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Rated M scene ahead

totally did not have this chapter planned ahead of time, it just came to be as I wrote it. i hope you love it as much as i do.

enjoy xoxo

disclaimer: I own nothing

"You're not supposed to be working on this trip, you know."

Jess stands in the doorway of Emily's office in Nantucket, arms crossed and amused smile on his face. He's been standing there silently for a few minutes, and she has not looked up from her computer once. They had a nice dinner and a glass of champagne before passing out the night before, and it's now mid Saturday morning. Rory disappeared from bed a couple hours ago, and knowing exactly what she was doing, he left her alone to work. But as soon as he got out of bed, as he has been doing every morning since the previous month, he checked his app. And this morning it had a big green message on it, telling him that she should be ovulating. Taking his job very seriously, he came to seduce her away from her laptop. He has been good, he thinks, about not making it too obvious when it's an important time for them to have sex, because of course they still do it regularly. He doesn't want to stress or freak her out, and he's grateful for the charm he's perfected on her over the years because it helps him in this endeavor.

She jumps slightly as he speaks, and she finally looks up at him.

"Jesus! Was that necessary?"

"I've been standing here for at least three minutes, I had to do something to get you to notice me."

She turns pink, a guilty smile spreading on her face.

"Sorry, I'm just so excited to write this article about you and Truncheon. I'm almost done!"

"I think you're more excited about it than me, Matt, and Chris combined," he teases as he slowly stalks towards the desk.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Matt said he's going to build a statue of me."

Jess smirks, "well, he is the visual artist. But I've never seen him mold anything, only paint and draw. So I wouldn't hold your breath on that."

He walks around the desk and pulls her chair out, spinning it to face him. She goes to argue, but suddenly she realizes that he's only in a pair of sweatpants. And she can see a very big reason that he is in the office bothering her right now, right through his pants.

"I can't have sex in my grandmother's office," she whispers, as though there are recording devices in the room. His eyebrow perks up; he leans forward, placing his hands on the arms of the chair until his face is close to hers.

"Who's asking you to do that?"

"Um," she mumbles, breath catching slightly. She slowly lifts her hand up and points between his legs. He chuckles and looks down and then back to her face.

"I've discussed it with him already, and our plan is actually to take you upstairs," he leans forward and places a hot kiss beneath her ear, "then take all of your clothes off," he kisses again, "then lick you until you scream," this time he sticks out his tongue and traces her ear, and it makes her shiver, "and then he will come out to play. Does that plan sound agreeable?"

"Yes," she replies quickly and breathily. He smiles and steps back, he grabs her hands to pull her up from the chair. Then, he bends down to pick her up by the legs and throws her over his shoulder.

"This was not in the plan you just outlined for me!" she argues between laughter.

"Well, we have to get there somehow," he replies, walking them carefully but quickly down the hall to the staircase.

"Please don't hurt yourself!"

"I have no intention of doing that," he promises, swiftly but cautiously taking them up the spiral staircase, "I have too many things I need to do to you that require good physical health."

She yelps as he drops her on the bed in the guest room. She hardly has a second to get her bearings before he is on top of her, caging her body in and kissing along her jaw and neck. She wraps her arms around him, fingers clinging tightly onto his shoulders. His ceaseless kisses slow down, until he moves his lips to her face to give her a hard kiss. He moves a hand from the bed and finds the hem of her t-shirt; his fingers creep up from her hip, over her bellybutton, and finally to softly pinch and squeeze her nipples. This causes her to moan, hips bucking up slightly towards his. He takes his time here, gently exploring her mouth while simultaneously he tugs at the sensitive peaks on her chest. When she digs her nails into him harder, and arches her whole body towards him, he finally moves downward.

