles sorted by color because you're the biggest pain in the ass. Be there tomorrow at 6pm. Bring your agreeable demeanor with you, please.
His face breaks into a real, big smile when he gets a video call notification on his computer. He immediately answers it and sees Rory on his screen. She's in a brightly lit space, with headphones in and he can see other people in the area.
"Hi beautiful. How are you?"
She smiles softly, "hey. I'm okay. The internet here isn't so great, and cell phone service has been spotty. So sorry I haven't called sooner and I'm also sorry if our call drops."
"It's okay. Seeing your face for one second completely changes my day."
Her lips stretch a little wider.
"How are you doing? How's Doula?"
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
"She's a teenager."
"I think we knew that."
"She seems so…mature and behaved to me. When I visit her in Stars Hollow, I mean. But…no. She is definitely a teenager."
"I know what you mean, but that's a good thing you know," she replies, a tone of longing lacing her words, "It's good that she acts her age, it means she's allowed to be a kid. Because the adults in her life are being adults and taking care of her the way they should be."
Jess feels the poignancy of her words. Reminders of his childhood surface in contrast to his sister's, and he nods slowly.
"I know. You're right," he acknowledges quietly, "She could be chasing money just to take care of herself. Or taking jobs in restaurants to be able to get a free meal every day."
Rory nods perceptively, then gives him a small smile, "or she could be getting accused of stretching out her mother's sweater because her mom insisted her boobs are bigger than hers."
He releases a rough chuckle, "I do remember reading about that when you were writing your book. Certainly not Lorelai's best moment."
"Nope, but she's made up for it with plenty of better ones," she smiles softly, "did something in particular happen? With Doula?"
He shrugs and rolls his head around, "You mean besides staying up too late and being a huge pain in the ass to wake up in the morning?"
"Yep, besides that. You were like that too as a teenager from what I remember."
"Yeah. I find myself understanding Luke now more than ever."
She can't suppress a chuckle.
"She's a good kid, Jess. That stuff is normal."
"Yeah well. I don't know. She's been home alone in the afternoons since you left, because her ballet camp ends at three and I don't usually get home until six. Yesterday I found a white coffee mug in the sink that was stained red inside, like red wine red."
"Uh oh."
"Smelled like red wine too. I asked her about it and at first she denied knowing anything about it, but I stared at her long enough that she started crying. She said she just wanted to try it, and she was upset because she saw Kayla post a picture with a new girlfriend on Instagram."
Rory grimaces, "Yikes. To all of that."
"Seems a little dramatic for a teenage breakup."
Rory shrugs and says, "I don't know about that. I went to my first party ever after Dean broke up with me. I didn't drink but, I did kiss the most infuriating kid in school and then cried and went home to wallow. It all feels so hard at that age."
"I guess."
"It does. I know that you had a much less…"normal" childhood than most, than me. And I know you had more important things to worry about than relationships, but it really feels like the end of the world when you're that young."
His lips bend into a small frown, "it did feel like total devastation when I realized I had to leave Stars Hollow and had to leave you."
"It was devastating for me too. But look where we are now," she gives him a sweet and sympathetic smile, "how did you handle the wine thing?"
Her words allow him to shake off the ghostlike feelings of regret, and he shrugs.
"I kept my cool. I said that it's okay she wanted to try a sip, but not because she's sad. That's not what it's meant to be used for."
She looks back at him with understanding, "she won't turn out like your mom, don't worry."
"I know. I won't let her," he asserts, "I don't think she'll have the same issues that Liz has dealt with anyway. And she's half of TJ, god help her. He's a hundred percent goofball."
Not expecting those words, she releases a surprised giggle. The sound of it fills Jess with a momentary buzz of contentment. He pauses to enjoy the feeling as it flows through him, only fizzling out when his mind reminds him that she's an ocean and a continent away. Rory feels it too, he can tell by her waning grin. He clears his throat and continues,
"Anyway, I couldn't really go off on her for drinking a little bit of wine. I certainly had tried my fair share of booze by that age."
Rory frowns, "really? I didn't. I didn't find it very appealing."
"We definitely had different circumstances," he gives her a kind smile, "but, I get her wanting to try it. And I would rather her experiment in our home than out in the world with a bunch of young idiots."
"That makes sense. Maybe Europe has the right idea, not having strict drinking ages. It only seems to mystify it more."
"Maybe. And I don't think there's ever alcohol in their house anymore since Liz gave up drinking again. So, I'm sure it felt advantageous when she saw an open bottle of red wine in our kitchen," he shrugs, "anyway, now she's going to work at Truncheon after camp every day until I'm ready to go home."
