thank you for reading and reviewing!
well. you all know how lengthy my writing is by now, so of course I could not fit birth into this chapter. but the good news is it will definitely be in the next chapter :)
Rated M Scene ahead
enjoy xoxo
disclaimer: I own nothing.
"You sure you like that spot for the crib? I don't want you trying to move it all by yourself, old man."
Jess shoots Liam an annoyed look at his words, which he returns with a smirk. The two men stand in the middle of the baby's new nursery, in the new house that he and Rory picked out with Emily's help. A lot of help, of course, because there were no limitations for how much the down payment could be. They ended up with a beautiful four bedroom townhome still close to Truncheon. It was the only option of the houses they had looked at that did not have that overdone, 'updated' look of white and chrome everywhere. The moment they had walked into this house, with its brick exterior, hardwood floors, narrow tall windows, and just a generally old feeling to it - they fell in love. Emily quickly secured it for them, and with two weeks to spare before Rory's due date and the help of movers, they got everything out of the condo and into the new home. It's been a week since then, and Jess (with the help of family and friends) has been working around the clock to make the house into a home. Moving furniture around, cleaning, organizing. He saved the nursery for last; Rory wanted this one room painted, to make it feel more special than the rest since it will have such a special occupant. Not wanting her to be around paint, and not wanting her to try and help with things that are way beyond her capabilities right now (he has been in charge of shaving her legs and helping her with anything that requires bending down for weeks) - he colluded with Paris to get her out of the house for a whole day.
"I think I can handle moving it alone, thank you very much," he replies to Liam, with his hand on his chin in thought, "the question is really if Rory is going to like where the crib is. It needs to be easy and seamless for her to get in here," he steps into the room further, acting out his thoughts, "get the baby out of the crib, and sit down to feed her," he walks up to the crib and bends down and then moves to sit on the rocking chair, "I mean I'm going to help as much as she will let me, but I'm sure there will be times she will need to do it alone."
Liam sighs and looks down at him in the chair.
"You're talking about walking a total distance of maybe five feet and lifting something that she's been carrying in her body for months. I don't think moving it to a different corner will make any difference."
Jess drops his hands, as they were in a position pretending like he was holding a baby and meets Liam's eyes. Instead of the hard look he usually gives him when he's being annoying, there's an anxiety behind his eyes that he's sure surprises the younger man.
"It might. You don't know that," he argues in soft tone that takes the smart look off of Liam's face, "I want to do as much as I can to support her. I know she's strong, I know she's smart, I know she doesn't need everything to be as easy as possible. But I want to do that for her."
Liam stares back at him, a little thrown off by his serious tone and glimpse of worry that he's sharing with him.
"It's kind of like how you feel about Connor," Jess continues, trying to make him understand, "even though you know what he's capable of, don't you want to make things easier for him? Don't you think about him all the time, and don't you want him to know that he's thought of and cared about so much?"
Liam frets and looks away.
"You don't have to actually answer," Jess clarifies, "I know it's hard to admit those things out loud. But that's what this is. Rory is the most important person in the world to me, and she's giving us a family. There are things her body is doing that I obviously could never share the burden of. So I want to take care of every other thing that I can."
Liam's face softens slightly. He looks over the room again.
"Well…it might make more sense to put the changing table…dresser thing on the other side of the room. This way, if she has to change her diaper in the middle of the night she doesn't trip over the rocking chair ottoman and drop your child."
Jess smiles wide as he looks around the room too. He stands up and pats him on the shoulder.
"Good thinking. Come on, help me move it."
Liam playfully rolls his eyes and moves to the other end of the dresser.
"I'm starting to think you're keeping me around just for contractor work."
Carefully, they step across the room until it's pressed against the wall.
"Well, I wanted to talk to you about that actually," Jess states, and then nods his head towards the tool box, "can you hand me that? We need to anchor this to the wall."
"Why wasn't it anchored over there?"
"In case we had to move it, obviously. But this is the perfect spot."
Liam lifts the tool box handle and drags it over to him. Then he places his hands on his hips and cocks his head.
"Wait what do you mean you wanted to talk to me about that? Are you firing me?"
"No," he shakes his head, "unless there's a reason I should?"
Liam glares but then smirks, "I may have made out with one of the new lady students in the library."
"Please, I would know. Emily put cameras everywhere," Jess stands up with a drill in his hand, "no matter how bad you pretend to be, I know you're good. And that you love working at Truncheon."
Liam crosses his arms over his chest, staying silent.
"What I meant is," Jess steps up to him then, "Brooke is taking my place while I'm on paternity leave for the next few months. I would like you to take her old position during that time. If you like it, when I get back we can discuss it becoming your permanent role and we would have two managers going forward," Jess looks him over, taking in the widening of his eyes and the slight movement of his mouth, "what do you think?"
"Um," he begins, running a hand through his hair, "what does it mean? More money?"
Jess nods with a small smirk, "yes, of course more money. But it also means more responsibility."
His lip lifts, "like what?"
Jess rolls his eyes but replies confidently, "nothing you can't handle. Brooke will train you."