She helps him take her sleep shorts off, and he looks up at her with a glint in his eye as he discovers there is no underwear beneath. He stands at the edge of the bed; she bites her lip as his fingers skim from her hips down to her feet. As he pushes her legs back, until they are bent so her knees are near her chest, she takes a deep inhale of breath. He stands over her with a smirk, and then most of his form disappears as he kneels on the floor. She looks between her legs and her whole body trembles at the promising sight of his head near her throbbing center. He kisses first at the backs of her legs, inching his way towards where she really wants him. He brings a hand to her lips and runs his fingers in a teasing caress through them.

"Jess," she moans, voice pleading for more. He smirks and looks up at her, and then back at where his fingers are playing.

"Sorry baby," he mumbles, "I just wanted to look at it a little bit before I devour you. It's really pretty, you know."

She groans as his fingers swirl against her clit.

"It's pink," he kisses her lips once, "soft," kisses again, "and somehow always so wet for me."

"Please Jess," she begs, throwing her head back in slight frustration.

"It's my favorite treat," he mumbles, and she feels his breath against her wetness, so she looks down and watches as he finally closes his lips over her pulsating bud.

"Oh god," she groans loudly at the anticipated contact; her hands move to hold her chest as he runs his tongue in tantalizing circles.

"So good," he murmurs against her, and she feels all of the vibrations run through her. Her legs squeeze towards each other. As he drags his tongue through her, he takes both of his hands and places them on the back of her legs, holding her down while he increases the pressure and speed of his efforts. The lack of control drives her wilder and combined with the full suction he has over her pounding clit, she finds herself close to her end already.

"Fuck," she moans loudly, pinching harder at her nipples; her gaze moves from the ceiling to watch him consume her. His eyebrows tick up as he catches her eye contact, and he pushes against her legs more to hold her down completely through the orgasm he knows is about to come. Her face is bright red, and she can't get out any more coherent words as the strain on her body and the pleasure building in her leaves her breathless. He focuses his tongue in gentler strokes, and watches in satisfaction as her chest heaves, approaching closer to her end. He smirks against her and takes one small nibble while he sucks; she falls apart with electric, pitchy screams, parts of his name escaping between breaths. He holds her firmly down through her orgasm, not letting her pull away from his mouth, until the trembling in her legs calms.

"Jesus, Jess," she breathes out; he grins wide at her reaction. He runs his hands up and down the back of her legs and kisses her once more on her lips there before he stands over her again. She drops her legs to fall flat against the bed, finally taking a real deep breath.

"Good?" he asks with a smug smile. She looks up at him, face still tinted pink and splotchy from the blood rushing through her. She nods, shakes her head, and then nods again. He laughs at her indecision.

"Jesus Jess," she repeats hazily, "how and when and where do you come up with new tricks?"

He tsks and shakes his head, "that's for me and my mouth to know only."

She lifts her finger and twirls it in the direction of his upper body.

"And your hands and your arms."

He laughs as he pulls down his sweatpants and underwear.

"Yes, those too," he nods his head towards her, "take that shirt off."

She takes another big breath before sitting up to pull the shirt over her head. He leans forward and grasps her hips, pulling her to the bed's edge to line up with him. Lying on her back, she reaches her hands up for him to get closer to her.

"Come here," she mumbles, "I need to kiss your beautiful mouth."

His lips lift high, besotted by her words. He brings his face down to hers, happily accepting her passionate kiss. They pull apart and look at each other with affectionate enchantment. He lets his eyes wander over her form as he stands back up between her legs. They land in that spot as they so often do lately; the spot that he's desperate to grow with the combined result of their love. His eyes meet hers again, hands still planted on her hips. She grins up at him, her pink mouth and satisfied blue eyes once again captivate him, and the urge he already had to be deep inside her becomes overwhelming.

"Flip over, baby."

She bites her lip but doesn't move. He looks down at her curiously.

"Can we do it this way? I want to be able to kiss you."

The confused tension in his features melts.

"Of course," he bends over her to kiss her, "great idea. I love being able to kiss you too."

He stands back up, his hands skate down her curves to her hips. He holds onto her with one hand, rubbing his thumb over the bone there, as he pushes himself inside her.

