thank you all so much for your reviewing and your patience
my grandfather suddenly collapsed a few weeks ago and it's been a tumultuous month that unfortunately had to end with him dying. he (much like Rory actually) was the only grandfather I had, and he was such a good one. it's been hitting me hard. i already know you will, but please continue to be patient as i try to catch up on my life and navigate this grief with my family
on to the story...there are some intense parts in this chapter, but i promise the end is rewarding!
Rated M Scene ahead
disclaimer: I own nothing
"When are you going to show us that smile, huh? I've been very patiently waiting to see it, Persie," Jess mumbles to his daughter as he carries her up the stairs at Truncheon. He and Rory had not really been out of the house since her birth, fortunate enough to have been fully stocked with all of their family needs for the last month and a half. But the last couple of weeks have been hard on both of them, as they have been trying to add bottle feeds into the baby's routine as the doctor suggested they do. She has been resistant to it, and this has caused more stress than help. They both struggle with watching her cry, and he feels terrible that he can't do more. He has noticed the last few days that Rory has been quiet and drawn into herself; he suggested this morning that they go out for coffee instead of making it at home. Once he got her out of the house, he was more than pleased to see her smiling and being her talkative self. It was then her suggestion that they spend the afternoon at Truncheon, so everyone can meet the baby, and she can work on her book.
It's now two in the afternoon, which means it's about time for her to eat again. He reaches the top of the stairs and enters the day care space - which will be officially opening in September. Today, it's just Rory, him and Persie utilizing the space. He walks to the corner of the room, to the door of the small office he created for her. He pushes it open and frowns when he finds Rory staring at her computer screen on the other side; no movement like she's reading or looking at something - just staring like she's lost in her own head. He clears his throat and tries to get her attention,
"Hi beautiful."
Her dazed look turns to him, and with a few blinks and a shake of her head she seems present again.
"Hey. That was fast. Everyone loved her?"
"Of course," he replies confidently, but cocks his head as he says, "we've been gone for over an hour though. It's just about time for her to eat again."
Rory looks confused and looks down at the clock on her computer. She gasps.
"It's after two already? Oh shoot! Shoot shoot shoot. I didn't get anything done. I wasted precious time."
"It's okay, we can come here anytime," he says calmly, and steps around the desk. He sits on the edge of it and surveys her more closely, taking in her dark eyes and her paler than usual skin. She meets his eyes for a moment before they shift to the baby. She holds out her arms.
"Here, let me feed her before she gets fussy. Should never keep a Gilmore-Mariano girl waiting for food."
His mouth lifts slightly, but he can't muster a full grin at her joke. He looks between the two of them and suggests, "why don't I try giving her a bottle? We brought one, right?"
Rory bites her lip in thought but shakes her head.
"I'm sorry. I forgot to do that while you were changing her before we left."
He eyes her softly, "did you really forget? Or did you want to avoid hearing her cry?"
Rory looks up at him guiltily.
"Maybe both."
Persie makes a sound then, and Rory holds her arms out again. Jess hands her over and thinks over Rory's words with concern as she feeds her.
"Rory."
Her head jerks up to meet his eyes, and he sees the exhaustion in her again. He gives her a sympathetic look.
"You haven't been getting nearly enough rest," he states softly, "with having to be awake to feed her so often."
She frowns.
"Neither have you. You almost always get up with me even when I tell you not to."
"You're exerting way more energy than me. Your body is working constantly, whether it's to make her food or feed her," he replies with his eyes locked on hers, "it's not equal, Rory. Not to mention, you're still recovering from giving birth and being pregnant."
She looks a little put off by his comments, as though they're potentially insulting. Her eyes move from his and down to Persie, who looks up at her with her bright blues.
"Are you saying I'm doing something wrong?"
Jess gawks, and he tries not to be offended by her words.
"Of course not, Rory. Jesus, why would you think that's what I meant?"
She fixes her look on him again, and he sees her trying to lean her head back to keep wetness from leaving her eyes. His heart falls to his stomach, not intending to make her feel bad at all.
"What do you mean then?"