Just then they hear someone coming down from upstairs, where the other two bedrooms and a den that they turned into their office/library are. The nursery door opens slowly, and they both turn to look at Connor.
"I finished putting the books in alphabetical order! By author's last name just like you said."
"Thank you so much," Jess replies with a grateful smile, "that is really helpful."
"You're welcome," Connor says in a small voice, and with a sweet look asks, "do you want me to do anything else?"
Jess puts down the drill and checks his watch. He walks up to Connor with a grin,
"Yes. Have lunch with me. And Liam. We have to try a different takeout place today, so we can rank them for Rory."
"Okay," Connor nods, "and the baby?"
He laughs, "well, sure. One day. But she won't be eating any take out for a long time. A very long time, hopefully," he mumbles, "when we come back, you can help us put the baby toys in the nursery. Sound good?"
Connor smiles and nods again, "okay!"
He pats Connor on the back, gently pushing him out of the room; his heart warm because of his excitement about meeting the baby. Any time Jess has seen him over the last few months, he's asked how much longer. At first, Jess was afraid that Connor thought he would be forgotten about or something. But as they spoke about her more, it turned out that he's never met a baby before and wants to hold her. Jess had told him he could hang out with her and hold her as much as he wants; the smile on Connor's face told Jess that his daughter would have a best friend from the very start of her life. And he's equally excited for them to meet.
….
Hours later, Jess stands over the stove in the kitchen. Yawning as he stirs a peanut sauce into a pan of ground meat, veggies and noodles. He is physically exhausted from the week's work - arms and legs sore from lifting, moving, cleaning and painting. Fingers tender from holding nails and various rough tools. His mind though is still going like speed racer; thoughts a shouting mess of 'did you do this', 'you should do this', 'will Rory like this', and a million other things. Because her due date is in just a week, and although he knows they are beyond prepared, he can't help the parental anxious worry that something will be forgotten.
At the same time, his mind races with happy thoughts. He is so excited to become a family of three, to meet the baby girl that he is already in love with. He's excited to be a parent with Rory, to take care of her when he can and to work together to keep their child happy, healthy and feeling so loved. This antsy exhaustion has been his operating state since their last doctor's appointment. He and Rory had spent time on creating her birth plan, which he had found out she had been slowly putting together for months. They shared it with her doctor at their last appointment, and the doctor's response of try to be mentally prepared for changes to your plan. You're due in two weeks, but the truth is it's all up to her. She can come early, she may come late. She may come out quickly, or you may have time to listen to the birthing playlist you two created. We will all work together and make it as comfortable as possible no matter what. Your baby girl is almost here, and she's in charge of the show.
It made everything feel suddenly so much realer. What they've been waiting for, what's only been a blip on the horizon of time is somehow so close to them now. The books they've read over the last nine months, the few classes they took, the countless advice they've received from Lorelai, Lane, Matt, Chris, Paris - all the parents they know, somehow don't feel like enough. But simultaneously, he does feel ready. Because he knows that the most important thing needed to nurture their baby is love and care, and they have no limit of that.
He hears the front door open and shut; he grins, hastily putting down the spoon and walking to meet her by the door. He finds her leaning against the wall as she tries to kick off her sandals.
"Let me help," he mumbles, kneeling down and pulling them off her feet. He grins and holds a foot in his hand, admiring her new bright pink polish, "I see you got a pedicure. Love the color."
He stands up and meets her eyes with a smile; she mirrors it. He takes her in - her hair cascading in luxurious waves, her face glowing with radiance. His gaze moves from her beautiful face down to the bump that's grown exponentially in the last few months; whenever it's not causing her stress, he marvels at this part of her body. His eyes lock on the hand resting on there, and he finds her fresh manicure is the same color as her toes. The restfulness of her features and a relaxed energy emanates from her. It surrounds his heart with comfort and warmth, so happy to see her restful and feeling pretty in her body.
But she takes him in too, and it's a completely different picture standing opposite of her. His eyes are dark with tired circles underneath. The skin on his hands and arms is speckled with a cream colored paint, his clothes are a little dusty and wrinkled. And even though his hair always looks good, she can tell it's unkempt compared to usual. With a subdued look of concern, she asks,
"What have you been doing all day?"
Instead of responding with words, he holds his hand out to her. She takes it, and he takes them on a leisurely stroll through the hallway, past the staircase and the kitchen, and into the living room area. She gasps in this room, surprised at the clean and organized state of it. When she had left that morning, there were unopened boxes still piled up in the corner, and the TV was sitting on the floor. Now it looks like a more relaxing space - with the television hanging on the wall and an entertainment center beneath, no doubt concealing all their DVDs. The new, larger couch they recently purchased has somehow been moved to the most perfect spot, with one of the rocking chairs Emily gifted them sitting near it. On the walls, there are pictures of them and their families that weren't there earlier.