"Fuck," he groans, eyes closing momentarily in pleasure, and when he opens them he sees a lovely look in her eyes too, "and I get to watch your face this way. Really good call, baby."

She preens and lifts her arms up, beckoning him towards her. He smirks before giving her what she wants, and thrusts harder into her. She kisses his mouth and his face, one hand getting lost in his hair and the other placed on his cheek so she can feel the scruff there.

"Wrap your legs around me," he pleads breathily into their kiss, and she immediately does as he says, "yes, Rory. God you feel good."

She moans against his mouth as he picks up the pace. One of his hands moves from the bed to find her chest, and he pinches a hard nipple.

"Jess," she arches her back as she groans.

"So fucking sexy Rory," he grunts out, and he moves his hand to grip her hip, "I'm going to give you more, baby. Can you handle that?"

"Yes," she replies on an insistent breath, locking eyes with him to convey the truth of that statement.

He watches with a smug smirk as she seems to brace herself, and then he gives her everything; pushing as deeply as he can inside of her. She whimpers and arches her back up more; eyes closed, and face turned up to the ceiling. Her walls squeeze him tightly; he pulls out and slams into her again. She moans, and grabs onto his arms to stay stable as he drives into her. He feels her crossing her ankles more behind his back, urging him somehow closer to her. He looks down to see her biting on her already plump bottom lip, her face bright pink and panting. He can tell that his body is hitting her where she needs it as he pounds into her, and he slows his movements slightly, so the contact lasts longer. His heart flips as she looks up at him and mutters words of love; he bends forward and nudges his hands behind her back, lifting her up slightly so he can hold her in his arms.

"I love you too baby," he mumbles near her ear, planting sweet kisses on her head while he slowly brings her to the brink with his gyrations, "I love your voice, and your words, and your face, your mouth, your eyes, your kisses and your hands on my body."

"God Jess," she breathes out in a sensual murmur.

"I love it when you say my name. I love your mind, and the way you feel inside and out," he moves his face downwards to kiss between her breasts, "And I love your heart most of all."

He feels her legs start to tremble around him; he works his hips in circles for her, "please don't stop."

"Never," he replies assuredly but softly, "I'll never stop making you feel good, never stop loving you."

She is hit then with another orgasm, and she squeezes him tightly all over; between their legs and everywhere else too. The noises that come out of her are subdued whimpers, but he can feel the strength of it as her hips shake against his. He kisses her hair, still holding her in his arms. He starts to speed up his thrusts again, and rumbles against her head,

"And I will definitely never stop fucking you."

Her giggling response turns into squeaky moans as he slams into her repeatedly, his breathing heavy near her ear and his arms wound tight around her body. Her nails dig into his back, and she crosses her ankles tighter, trying to keep his movements from unraveling the loving cocoon they've made with their bodies. They are both breathless as they press in harder to each other, and as her lips tickle his neck with her quick breaths, he finally falls apart. He pushes inside of her further as he spasms, burying himself as deeply as possible. Wanting to make this trip memorable in a very permanent way.

He stays seated in her, giving his body time to release every bit of his orgasm where he wants it. His arms still holding her close to him until he feels empty; he slowly releases her, placing hot, delicate kisses on her mouth before he stands up and pulls out of her.

"Are you okay?" he asks his usual post-coital question, standing again at the edge of the bed. She nods and watches him as he lifts her legs up straight in the air and rests them against his shoulder. He leans forward slightly and kisses the side of her knee.

"Are you stretching me?" she asks, with amused confusion on her face. He smirks and shrugs.

"Something like that," he rubs his hands up and down her legs, "you want to shower together?"

"Do we need to shower? I thought we would go on the beach soon."

He looks down at himself with a chuckle.

"I would like to shower."

"I'll wait until later. I think I'm going to go make some more coffee."

He kisses her leg again.

"Okay. Just a couple more minutes."

She gives him a curious look, but he speaks again,

"How's the article coming along?"

"Great, I've only compared you to Mussolini once."

He laughs, "I guess Liam did not take it seriously."