He takes a breath, gathering his thoughts and figuring out the best way to proceed without it turning into something bigger. He knows they are both tired, and have all been cooped up in the house for so long, and that the stress could easily get to either of them and blow things out of proportion. He pushes himself off the edge of the desk, and turns to kneel in front of her, placing soothing hands on her knees. With gentle eyes and a low voice, he says,
"I need to figure out what she needs to be comfortable taking a bottle. Because I need to pull my weight, and that's impossible when you are a necessary component to every single feeding. Nothing is your fault, and I am not saying that you're doing anything wrong. And god, I'm definitely not trying to make you feel bad about yourself. I am…worried about you, is all I'm trying to say."
He watches her closely as he speaks every word. Her face only changes slightly, some of its previous hardness settling down. But she stays quiet for minutes after he finishes talking, turning her attention to the baby in her arms. His hands still rest on her legs, and when she still doesn't speak, he begins to massage his fingers into them gently, cajoling her to talk to him. The action causes her to look at him again, but he is disappointed to see in her eyes that she's turned inward again. She shrugs a shoulder and only says,
"I'm fine, Jess."
He deflates and removes a hand from her leg to rub across his forehead. He sighs.
"It's okay to say you're exhausted. When I walked in here, you were just staring at your computer screen. I know that you're tired."
"But it doesn't matter," she insists, "there's nothing that can fix it. We can't force her to like bottles, and I'm certainly not going to let her starve! It just doesn't matter so there's no point in talking about it."
He can't help the heat simmering in his head at that comment, and he, regretfully, glowers.
"Do you think I'm suggesting we starve our daughter?"
She cringes, realizing the way her words came out. A deep frown forms on her face; he keeps his intense stare on her, but it weakens when he does see a tear fall on her cheek.
"I'm sorry, Jess. That's not what I meant," she says, her words soaked in shame. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face before standing up to kiss her head. He keeps his mouth there as he mumbles, "I know. I'm sorry too."
"What are you sorry for?" she asks, but before he has a chance to respond she exasperates, "damnit! I'm leaking. I forgot to put a nursing pad in."
He steps back to see a wet spot on her gray t-shirt. He grips the bottom of his own shirt and holds it in her direction.
"Do you want to wear my shirt?"
She looks up at him with just a hint of laughter in her eyes, enough to make his tense shoulders relax.
"So you can walk around with no shirt on, holding an adorable little baby in your big arms? No thanks, I don't feel like fighting horny women off of you today."
The side of his mouth lifts slightly.
"There's only one horny woman that I want."
The miniscule humor in her look vanishes and she looks away from him.
"I know you're not talking about me. My sex drive is…stagnant."
Though she tries to say if offhandedly, he can easily catch the rawness in her tone. He frowns now, running a hand through his hair. He looks down at her, but she still doesn't meet his eyes.
"It's okay, you know. There are no expectations for our sex life to go back to as…fiery as it was before. Especially not this soon. You literally just got the okay barely a week ago."
"But I want it to go back to how it was before," she finally returns his gaze, and he sees frustration and maybe even a little bit of despondency in her.
"Rory…"
"You always make me feel so good about myself, even when I don't feel great. It's something that you're just…amazing at. Somehow making my self-consciousness totally disappear, like a magician," she continues with a sad smile, "but right now…even your powers can't seem to get through to me. There's too much of a…haze in my head. I don't feel attractive. I can't feel sexy. I don't have the mental capacity for it. And I feel like I'm always a minute away from Persie needing me. I can't get in tune with my body or my sexuality. It might sound dramatic but sometimes I feel like I never will. I don't like it."
He is full of sympathy for her, and he sits on the desk again, close enough that he can hold his hand to her face.
"Do you think we need to talk to your doctor some more about this? I remember when you told her a couple of weeks ago about not feeling like a mom or like yourself, that she said to be patient. But she also said to let her know if those feelings get worse."
"I don't know, Jess," she replies quietly, lifting the baby up to her shoulder now, "and I don't know what you were suggesting earlier, but I'm sorry again for the way my words came out. I feel really bad about it."
She changes the subject, and he knows better than to try and redirect the conversation there right now. She needs time with her own thoughts; he's always known that about her.