She wants to talk about it, and take in more of the space, but he tugs on her hand. Wordlessly, she follows him down another hallway connecting the living room to the two bedrooms on the first floor. They decided to put the nursery and their own bedroom here, so that they wouldn't have to deal with the stairs at the end of her pregnancy or with a newborn. She had helped him organize the bedroom right away when they moved in, that maternal nesting thing kicking in as she wanted to make the space comfortable for them and the baby if she needed to sleep in there. And the nursery, her and Jess had excitedly talked about it, what color it should be and everything else. She knew that he planned to paint it that day, but as he switches on the light in the room, she sees that he did so much more.
"Jess," she gasps, as she takes in the newly painted walls and erected furniture, including a bookshelf that's filled with all the children's books they received at the baby shower. The rocking chair that she told him was most comfortable sits near the light pink crib. One corner of the floor in the room is covered in piled up stuffed animals, because she had mentioned to him that she hates when those things are put away and out of sight. The star projector that plays soothing songs, a gift from Lane, is set up on the dresser that she's sure is already filled with baby clothes. The walls have framed pictures, a couple of them artwork that Doula gave to them, like Winnie the Pooh and Alice in Wonderland. But the one that catches her eye quickly is a small, framed photo of her grandfather, placed on the wall across from the crib. As though he stands watching over their child; and she can envision that easily, his tall, broad form bent over the side of the crib with an adoring, delicate look on his face. She turns to her fiancé - the father of her child, her forever partner, her first deep love (and her last) - there are a million ways she thinks about her man. And so, with tears in her eyes she simply says his name again as she wraps her arms around his neck, "Jess!"
He places his hands at her back, not wanting to hold her too tightly against his body. But the grip and heat of his fingers, paired with his soft kiss on her head, convey every feeling to her perfectly.
"Don't worry, I know you need to nest," he murmurs near her ear, and she pulls back to look at his face, "I did anchor all of the furniture, but we can move other things around any way you want. And I didn't open any of the bedding stuff we got for the crib, or the nursing pillows or anything else that is light enough for you to handle."
Her lips slowly tip upward, "you know I want to help."
"Of course," he smirks, and it softens into a smile, "it's our daughter. I know you want to make this place a home for her as much as I do. I just took care of the stuff that you can't and shouldn't do."
"Oh Jess," she moves her hands from around his neck, down his fatigued arms until she meets his rough palms, "you've made all of it a home for us. A real home, not just a house."
The ticking of his lips, and the softening of his shoulders, tells her that this is his goal. She takes one of her hands to cup his cheek, her thumb caressing his smiling lips.
"I wish you would have let me help more."
The sweet smile transforms to a smirk.
"I know you do. That's why I had Paris take you out for the day."
She sighs, and after another moment of pressing her palm against his handsome face, she releases it to zip open her purse. She takes out a wad of cash and holds it out to him.
"Speaking of that, here. Paris said you gave her money, but she didn't want it. And she wouldn't let me pay for anything!"
"Of course," he laughs, taking the cash and shoving it in his pocket. He nods out of the room, leading her back to the kitchen where he momentarily abandoned the food he was cooking.
"What all did you two do? I asked her to take you for a massage and nails."
"Oh, we did that and more," she mutters, leaning on her hip against the kitchen island, "we got massages, facials, manicures and pedicures. Then she took me to get a haircut and blow out. She took me to the four season spa you know! We had lunch there and went in the pool, I even sat in the hot tub for a few minutes but I'm already hot all the time, so it wasn't that enjoyable. Hey, why are you cooking so much food?"
He turns from the stove at this question; she gets an even better look, realizing that there is a pot or pan on every burner, and that the oven is on too. She meets his eyes as he rubs the back of his neck.
"Meal prepping."
"Huh?"
He sighs, "I read somewhere that meal prepping can be really helpful before a baby comes. Since we are going to be so preoccupied, and honestly probably exhausted, for the first month. I'm cooking stuff to put in the freezer so we can just reheat it as needed."
"Jess…" she says softly, eyes widening slightly, "you set up the nursery today, you finished organizing the house, you made our living room look, well…livable. And now you're cooking enough food to feed us through the first month of the baby's life?"
He turns back to the stove and mumbles, "might last a little less than a month."
She looks over his form and can again see the exhaustion he must be feeling from all of the work he's done. His shoulders hunched slightly, one arm leaning against the counter while he stirs food with the other; like he feels a weight on his shoulders. She takes slow steps across the kitchen until she's behind him. She gently places her hands on his back. He stills as she smooths her hands lovingly over his shoulders, his arms, and his neck. He takes a calming breath, dropping his shoulders as he allows her tender fingers to soothe him.
"You're doing so much for us," she whispers as she presses her thumbs into his back. A quiet groan escapes him before he turns around to face her. Her hands move with him, now pushed up against his chest as he meets her eyes. Her wide blues convey a heavy appreciation that makes him swallow. He lifts a hand to play with the ends of her soft, silky hair.
"I want to do these things."
Everything about her softens more; her hands move to delicately scratch up and down his bare arms, leaving an explosion of goosebumps in their wake.
"I know you do. But you're so tired, Jess," he tries to look away then, but she holds a hand to his face and turns it back to hers. His mouth forms a grimace of discomfort.