"He did, I'm just teasing," she promises, placing her hands behind her head, "he said a lot of great things, like Truncheon has allowed him to take care of himself and his brother, and supported his choice of not going to college."

Jess's face softens as the humor of these statements dissipates. He nods slowly.

"That's good to hear," he replies quietly, "I was worried that he would regret that decision. But I tried to tell him that it worked out for me, and for Chris too. He didn't go to college."

She nods in understanding.

"It's just not right, or sometimes worth it, for some people. I'm sure he would be greatly overextending himself if he were going to college, working at Truncheon, and basically running a household."

"I agree, and if he wants to go in the future, that can be figured out at some point."

"You know, if you ever have students that need help with figuring out the college stuff - applications, comparing schools, etc., you know I would be happy to help."

He takes a breath and smiles, "I know. Thank you."

"Good," she smiles back, "what is it that Liam wants to do? Write?"

"More than that. He wants to create a graphic novel," Jess replies, and Rory catches the proud smile on his face he attempts to underplay, "he's talented. He's shown me a few small comics he's done. Graphic novels take a long time, to develop and put together, but whenever and whatever he does is going to be great."

She gazes at him adoringly as he speaks, and teases, "I love super proud Jess."

He huffs, and smirks, "and I love super naked Rory. Want to go again? If you let me play with you a little bit I think I can be ready to rumble in less than ten minutes."

He watches the growing pink on her cheeks with satisfaction.

"Coffee first!" she argues, pulling her legs from his hands, "and then beach! Remember?"

"Yes, of course. You want to bask in the devastation of too much CO2 in the atmosphere. I haven't forgotten. Just thought maybe another round first?"

She shakes her head, curling her body up to then roll off the bed into a standing position.

"I'll be downstairs," she opens a dresser drawer, grabs her bathing suit and throws it on with a cover up, "I'll see you after your shower. In swim shorts!"

"Damn, I brought my speedo this time."

She gives him a look and giggles, "I would accept that as well."

"Really? What about skinny dipping? Would you accept that?"

"Nope! See you soon," she kisses him briefly before practically hopping out of the room.

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair and heading towards the bathroom. He quickly showers and puts on his beach attire as requested. Stepping out of the guest room, he pauses and his gaze roams down the hall, towards Emily's bedroom. He thinks about what she left there for him, and figures now is a good time to get it - while Rory is occupied downstairs. He closes the door behind him, and quietly steps down the hallway, until he reaches the closed bedroom door. Slowly, and gently, he turns the knob and tiptoes inside. His eyes focus only on the bed, not wanting to invade the personal space that is Rory's grandmother's bedroom more than he has to. He pads across the room, and sighs because of course she has way more pillows than necessary on the bed. One by one, he lifts them up, and finally finds a small, round white velvet box.

His breath catches at the significance of the item he's about to pick up and take with him. He brings a nimble hand down to it, picking it up with the kind of gentleness used to hold a baby. The box is light, but the meaning so heavy, he sits it in the palm of his hand to balance it. He uses his other hand to gingerly lift the top of the box; his breath catches again at the sight of a briar rose ring with an oval diamond in the middle, surrounded by two small aquamarine stones. The smallest laugh of disbelief escapes him, because it's actually perfect for Rory, and not what he expected Emily to give him at all. He was fully prepared for some flashy, sharply cut, crystal clear diamond ring to be awaiting him, and he had already started thinking up ways that he could have the ring remade into something more modest and romantic. But this…he doesn't think he will need to change anything about it. It's pretty and delicate, unassuming yet beautifully unique; it reflects her entirely, and it's something he could have seen himself picking out for her on his own.

"She is good," Jess mumbles to himself, shaking his head. He tenderly closes the box and goes to put the pillows back but finds a note that was hidden by the jewelry box. He puts the ring box in his pocket and unfolds the note:

Jess,

This ring was mine. It was given to me by Richard after Lorelai was born. He picked it out because he thought the aquamarine gems perfectly matched her newborn eyes, despite the possibility that her eyes could have changed color. Luckily, they didn't. And now another identical set of blues exists and seems to want to spend her life with you.