"I bet she's excited about that!"
"She is, thankfully," he replies, and as he looks her over and takes in her surroundings again, he asks, "where are you, by the way?"
Her eyes move around the space she's in, "Um it's like a business room."
"Huh, bad Wi-Fi in your room I guess?"
She moves hair behind her ear, "No. I'm…sharing the room. We're staying at a hostel in the western part of the country because it's a little too unpredictable to stay closer. There aren't a lot of options out here right now. Hotels are full."
His eyes don't leave her face, and his chest bubbles with anxiety.
"A hostel? As in, you're sharing spaces with strangers?"
"And coworkers. I've stayed in hostels before, Jess. It's no big deal."
He swallows, "you're in a country that's actively at war. Sleeping in a room with people you don't know and that don't speak the same language as you. It seems like a pretty big deal, Rory."
"It's not," she swears, shaking her head, "everyone is here for the same reason. To sleep in a safe space."
He takes a breath, "okay. But even if the hostel is fine, you said it's too dangerous to stay in other parts of the country. I assume the parts that you're supposed to be reporting on. If that's the case, why the hell do they still have you there?"
"Jess," she says his name in a pleading tone, "please. Let me do my job."
His mouth opens and closes before he replies, "I'm sorry Rory, but you can't possibly ask me not to worry about you!"
"There are so many people in much more danger than me. Innocent lives have been lost, lots of people have been injured. There are journalists that have been captured and prisoned for speaking out against the Russian invasion. I'm lucky enough to have people with me to keep me safe, so I can stay and try to tell these stories. Like I said…it's my job."
"Jesus. Was that supposed to make me feel better?! At what point do you become more important than the stories you're chasing? And how often are you going to more dangerous territories?"
Ignoring his first two questions, she shakes her head, "not often right now. But we are planning to try and go early tomorrow morning and stay for a day or two."
He puts his head in his hands. He takes a shaky breath and then looks back at her. Her face is etched with a troubling sadness, his eyes are drawn to where she's nibbling on her lip. He collects his courage, and manages a reflective smile for her.
"You are a part of me. Do you know that?"
Her head tilts in thought. His eyes cast over her.
"You're my heart, my…mind, my body and soul. My bones. My blood. I don't function without you."
She starts biting her lip again in lieu of a response.
He whispers out these words, soaked in hope yet dripping with pain,
"Will you please keep me safe?"
Her face melts first into surprise and then deep understanding. She nods once.
"I'll keep you safe," and then she adds with visible emotion, "I love you."
His body softens, and he gives her a deep affirming nod.
"I love you like it's what I was made to do, Rory. I'm sure that can feel overwhelming at times, but I don't know any other way to be."
He feels some peace as her mouth curls up into a small smile. They regard each other for another moment before she says, "I put a copy of your book in the airport book store in New York, you know. And one at the airport we landed in too."
He grins softly, "I'm sure someone will find a use for it."
She gives him a look, "yes, reading it and loving it!"
"Chris begged me to do a reading and a book signing tomorrow at a store downtown."
Her jaw drops and then she frowns, "I wish I could go."
"Me too, Rory," he replies, face and tone intensely serious. Her frown softens.
"I hope you don't get carpal tunnel from the thousands of books you'll surely be signing," she teases with a careful grin. He releases a short laugh.
"I would never let that happen," he promises, and leans closer to the camera with a smirk as he says, "These hands have much more important purposes than signing books. Gotta take care of them so I can take care of you."
He winks, and she blushes; he sees one tooth peeking out to press against her bottom lip. She releases an exhale of sexual tension.
"I better go."
He regards her; eyes sweeping over to take in every detail. He nods.
"Okay," he adds in a pleading whisper, "Take care of us."
Her reply is firm and genuine, "I will."
Ending the call, Jess sees an email pop up from Jimmy. With a subdued grunt, he opens it and reads: picked up your new book today. I'll be honest, I don't have the balls to actually open it and read it yet. But I'll get there. Can I say that I'm proud of you?
He slams his laptop closed as irritation rushes through him. His fingers tap incessantly on his desk as he sits back in his chair, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The frustration builds upon itself, because he doesn't want to be annoyed with his father, and he also doesn't want to be worried about Rory to the degree that he is. It feels wrong, because he's only been telling her since he's known her just how capable she is. Yet, thoughts of her sleeping and showering near people she doesn't know fill him with insuppressible unease. Maybe because he knows she has been take advantage of by someone she believed to have her best interests at heart before. Or maybe it's because he's lived amongst scum in the past; he knows what the worst are capable of, and she's too many miles away for him to gage her surroundings for her. Not to mention, she wouldn't appreciate that - not when she's got the argument right up her sleeve of the fact that she's been doing this for years now, that she's managed to keep herself safe this long. And again, the frustration builds on itself within him because he knows that too. But so many factors of her job are out of her control; he feels that where she rests at the end of her work days shouldn't be one of them.