"It's forgiven. And I don't even know what I was suggesting," he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, "I just want to be her father, Rory. A really good, responsible dad. And I think I just want to make sure we keep trying. Whether it's buying different bottles or, I don't know, I can wear a shirt with a chest pocket and cut a hole in it and feed it to her that way. You know, trick her into thinking it's you."
His veins flood with relief as he finally sees a real grin on her face.
"She wasn't born yesterday," she jokes, and like a spell, the heaviness in the room is lifted.
He laughs and leans forward to rub a hand on Persie's back and down to her leg.
"Pretty close to yesterday, I'd argue. Just look at these tiny feet."
She laughs too and places a sweet kiss on the side of the baby's head. She lifts her from her shoulder and holds her up in the air, placing a kiss on her belly and on the tops of her bare feet.
"The cutest feet I've ever seen."
Jess holds his hands out and she hands her over. He holds her in one arm, and Rory laughs when he looks down and makes a funny face for her.
"I'm glad that someone enjoys it," he sighs with a half smirk, "I've been trying to make this girl smile for days."
"Oh, Persie. Tell him that you should never tell a girl to smile!" Rory teases, running her fingers through her soft locks. She leans down to kiss her head, and Persie lifts a hand to touch her face.
"It's time to cut her nails again," Rory turns to Jess with an uncertain look, "you know I hate doing that. It's so stressful."
He suppresses a smile, as he appreciates any opportunity to take on a baby responsibility.
"I know. I'll take care of it before bed tonight," he promises and also runs his fingers through Persie's irresistible fluff of hair, "I'll give her a bath too."
Rory's initial reaction is to argue or at least tell him that she wants to be part of that too. But as she thinks about his words earlier and takes an honest survey of how tired she really is, she nods.
"Okay. Maybe I'll use that time to take a bath myself in the guest bathroom."
The grin on his face in response reflects deep relief; it feels like one step forward and a small, but much needed, win.
"You are so chill in the bath, Persie. I think you might be part mermaid," Jess murmurs to her as he washes her head and neck with a focused eye and a big smile. She blinks in his direction a few times before making noises in response.
"Uh huh, you are part mermaid you say? Well, I hope you don't pull a reverse Ariel on us one day. Nothing under the sea is worth your voice or your heart, I promise."
She makes another sound and then lifts her fist to her mouth.
"I know, it's almost time to eat again. You've got your bedtime routine memorized already, don't you? Clever girl," he lifts her out of the baby tub and on to the baby towel he has spread out on the floor. She gurgles as he dries her off and wraps her up; he lifts her in his arms and places kisses all over her face.
"I have to cut your nails first. I promised Mom. Even though, to be honest, it freaks me out too. But you won't tell her that, will you?"
She makes a face, and he laughs.
"A great confidant because you can't talk yet. Come on, let's take care of these claws."
He stands up and grabs the tiny nail clippers from under the sink in the bathroom and walks with her to the nursery. He places her down on the changing table part of the dresser, mumbling more nonsense to her as he continues to try and make her smile. Just as he has her little fist in his hand, and the nail clippers in his other hand, he hears his phone go off in the bathroom where he left it on the sink. His heart races, because he was so close to having her delicate little fingers near something sharp, and he audibly curses out whoever is calling him. He lets it ring out as he calms his nerves, taking breaths and preparing himself to just get it done. But as he gets the courage again, his phone starts ringing once more. He sighs heavily and drops the nail clippers on an empty space on the dresser.
"Jesus Christ," he grumbles, and picks her up in his arms again, "I wonder who I'm about to scream at. You think it's my mother? She has a knack for calling at bad times. Or maybe Liam because he forgot how to close the register out."
He walks them to the bathroom again and picks up his phone as it starts ringing once more. His eyebrow rises as he sees it's his sister. She usually only facetimes him if she wants to talk, and last they had spoken she had plans with her girlfriend this weekend.
"Hi, this isn't a great time. Can I call you back in half an hour?" he answers, holding the phone between his head and shoulder. He walks back to the nursery with plans to get a diaper on Persie, but Doula's responding tone gives him pause.
"Please Jess. I need a ride."
His heart drops, "what do you mean you need a ride? Where are you?"