I thought this ring would be fitting.

-Emily

PS - don't make me wait forever.

He is stirred, every nerve and his entire heart, with this weighty gesture. It freezes him to the spot, the only part of him moving are his eyes, over the note and around the bed. They stop on a framed photo of her late husband on the opposite nightstand; like he is still watching over her while she sleeps from his side of the bed. The need to release something, to alleviate the pounding of emotions in his blood, has him saying out loud to this photograph, "thank you."

After another turbulent moment, of trying to take all of this in, he folds the note back up and sticks it in his pocket. He takes care to place Emily's pillows back exactly as he found them, and then turns and leaves the room. He jumps when he hears Rory shout up the stairs on his way back down the hall.

"Jess?!"

He stills just outside the guest room door, afraid that she heard him walking around, before calling back,

"Yes?"

"I made you breakfast!"

His nerves relax, and his face twists in curious confusion.

"I'm sorry, I think I misheard you," he shouts, "because I could swear you just said that you made me breakfast?"

"Yes!" she shouts back a little indignantly, "I made scrambled eggs! And toast. And I even put some cut up fruit I found in the fridge on your plate too! Are you on your way down?"

"Well, I definitely am now," he replies teasingly, "I'll be right there."

"Okay, hurry before the eggs get cold! They came out so good."

"Yes, ma'am. Can't wait to try them, Miss Stewart."

He hastily pushes the door open and finds his duffel bag. He takes the box and the note from his pocket and gives them one last grateful look before burying them inside. Then, he leaves the room with proud excitement to try the breakfast waiting for him.

"You're okay, Jess. It's me. It's okay, it's alright."

He is pulled from a disturbing sleep by her gentle voice; he feels her soft fingers moving in calming sweeps over the heated skin of his chest.

"You're safe. You're with me, in Nantucket", she murmurs lovingly, "we just had a long nap after spending probably too much time in the sun."

His eyes open then, his heart still pounding, but he can feel it start to slow down as she comes more clearly into view.

"You're okay," she says softly as he blinks a few times, "It was just a nightmare."

As his confused, distraught eyes meet her tranquil blues, the ghostly feelings brought on by his past memories begin to fade. He takes a few breaths, eyes still locked on hers; working his way towards regaining his grasp on reality. She watches him, with the kind of tender love and concern he could have used back then, and it almost feels like she can change the past. The racing of blood throughout his limbs settles; she brings a hand to his hair. She nods reassuringly as she sees him starting to calm down.

"You're safe, Jess."

His soul is easily lulled with every touch of her skin on his. And her sweet murmurs still the twitching in his muscles that he first woke up with, as though his body was preparing for a fight. His throat feels dry as he swallows. He coughs to clear it and moves a hand on top of hers.

"I'm okay," he rasps, and he clears his throat again. She keeps a gentle gaze on him; he breaks away from it for a moment to refamiliarize himself with the surroundings. He finds that they are lying on top of the bed in the guest room, and he remembers they both got a little sunburned and their skin felt too warm to nap under the sheets. He can tell it's dark outside now, as the main light source in the bedroom is coming from the lamp on the nightstand next to Rory. He's in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, which her hand is splayed beneath of. His eyes shift back to her, traveling from her bare feet, up her partially bare legs and arms, and finally back to her caring face. His chest rattles again, but this time with good feelings. The warm peace that she's brought him, pulling him away from the mental siege of painful memories that so recently had a hold on him, has him wanting to kiss every single inch of her skin with appreciation.

"Thank you," he says, realizing that he hasn't actually voiced the gratitude he feels yet. She shakes her head once, dispelling the need for those words. She moves her fingers in circles on his chest again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He takes a breath because, he really doesn't. But, he also doesn't want her to feel like he's not sharing with her. That he's holding back and bottling things up; but, then again, he could be without realizing it. It wouldn't be the first time. He swallows and turns his head slightly so he's facing the ceiling, not wanting to look at something as pretty as her face while he discusses something so ugly.