His tapping fingers have slowly bent and curled into a tight fist; he pounds it on the desk once before remembering that his little sister is at the office with him today. She hasn't seen him in this form before, where anything directed his way has the potential to cause an explosion. His emotions and nerves on the fritz as he's wrought with not just made up scenarios of Rory on his mind, but made up arguments with Jimmy going through his mind too. He shakes his head and stands up quickly from his desk. The bag full of his gym gear catches his attention from the corner of the room.
Blowing off steam sounds like exactly what he needs, so he crosses the room and grabs it. He leaves his office and locks the door behind him. He tries to relax his features as he steps into the shop, he looks for his sister and finds her at the register with Brooke.
"Hey," he calls, and they both look over at him. He nods his head towards the exit, "I'm running out for a little bit. I'll pick you up before close, Doula. And Brooke, you have a key to my office if you need it right? I locked it up."
She nods in confirmation and Doula gives him a quizzical look.
"Where are you going? Do you have a business meeting? Or are you doing something fun without me?"
With herculean strength, he restrains himself from rolling his eyes and huffing. Instead, he shoots her a small smile.
"No. Don't worry, you're not missing out on anything. I'll be back."
He's across the shop and out the door before she can say anything else to him. He makes a right on the sidewalk, walking with growing speed towards his destination. His hand runs through his hair repeatedly, as all of the thoughts he had in his office continue to plague him out in the world too. There aren't even interesting enough people passing him to divert his attention, which is unusual in a city like his. Usually, a quirky outfit or a person with baby carriages that actually carry dogs catch a quiet scoff or two from him. But if anything of that nature is nearby, his tunnel vision is keeping him from seeing it.
As he stands at a street corner, waiting for a break in traffic so he can cross, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He shifts his bag up higher on his shoulder and reaches to the back of his jeans to pull it out and check it, expecting it to be Doula or Brooke or even Chris texting him about the book event tomorrow. But what he actually finds, has him blinking and turning around to walk in the other direction towards a new destination. As he shuffles quickly back down the sidewalk, with a sly smile on his face and a welcome ache in his stomach, he's reminded of the very first time she sent him something like this. Before they were "official", before they had really had sex more than once, and way before the handful of times they exchanged long distance messages and photos to hold each other over until they meet again. As he passes Truncheon on his way to the apartment, however, he remembers her living circumstances and slows his stride enough to call her.
"Hi."
"Sorry, did Rory Gilmore just send me a dirty text or are you in some sort of twisted hostage situation?"
"I feel like I've heard that before. Did I accidentally get in a time machine again?" she teases, "I can't say I'm upset if I did, because it means I get to relive all the years of our relationship so far."
His chest hums with a calm he was desperate to feel less than twenty minutes ago, and while it's a pleasant change, he's dually confused.
"Let's see, last time we spoke things were different. Now, I know it was a long time ago, had to have been at least half an hour at this point, but I swear last time I checked you were not in a situation in which you had the freedom to send me a sinisterly seductive photo like you just did."
He can hear the way she's biting her lip as she asks, "you liked it?"
"Please, everyone I've walked past in the last five minutes could tell you that," he once again repeats words from that first time, and it earns him a satisfying laugh. He lowers his voice to ask,
"But how did you take and send me a picture of your gorgeous body in nothing but that little thong? Without other people seeing?"
Their apartment building is just ahead, and he picks up speed.
"Who's to say nobody saw?"
His eyebrows rise as he takes the steps up to the floor they live on.
"You know that I know you better than that. I bet you didn't even like getting changed for gym class in high school."
"You do know me well," she replies after a beat, and he hears a smile in her voice that makes his heart jump and his lips lift high.
"So, what's the story?" he asks as he pushes in their apartment door.
"Where are you?"
"I just got to our apartment."
"Really? You were just at work. Seems like I'm not the only one with a story to tell!"
He chuckles and tosses his bag to the floor, and his keys on the counter, "no one can ever say we're boring."
"Certainly not," she agrees merrily, then she explains more softly, "you're worried about me. And you're also dealing with stuff at home without me, with Doula and with your book. I wanted to try and make it feel a little better. After we talked, I went to the front desk to see if any private rooms opened up and one actually did. I paid the extra cost and now I'm in my own room."