"Not as tired as you. You're doing…so much, Rory. Just with your body alone. I want to take care of these things. I wanted to make the house a home for our family. I want everything to be as easy as possible for you."
Her lips curve in a small, touched smile, but she shakes her head slowly.
"I need you to rest and take care of yourself too," her words come out in a gentle insistence that hits him right in the heart, "we're going to need all of our energy once she's here."
She holds his gaze, and she can see she is successfully tempering his resolve as his grimace disappears and the corners of his eyes lift. Because of the size of her belly right now, it's not such an effortless task to kiss him the way she wants to. Instead, she moves her hand all the way down his arm until she finds his; she holds it and brings it to her mouth to place her lips there in a warm, delicate kiss that she hopes translates her gratitude of him. His facial expression melts at this action, and now he's giving her the tiniest smile. She squeezes his hand.
"I love you so much. You're amazing," she says, and he moves himself closer to her at these words, "the house looks amazing. You didn't have to do all of this so fast, but I understand why you did. And I'm so grateful for it all."
He leans forward to capture her lips with his. His fingers tangle carefully in her hair, not wanting to ruin the styling that she just had done. As he pulls back from their kiss, his hands move to her belly and rest there.
"I can't wait to meet her, Rory."
She melts internally.
"Me too," she agrees but catches his eyes as she says, "but for now, please rest. I can take care of the food."
He looks unsure, his eyebrows raised.
"You did the hard part. I can't screw up putting it in containers!" she replies to his unspoken thought. She wraps a hand around his arm and pulls him out of the kitchen.
"Please, Jess. Go take a nap or read or do something relaxing. Do it for me and little Doula."
That shakes him out of his staunch attitude as he frowns.
"You know we're not naming her after my sister."
"I know, I just needed you to forget about the arguments in your head," she smiles proudly and points into the rest of the house, "go, please. I don't want to hear any tools or furniture moving or anything productive at all. It's time for you to relax."
He keeps her hand in his as he looks back at her, not wanting to give in but also not wanting to make her feel silly for caring about his wellbeing. Because it's not silly at all - he has been worried about her this whole time without a thought of overextending himself. And she's right, now is the time for him to replenish his energy before the baby comes. Eventually, he nods in acceptance. He pulls her to him for a sweet kiss.
"Okay," he mumbles, locking his weary but loving eyes on hers, "I'm going to take a much needed shower and maybe read after. But please come get me if you need me?"
His gaze moves from her face down to her stomach and back. Her cheeks and her chest warm.
"We'll be okay. But I promise we'll come get you if not."
"Thank you."
"Thank you, Jess," she holds him to her the best she can, "I love and admire your dedication to me and our family, and to our life. It makes me feel so…lucky and loved."
"I wish there was a way to really show you how much I love you, Rory," he responds steadily, "there aren't enough words or actions."
She pulls back from their embrace, and keeps her eyes on his, as she whispers earnestly,
"And yet you manage to do it every single day."
He gradually awakes from a deep slumber later that night. His eyes slowly open to see that he passed out with the bedroom light on. As he turns to check the time on the clock, a book falls from his chest and onto the bed. Sitting up, he sees that it's after nine at night which means he must have napped for a solid four hours. But Rory isn't in the room, and the rest of the house sounds quiet. He clears the dryness from his throat, another sign that he slept hard. He lazily gets up from the bed, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. As he leaves the room to search for Rory, his stomach growls ferociously. He is reminded that he didn't eat anything since lunch with Liam and Connor.
The nursery is empty, and the living room too; he walks over to the staircase, and he can just barely make out the sounds of Rory typing away on her computer. It brings an easy smile to his face. That trip to California and getting past that part of her life and onto post-Yale Rory in her book, has kept her inspired and writing often. He has very much enjoyed having her around constantly since her time off started the week after the baby shower. For the first month, she would often go to Truncheon with him and sit upstairs in the nursery office to write while he worked. He very much enjoyed that too. But into the thirty-fifth week of pregnancy, she started to get too uncomfortable to do that often. Plus sleeping at night got harder, and so she would stay in bed past the time he needed to leave for work. Aside from any discomfort or pain she's felt, it has been a blissful last couple months of pregnancy for them.
He decides to make himself something to eat and let Rory work in peace for a while longer. He opens both the fridge and freezer door to see what they have. A quiet laugh escapes him as he looks at the stack of Tupperware and zip-loc bags in the freezer that Rory put away - she labeled them all with the date and the words "something delicious Jess made". His eyes turn then to the fridge, and he smiles warmly because there's a foil covered bowl in there with a post it that says 'Eat me when you wake up!'. He takes it out, mouth aching from the wide smile on his face. Removing the foil, he finds a large sized bowl of the noodle dish he was making earlier. He knows with how hungry she's been, she could have easily eaten it all herself, so it further warms him that she saved him some. He throws it in the microwave, and while he waits for it to reheat he helps himself to a bowl of mixed sweets she left sitting out. He makes a face as he tosses a combination of raisinets, sour gummies, and what he thinks is Trix cereal into his mouth. For the most part, she hasn't had any insane cravings throughout her pregnancy, but occasionally she creates diabolical mixtures of all the things that sound good to her at once. A few weeks prior, she took a seat next to him on the couch to watch a movie with an aggressive smelling snack mix of salt and vinegar chips, wasabi soy almonds, and garlic flavored crackers; it made him feel a little nauseous just being near it. However, as he chews and swallows this sweet and sour mix of flavors, he hums in surprise at the taste - he shrugs and tosses more in his mouth.