"It was the time he threw beer bottles at me. That one…has been coming up a lot."

He pauses; she leans her face down to place a soft kiss on his head. He looks over at her, and then goes back to the ceiling again.

"I came home from school, went to the kitchen to look for something to eat, and he was in there tearing the place apart. He immediately turned his rage on me, yelling about a bottle of jack he left there and couldn't find. I was a kid…I didn't know what to say other than 'I didn't take it'. And those words I guess convinced his…intoxicated fucking mind that I must have taken it if I was being defensive. He was a vicious drunk. If I had known he was there, I would have gone to my room as soon as I got home. I fucking hated being around him."

She kisses him gently again as he takes another break. He places his hand outside of his shirt on top of hers.

"I wasn't in a position to get away, the kitchen was tiny, and he had me backed into a corner. There were empty beer bottles near the sink, my mother always left them there until there were enough to fill a trash bag and take them to the dumpster. In his rampage, he started picking them up and throwing them at me. They were big enough that I could dodge them at first. God, it was like a fucking western standoff. Like he was shooting a gun at my feet," he pauses and swallows, "once he realized I was young, sober and smart enough to get out of the way, he started smashing them on the counter near my head. So pieces of glass would fly out and sting my skin. And then he uh."

He stops, and she can hear the emotions clawing at his throat. She moves her hand to his face, about to turn it to meet hers so she can tell him he doesn't have to share anymore. But he speaks again,

"He threw the jagged edged bottle tops at me too. Um, Liz came home from whatever crappy job she had later that day, and I was covering myself with Band-Aids in the bathroom…nine years old, cleaning up wounds from an adult by myself," a desperate, humorless laugh escapes him, "Told her what happened. Her response was 'I'm sure it was an accident'. An accident. By the way, I found out at another time that she was the one that drank the whiskey he left there."

Her heart deflates; her eyes stay trained on him looking for signs that he's going to crack, so she can hold him together before that happens. He turns his eyes to hers finally, and she's immediately drawn to the depth of his currently dark browns. The hand she has on his face applies slightly more pressure for stability.

"I know parts of that story were in my book. And I don't know if you remember Doula bringing it up before…" he mumbles, and he holds up an arm in between them, "anyway, I do have a few tiny scars. Not very noticeable. Just little…blips in my skin texture. See?"

He points out a small pale line in his otherwise olive skin on his forearm; and her heart dips a little lower into her body, because it's in a spot that a defense wound would be found. She can't stop the vision of young Jess in her head, holding his arms in front of his face to protect himself. In her warring silence, he looks at her eyes again, and the images vanish as she sees the man that she loves so dearly, waiting for her to say something in the echoing wake of exposing such a sensitive piece of his past. She places her hand on his arm and brings it towards her face. She inspects it, and she presses her lips to each small marking she can find; writing over it with her love. When she can't find any more, she runs her hand down his arm and looks at him. He looks calmer than when he woke up, but she still sees some storminess in his eyes.

She kisses him on the lips then, before getting out of bed. He watches her silently as she puts an oversized sweatshirt on. She walks around the bed and holds a hand out to him.

"Come on. Let's go for a walk on the beach."

His lips turn up gently and he nods, taking her offered hand and getting off the bed.

"Do you have a sweatshirt?" she asks with sweet concern, "it's cold out there at night."

He takes a breath and gives her a quick kiss, "I do. Thank you."

He turns to his duffel bag, as she steps to look out the window.

"It would be cool if this guest room faced the beach. Kinda weird looking outside and seeing deserted streets in the off-season."

"I like the emptiness," he replies, tugging at the sleeve of his sweatshirt. As he pulls it out, the ring box pops out with it. He keeps his calm and grabs it, eyes shooting momentarily to Rory. She turns to him then, and he deftly places the box in his pocket.

