thank you for reading/reviewing!
it's just like me to ask you for patience and then get another chapter posted in just under a week. inspiration is a funny thing.
Rated M Scene ahead
enjoy xoxo
disclaimer: I own nothing
It's a crisp day in early March, and the wind blows harshly against Rory's face with every step she takes. But she is too preoccupied in her head to give the almost painful feeling any attention. It is the middle of the day, yet as she looks up to the sky there is no indication of that; gray clouds have enveloped the sun, and she thinks she can even make out smog in the air. She bumps up against a few naked branches of small trees as she walks down the sidewalk towards Truncheon. Her dressy flats click against the pavement until she comes to the door of the shop, and the sound is muted for a moment by the soft entrance mats inside. The bell on the door dings, letting whoever is working know that there's a customer. And within a moment, Brandon steps out from behind a bookshelf to greet her.
"Welcome - oh, hey Rory," he nods towards her. She gives him a small smile.
"Hey Brandon. How's school going?"
"It's mind numbing," he intonates honestly, and between that and the lack of emotion on his face, she imagines him as a copy of teenage Jess for just a moment.
"Really? Every single class?"
He shrugs, "it's community college. It's all so basic."
"I highly doubt that. I think you're just in need of more of a scholastic challenge. Have you started thinking about where you want to transfer to after next year?"
He leans against a bookshelf and shakes his head.
"Not really. Got any recommendations? Besides Yale. We all know you went there. Jess tells everyone. For motivational purposes, I assume."
She blushes lightly.
"Yale is no more special than any other school. They just happen to get away with charging lots more money to go there. What about Syracuse University? I've heard great things."
His lip curls, "that's too close."
Her head ticks forward in a nod, "Right. What about…Temple in Philadelphia? That way you could transfer to the Truncheon there and have a guaranteed job."
He runs a hand through his short hair. His long shirt sleeve rides up and she gets a glimpse of his new tattoos. She smiles softly to herself; Jess had mentioned that as soon as he turned eighteen, he started getting them. And that Brandon had confided in Jess that the tattoos were recreations of his late mother's artwork, and he plans to cover his arms and back in them. As a Christmas gift this past December, Jess called the tattoo shop he goes to and left a credit card on file for his next few visits. It earned him a real, genuine hug for the first time from Brandon, and Rory could tell it moved Jess more than he let on.
"Yeah, Jess and I talked about that last year when I told him about my plans. Feels…too easy."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know…it feels kinda like taking advantage of them. Jess, Matt and Chris I mean. They should keep space for students from the program."
Her face tightens in disbelief.
"No, not at all. They want to help. That's the whole point of this, Brandon," she stands closer to him, "I didn't have this kind of support at your age, you know. Even going to an Ivy League school, my connections were either lacking or not very helpful. And until a few years ago, I struggled to get into my field the way that I wanted to. And even then I needed help. That won't be a problem for you if you stick with these guys. You do still want to be an editor, don't you?"
He sighs but nods in confirmation.
"I do."
"So, stay with Truncheon until it doesn't make sense anymore, if that ever happens."
"I guess," he relents with a faux disinterested look, "but I don't know. I heard Jess talking to someone earlier about his sister possibly staying with you guys this summer and helping out in the store. And I heard him say they don't need any help right now. Just feels like I'm taking up space."
She tilts her head curiously at the information about Doula but knows he's not going to have answers for her. She shakes her head and gives him a clever smile.
"Stop. You know how Jess is. If he wanted someone in here, he would make it happen. So clearly, it's just not something he wants for whatever reason."
The door dings behind them indicating a new customer has entered. Brandon's eyes shift up to greet them with a nod and a, "can I help you find anything?"
Rory pats him on the arm, "I'll let you do your job," and then walks towards Jess's office.
She knocks lightly on his partially open door before pushing it. He is on the phone, but his eyes lock right on hers with a surprised smile. She grins in response and after shutting the door, she takes a seat on the chair in front of his desk. As he talks to what sounds like the printing company, he catches her eyes and shakes his head before patting his hand on the desk, in the open space next to his computer. She shoots him a look, but he doesn't back down. He motions with his fingers for her to move, and finally she gives him a playful eye roll before stepping around and sitting on his desk to face him. He smirks and wheels his chair in front of her. She is wearing an ankle length dress, and Jess is pleased to find that she has no tights on underneath as one of his hands creeps up from her foot.
She watches the devilish look on his face as he continues talking on the phone, hand inching further up her leg. When he gets it between her thighs, she clamps her legs together with a smug smile. He immediately sulks, with an adorable pout and sad eyes. Even though she is there to share some really important information with him, his playful demeanor easily takes hold of her. Slowly, she parts her legs again, and with every inch his mouth lifts higher and higher into an excited smile. He is mindlessly agreeing with whatever the person on the phone is saying as his fingers brush the outside of her underwear, making her bite her lip at the contact. He watches her face as he runs a knuckle around her most sensitive spot in dizzying circles. He holds his phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing his other hand to pull at her dress - trying to convey to her to pull it up and out of his way. She gives him a look, because as good as this feels, she doesn't want to be so bare in his office when there are people in the next room. He cocks his eyebrow as though he's been challenged, and in a moment has put his phone on speaker and placed it on the desk. He stands up and between her legs; he wraps his arms around her waist and expertly lifts her while pulling the bottom of her dress up and around her hips. A muted squeal vibrates in her throat as he places her back down on her almost bare bottom. She hears the person on the phone and starts to pay attention to the conversation.