He eats his late dinner unhurriedly while standing at the kitchen island. He surveys the room as he eats, peacefully taking in all the work they've both done to prepare for what's coming. It feels a little wild to him that within the next couple of weeks there will be a third human in their house, one that will rely on them completely to be taken care of. That kind of responsibility will always be a striking thought - but he smiles into his bowl of food as he thinks about how cool that is too.
When he's done eating, he washes his dishes and wipes down the counter of any random crumbs. As he throws the paper towel in the trash can, he sees a crumpled up, greasy Five Guys bag that no doubt held a burger and a ton of fries. He laughs as he realizes why there was so much leftover food for him. But the smile on his face morphs into something sentimental as he is suddenly hit with a memory from seven years ago. The day he came to Rory's, after she had her interview at the Times, and he found her and Paris drunk off their asses. He picked them up burgers, and then she got sick later. But those aren't the memories at the forefront of his mind - it's the two of them in bed at the end of the night, when Rory asked if they would have been a family if she had Logan's baby. He remembers being careful about answering her, in case she was too drunk and unaware. He also remembers though how fast his head screamed 'yes' at him in response to her question. His skin pebbles, in a good way, thinking about the difference between that time and the present; he decides now is a good time to interrupt her workflow.
He walks up the short staircase with his hand on the wooden banister. At the landing, he realizes he can no longer hear her typing on the keyboard. He keeps his steps quiet as he approaches their new shared office, which is a bit bigger than the last. Wondering if she fell asleep at her computer, he presses the door open carefully. His whole face falls as he finds her sitting at the desk with her head in her hands; her body shaking like she's crying.
"Rory?" he crosses the room in less than five steps to kneel at her side, "what's wrong?"
She looks up at him, and he becomes even further unsettled. Because she is crying, there are wet streaks down her face, her eyes are brimming with tears - but at the same time, she's smiling wide.
"This is my second chance."
He regards her with confusion at her words; he sees the cat curled up in her lap, head pressed against her stomach. She's dressed in a pair of silky shorts and shirt that buttons closed in the front. He recognizes it as the (no doubt expensive) loungewear gift from Paris she received at the baby shower for both pregnancy and nursing purposes. In front of her is her laptop, with what looks like her book open in a word doc. He carefully lifts a hand up towards her face. His knuckles rub over her cheeks to cleanse them of her tears.
"Your second chance?" he asks, the back of his hand still pressed to her face as he meets her eyes. She nods fervently, and places both hands at the top of her baby bump.
"In the back of my mind, I knew there were some parallels," she explains, eyes still wet with what he assumes is happiness as she looks down at him in his kneeling position, "but today, I was writing, and Jess I've been doing so good and feeling so inspired!"
An irrepressible grin stretches across his face at that; he runs his knuckles now in a cherishing movement on her damp cheek.
"That's incredible, Rory. I know how elusive inspiration can be."
She nods and rubs her hands across her stomach, "yes, it's amazing. I'm all the way up to Autumn 2016."
He gawks and gives her an admiring look that sends warmth flooding through her.
"Seriously? You got that far in two months? That's like…ten years of your life," he shakes his head in proud disbelief, "all that while you're growing our baby and everything else you do too. You're amazing. Absolutely fucking amazing."
She bounces in her seat, giddy with the pride his words make her feel, then the baby gives her a hefty kick that Jess can see through her shirt.
"Jesus, maybe she is going to be a Rockette," he mutters, moving his free hand to rest where he saw an imprint of her little foot, "how can you focus on writing with that happening inside of you?"
She shrugs, "it keeps me on my toes."
"Like I said, fucking amazing woman," he stands up from his crouching position to sit on the edge of her desk and looks over her with caring eyes.
"It helps that I've been home a lot. And that you take care of so much for us, I mostly only have to focus on myself."
"That's exactly how I want it."
"Well, I guess you're the dreamworker then," she chuckles. She locks eyes with him, and she glows as she says,
"Writing it all out, what happened that summer and fall, made it crystal clear. I got pregnant in September then, and again now. I was due early June then, and now…" her crescent grin softens as she says with obvious lucidity, "it's my second chance. With the right circumstances. With the right person."
The heaving of his chest catches him by surprise; the magnitude of her words swarming around his heart. He brings a hand there to steady himself. The emotional state he found her in makes all the sense now - because even if it's not something he necessarily believes in, it's something that she's decided is the truth and that he will always believe in. And as his thoughts race with a thousand things he could say to that, one line in particular feels just right. The hypnotic lifting of his beautiful smirk piques her entire interest and impedes her happy tears.
"I did try to tell you that we're meant to be together, didn't I?"