"It is nice to not sit in traffic. But it's a little spooky."

He takes a breath of relief and quickly puts his sweatshirt on, making sure to cover the bulge in his pocket with it. She grins and holds her hand out to him again, and they walk together out of the room, downstairs, and out the back doors to the beach.

She gasps as they step across the backyard, eyes locked on the sky.

"The moon is only half full but it's so much brighter here than in New York," she points up and looks at him and then back to the sky, "Look at it! It's so pretty."

He doesn't look at it, instead he looks at her with a smile.

"I don't think it's scientifically possible for the moon to be any brighter here. But I'll look at it with you anyway. Want to get a little closer to the water?"

She nods adamantly, and they walk together hand in hand to the hypnotic shoreline. They stop a safe distance from where the waves are lapping on the sand. Jess looks over at her and finds that her round blues are still sealed to the bright orb. He smiles affectionately, adoring her sweet captivation; he decides to take a seat on the sand, and tugs on her hand to join him. She smiles and bends down towards the space next to him, but he takes her hips and gently maneuvers her to his lap. He wraps his arms around her body and places kisses on the back of her head. She turns to kiss him once on the lips, and then gazes upwards again.

"It's brighter here," she proclaims in response to his earlier statement, "I hardly notice the moon in the city."

He smiles softly against her hair, "maybe you're just not outside at night that much."

She shakes her head; her hair tickles his skin, and he smiles more.

"It's surrounded by much more darkness here," she insists, "it lets the moon shine brighter."

"Maybe we're just more drawn to it because of the dark."

"No, no. It's shining brighter here. Because it knows we need it," she pauses and then turns her head and looks at him over her shoulder, "that's how it felt when you came back into my life seven years ago, you know. You were this…glorious moon pulling me from darkness."

The small amount of levity he felt between the house and this moment leave him; his heart and soul become dense with meaning as she speaks. She turns back to the sky, leaning her head back to rest against his shoulder as she stares again at the magic moon.

"You shined so bright for me, Jess," she continues in a soft tone, and it is not lost on him that she always delivers the most intense of her feelings with this softness, "And you never dim."

Her words leave him speechless; his chest expands, filling and growing with a ball of inexplicable, but euphoric, energy. His heart feels like a bird in a cage, chambered in his chest and running into steel bars as he tries to come up with ways to articulate the way this makes him feel. The way she makes him feel; waking him gently with love and safety from a nightmare, noticing that he gave up one of his most prized possessions and replacing it. Putting so much trust and faith in him to make and raise a family together, and so much more. Thoughts cycle through his mind, his heart taking and filling itself with each wonderful feeling these memories bring forth.

In a moment, he realizes that the only response to such powerful words is action. And despite everything they've discussed, he makes a quick, but not uninformed, decision.

"Rory…"

She tilts her head towards him. He takes a breath and harnesses his confidence in this resolve. She smiles at him, eyes sweet with patience and reflecting the starry light of the night.

"I need to ask you something," his voice is soft and sensitive, eyes full and deep. She stares at him as he pauses, and she watches curiously as he moves one of the arms wrapped around her body to reach into his pocket. He holds the object between both of his hands. And looks at her until she meets his eyes again.

"This was not planned. I really did not intend to do this here or this weekend, or even necessarily with this ring," he admits, with no regret or guilt because he is confident in this action, "I know you told me before you want me to be sure. And Rory, even though I didn't have a plan, I am so goddamn sure."

"Jess…"

He opens the jewelry box, and she gasps at the shining ring that makes the sparkle of the ocean look dull.

"I know you want to have kids before we get married, and I still want that too," his words are tender, their meaning beautiful as he assures he that he would never forget the things she's told him.

"But…" he continues with hopeful eyes and a wide open heart, "maybe this moment can be just ours? This…proposal of combing our lives in front of all the people we love."

He pauses, mouth still open before he continues gently,

"It makes sense for this to be just ours, I think. And I hope you think that too."

She looks back and forth between him and the ring in shock, eyes wide and glistening; hands clasped tight over her mouth.