"Jess? You sure you're good with publishing in June instead of April?" the man on the phone asks, and Rory looks down at Jess. He's sitting in his chair again, moving towards her. His eyes are focused on the wet outline peeking through her pink underwear, his bottom lip in his mouth.
"Hello? You there?" the person asks, and Rory decides to cross her legs again so he will pay attention. His face falls and he looks up at her with a petulant frown. She has to cover her mouth to keep an amused laugh from escaping.
"Yeah, I'm here," Jess finally responds, and then winks up at Rory, "just a little distracted."
"I won't take up more of your time. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"Hey, the inconvenience is saving me about a dollar a book. You've more than made up for it."
"Glad to hear you feel that way. We would hate to lose Truncheon as a customer. We enjoy working with you."
"Uh huh," Jess replies, hand working to pry Rory's legs apart again, "thanks for the call. Talk soon."
He hits the red button to end the phone call and then uses both hands to roughly part Rory's legs.
"Hi," she says breathily. He smirks; his left hand reaches between her legs again.
"Hi," he mumbles back, his fingers now pulling the fabric to the side to bare her to him. His eyes look where his fingers are and his tongue flits out across his lips, "this is a wonderful surprise."
She goes to respond, wanting to let him know that she is there for a reason, and that reason doesn't involve what he's trying to do. But the wet feeling of his tongue licking from her knee to her inner thigh leaves her wordless. She feels him smile against her leg, and then he's moving his mouth to the lips between her thighs.
"Jess," she half-heartedly tries to stop him, but as his tongue glides over her clit she breathes out, "oh god. This is so wrong."
"Feels right to me," he mumbles against her, and the feeling makes her body tremble. She doesn't protest again. Instead, she brings a hand to his hair and runs her fingers through it, gripping onto it as he delicately sucks on her bundle of nerves. She mutters a couple of expletive words at the feeling but throws a hand over her mouth as she hears a knock at Jess's office door. She pushes at his head to move him away, but he hardly budges.
"Yeah?" he calls out, voice partially muffled by her body.
"Can I come in?" Brandon asks through the door. Rory panics and tries to move off the desk, but Jess places a firm grip on her thighs that keeps her rooted.
"I'm eating lunch right now," Jess yells, throwing a cunning wink at Rory, "can this wait?"
"Oh," Brandon says, sounding slightly confused, "Okay. Well, I actually wanted to take my lunch break as well, but Liam is late for his shift."
"Again?" Jess asks incredulously, momentarily distracted from his previous actions. Rory tries to take the opportunity to get away, but he holds her down again with a smirk.
"Whatever," Jess adds before Brandon can reply, "go ahead and take your lunch break. Just throw a closed sign up and lock the front door. I'll deal with Liam when he gets here."
"Oh. Okay. Thanks."
"Yep, see you later."
"Okay. Bye."
Jess waits until he hears the front door bell ding, indicating Brandon's departure.
Then, he places his head back between Rory's legs and places loud kisses on her sensitive sex; taking full advantage of the knowledge that they're alone now.
"Fuck," Rory exclaims, and then in a shaky voice says, "you know, I came here for a reason. I have something important to talk to you about."
He pauses his movements for just a second and teases, "Really? You mean you didn't come to my office from across town in the middle of your work day for an afternoon delight? Shocking."
Her hips buck as he pushes two fingers inside of her while flicking his tongue against the most swollen part of her clit.
"Oh my god," she mumbles, "seriously Jess, I came here to tell you something."
He pauses again and moves his head away from her just enough to catch her eyes.
"I'm sure what you need to tell me is important, and I absolutely want to hear it," he promises sincerely. Then, he strokes his fingers inside her in a way that makes her quiver with pleasure.
"But can I hear it after I hear you moan my name over and over again first?"
She takes a trembling breath as he pets inside of her, and then his thumb circles her swollen bud, and she relents completely.
"Yes. Okay. After."
His lips lift into a proud smirk, "that's my girl."
Before she can say anything else to him, his mouth is once again skillfully licking and sucking at her. As his lips and tongue move in tantalizing repetitive movements, her pleasure builds and builds until she's holding a heavy breath, waiting to fall over the edge. But she can't quite peak, her mind distracted with thoughts about what she's supposed to be there for. Jess being the kind of guy that he is, doesn't mention how much longer than usual it's taking for her to reach her end. Instead, after almost ten minutes of feeling like she's hovering on the cusp of something, he decides to switch it up.
"I think your body wants something else," he mumbles kindly, removing his head from between her legs and sitting back in his chair. She bites her lip; her face is sweltering hot from futilely trying to find her orgasm. His is covered in her wetness from nose to chin; his lips looking red and swollen from the work he's put in. She finds it incredibly sexy, but she fears that she won't be able to finish the way he wants her to. He quickly undoes his jeans and pulls them down far enough that he can open his lap to her.
"I think my body wants to talk to you."
His eyebrow raises, and he frowns slightly, "are you not enjoying this? I'm sorry. It sounded like you were."
"I am! I am definitely enjoying it," she quickly replies, "but my head is somewhere else right now."
He looks her over and mumbles, "I really wanted to make you come in my office. It's been a long time."
Somehow, her face feels even hotter. Her center throbs and swells at his words. She takes a breath, and she smiles.
"Okay. Let's keep trying."
He grins and gestures to his naked lap.
"Take those panties off, turn around and take a seat."
She does as he says, and he carefully lines himself up to enter her slowly as she sits down. A rumble of a groan moves through both of them at the feeling.
"Okay baby," he murmurs against her neck, "now I need you to ride me. So I can use my fingers for more important things. Can you do that for me?"