She scoffs playfully and breaks into shaking laughter, "yes but you also told me to run away from home with you!"
"Nah, I was just going to take you to New York for a little while. I would have brought you back," he teases with a wink. The gleeful energy she's emanating, as well as her fits of laughter, are infectious; he's quickly filled with merriment. Sabrina hisses at him as he removes her from Rory's lap, but he pays her no mind. He leans down towards her face until he can capture her lips with his, standing bent slightly over the chair. Something clicks within her, and her giddy energy quickly turns to something smoldering; her hands sneak under the hem of his shirt, exploring all the lines of his muscles she can find.
"Mm, I haven't seen this side of pregnant Rory in a few weeks," he murmurs with dilated eyes as he pulls slightly back from their kiss. Her eyes move to his mouth and then back up to his. She scoots to the edge of her chair and presses her hands against the armrests to stand up. He steps back a pace to give her room and waits with excitement coiling inside him to see her next actions. Her lips are wet from their passionate kiss, her skin still plump and soft from whatever she got done at the spa, and her hair romantically frames her round breasts.
But she's in her own thoughts as she takes him in too; it's a poignant time in their lives, the last days of it being just the two of them. She feels the full gravity of that especially after the writing she had been working on this night. And the crazy thing is, even with all the other context of her life - all the times she has been with Jess, it has always felt like just the two of them. Their own world of mutual infatuation and the ease at which they are constantly present for each other. The moment on Thanksgiving above Luke's where she told him about the miscarriage, and he seamlessly stepped into her life, into a space that she didn't even know existed and needed to be filled by someone; it could have only been him. And now…she stares at her man with a love and admiration that's depth seems to start at the earth's very core. He's occupied countless spaces for her: friend, lover, boyfriend, partner, fiancé, and now father of their child. And he has taken them all on with an undemanding passion, letting her know that they are spaces and responsibilities that he wants. From pushing her towards her potential all those years ago to now preparing a real home for their family - the spectrum of his love is endless, and it's buzzing within her from heart to hips at the moment.
She locks her full eyes on his, and repeats words that he said to her so casually in California,
"I'm so in love with you."
His features narrow at the deep and simultaneously sensual undertone; exactly as he said them on the beach that day too. He closes the space between them again, with his gaze locked on the prize of her lips. Her arms are bent as he presses her to his body, and her fingers happily explore the thickness of his shoulders while he kisses her somehow both hard and soft. His hands hold onto her face with a delicate endearment until he separates from her mouth to let her breath. He keeps his eyes locked on hers as his hands now skim down her cheeks, then her arms - gliding down the silky fabric and her soft skin. He squeezes both of her hands at once before lifting his fingers to the place where her buttons start on her chest. His eyes move to her lips when she says quietly,
"They're snaps."
He cocks his head and then looks down at her top to see what she means. He smirks and then meets her eyes again, watching her bite her lip as he quickly pulls and snaps open her entire top. The gift that is the sight of her very pregnant curves directs all blood to between his legs. He groans when she reaches out a hand to hold it outside his pants; she applies a slow, teasing pressure and watches the pleasure pass on his face.
"Are you feeling comfortable enough for this?" he asks seriously, though his voice shakes with desire. The last few weeks she had not been feeling her best and they put the brakes on sexual activity. But now, he can see on her face and in her body language that she is certainly in the mood before she even confirms it.
"Yes. Please. Help me take my clothes off."
Without urgency, he slips her top the rest of the way off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. Her chest is completely bared to him; he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on each beautiful breast. He stands up straight and takes one of her hands in his, and they walk together to the spare room next door that has nothing in it yet other than a mostly bare mattress and their old couch from the condo. He steps up to the bed, but she stops him,
"Can we use the couch? I don't know if I can have sex on a mattress that I know my mom will be sleeping on at some point."
His previously heady look cracks with a smirk.
"You don't think she's going to sit on the couch?"
She grimaces slightly and shrugs a shoulder, "that doesn't bother me as much, I can't explain it."
"As you wish," he mumbles with a wink and redirects them to the couch. Before helping her to lie down, he tugs her shorts until they slide off and onto the floor. Her hands grip his biceps as she steps out of them. She looks up at him as she backs towards the cushions, and he helps her carefully fall backward.
"Take your clothes off," she insists in a breathy whisper. The sound of it, and the way she lies her curved body sideways like he's about to paint a picture of her, has him deciding that he wants to savor her tonight. Take his time, and make sure they both feel all of everything.
His clothes come off, slow and a little teasingly, until he's as bare as her. With an inhale of breath, he kneels down on the floor in front of her. He places a kiss on her mouth, then her arm, and down to her hip. He situates himself so he's face to face with her sex; with a soft touch, he guides his hand to pry her thighs apart, until she's spread open enough for him to plant his face right where he wants it.
"Wait," she stops him suddenly, "don't do that. Because I haven't been able to shave myself in so long! I have no idea what it's like down there."
He pulls his head from between her legs enough to meet her face with a look.
"You think I'm going to get lost or something?"
Her face heats and she fights off a laugh.