He walks into their bedroom, wanting to talk to her in a most intimate place for them, where he can replay both touching and titillating memories of her as they talk.
He feels a twinge of guilt at her words.
"You didn't have to do that for me. How much was it? I'm sending you money."
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for us. You said to take care of us. That's what I'm doing," and she adds on in a promising whisper, "in more ways than one."
The look on his face smolders as he takes in her words.
"Oh yeah? You have something in mind?" he asks, tone telling her that he's fully prepared for whatever she has planned.
"I think you know what I have in mind, and that's why you're home all the sudden. You're there alone, aren't you?"
He smirks, "I am."
"Take off your clothes."
"Already working on it," he mumbles as he tears the pieces off his body, "what about you?"
"I already have my clothes off, as you saw from my picture."
"Well, you could have put them back on by now for all I know. I'm surprised you're not video calling me, you seemed to like it when we tried it last year."
"When I was in Japan last summer you mean? In that fancy hotel room with a cozy bed, great lighting, great internet, and thick walls? I did really enjoy it."
"Great lighting?" Jess questions as he rests on the bed, now nude, "Rory, you're beautiful all the time in any lighting. Is that really what's holding you back?"
"Kinda," she admits, a bit of embarrassment in her words, "but mostly that the internet isn't as good in my room. I would hate to start something and not be able to finish the way we want."
That has him smirking again, "I understand. It would be a major tease to watch you touch yourself and not get to see you finish. Tell me, did you pack that little toy I got for you?"
He hears her take a shaky inhale before she responds, "no, I didn't. I could only bring a carryon with me, and I was afraid something embarrassing would happen like it goes off during the flight and they have to stop the plane and inspect everything just to find out it was a travel size vibrator that belongs to an esteemed New York Times journalist!"
Laughter rolls through him as she explains herself, his hand rests on his chest over his heart, and in the moment everything feels so normal.
"You don't think other people pack sex toys in their carryon bags? And are you saying that an esteemed journalist, such as yourself, doesn't deserve to pleasure herself on the road? I can't say I agree with that."
"I'm not saying that," she insists, "but I am saying that I don't want other people to know that I'm planning on doing that."
"You know your checked suitcase goes through a machine too. People still know."
"Yes, but I don't have to be part of that process! And if it went off in my checked suitcase, that means it's stowed away somewhere that no one can hear it."
He chuckles once more and then says in a starker tone, "I have to say, I'm disappointed. It would have been fun listening to you use it."
He can clearly picture the blush blooming over her face, and the heat surfacing across the skin of her chest. He bites his lip, and mindlessly his free hand wanders to his growing erection.
"I still have my hand," she finally replies, in a sultry murmur. He hums.
"Yes, you do. And I have one too. It's already in use. Where's yours?"
She inhales, "it's on my chest."
"Oh yeah? I bet those pretty little nipples of yours are nice and perky right now. Are they?"
"Mhm."
His grip tightens slightly, "I wish I could feel them with my fingers, and then my tongue."
"And your teeth?"
He groans at her sexy inquiry, "definitely. Baby, move that hand between your legs for me. Please."
"Okay," her submission comes out on an exhale, and he can tell the moment her fingers are right where he wants them as her breathing trembles.
"How does it feel?"
"So good," she mutters, "so wet."
He twitches and throbs, hand moving faster over his length.
"Oh Rory. Have you been thinking about me? Is that why you're all wet already?"
"Mhmm," she confirms in an enticing thrum, "since I saw you on our video call. God, it should be illegal how good your arms look in a white t-shirt."
A rough chuckle escapes him in between quiet moans.
"And then we were talking about your hands…and I've been thinking about them all over me," she confesses, words punctuated by a telling whimper.
"I've been thinking about that too, almost every fucking day," he groans, "and I've been rock hard since you sent me that picture."
"Oh god," she murmurs breathlessly, "I want to feel it."
"Trust me, if you were here right now you'd be feeling every damn inch," he grunts, pumping gradually closer to his end, "are you throbbing, baby? Can you rub yourself harder for me so I can hear you come undone? That's what I want to finish to, the beautiful fucking sounds that come out of your mouth when you lose control."
"Jess," her voice is a whine signaling she's close to the edge, and the sound of it sends a tingling wave throughout his body.
"Fuck, yes, say my name. Please. Say it again," he begs, and the sound of this sends Rory overboard.
"Oh fuck," he hears her breath catch for a moment, and then suddenly his name is tumbling out of her repeatedly in low, throaty cries.