"Mhmm," she responds in confirmation, and she begins to move up and down over his length.
"So fucking perfect," he moans. Then he moves one hand in between her legs, moving his fingers in swift circles where she needs it. His other hand finds the tie at her waist that holds her dress tight to her body and undoes it. Then he glides his hand up her stomach and pushes his fingers beneath her bra to tug and play with her nipple. She moans his name, and he meets her hips with a thrust every time she sits down. His mouth switches between biting at her neck and soothing the damage with hot licks of his tongue. She's radiating with pleasure, repeatedly saying his name just as he wanted. But she still struggles to get past that wall. Knowing that the problem is her head, he begins murmuring words of praise and love against the skin beneath her ear.
"You're so beautiful, Rory. And you're riding me so good, baby. So good. And it's okay if you're having a hard time, because I'll eat you up for hours if that's what your body needs. Anything you need, I'll give it to you. My hands, my mouth, my words. I'll read you a fucking book with my face between your legs. Does that sound good baby? Mumbling beautiful words against your beautiful, throbbing clit for hours. You want that, Rory? You can have it. Whenever you want. I'll leave work right now and take you home and have you for lunch, dinner, and dessert. Is that what you need, baby?"
His efforts pay off deliciously as she finally reaches her climax; she shouts his name and almost folds in half in pleasure in his lap. Her body tremors and shakes in his arms. He kisses her neck and holds her up, bringing them to stand and bend over the desk where he pushes into her until he's shuddering from his orgasm. He rests gently against her back. He moves her hair off her neck and places gentle kisses there before pulling out and cleaning them both up.
He turns her around when he's done and holds her face in his hands. He looks at her lips before kissing her tenderly. When he pulls away, her eyes are big; like she's feeling great emotion and conflict. He holds her stare and moves his hands from her face to her arms.
"I love you, Jess."
The declaration is serious and striking. He looks over her face. Usually, he would return her sentiment in a different way, with more creative language. But he feels like she needs to hear it today.
"I love you too, Rory."
Her shoulders shake as she crosses her arms over her chest and folds her lips. He's about to ask her what she wants to talk about when he hears the back door to Truncheon open. He shoots her an apologetic look before stepping to open his office door. He catches his employee right before he makes it up front.
"Liam. Everything okay?" he asks, voice firm but calm. The blonde haired boy shrugs.
"Fine."
"Okay. Because this is the third time you've been late in two weeks. I know since it's your senior year and you're working that you get done school at noon. That's why we schedule you to start at 1pm."
"And?"
"What's going on?" Jess asks, voice becoming sterner. He looks at his watch, "it's 1:30 already. Are you having transportation issues? Do we need to adjust your schedule? What can we do to make sure you get in on time?"
Liam shakes his head.
"Nothing. I'm just late sometimes."
"Will you be late less times if we start you at 2pm instead?"
He just shrugs in response.
"What causes you to be late? Something…at home?"
Liam rolls his eyes and scoffs. He looks Jess over and then smirks.
"I'm late because I was doing the same thing you were just doing, based on your disheveled clothes and hair," he replies smartly and nods towards the office, "is your wife in there? Oh, or are you with a mistress?"
Jess's face turns stone cold; he crosses his arms tightly across his chest and stares him down with a scathing look.
"If you don't want to be here Liam, I can easily fill your spot with someone who does. Keep in mind that means that you would have to go back to a full school schedule, and that you would lose the benefit of having Truncheon back you in any way in your future endeavors. No recommendation letters, no transferring you to suitable workplaces, no college credits; nothing. Is that what you want?"
Behind him, Rory listens intently. Both in awe, at Jess's stable demeanor, and in surprise at the audacity of his student.
Liam's face drops and he looks down at the floor.
"No. I like working here," he looks back up at Jess and mumbles, "I'm sorry."
He nods shortly.
"That's what I thought. Apology accepted," he replies and then adds on in a warning tone, "today. If you pull something like this again, the outcome will not be the same. Do you understand?"
Liam nods regretfully.
"Good. Get out front. You'll need to unlock the door and take the closed sign off. Brandon needed to take his lunch break because he's been here since the actual start of his shift at nine this morning."
Liam nods and scurries away. Jess releases an exhausted sigh. He turns around and closes his office door again, facing Rory.
"I'm sorry about that. For the interruption and for what he said."
She gives him a small smile, "It's okay. He wasn't exactly wrong."
A short laugh escapes Jess, and he shakes his head.
"Most of these kids are…easy. They are respectful, happy to be here, and really communicative. But a few of them…they're pretty much made up of all the most difficult parts of me as a teenager. Feels almost karmic."
She steps up to him and runs a supportive hand down his arm.
"You handled that very well."
He shows an appreciative smile.
"The good thing about dealing with teenagers like me, is that I know exactly what they want from any given interaction. He wanted me to be a dick and lose my shit, so he could feel better about coming in late whenever he wants. Had to keep my cool."
She listens to his explanation with fascination, "You're so brilliant. And an incredible addition to their lives."
He smiles but shrugs, "I don't know about all that. What I do know though, is that you came here to tell me something important. Before I completely distracted you."
Any sign of ease or amusement drops from her face. She nods slowly and frowns.
"I did."
He regards her and noticing her unease, he taps her on the arm and nods his head towards his office chair. He walks over and takes a seat and pats his lap. She walks over to him, but instead of sitting on his lap, she sits on his desk in front of him, wanting to be able to see his face completely. He rolls closer to her and looks up at her with patient eyes.
"What's going on?"
She swallows. She takes a breath. She looks at the ceiling and then back to his face.