"No! I just…I don't know, I don't want you to…be grossed out or anything."
His face shifts to incredulous.
"Have I ever made you feel like I'm grossed out by any part of you or anything you do?"
She bites her lip and shakes her head.
"No, but this is new territory."
"Pubic hair is not new territory."
"Jess!"
"If you don't want me to because you're uncomfortable, that's one thing," he replies with concern, "but if it's only because your pregnancy brain is making you think that I would for some reason not want this, then I'm going to go ahead and put my mouth back where it was so I can make the truth clear to you."
Her cheeks flush as she mumbles, "I'm not uncomfortable."
He smirks and presses her legs apart again. Effortlessly, he wedges his face perfectly between her thighs. With a slow, savoring tongue he reacquaints himself for the first time in weeks with every slippery fold of her. Her legs quiver at his gentleness, and her throat hums with satisfaction. His head is between her legs in a way that she can't reach his hair; instead, she reaches down to place her fingers on his chin where it peeks out. It's a touch he must like, because he mumbles against her in a way that causes her whole body to shake. He licks her in leisurely but focused motions, she can feel him tasting every single spot his tongue can find. But he comes back to her clit every few moments and kisses it with a soft, passionate suction that is creating a demanding storm of pleasure inside of her. She can feel her own wetness dripping against her fingers on his chin, and she can't take anymore.
"Jess," she moans his name, "please come up here."
He takes his time prying himself away from her center and looks up at her with an uncertain eye.
"Yeah? I was really enjoying that. Thought you were too."
"Yes, but I really want to feel your body against mine."
The look on her face is burning, and it has him hastily climbing on the couch to lie behind her. She whimpers at the feeling of his sturdy chest pressed up against her back. He kisses her softly on the neck and pushes his arm beneath her, to wrap around her chest and hold her closer to him.
"This is perfect," she remarks in a heated whisper. He kisses her neck again.
"Do you want to just lay here like this?"
"No," she quickly replies, turning her head back to meet his face, "I want more."
And she lifts her leg up to show him exactly what she's looking for. He grins and captures her face in his hand, planting a hot kiss on her mouth. At the same time, he shifts his hips, so his erection is pressed up against her lips. He moves his hand from her face, skimming down her body until he gets to her leg. He lifts it higher and nudges himself between her until he's pushing inside of her.
"Oh god," she murmurs at the feeling. A breathy grunt escapes him at the same time. He places his lips near her ear as he pushes into her a little more.
He whispers, "We'll go slow," and the words send goosebumps all over her body. Because it would be incredibly easy to go quickly. She knows she's tight and swollen down there, and she is sure that feels amazing to him. And since they haven't had sex in a few weeks, they could both very easily find their climax. But he wants to go slow, and she can't imagine it going any other way now.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs to her, as he looks at the side of her face and all down her body; at the full breasts resting on his arm, her stretched stomach that houses and keeps their baby safe, at her hip that he likes to hold onto, and finally over her pearly leg that he's holding up with his other arm.
"So are you," she replies on a shaky breath, feeling the full length of him seated inside of her, "it feels so good to be this close to you."
"I know, baby, I wish I could be this close to you all the time. But sometimes you don't want that."
She giggles and looks up at him, "only sometimes. When I feel like I'm five thousand pounds and should not be touched."
"That's a matter of opinion, but I always respect it."
Before she can reply, he's pulled himself out and pushed himself deeply back in; she sucks in a breath. The hand that holds her leg up inches down under her thigh, towards the area that his face was happily occupied with so recently. As his fingers find the treasure he was looking for, he feels a moan vibrate through her entire body against him. He nudges his nose against her chin to get her to turn her head away. With her neck free and bare to him, he kisses her there in time with his languid strokes of her clit, while still thrusting in and out.
"Jesus," she mumbles hotly, "you're a talented man."
The lips pressed against her neck lift into a tamed smirk.
"That's what all my fiancées say."
"You're also a pain," she replies with a breathy laugh, "but the talent really overrules that part."
He runs his lips teasingly up and down her neck; he feels her hair stand up.
"I'm only talented at pressing your buttons, baby."
He swipes his fingers a little faster, with a little more purpose, and she squeaks.
"Keep pressing them, please. It feels so good."
Satisfied at how he's making her feel, his erection throbs harder inside of her; her walls choke him more tightly.
"Fuck Rory," he grumbles into her neck, "do you think you're close enough to giving birth that I can get you pregnant again already?"
Her pleasure has wound too tightly to laugh at that; she replies between labored breaths,
"I think you know the answer to that question."
"Hm. I think I'll try anyway."
The grinding of his hips becomes less calculated, less steady as both their bodies tremble at the edge of combustion. He presses three fingers down against her pulsating bud and rubs her in sweeping circles. She reaches out and holds on tightly to his arm as she shakes.
"Yes yes yes yes," she murmurs and whines, arching her back against him as she approaches her orgasm; and finally, she whimpers his name as her whole body succumbs to his efforts, "Jess!"