"Hannah took me to a day rave in New York. I think I'm near you, I don't know. New York is much bigger than I realized. We've been here for hours, and I don't feel good and she doesn't want to leave and she has her own friends here and I only have her and -"
Her words come out a mile a minute, and that makes his heart sink further. He holds Persie close to his chest for comfort.
"Doula…did you take something? Are you drinking? What's going on?"
"Can we please talk about it when you come get me? You will come get me, won't you? I don't know what this place is called, it's like a random warehouse. But I can send you my location."
"How did you get there?"
"We took a train. But I'm not…in a state to take a train home alone," she confesses, voice echoing off the walls around her; he assumes she's hiding in a bathroom, "And I don't want to leave Hannah completely. At least if I go with you I'll still be in the same city, and we can leave together tomorrow."
"Jesus, Doula. Great girlfriend you have," he groans, mostly because he knows he has to help her, "send me your location. Now. Do you have somewhere safe to hang out until I get there?"
"Thank you thank you thank you! I'll meet you in the alley."
"No," he shouts abruptly in response, startling the baby in his arms. She starts crying, and his eyes water too because he knows it's his fault.
"Shit! I'm sorry, sweetpea. I didn't mean to scare you," he mumbles soothingly, and then turns his attention back to Doula, "do not wait in an alley. Please go back inside where at least if someone tries to do something stupid, there are witnesses."
"Okay, fine. It was just making me feel sick being in there."
"Send me your location, I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Thank you, Jess."
"Uh huh. Bye."
"Fuck," he mutters to himself as he ends the call and shoves the phone in his pocket. Persie is no longer crying, but as he looks down, he gets closer to tears himself; she has a deep set frown on her face and is looking up at him with her big blue eyes so much like Rory's.
"Oh god, Persie. I'm really sorry," his voice is gentle but pained, feeling great stress and self-imposed pressure at being the best he can be for his daughter, fiancée and sister. His bandwidth suddenly feels paper thin, and even though he wants to put Rory and Persie above all, he realizes that he can't right now. He hangs his head slightly both in disappointment and to place little apologetic kisses on Persie's face. He only gives himself another few seconds to consider his options before moving into action. Wanting to do at least one more helpful thing, he quickly gets a diaper on the baby before heading upstairs with a remorseful cloud over his head.
He knocks softly on the closed bathroom door and enters as she calls for him to 'come in'. After a beat, he pushes the door, finding Rory covered in bubbles in what looks like a cozy, hot bath. For the first time in days, she seems genuinely relaxed; it further twists him up inside to have to ruin it. She grins and looks up at him and Persie, and in a moment the smile falls from her face.
"What's wrong?" she moves from her reclined position in the tub to sit up, sloshing a bit of bath water onto the floor.
He shakes his head and looks away from her as he explains,
"I'm so sorry, Rory. All I wanted to do was give you a night to yourself, and I can't because of my damn sister."
Rory stands up carefully in the tub as he begins to speak and is in front of him wrapped up in a towel by the time he's done talking.
"What do you mean? What happened to Doula?"
He meets her eyes then and her heart aches at the look she finds.
"I don't know, she said she went to a rave at a warehouse in the city and she needs a ride because her girlfriend doesn't want to leave yet. I think she took something or is maybe drunk. I have to go get her."
"Of course you do, Jess, oh my god. Please don't feel bad. Here, let me take her so you can get out of here."
She holds her arms out and watches as Jess gives the baby a pained, guilty look before handing her over. When he looks at Rory again, she notices his eyes are wet.
"Are you okay?" She places a hand on his arm, "I'm sure Doula is alright, it's a really good thing that she called you."
"It's not that. I feel badly about having to leave, and…I think I scared our daughter. I yelled at Doula while we were on the phone, and Persie started crying. Rory, I feel so terrible," he blinks a few times before wiping a hand across his eyes and turning his body to exit, "I'm sorry, I didn't get to feed her or cut her nails."
"Oh, Jess," she rubs her hand over his arm, but he shakes his head; she knows it means he's not ready to forgive himself and doesn't want to hear any soothing words right now.
"I better go. I'll be back as soon as I can. Um, Doula will probably stay the night if that's okay."