"They want me to go to Ukraine. To report on the escalation of the Russo-Ukrainian War."
He blinks; his face reveals nothing yet.
"You're kidding."
Her look turns anxious, and she slowly shakes her head. His face drops into some mixture of shocked and scared.
"You're not kidding."
She shakes her head again. He watches as she sucks in her bottom lip, crushing it with her teeth. He takes in her round eyes, looking apprehensive. But, as he continues to scrutinize her, he has a hunch that's it not about going there. It's more about telling him.
"You want to go."
She releases her lip, and bites inside of her cheek instead as she nods slowly.
"It's a historical time. It's horrible and crazy what's happening there. And, you know, Russia is known for controlling media. People need to be there to write history correctly."
"And you want to be one of those people."
"I do," she confesses in a whisper, "I'm sorry."
He tries to take a breath, but his whole chests rumbles at the effort.
"Why are you sorry?"
"Because I know it's going to be scary for you. And mom and everyone else."
He swallows, "It's going to be much scarier for you, Rory."
"I won't be alone. They're sending me with a photographer, and we will have someone there for security too."
A heavy exhale on the verge of a sob sounds between them, but Jess's mind is too busy picturing frightening circumstances to notice if it came from him or not.
"Have you ever needed security detail before?"
"Will it make you feel better if I say yes or no?"
He blinks at her, frowning hard.
"Rory."
She reluctantly responds, "No. I haven't."
"Fuck," he leans forward, putting his head in his hands.
"It doesn't mean anything, Jess."
He laughs humorlessly against his palms.
"It means you've never been in more danger."
"No, it means that they are taking every precaution to make sure we are as close to not in danger as possible."
He doesn't respond to that, because his mind and body are on the brink of hysteria and he's afraid it will burst out at any moment. His mind flashes to when he thought something horrible happened to her on that work trip last year, and how terrified he was. How his life felt like a string on a ball of yarn that could be pulled at any moment, sending everything into disarray. He feels a hand on his shoulder.
Rory whispers, "I won't go if you don't want me to. Just say the words. I'll tell them to ask someone else."
And that unveils to him the selfishness of his thoughts. All centered on how he felt, what it meant to him thinking she was hurt or worse. But to her, this is an important opportunity. He knows that since she changed the way she is scheduled for work some years ago, that she has had less opportunities like this - to be on the scene of something as it's happening. And he knows, ever since that revealing conversation in her car as teenagers all those years ago, that for some reason this is the kind of responsibility she wants as a reporter. He takes as steady of a breath as he can. He removes his head from his hands and looks up at her with the smallest smile he can muster. He shakes his head.
"I know what this means to you. And I'm not going to hold you back for my own comfort."
The hopeful look in her eyes tells him everything he needs to know; that this is exactly what she wants to hear, and it's the right thing to do.
"Are you sure? I would understand if you didn't want me to go."
"Don't get me wrong. I don't want you to go. But…I want you to do the kind of work that you want to do more than that. You want to do this, and that's what matters."
She smiles, half sad and half relieved. She hops off his desk and into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He looks at her face, he moves a leftover messy piece of hair out of it.
He says softly, "and I know that even though it freaks me out, you are fully capable of doing this. And I'm proud of you for wanting to take it on."
Her smile grows, and it makes his heart thump.
"Thank you."
"You have nothing to thank me for," he mumbles back, wrapping his arms around her, "you would do the same thing for me."
"I know but I am still thankful. I know it's not going to be easy."
He swallows down his agreement with that statement and asks, "what's the plan? When do you leave?"
"They want me to leave this Friday," she sits back in his lap to look at him, before explaining, "they plan to have me visit there multiple times. At least for the rest of the year. Um. They said that they'll send me anywhere from a week to a month at a time, depending on the safety aspect. I will have a featured spot in the paper with my updates, and a bigger piece at the end of the year in review. So basically, this is all that I will be working on in 2022, and although the situation is bad and scary, that part is kind of good right? You know I won't be called for any other type of work. My time at home will be at home."
"And your time away will be in Ukraine," he breathes out in response with a nod, "I understand."
She looks him over, sensing his distraught feelings. She places a hand on his face and meets his eyes.
"I'll be safe. I have to be."
He doesn't respond right away; his eyes looking over her intensely. Committing its every feature to memory. The number of freckles, the curve on the bridge of her nose and the one at bow of her lips. The height of her cheekbones, and the plumpness at the apple of them. The width of her sensationally blue irises, the length of her light brown eyelashes. The way her lips part slightly as she exhales a breath, and the little bit of her white teeth that peek out too. And as she starts to say something and her sweet, pink tongue makes an appearance; he aches all over at the thought of not being able to taste it while she's gone. He leans in then and gives her a consuming kiss. He pulls away and looks into her eyes again.
"Yes. You will be safe. We're going to make sure of that," he states resolutely. She looks at him peculiarly, but he ignores it and urges her to stand up with him.
"What do you mean by that?"
He grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, and quickly packs up his belongings.
"Come on," he nods towards the door, holding his hand out to her. She follows but presses him again, "where are we going?"
"You ever shot a gun before?" he asks her over his shoulder as he leads her to the store front. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head.
"No! I don't want to touch a gun."
"I don't want you to touch one either," he agrees, "doesn't mean you won't be in a situation where you will need to do that."
As he tugs her to the register where Liam is standing, she tries to stop them from moving.
"Jess! You're freaking me out. What do you mean?"
He stops walking and turns to her, holding her arms as he addresses her.