"Right behind you," he grunts into her neck, driving himself deep between her quivering walls. She reaches her free hand up until she finds his hair, and tugs gently at the strands. It's the final touch he needed and sends him exploding inside of her. He holds her tightly to him as he mutters her name repeatedly against her head, his hips jerking against her bottom as he finishes. He doesn't yet loosen his hold when his body calms, instead he places gentle kisses all over her head and face, and a couple into the crook of her neck. She turns her face towards his, meeting his eyes over her shoulder. All of his features are softly romantic for her; eyes devouring her face, her eyes, her skin, her smile. He lets go of her leg and brings his fingers to brush the hair out of her eyes affectionately. He cups her flushed cheek and pulls her lush lips to his. He pulls away and looks down at her, and she can read the words before he even says them to her.
"I love you, Rory."
She looks back and replies with gentle seriousness, "I love you too, Jess."
He kisses her again, then his hand travels from her face and down to her belly where it rests for a moment. They don't break their gaze while he holds on to both her and their baby.
"Can I get you anything? Is there something you want?"
She shakes her head slowly.
"How about the moon? Do you want the moon? I'll get it for you."
Her tender look grows into a smile, but she shakes her head again.
"I don't need the moon," she brushes loving fingers over his face, "I have a whole universe right here, between the three of us."
He grins and presses his lips to hers. When they break apart, he's smirking, and she's easily entranced by it.
"What?"
"This might have been the last time we have sex before we're officially parents," he replies and gives her an inquiring look, "Was it worthy enough?"
"Oh yes," she assures him with a big smile, "I'm fully relaxed and exhausted."
He laughs and kisses her head.
"That's not necessarily a sign. You're always exhausted now. And I do remember you mentioning a very relaxing spa day."
"But it's true. It was perfect. Gentle and lovely and everything," her smile softens to something more tender, "it was right. Just like everything else between us."
His whole face brightens, and he kisses her once more.
"So, nothing you want? Come on, you'll only get to play the pregnant card so much longer."
"Then I'll have the exhausted mom card to play!"
"True but I'll be a tired dad then too. I won't be able to make as many of your dreams come true."
"Hmmm. Good point," she taps her finger on her chin in thought and then smiles wide, "ice cream sundae from that soft serve place and North by Northwest in the living room before bed."
"So you can have pregnancy dreams about Cary Grant again?" he teases, and it earns him a pink blush across her cheeks, "I see the answer is yes."
She playfully rolls her eyes, "you have ice cream to pick up, don't you? And I'd like to put my fancy pajamas back on."
"Yes. But there's a gorgeous creature in my path."
"Creature?!" she exclaims, pushing herself up to sit on the couch now.
"You're too pretty to be human," he smoothly argues, pushing himself up to stand, "what kind of ice cream?"
"Surprise me."
He makes a face, "how about I call you when I get there? I'd like to avoid another Haagen-Dazs disaster."
"I tried to eat that! I just wasn't in the mood for rocky road."
He nods as he puts his underwear on, "despite it being a flavor you always love."
She pouts, "it's your daughter's fault."
He crouches down to the floor with her shorts, holding them open for her to step into.
"Blaming the kid already. You made me go all the way back to Haagen-Dazs for mint chip. I could have got mint chocolate chip anywhere, but you needed the fancy stuff."
She holds onto his shoulders while he helps her get her shorts back on; he stands as he pulls them up her legs and meets her face with a kiss.
"You love my peculiarities, remember?" she asks with an innocent bat of her eyes. He chuckles and nods.
"I do. I love everything about you."
She blushes, "even when I give you a hard time for not sharpening the pencils you borrow from my desk?"
His lips and an eyebrow lift, "especially then. I wonder if little Penny Lane is going to be a freak about her pencils like you or if she's going to wear them down to stubs like me."
She laughs and glides her hands over her stomach.
"Well, we'll find out soon enough."
"So, you're just ignoring the Penny Lane thing now?"
"Yup."
"I love you," he kisses her cheek, "Call me if you want anything else while I'm out."
"A new back would be nice."
"Yours will get some relief soon enough."
"Alright, I guess I'll keep it."
He stands in the doorway and sighs, "I'll give you a massage when I get back. While you eat your ice cream and watch your old Hollywood crush. Like a pregnant princess."
Her eyes and her smile are wide and smitten, her hands rubbing happily over her belly.
"You're a dream, Jess Mariano," she replies with infatuated honesty. She closes the space between them then to kiss him on his grinning mouth. Her energy switches from playful to deeply sincere as she looks into his eyes and adds, "and so is this life we've created together since that Fall."
Understanding the recent revelations she's had from her writing; he matches her sincere energy because he wants her to know that gets the profoundness of it all.
"Better than a dream, Rory," his caring hands caress her still bare shoulders and arms before working their way down to her belly. His palms rest tenderly on the bump of life between them for a silent moment of appreciation. He leans in to press a kiss on her head, and the moment breaks as he checks his watch.
"I better go. The ice cream shop closes at eleven. It's already after ten and I still need to get dressed."
A playful energy overcomes her again, and she gives a moony sigh as he departs.
"A man who knows what time the ice cream shop closes. Such a dream!"