"Of course it's okay," she replies softly, "I'll make up a guest bed for her."
"Don't," he shakes his head again, "I'll take care of it. I just wanted to give you a heads up. I'll be back, bye."
He ghosts his hand over her arm, and his eyes move to her lips like he wants to kiss her. But he doesn't allow himself to and instead walks out of the room.
"Jess," she calls after him, stepping into the hallway to see him at the top of the stairs. He pauses and turns his head towards her. She holds Persie up and cuddles her face against her chubby little cheek.
"We love you. Drive safe."
She watches as his face and shoulders let go of some of the tension they were holding on to. The corner of his mouth twitches; he places his fingers briefly on his lips and sends them a kiss.
"I love you both. I'll be back as fast as I can."
….
"Damnit Doula, I told you not to wait for me in the alley!"
He scolds his younger sister as he jumps out of the car; she stands in an alley between a building with the thumping sound of a bass and another that is eerily empty. She's resting against the wall, eyes closed and frowning, when he walks up to her. She opens them but doesn't move.
"I'm gonna be sick."
The scowl on his face falls and he takes a big step back from her as she bends in half and starts to gag.
"Fuck," he groans, reaching a hand out to hold her hair back for her. He cringes as what can only be described as bile seems to come out of her, "Jesus, I guess this isn't from Swedish fish, huh?"
Between dry heaving she lifts a hand up to flip him off. Instead of pissing him off, it makes him laugh.
"Glad to see you're still feeling like yourself."
She stays hunched over until the heaving finally stops. She slowly stands to face her older brother, her face pale and looking much more exhausted than the new father in front of her. Any lightheartedness vanishes from him as he takes her in, frowning at how visibly ill she looks and the smeared makeup all over her face. Glitter seems to sparkle all over the bare parts of her body but in her current state it gives a sad, worn feeling. She frowns harder and gives him a pleading look, silently asking him not to give her the third degree right now. He stares intensely at her for another moment before rolling his eyes.
"Let's go."
Slowly, she pushes herself from the wall and he instinctively puts a hand on her arm. Doula surprises him when she leans into his support, and so he puts an arm around her shoulders and helps her to the car.
They drive in silence, his sister sitting in the passenger seat with her head pressed against the glass of the window. But her hands are fretting in her lap, twisting and tapping and restless. The motions are unignorable, and he can't wait any longer to ask.
"What did you take?"
His eyes are locked on the road ahead of him, but he can tell her hands have stilled. After a minute, he thinks that she is just going to ignore him. At a red light he turns to look at her and finds that she's looking at him.
"It's no big deal," she says quietly. His eyes narrow slightly. She turns away from him and mumbles, "the light's green."
He takes a deep breath and focuses again on driving.
"If it's no big deal, then it should be no problem to tell me."
She doesn't respond. He sighs and taps his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, trying to figure out how to be both a friend and a brother to her. Her stomach growls loudly, and he decides to stop at a diner a couple blocks later. He parks the car and turns it off, hastily getting out and walking around to the passenger door. He opens it and gives her an expectant look when she just sits there staring at him.
"Come on," he says, holding his hand out towards the diner, "you're hungry. Let's eat."
She makes a face, "I'm not hungry."
"Your growling stomach says otherwise."
She continues to stare at him, not moving. He gives her a look and pleads,
"Doula, come on. I'm really trying here."
The frown on her face smooths away, and she looks at the distance from the car to the ground.
"I'm a little dizzy."
He swallows down his knee-jerk questions to that and helps her out of the car.
They sit in silence at a table in the diner until someone comes to take their order. Jess shoots her a look when all she orders is whole wheat toast and quickly adds on an order of chicken tenders and fries on her behalf. When the waiter leaves, he leans his elbows on the table as he stirs cream into his 8:30pm coffee.
"I've never seen you drink coffee this late."
His gaze turns to her, and he regards her more closely in the bright restaurant lights. He notices her face looks a little different than it did when he saw her weeks before, and the circles under her young eyes have him concerned.
"I'm a dad to a newborn. Things have changed," he mumbles half-focused in response. She coughs then, and it suddenly reminds him of her throwing up less than twenty minutes ago.