"Yes baby, you're so good to me. Giving me exactly what I want. And fuck, I know exactly what you look like right now, and how your body feels," he closes his eyes, one hand pulling furiously at himself, as he envisions what every twitch of her features looks like at the moment, and how she would feeling writhing under him or on top of him, "I'm so fucking lucky to have made love to you so many times. I know your eyes are tight, and your bottom lip is in your mouth. Your chest is shaking, and your beautiful hips- they're trembling, aren't they? And if I'm inside of you, I know you'd have the tightest fucking hold on me."
"Jess," she says his name so softly, it makes his hair stand up all over, and he's about to erupt.
"And when you're coming down, you open those big, beautiful eyes of yours," he continues in a rumbling tone, "and look at me. You look at me, like I've just opened up the world to you, like your whole body is radiating with love just for me. It feels so fucking good, Rory."
His breathing is labored, his body begging for release. And he gets it, because he falls apart completely as she responds, voice delicate yet assertive,
"You are the world, Jess."
No more words are exchanged for the moment, as he rolls through every gratifying wave of pleasure.
"Are you okay?" he asks after catching his breath, "was that too much? Sometimes I get so fuzzy in the head with pleasure that I don't think about the words coming out of my mouth."
She laughs softly, "I know, I love that about you. You're not one to hold your tongue anyway, but you are extra uninhibited in bed. I loved it."
His mouth perks up on one side, and he opens his eyes again. His heart clenches at the emptiness around him, but he laughs as he looks down.
"I've made a mess of myself."
She giggles, "I bet. Our bed too?"
He looks down at the bed and rests the phone on his shoulder, freeing his hand to splay on top of the blanket.
"Nope, bed is okay. Just my body."
"That's a little sexy. How are your abs? I miss them," she replies with an exhale of longing. He smirks.
"Right now, very sticky."
"Dirty," she mumbles, and he imagines her cheeks are pink, "I should let you go so you can shower. And I have to get up first thing in the morning. It's already eleven here."
The ecstatic feelings of their phone escapade start to sink, back towards the dark feelings of concern and yearning that he felt earlier. He swallows.
"I'm in no rush. The shower will be there."
She's quiet for a moment, and his features twist as he thinks she wants to get off the phone.
"I needed this," she eventually whispers, and his whole face softens.
"Me too, Rory," he mumbles his agreement, then jokes, "this was much better than the gym."
"What?" she laughs; it soothes his soul.
"Nothing," he replies, folding an arm behind his head, "thank you for all this, and for changing rooms."
"Just taking care of us."
He grins gently, "thank you. I know that doing this type of stuff was uncomfortable for you at the beginning, like when we first tried it when you were in Spain. But you seem to enjoy it now."
"I do," she confirms, "and I did then, too. I was just nervous, and sometimes I do still get a little self-conscious, but you've stripped away every scary part of being intimate in this way. You don't make me feel…innocent, or like I'm not sexy enough, and you don't ask me to push myself in ways I might not want to. You just…make me feel good. And I hope you feel the same."
"Oh, I do. Did my sexual babbling not convey that message?" he teases, and she laughs again, "You make me feel incredible, Rory."
He doesn't need to see her to know that she's smiling.
"And that was great timing," he continues, "it's been a while since I've been able to do that."
She hums knowingly, "I'm sure it's weird with your sister around."
"Just a little," he chuckles, "I mean, I have some time to myself in the mornings before leaving for Truncheon while she's at ballet, but I don't know. It still doesn't feel very private anywhere."
"I totally get that."
"And she's not as clean as she claimed to be. Her stuff is everywhere," he complains, "I trip over her shoes almost every day. And I went to grab the dirty towels to wash from the guest bathroom this morning, and she's completely taken over in there too. There's makeup all over the place, and strands of her hair just everywhere. Did you know she wears makeup? I had no idea."
A short laugh escapes her as she replies, "of course I know she wears makeup. Who do you think has been supplying her? Me and my mom have given her stuff we don't use, and I know my mom has taken her shopping for it too. Does Liz even wear makeup?"
He grunts, "I have no clue. I don't care that she wears it anyway, but I do care that there is glitter all over the sink, powder on the floor, and a bunch of lip things piled up behind the faucet."
"Hm, maybe we should have bought her a little vanity for the spare room."
"That's going a little far. It's two months, I can live. I just meant, she's in every space here besides our bedroom. It's different…I'm used to looking around and seeing things that make me think of you. Her stuff is blocking your essence."
"I'm sure that's not true," she chuckles, "and I'm sure there are strands of my hair in weird places too."
"Yes, but I don't mind those because they're yours."