"I need to do everything in my power to make sure you're as safe as possible. Otherwise, I think I will throw up every single day that you're gone, and possibly sink into a deep depression."
Her eyes widen and she shrinks slightly.
"If you're that worried-" she starts, and he shakes his head.
"I hope nothing terrible happens, I hope there is no threat to your life. I hope the security detail they give you will do their job, and I more so hope you aren't in a situation where they need to. But…there is no harm in being prepared. Right?"
She swallows and looks him over before acquiescing.
"Right."
He nods, "Okay. Let's get you as prepared as we can. Starting with a shooting range. Honestly, the Times should have paid for some sort of training for you anyway."
"Well, I think that's what the security is for…"
"You need to be in a position to help yourself no matter what. You're strong and independent. Remember, Jane?" he can't quite put a smile on his face for her, but he gives her a wink.
She grins softly and nods, "Okay."
"Great," he taps her on the arm, "and we need to get you a backup phone, backup chargers, and maybe something specifically for GPS purposes."
"You want to microchip me?" she raises an eyebrow and a gentle smirk tugs at her lips. He manages to chuckle.
"Not microchip. But something more reliable than your iPhone. And I'm going to need the phone numbers of who you're going with, especially security. And I assume I have everyone else's number that I need now, right?"
"Right. I gave them all to you last year, emails too."
"Okay," he stares at her, taking her in again. She smiles and nudges his hand,
"Come on, what are we waiting for? You have a lot planned for us."
He snaps out of his trance and turns to Liam.
"You're done for the day."
Liam's face drops and he asks nervously, "Are you really firing me?"
"What? No. I'm the only manager on duty today and I need to leave. Help me close the store," he demands as he starts walking around the room to close the blinds.
"But what about money?" Liam asks then looks at Rory with a small smile, "are you his wife?"
"I'm not his wife," Rory replies cheekily, "but I'm also not his mistress."
Liam blushes slightly at being called out.
Jess rolls his eyes, "That's Rory. Her pictures are all over the wall in my office, you've seen them."
"Nice to meet you," he mumbles without making eye contact, "so what about pay? That's six hours that you're cutting."
"Actually, it's five and a half since you came in late," Jess quips in reply throwing him a look, "and I'm going to pay you for your full shift, relax. Now, help. Type a sign up for the door that says we had to close early and will be back regular hours tomorrow."
"Fine," he replies, and starts typing on the computer in front of him.
"And put that on the internet somewhere too, while you're at it."
He looks up at Jess with a taunting grin, "Put it 'on the internet somewhere'? How old are you, Mr. Mariano?"
He glares at him. Liam holds up a hand in surrender.
"Alright! I'll put it on Facebook."
"Whatever. I don't care what social application you use just want it out there. And move faster."
"Social application?"
"Liam! For the love of God - "
"I'm moving, I'm moving!"
"And call Brandon to tell him not to bother returning from break."
Liam smirks and Jess shakes his head.
"You know what, never mind. I'll call him. He'll think you're up to something if you do it."
"Aye, aye captain," Liam salutes. Jess grunts in a way that is so similar to Luke's reactions to him as a teenager that Rory can't help but giggle.
"Do you guys need any help?"
Jess replies "no" at the same time Liam gives a loud, "yes." Jess shoots him another blistering look, and Liam's face drops. He turns back to Rory.
"Call Paris."
"Paris?"
"I'm sure she knows self-defense."
"I took a self-defense class in college!"
"What like, fifteen years ago?" Jess questions with raised brows, "more?"
She frowns and nods, "Okay, I'll call her."
"And ask her to bring stuff to show you how to dress a wound too. Actually, any kind of first aid she has, ask her to bring for educational purposes."
Rory looks up at him with concern in her eyes, "Jess…"
He meets her look; his eyes pleading and equally concerned. He stops what he's doing and walks up to her.
"I know that you're intelligent, and strong, and that you can do this. But," he whispers so only she can hear, "this is the only way I can take care of you in this situation. Please. Let me."
Her heart aches at his words, and she can see that he is desperate for any semblance of control. She understands the feeling well herself. She reaches out and hugs him.
She whispers in his ear, "Okay…. okay. You can take care of me."
...
"He's overreacting, right?"
Rory and Paris sit together on the couch, Jess in the next room cooking dinner. Paris has a cloth wrapped around Rory's arm, showing her how to use and make a tourniquet out of a t-shirt if no first aid kit is available. At Rory's quiet question, her friend's eyes flick from her arm to meet hers momentarily before she answers.
"For him, someone that would no doubt pull a Romeo if you became his tragic Juliet, no. He's not overreacting. He loves and cares about you, and it's scary over there right now. Haven't you seen the news? I should hope so, I can't imagine the Times assigning someone oblivious to it."
"Yes Paris, I've seen the news. But it's not all scary, it's not the whole country. And they won't have us in really dangerous places for long periods of time."
Paris eyes her again before removing the cloth from her arm.
"Doesn't take that long for an explosive to destroy a person. And it seems like Russia's got plenty of them."
Rory visibly gulps and with a nervousness Paris can feel, she asks,
"I can handle it. Right?"
She faces Rory head on with one of her intense looks.
"Of course," she confirms aggressively, "Your track record of handling difficult crap is impressive. Need I mention Logan, Mitchum or dropping out of an ivy league school only to come back and make up your classes quickly enough to still graduate with me? You get stuff done, Rory. And you also manage to do it without pissing anyone off, which I imagine is very important in your line of work."
Rory half smiles, "Thanks Paris."