"Rory, what I feel for you is…more expansive than every single universe combined," the arm that is still around her waist holds ever so slightly tighter as he then asks, "Will you please marry me? One day. And be my fiancée until that day comes?"

He stares into her wet eyes, the liquid multiplying their luminosity, and waits. The tiniest niggling of apprehension pokes at his stomach, but as she drops her hands from her mouth to reveal a smile bigger than the moon behind her, it melts away.

"Yes! Jess, yes. Of course! I love this, I love you so much!"

The intense pulling of his facial features softens into pure love and happiness; he pulls her close to him and kisses her deeply as she turns in his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. The force of her passionate energy pushes them backwards onto the sand, Jess holding the arm up in the air that still has the ring. They both laugh into their kiss, but they don't part for another fervent minute.

"You're not disappointed?" he asks cautiously as their mouths split for air. She gives him a borderline incredulous look.

"Not at all! This is so beautiful. And spontaneous in the best way. Everything about it is just…perfect, Jess."

He swallows, attempting to calm the flurrying joy in his chest. His arm starts to ache, and he chuckles as he's reminded of the ring in his hand.

"Well, then. I need to give you something."

She trembles slightly with excitement, sitting up to straddle his lap. He pushes himself up and brings the ring between them. Her eyes lock on his movements as he carefully removes the vintage ring from its box and closes it. He places the empty box on his lap between them and her eyes follow as he picks up her left hand in his, holding it gently against his palm. He slowly pushes the ring on her finger, and then meets her eyes.

"Perfect fit?"

She looks back at him and then at her hand, holding it out in front of her; she dances her fingers, and the shimmering gems catch the glowing moon behind her. Her happiness erupts out of her in a pitchy squeal, and she nods repeatedly.

"Yes, perfect Jess! Oh my god. It's so beautiful, thank you!"

She hugs his neck, and he holds her in his arms.

"Not as beautiful as you."

She clicks her tongue and pulls back to give him a look, but her smile overwhelms her entire face. Her look, her energy, her acceptance of a somewhat impulsive proposal, has him smiling almost as much as her too. Her eyes rake over his handsome face, deeply enjoying the love and happiness she finds there.

"I can't believe you just proposed to me," she breathes out with a laugh of disbelief. His smile softens slightly as he tells her earnestly,

"I needed to. It was the…best way I could think of, to show you the gravity of the way you make me feel."

He watches as her eyes and mouth smooth into a more tender look.

"It was the perfect proposal," she swears with a little nod of her head; and in a second, a sweeping grin takes over her face again, "I have to facetime mom and Luke! Oh my god, and Grandma and Lane and Paris! Oh, and I can't forget about Doula. She is going to be so excited for us! Do you think we should tell Brandon too?"

He holds her face to still her giddiness; he smirks and brings her lips to his for a kiss.

"We definitely should tell him too. And everyone else. Especially Emily," he mumbles and then suggests, "but first. Can we just…bask in it? The two of us for a while? It was a big surprise. For us both," he teases, "I would like to sit with it a little."

"Okay," she agrees easily before kissing him again and turning to sit once more in his lap, "but I do have so many questions."

"I'll give you answers to what I can," he kisses her head and whispers, "in time. For now, let's just enjoy the night. I hear the moon shines brighter here."

She sighs in absolute content, "I love you."

He nuzzles his head between her neck and shoulder, turning briefly to kiss her jaw. She cuddles her own body closer, and rests her head on his, and they look into the night around them with a new fondness for the dark and the light of it. The places they know are there and are beautiful in the light of day are not dimmed by the falling of the sun. Everything around them, and everything they are and have been, is married; it all belongs together. Just like them.

He opens his mouth, and at the feeling of his breath on her neck, she hums a, "hmm?"

And once again, instead of returning her words directly, he expresses his love for her in a different, but equally powerful way.

"You're the moon Rory, and I'm the ocean. Just trying to reflect all the light you've given me back to you."