"Aw, if I don't think about that too hard, it doesn't sound creepy at all," she teases, and he's caught by surprise when she says, "I guess we're going to have to move one day. I hadn't really thought about that before."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if the apartment feels small with a temporary extra person in it now…I think we're going to have to move one day."
Slowly, her words click in his mind, and his face melts from confusion to a sweet look.
"I see. Yes, we probably will need to move one day."
"That's kinda sad to think about. I love Jay and his home, and it really is so affordable."
"It is," he concurs with a nod, "it's so affordable that we will have a decent amount of money saved when the time comes to move, I'm sure. And we can find a place that you love even more."
"That could be nice," she replies dreamily, "I haven't touched my trust fund in years either, so we will have that too if we need it."
"We won't."
"Okay, but if we do, it's there," she insists, and he can tell that she has rolled her eyes. It makes him smirk.
"Uh huh, but we won't so don't worry about it."
"You're impossible sometimes," she mumbles through a yawn, "would we live in a house?"
He can't suppress his entertained chuckle at her words.
"I don't know. Are we house people?"
She giggles, his mouth spreads into a wide grin.
"I don't know either. I liked living in a house growing up," she pauses before asking a personal question, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way but, have you ever lived in a house before?"
He frowns, and takes a breath before responding, "no, I haven't. I lived in apartments with Liz growing up, then at Luke's."
He pauses as he thinks over his life, "I guess I briefly lived in a house when I stayed with Jimmy. I can't say I enjoyed that, though I don't think it had anything to do with the house itself."
She gives him a moment and then says, "and then you lived in New York again, right? In apartments I'm sure."
"Yep. And Philly was all apartments too, and, well. You know the rest."
"Hmmm," she mumbles pensively, "you've lived in a lot of places in New York. But you've never shown me any of them, besides Brooklyn obviously."
He closes his eyes while thinking of a response, because she's right. Because they aren't places he has a desire to revisit.
"You don't belong in those places, Ror."
She scoffs, "what?! Don't make me sound like some princess!"
"That's not how I mean it. I mean, people would know you don't belong there and say shit to you and probably try to mug you or something. I'm sure that I don't look like I belong there anymore either."
"But you would be with me. We would be fine. Why don't you want to show me?"
He sighs and admits, "it's not that I don't want to show you. It's more that I don't want to visit them."
She softens, "why not?"
"It would be like…" he starts, and stammers for a moment, "how you felt about the hospital. When I took you to that park and you looked like you saw a ghost. That's how the idea of visiting those places makes me feel."
"I understand," she murmurs after taking in his words, "well. Maybe we you'd like a house, or maybe a townhouse. We could also look at bigger apartments or condos. We have options."
His face melts to a small smile, "Yes, we do. We'll have to think about it and get back to each other. We have time anyway."
"We do," she replies, quieter than before, "we do have some time."
He can tell she's sleepy, and now all he can think about it is how we wishes she were falling asleep right next to him. He would love to stay on the phone and wait to hear her soft snores, but he says diplomatically,
"I should let you go. You need to sleep."
"And you need to shower."
He laughs, "yes, even more so now."
"I'll try to reach out to you tomorrow somehow. Data and internet will probably get worse the closer we get to everything. But I'll try to find a way, okay? And if you don't hear from me, don't panic."
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His head nods against the pillow.
"Okay. Goodnight, Rory. Sleep well."
"Thank you. I love you."
"Always. Bye."
He half-heartedly signs his name on the last book of the night. The turnout was more than he expected given how last minute it was advertised. His wrist hurts with the familiar ache of repetitive pen motions, but usually he feels it after writing rather than signing his name sixty times. He plastered on a small smile and acted as graciously as he could with people that wanted to talk to him. It means a lot to him, it really does, for strangers to find personal meaning in his work. But he's exhausted - between Doula's lack of self-awareness wandering around the apartment until three in the morning, and the stress of thinking about Rory traveling to unsafe places today, he guesses he maybe slept two full hours at most the night before.
"What are you doing after this?" the woman standing in front of him asks. She looks much younger than him and has an impish grin on her face as she asks. He looks back at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, I'm not doing any more events tonight. Sorry."
She chuckles and bites her lip.
"That's not what I meant."
His lip curls into the beginnings of a scowl, and he stands up from the table and grabs his phone from where it was sitting.
"Well, then, I don't care to find out what you did mean. Nice to meet you. Enjoy the book."
He starts to walk away, and she shouts, "Wait! Me and my friends are going for drinks across the street. We're all big fans of yours and would love it if you join us. Just for one drink maybe? I bet you like manhattans. Let me buy you one."
He makes a face, "can you take a hint? And did you even open the book that's in your hands? The first page alone would tell you I'm not interested."