"I mean it. One of your best qualities is having the clearest head in chaotic situations. I've seen it in action at the Yale Daily News. You'll be fine. And I doubt that Jess would argue with that. He's worried about the stuff that isn't in your hands."
Rory nods softly and looks down at her lap.
Paris looks her over and asks, "What did Lorelai say?"
Rory looks up at Paris with a small smile.
"She was supportive, but I can tell she's concerned too."
Just then the kitchen door swings open, and Jess pops his head into the living room.
"Paris, how do you like your steak?"
"Cook it to 135 degrees. Not a degree more or less," she demands and raises an eyebrow, "and trust me, I'll know."
"I don't doubt that," he mutters in response, small smile of amusement on his face, "I already know you want medium rare, Ror. Do you guys want some wine?"
"Drinking alcohol while trying to learn new information is like trying to learn to drive with a blindfold on," Paris asserts, crossing her arms over her chest.
"So….no wine?"
"How about we compromise and have wine with dinner?" Rory offers, looking between them with a hopeful smile.
"If you want to wreck your chances of recalling how to appropriately apply a tourniquet when you're in the trenches, then be my guest. Drink all the wine you want."
Rory throws Paris an annoyed look of disbelief. Jess frowns.
"Okay. Definitely no wine."
Rory pouts.
"Too much wine is also bad for erections," Paris adds, turning to Jess, "which is probably of interest to you with Rory leaving in a couple of days."
"Paris!" Rory exclaims and lightly hits her arm. Jess chuckles and gives a smug smirk.
"Always a delight to have you in our home, Paris," he taps the door, "I'm gonna go finish dinner."
"Wait, I'm about to show her how to take a man down with just her knee. Want to be her practice partner?"
Jess makes a face, and noticing Paris's sly grin, he shakes his head.
"No. I know exactly where you intend for her to put that knee, and that's also going to be bad for an erection."
He returns to the kitchen before Paris can suggest anything else.
"Thanks a lot, now he's going to be worried about me remembering how to do this stuff!" Rory complains, tossing a ball of gauze on the floor. Paris rolls her eyes and leans down to pick it up.
"He's going to worry no matter what."
She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, "I know."
Paris turns to regard Rory seriously again, "but you don't have to take that with you. Do your job, Rory. That's what you're going there for. That's what your purpose is there. You may be in this freakishly chasmic relationship with Jess, but you're also just you. Rory Gilmore. International correspondent for the New York Times. You have to put that person in front of the others sometimes, and that's something to be proud of. Not something to feel bad about."
Rory slowly smiles at her friend. Paris suddenly smirks.
"And if you do get scared and want to come home, I will happily take you in as a surrogate. You may be a little older than I'd like, but your high metabolism will be a huge seller."
"Paris," Rory rolls her eyes but laughs and asks, "Can I hug you?"
"Maybe later. Right now, I need to show you how to bring a man to his knees outside of the bedroom.
The night before she is set to leave, Jess lies awake watching her sleep. His mind and his heart feel the need to observe her as much as possible before she goes. He wants to be able to recall in detail the way she sleeps, the way her body and face move during any given activity. Like the way her chest moves when she breathes. Or the way she has to inhale deeply through her nose after she talks too quickly and is desperate for oxygen. The way she looks at him when she's fully charmed by his antics but trying to pretend that she's not. He loves that look especially - the way her lips feebly fight off a smile, her eyes wide and either rolling playfully at him or giving him a mildly incredulous look. And when fending off a grin doesn't work, the way she starts biting on her bottom lip; really not wanting to give in to the fact that whatever ridiculous thing he said or did was amusing. It lights him up every time. To know that he can captivate her to the point that her facial expressions refuse to agree with her words. It makes him feel irresistible to her; it enlivens him with a type of satisfaction that fills his heart to the brim. He thinks that is the look he will miss the most while she's gone.
There is a runner up to that look, and it's the one that he saw only a few hours ago. Her beneath him, looking up at him with overwhelming pleasure on her face as he expertly works her over with his fingers. He likes it better when she's under him and he can survey her in that way; he likes to be able to see on her face the sign that she's about to arch herself into him, begging for more friction as he teases her close to an orgasm. He loves the feeling of her hips pushing up against him, the way her legs try to clamp together around his hand when she's feeling too sensitive. And he loves to watch her try to breathe when she is about to tumble over into extreme pleasure; her chest catches over and over again, her pout stays open as she attempts to get oxygen in short labored puffs. Tonight, not only could he see it on her face that she was about to finish, but he could feel it on his shoulders - her nails digging deep into his skin, grasping for some steadiness as her body rocks and writhes without her control. He hopes she left a mark for him to look at and trace over for at least the next few days.
Blood rushes through him as he thinks about this, about her giving her lovely body over to him completely. He gets the urge to feel her soft skin on his, to feel her heat surrounding him in every way; to gently pet and play between her legs until she loses control. Most of all he wants to kiss her deeply. He wants to cover her mouth with his, feel every crevice of it with his tongue all the while sucking her breaths into his body - taking those sweet puffs of oxygen for himself.
He thinks about it for only another moment before he makes a move. His eyes have adjusted to her form in the dark, and he leans down to move silky hair off of her neck. Then he places his lips there, gently kissing from her clavicle and upward until he meets her lips. She begins to stir; he places a kiss on her mouth. He watches and waits for her to wake, and when she doesn't he kisses her again. Pressing his lips to her longer than before while his hand feels beneath the covers until it finds the bottom of her shirt. He inches his fingers under it and onto her stomach; feels a hit of calm at the contact of his rough fingers on her warm skin. He hears her take a sharp inhale of breath as she wakes up. He pulls his lips from hers and watches her sleepy features adjust to the world. She blinks up at him.