"Doula…what did you do at this party?"
The waiter returns then very quickly with their food; he mutters his thanks and pushes the plates in front of Doula. He takes his slice of carrot cake but makes no move to start eating it. He watches her look down at the table. She picks up a piece of toast and starts ripping tiny bites off of it and slowly chewing on them.
"Please. I'm worried about you."
Gradually her attention turns from the bread to him, and she swallows the small bite of food before replying.
"Promise you won't be a freak about it?"
He sits back in the booth with a heavy breath.
"Define 'freak'."
"You know what I mean."
"I'm not promising anything. But I hope you'll still tell me."
He fixes her with one of his intense but caring stares, and he sees her slowly crack open.
"It was a day rave, so the party started at six this morning."
"Okay…"
"We…drank. Red bulls and vodka all morning."
He grimaces, "god, people still drink that shit?"
"I don't know, we had an older friend in the group, and I think it was his idea."
He grimaces harder.
"An older friend? He?"
She lazily rolls her eyes.
"Anyway, by the afternoon we were like…tanking and we still wanted to party more. So," she shrugs here, "Hannah's friend brought molly, and we all did it. To stay awake."
"Red bulls and ecstasy?" Jess asks, tone stern and incredulous as he gives her a harsh look, "are you trying to give yourself a fucking heart attack?"
"Everyone was doing it!"
"If everyone jumped off a bridge would you do it too?"
Her whole face lifts in surprise, and he puts his head in his hands.
"Fuck, I sound like a dad."
"Well," she sighs, "I guess you are one. But not mine."
"Yeah," he drops his hands and sits back, "fine, you experimented. I don't love that you did it in an unfamiliar place with a ton of people you don't know but I understand I guess. You're not going to do it again are you? Clearly it made you feel horrible."
"Probably not. Definitely not mixed with booze."
"How did you even get into this party? And how did you get your hands on booze and drugs?"
She doesn't respond and he figures it out.
"The older male friend. Why are two seventeen year old girls hanging out with a man old enough to get them vodka and ecstasy?"
"I don't think there's an age restriction on buying illegal drugs…"
"Doula."
"Hannah is a lot different than me okay? Isn't that obvious already? She's cooler than me. She loves to party and go out and do…risky things. I'm just trying to keep up with her. I love her. I'm in love with her and I don't want her to leave me because I'm not in her league!"
Jess struggles for a moment, trying to reconcile all the things he's learning about the girl that he thought was perfect for Doula for so long. But his own sister's actions are most concerning to him.
"What in the world are you talking about? Changing yourself for a girlfriend…this isn't you, Doula. Also, why didn't you ever mention this side of her? I had no idea."
She looks away from him then.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore."
He eyes her for a moment, "fine. Where do Liz and TJ think you are?"
She becomes immediately defensive and he frowns.
"I didn't lie! I told them I'm hanging out with Hannah all weekend. They didn't ask me where."
"Christ Doula," he rubs his palms against his eyes, "Why did you decide to start being a rebellious teenager after I had a baby?"
"I did one thing! And I called you for help, didn't I?"
He sighs and drops his hands, giving her the smallest smile he can muster.
"Yes you did. It was a very good decision you made, and you can always call me for help," he proceeds with his next statement in a very careful tone, "I just hope this isn't going to be a…habit."
At first, her face scrunches in anger, but as she regards his scared, serious look, it melts. She whispers,
"I'm not mom."
"I know. But…those things can be genetic. Just don't forget that. Please."
She swallows and gives him a half nod.
"Are you taking me back to your house?"
"Do you have anywhere else to go?"
She glares at him.
"If Hannah wants to Uber there later, can she stay over too?"
He frowns in discomfort, "I don't know if I want to be responsible for someone else's wild child."
"Okay," Doula shrugs and he finds the compliant look on her face suspicious, "she can always stay with Steve."
"Steve?"
"Older male friend."
"You're playing dirty. Fine. Why don't you just text her now and see if she wants to leave yet? We'll just go back and get her."
"Okay. I'm going to save this toast for her."
The food in question catches his attention, because he realizes all she had were those few small bites of bread, and none of the chicken or fries.