The girl bristles but curiously opens the book and looks.
"'Dedicated to my biggest inspiration. I love you incessantly and permanently, Rory'. Oh, who's Rory? Are you married?" she laments, "but you don't wear a ring. There are no pictures of you online with a ring on either."
"I can't talk about this anymore," he huffs and pushes the book store door open, then adds sarcastically, "thanks so much for your sincere patronage, by the way."
He grumbles to himself as he walks briskly towards the subway. It's not the first time something like that has happened, but it feels particularly offensive today. He feels like he is so clearly unavailable; he doesn't even look at another person with a hint of any interest outside the scope of general kindness. How can he when his entire being belongs to Rory? Compounding those facts is the most upsetting one: that Rory is so far away from him right now, and if she had been closer and had been able to be at this book signing, there would be no mistake about his relationship status.
It's a rare moment where he wishes they were married already. Having a ring on his finger would make stupid situations like this easier to avoid, he's sure. But he recognizes the selfishness of that and forces the thought away. He at least wishes he could go home and joke about it with Rory, in person while they have a homemade dinner together. He would love to hear her attempts at sounding tough as though she has it in her to beat someone up that flirts with him. It would all be in jest, and it would make going home at the end of this horribly long day that much better.
Once he's on the train home, he checks his phone. He sees a message from Doula that Brooke took her to dinner and then home, so he doesn't need to go to Truncheon or feed her. That makes him sigh heavily in relief; one last obstacle between him and his bed. He checks for any communication from Rory; she texted him early in the morning that she was leaving the hostel, and that she will try to reach out again if she has time and service. But when he doesn't find any notifications from her, he checks her location. It shows that she's moving somewhere in the middle of Ukraine, and that at least makes him feel like she's okay. He leans his head back and rests his eyes until his stop is announced.
He gets off and walks up the subway steps towards home. His skin tingles with excitement at the prospect of resting on soft bed sheets. His mind starts to slow down in preparation for rest, the race of thoughts receding to just a few significant ones. He goes back and forth on whether or not he wants to spend time eating dinner, or if he would rather go to bed hungry, as he unlocks the door to his apartment. He hears heavy steps, and grins softly as he thinks it's Doula greeting him. But when the door swings open, she's not on the other side. He frowns and walks down the entryway. His eye catches on the door of their coat closet. He looks it over; his brain is telling him that something is amiss, but he can't quite put his finger on it. He continues to walk until he can see into the living room, where Doula is sitting on the couch with a book. She puts it down and smiles at him.
"Hi! How was the book signing? Did you get carpal tunnel?"
He looks her over intently, then steps backwards towards the closet again as he's hit with realization. She comes running from the couch before he reaches it.
"Hey! I have leftovers from dinner if you're hungry. Chicken alfredo. It's really good, but they gave me so much food I couldn't finish it. Do you want to bake cookies? Rory said there's always a tub of cookie dough in the fridge, didn't she?"
Jess's face turns to stone, and he glares at her. Then he turns to the closet door and pulls it open. His body immediately floods with rage.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" he bellows, taking in the idiot in his closet. Liam stands there, feigning coolness and nods at him.
"Hey boss. Funny meeting you here, I was doing inventory and noticed we were running low on The Subsect, so I thought, you must have some here in your apartment."
"Yeah! And so I said he can come look," Doula nods too many times, and gives a broad smile to them both, "did you find anything in the closet?"
"Nope, I guess we're really just running low."
Jess shakes with anger, his face in incensed disbelief; at the situation, at these kids trying to lie to him as though he hasn't committed every rebellious teenage act, at being disrespected not only at his book signing but in his own home.
"Doula, go to the living room," his voice seethes with demand, and when she hesitates for just a second he yells, "now!"
She scurries away, and Jess turns his rage towards the boy. He points towards the front door.
"Liam. Get out of my apartment now. Right fucking now," he grits out, and as Liam cautiously steps out of the closet, he adds, "and if you ever go near my sister again, I will schedule you to work every fucking weekend for as long as you're with Truncheon. I will give you full time hours all summer, and I will give you overtime, so you get no time at all to fuck around with anyone's sisters or daughters. I will schedule you on twelve hour shifts on Fridays and Saturdays. Because I know you turn eighteen soon, so I can do that."
Liam listens but continues to feign his calm. There's an infuriating look of nonchalance on his face that further rattles Jess. He steps up closer to Liam.
"Do you know what you can't do at eighteen, Liam?"
He crosses his arms and shakes his head.
"Sleep with a fucking fifteen year old!"