"What's wrong?" she yawns, "You can't sleep?"
He shakes his head and presses his lips to hers again.
"I don't want to sleep."
"Mmm, why not?"
His thumb circles her bellybutton, and the feeling causes her body to shake with a chill.
"I like watching you sleep."
"Well, now you're not watching me sleep. You're watching me awake. Because you woke me up," she mumbles sleepily, closing her eyes again and adjusting her head on her pillow. He smirks softly.
"I like watching you awake too. It's a conundrum, really."
He sees her lips move towards a smile.
"Right now, I would prefer to be asleep. Maybe that can be taken into account?"
He hums playfully in thought.
"I've considered it thoroughly, and I have decided that tonight I cannot take that into account. I'm feeling quite selfish."
She turns her head to meet her shoulder as she stretches beneath him.
"I suppose I will allow it. You never really play the selfish card."
"That's mighty kind of you, Miss Gilmore," he murmurs as his lips find hers again.
"What do you want to do with this opportunity?" she asks as he pulls away. In the dark, with his face so close to hers, she sees the slight movement of his crooked smile into his signature smirk. At the same time, the hand on her belly moves farther up her shirt and covers her breast.
Her eyebrows shoot up as she asks in disbelief, "Again?!"
He bites his lip. His fingers glide over her nipple until it forms a hard peak.
"Jess…" she groans, but it's not a tone of pleasure and that makes his hand stop.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't believe you want to go again."
His hand moves back down to the more neutral location of her stomach.
"I just can't get enough of you. It's another conundrum."
She bites her bottom lip to quell a smile.
"But Jess…we've had sex eight times since I came to your office two days ago."
"Uh huh, almost three times a day. I know that."
"And you're still not satiated?"
"I told you. I can't get enough of you."
She looks up at him but doesn't respond. The ghost of a smirk still on his face drops into something serious.
"I'm sorry. Have you not been into it? Have I been pressuring you?"
She quickly shakes her head and brings a gentle hand to his face.
"No, no, no. It's been great. Truly I don't think I've ever physically been more relaxed," her words allow his mouth to move again, "it's just that…well, for one thing, I'm sore."
His face drops again, "did I hurt you?"
"No, Jess. You didn't hurt me but, again, we've been marathoning it for days. My…body is going to get sore at some point."
He considers her words, a little guiltily. His hand moves from her stomach to cup between her legs.
"I didn't think about that. I'm sorry. This is sore?"
She nods and he gently runs his fingers over it outside of her shorts.
"And I can't kiss it better?"
She rolls her eyes but smiles.
"Not with all that stubble on your face."
"I can shave."
"Jess-"
"I'm being a pain in the ass. Sorry. I don't want to hurt you at all, I'll give your tired body a break."
She holds herself up on her elbows so she can kiss him. His mouth turns into a sad smile.
"I guess I'll be giving it a really long break, huh?"
She frowns.
"That's the other thing…"
"What do you mean?"
Her teeth roll over her bottom lip; her eyes look all over his face. She kisses him again, before lying back on the bed. He follows her, and they lay side by side facing each other.
"What do you mean?" he asks again softly. She exhales a breath and brings a hand to his face, palm pressing softly against his cheek.
She whispers, "you're making me feel like you think you're never going to see me again."
He doesn't respond, but she can feel him holding a breath.
"The endless sex, the constant need to be touching me somehow. Making sure every meal I've had in the last few days is something I really love. Taking off work two days in a row to be with me. And…. the ways you've been looking at me," she swallows and moves her hand from his face to behind his neck, "It feels like your…eyes are ceaselessly committing me to memory. It feels like…I'm a pet you're about to put down and you want to make the most of my last days on earth."
"Fuck, Rory," Jess murmurs in a remorseful tone, his hand moves to the back of her head, and he leans his forehead against hers, "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."
"It's scaring me," she confesses quietly, "I can't go into this job feeling like you're waiting for a devastating phone call about me. It's going to wreck my ability to get my work done safely."
He moves closer to her until their bodies are pressed together, and his hand is tangled in her hair completely.
"Baby…I'm sorry. You're right. I am freaked out, but I didn't mean to project it on you in that way. That's not right."
She wraps an arm tightly around him.
"I know you're scared. I understand where you're coming from. I'm a bit afraid too. But…this is my work. We have to just think of this as a work trip and not something that has the potential to upset our lives. It's…the same as if you were going on a trip to promote a book or something."
Jess sighs and grumbles slightly, because he of course doesn't totally agree with her statement. But he kisses her head and scratches lightly in her hair.
"I'm sorry for making you feel that way. And it's not because I don't believe in you, you know that right? It's just…the environment. The outside factors that scare me."
"I know," she smiles softly, "It's okay. But can we go back to treating this like a normal night? To you treating me like normal?"
"And what do you mean by that? You want me to be a sarcastic pain in the ass?" he jokes, grinning against her forehead. And although he can't see, he just knows her face is doing that thing that he loves so much.
"You can hold the sarcasm please! Let's just talk like it's any other day."
"Mmmkay. So, how about that weather today huh? Kind of a warm day for March."
She giggles, "Jess! Hey I know what we can talk about. Two things actually."
"Oh, you aren't interesting in discussing the effects of global warming? Oh, that's right. You don't care about it because you hate LED light bulbs."
"Wow you have done a full 180 mister!"
He bites down on his upturned lip and moves his body so he's on top of her.
"That's what you wanted baby, isn't it?"