"You didn't eat any of your food."
"I had some toast."
"You had three little nibbles, mouse."
"I'm not hungry."
"Yes, you are," he insists, whole face shifting to distrustful confusion, "and not to be graphic but your vomit was lacking substance. When's the last time you ate? Please don't tell me you drank and did drugs on a completely empty stomach."
She avoids his look and plays with the ends of her hair.
"I had pizza at the party."
His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes her intensely; he's watched her grow up and knows well enough when she's trying to hide something from him.
"You're lying. Why are you lying? When did you last eat?"
Her face turns red as she meets his eyes. He immediately clocks the nervous guilt in her eyes, like she's been discovered and is having a hard time not owning up to it. Her jaw opens and closes, until she finally cries out in defense,
"I have an important recital coming up!"
His stomach churns with uneasiness at her outburst.
"What the fuck does that have to do with eating?"
Her words come out angry, but he can see through them and recognizes a desperation he's never seen in her before.
"I need to look amazing because there's so much competition, Jess. I need to stand out and look dedicated and lean and beautiful. There will be professionals scouting. They're not going to consider anything less than perfection! They didn't like me enough to call me after my Spring recital, so I need to really, really impress them."
The hair on his arms stand up; his face flashes a myriad of emotions all at one.
"Doula. When is the last time you ate?"
She gulps and timidly wraps her arms over her body.
"I had a big dinner.."
"When?"
"Thursday night."
"You haven't eaten in two days?!"
"It's fine, Jess. My recital is this week. I'll eat normally again when it's over."
He blinks at her in disbelief, a mixture of concern and heartache heavy in his chest.
"Doula…no. You don't do that to yourself. How long has this been going on?"
Everything about her screams fight, but to his surprise, she wilts as she replies,
"You don't understand. Ballet is so competitive, and it gets more competitive every year. If it's something I want to do after high school, I have to stand out and prove how committed I am. And I…think it is something I want to do after high school. I want them to see that I have self-control, and I'll do whatever it takes."
He swallows hard, his heart breaking more with each word.
"I don't need to understand anything other than the facts," his words are soft despite the harsh current of emotions rolling inside of him, "and the facts are that my sister is starving herself and also trying to impress her girlfriend by drinking and doing drugs. What's going on, Doula? I'm so confused. None of this is you."
"Please, you do not have any idea what it's like to be a teenage girl! There's so much pressure," her eyes start to water but her words are hard, as though they're coming from a deep well of stress within her that he had no idea existed.
"I understand pressure," his eyes move between her face and her body, "you're right that I might not understand the specific pressures you're feeling. But Doula…you're so much stronger than this. Than giving into harmful behaviors that affect your body and your mind. You have always been so…you. Proudly so. As you should be. It's one of my favorite things about you, how true you are to yourself."
Her eyes stay glued to the straw wrapper that her fingers have found on the table, tearing it up tiny piece by tiny piece as he speaks. He is sure that she's uncomfortable, and that she doesn't want to talk about these things, but he's also sure that if he doesn't try to get through to her, it will eat him up inside.
"You're an aunt now, you know. You're a role model to your niece," his words are gentle and coaxing; they successfully call her attention from the straw wrapper to his face. She sucks on her bottom lip and says nothing. He leans forward on the table, lowering his eyes to be in line with hers and asks softly,
"is that advice that you would give to Persie one day? To starve herself? To partake in unfamiliar, potentially dangerous activities to impress someone?"
Her lips wobble, and her frown is so deep it frames her chin.
"Now you're playing dirty."
He holds her eye contact and shakes his head.
"Giving you perspective is not playing dirty. Why would you not treat yourself with the same care, love, and protection that you would your niece?"
He watches, both relieved and afflicted by the tears dripping from her black-rimmed eyes. He gives her a moment, gives her space, because he's sure with the day she had and the conversation they're having, her mind is a messy thing right now. When she starts to wipe the tears from her eyes, he stands up and joins her on the other side of the booth. She resists the arm he places around her at first but eventually finds the weight of it comforting and she buries her face in his shoulder. He tightens his hold on her and leans his head on top of hers.