His eyes widen, "I didn't know she was only fifteen!"
"Yeah, and I'm sure you asked like the respectful fucking gentleman you are. Get out!"
At those scathing words, Liam runs out the door.
Jess angrily walks to his office and throws his work bag down, so nothing can impede the explosion that is about to come out of him. He stomps back to the living room where Doula sits chewing her lip on the couch. She slowly looks up at him, light brown hair partly covering her brown eyes, and flinches at the look on his face.
"What the fuck is going on?" he demands in a furious shout. She shrinks and shakes her head.
"Nothing! We were just hanging out."
He scoffs incredulously and takes angry steps closer to her.
"There would be no reason for him to hide if that were the case, now would there?"
She frowns, "you don't know anything."
He scowls and shouts, "Your hair is a mess! I heard running when I unlocked the door. And by the way, the idiot's shoelace was sticking out of the closet. And you- you were 'reading a book' upside down! I don't think you want to play these fucking games with me Doula, because I know every trick in the goddamn book. What the hell were you thinking?!"
"I'm not a little kid anymore, Jess!"
"God, you're not an adult either!"
"But I'm not a little kid."
He rolls his eyes, "Why are you taking advantage of me like this?"
"What?! I'm not taking advantage!"
"Yes you fucking are. You have been taking liberties, at least since Rory left. The drinking wine while I'm not home, staying up all night talking to your friends when I just know you have a curfew at home. And now this shit! Bringing a boy into my apartment, to do what with Doula?!"
She stands up from the couch and argues, "that's none of your business!"
"Excuse me? You're my sister, and this is my home. Anything you do here is my business. Especially on my freaking couch!"
She doesn't reply but stands in front of him looking pissed off and offended. He heaves a frustrated sigh.
"I thought you liked girls?!"
She shoots him a look, "my sexuality is not constrained by gender."
He gives her a look back, daring her to be more of a smart-ass.
She scoffs, "So this whole situation would be better if it were a girl?! That's sexist!"
"Of course it would be better if it were a girl! Men are horrible, Doula. Just look up the goddamn statistics, they are much more violent than women, especially when it comes to sex. So yeah, I would be much less concerned if I found you here with a girl and I don't give a fuck what you think about that. I know you live in Stars Hollow where everyone is a friend and it's all sunshine and rainbows but that's not how it works in New York! Liam is practically a stranger to you, you have hardly known him for two days. So what the hell were you thinking?"
"You're a man! And Kayla is the one that broke my heart and she's a girl."
"Breaking your heart isn't the same thing as pressuring you into doing things you're not comfortable with or that you shouldn't be doing with a seventeen year old," he stands by his argument, loud and frustrated, "you said you read my short stories. Did you not notice a pattern?!"
She stomps her bare foot on the wood floor of the living room.
"I'm not as blind as mom! She was drunk and stupid."
"Okay and what about Rory, huh? You think she's stupid?"
She looks up at him with deeply furrowed brows and a flippant frown.
"What does she have to do with this? Are you trying to tell me you're mean to her!?"
He rolls his eyes, "no, Doula. The story "Mom to Be" is about her. Do you remember that one? She trusted that person and he took advantage of her. Do you think she's stupid and oblivious?"
The siblings stare each other down, and suddenly her eyes water.
"We didn't have sex! I just wanted to kiss and see what it's like with a boy. And I was enjoying it until you ruined it!"
"And what would you have done if he tried to escalate it, huh? He is not only older, but bigger and stronger than you, why the fuck would you put yourself alone in a room with him? He's turning eighteen in two weeks! Three years is a huge difference at your age, Doula."
"Why are you yelling at me about this and not him?! That is so unfair!"
"Oh, don't you fucking worry, he will be crying on his knees when I'm through with yelling at him tomorrow. I just needed confirmation that he put his sleazy hands on you, and you just gave it to me."
Doula grimaces and she covers her face as she starts sobbing. She runs out of the living room and to the spare room. She slams the door and locks it, and he hears her howling with tears on the other side.
He puts his face in his hands and grunts in exasperation. He's still livid, and too angry to even try and have any sort of meaningful conversation with his sister. Instead, he follows her lead and goes to his bedroom. He shuts the door and walks until he collapses on the bed. He rests his hand on the sleepy cat near him. He takes a breath.
"Do we think I handled that well?" he murmurs, and then sighs, "I did say I wanted practice for the future, didn't I? Maybe I should be thanking her."
Sabrina's purring is the only sound in the room until Doula starts blasting music next door. He rolls his eyes but then a small smirk appears.
"Too bad she doesn't know this is how I fell asleep for years."