"I suppose so," she responds with a smile, "anyway, what were you on the phone with the printer about the other day?"
He shrugs, "Have to delay the release of my book. Since Matt and Chris had the bright idea to re-release my other book of short stories with it, the printer isn't equipped to pop that many out by next month."
"Oh darn! Do you know what the new release date will be? I would like to adjust all my calendar entries."
"Adorable," his smile is wide, "No, I don't have the date yet. I will let you know as soon as I do, Marie Kondo."
"Thank you. I take no offense to that comparison."
"I'm sure you don't," he lowers himself to kiss her.
"The other thing we can talk about -"
"Is that you're feeling better already and incredibly horny?"
She huffs out a breath, "No! And you're going to regret making that weird of a statement right before this topic."
He grimaces, "What does that mean?"
"I was talking to Brandon when I came in the other day. He mentioned something about your sister wanting to work at Truncheon?"
His grimace deepens and he rolls off her to lay next to her again.
"I don't know if she actually wants to. My mother called me. Doula auditioned for a summer ballet program. Here in New York City. Liz not only asked if Doula could stay with me for two months if she gets in, but also if maybe I could have her do a little work to make some of her own money. Since she's fifteen now and should have a job. Her words, not mine."
"Okay," Rory replies in anticipation, "and what did you say?"
He shrugs, "I didn't say much. I said I don't really have anything that she can do at Truncheon. And to let me know if she actually does get into the New York ballet thing, and then we can talk about it."
"You don't want her to stay here?" Rory asks, picking up on some hesitance in his words.
"It's not that. I don't think she would be comfortable here. Our place is big for New York, but small compared to a house. She wouldn't have her own room, she would have to sleep on the couch assuming you'll be around when she's here. And if not, then I will have to sleep on the couch and that sounds terrible. She's a teenager now, you know? She needs her own space."
"But what's the alternative?"
"They have room and board, it would just cost extra. So if she gets in, I figure I'll offer to help Liz pay for that. That way, she can be with people her age and do her thing. And I can see her for dinners and stuff."
She listens to him with her hand resting warmly on his chest.
"I bet she would like to stay here. Maybe you should ask her."
"Even if she does, that doesn't solve any of the issues I mentioned."
"Jess," she scratches him gently with her nails, "I know you, and I know you would make something happen if you wanted it to happen. So what's really holding you back?"
He's silent for a beat, and then sighs, "Doula and I have a great sibling relationship. But we don't see each other all the time. What if two months straight causes us to fight or what if I fuck up beyond fixing? I only have dealt with teenagers in a part time capacity at this point, and in a workplace. Not my home."
She tsks, "Oh this old fear again. Why are you so afraid you're going to screw up with her? How many times do I have to tell you she adores you?"
"What if after two months in my company she doesn't?"
"You're crazy! She would love it! Plus, I'm sure the ballet camp is intensive, it's not like you'll need to entertain or worry about her all day every day. And honestly, it would probably be most offensive to her if you paid for her to live somewhere else! Like you don't want to be around her."
Jess listens, but simply grunts in response. She traces the outline of the muscles on his chest and tries a different approach.
"And I seem to remember you saying something about wanting to practice dealing with the, and I quote, "youth". To prepare you for the future. Didn't you?"
Following these words, he takes a deep breath and partly surrenders.
"Okay, okay. I hear your points. I will think about it."
She smiles and leans over to kiss him, "Good. And I'm sure you could find something small for her to do at Truncheon. Like…answering the phones. I know you hate doing that."
He grunts, "true. People call with the dumbest questions."
She chuckles and moves to lie flat on her back. She stills for a moment when she hears their bedroom door creak open, but then she hears the familiar meow.
"Here kitty, kitty," Jess mumbles, but his hand moves over Rory's body and lands between her legs, "Oops, wrong kitty."
She can hear the smirk in his voice loud and clear; she rolls her eyes and tries in vain not to laugh. As the cat jumps onto the bed and burrows itself on her chest, she genuinely grins.
"Thanks for being normal again."
"I'm glad I pulled it off," he responds, finding her hand under the blanket to hold. She squeezes it lovingly and they lie silently next to each other, the only sound between them Sabrina's purring.
"Rory?"
"Hmm?"
"I noticed a few of my shirts missing from my dresser."
He feels her fret in slight embarrassment.
"Do you want them back?"
"No. You can take all of my clothes if you want to," he mumbles sweetly, "If that makes you happy."
She whispers her reply, "I just wanted something to sleep in that might make me feel like I'm sleeping with you."
His chest puffs with a swelling of love. He pulls her hand out from under the covers to press his lips to it.
He murmurs against her knuckles, "Let me spray my cologne on them for you before you leave tomorrow."
She grins and squeezes gratefully on his hand. It's quiet again between them as she thinks something over.
"Hey," she says softly, "I have an idea. What if we move my stuff in our office to your side of the room? We can put my desk next to yours and move my shelves over. They should all fit on one side."
"Okay, and what would we be doing this for? A new space to fuck?"
"Oh my god, the mouth on you sometimes," she complains with a light hit on his chest, "no! To put a small bed in there. Maybe a dresser too. Something simple."
Jess softens at her kindness, at her wanting to make a comfortable space for his sister.
"That could work."
"I think so. I'll help you with it."
"You will? You'll help me move furniture?"
"Mhm."
"Okay," he grins, "I'm excited to see that. When will you help me?"
Now she grins and responds assuredly, "when I get back from Ukraine."
He exhales a calming breath; he rubs his thumb tenderly against her palm. He hears her implication, he hears her promise. He nods.
"I can't wait."