"You're the only sister I have, Doula. And Persie's only aunt," he mutters, rubbing his hand soothingly where it rests on her arm, "please take care of yourself."
The siblings sit like that for a few more pensive minutes, before her phone goes off with a text. She sniffles and sits up to pick it up off the table.
"Hannah said she'll be ready to leave in half an hour. Can we pick her up?"
He sighs, "sure whatever. It's Hannah's world and we're just living in it I guess."
"I'm sorry," she apologizes, and she looks like she wants to say more. He lifts his eyebrow inquisitively.
"She's so much cooler than me, I don't know how to handle it sometimes," she confesses, "it's not that she makes me feel like I'm not good enough or cool enough, not at all. I just sometimes feel like I don't belong in her world, around her friends. She's different and fun, she has multiple tattoos, she knows how to party without going overboard and still makes me feel special when we're in a room full of people. She's also experienced and has more exes than me. I feel, like, inadequate sometimes."
As she talks, it's like she's shining a mirror on his past and how he used to feel about Rory- except most comparisons are the opposite. She was stoic and mature and content with the way her life was; not to mention, the intimidating prospects of her family name and fancy school. He sighs, because he knows that there are things she will have to figure out on her own, and this is definitely one of them.
"I know you're not going to take my word, because I wouldn't have taken anyone's word at your age," he starts with a half-smile, "but you are enough."
He sees a similar half smile grow on her face as she attempts to hide it by turning back to the table and playing with the fries on her plate.
"You said she's more experienced. She doesn't pressure you, does she?"
"Never."
He feels the weight in his chest lighten slightly.
"Good."
Doula puts a fry in her mouth then and the weight lessens even more.
"I am kinda hungry."
The half smile grows, and he stands up to sit across her again.
"You can eat. We have half an hour, according to Hannah."
She makes a face at her plate.
"I want a cheeseburger. I don't like chicken tenders like this."
Before she even finishes her thought, Jess has flagged down a waitress and lets her order. She pushes her plate towards him.
"I'll take this home for Rory," he says, looking down at the almost full plate of food, "what don't you like about this chicken?"
"It's that really crispy kind. It's like hard and crunchy. I don't like the way it feels in my mouth."
He makes a face at that description, but it falls into a thoughtful look as something occurs to him.
"Huh," he grunts, "we're going to have to stop at a store on the way home."
"Okay. What for?"
"New nipples."
"Excuse me?"
He shakes his head, "it's a baby thing."
"Right. I think Hannah and I will stay in the car."
"Whatever," he leans in and his face turns suddenly sincere, "by the way, she's not cooler than you, Doula. Not at all. I'm sorry if I contributed to you thinking that she is."
"You don't have to lie to me. I know as much as I hate to admit it, I'm a basic, small town girl."
"You're certainly not basic. And there's nothing wrong with being a 'small town girl' as you put it. But there is a lot wrong with letting your girlfriend leave a rave by herself in a place that she's not familiar with. I know that you love her, but hear me when I say that it was not cool and it's not what you deserve."
"It's no big deal, Jess. She knew that I was going to call you and be fine."
"I'm not saying you should break up with her or anything. You're both young. There are a lot of things…still developing in your brains. But just know, for the future - that's not cool."
She sighs and smirks, "well you are over twenty years older than me, so I guess I should listen to you, old man."
He rolls his eyes at her jab. He pushes the plate of chicken back to her and asks,
"You sure you don't want to save this for Hannah too?"
"No. She's a vegetarian."
He laughs dryly and takes the plate back.
"Right. Won't put meat in her body but has no problem ingesting red bull and vodka. Oh, and molly."
"Be nice."
"I'll try my best."
Rory opens her eyes in the middle of the night in a dark, quiet bedroom. Her new maternal feeding clock instinctively wakes her up at one in the morning. She sits up carefully in bed but realizes that Jess isn't lying next to her. He wasn't home yet when she last went to sleep, and she's starting to think maybe he still isn't home. She takes a couple of seconds to get her bearings before walking slowly from the bed to the door. With a yawn, she walks towards the nursery, but the lulling sound coming from it stops her. She recognizes it: his low, calming voice that comes out late at night or when he's talking her down from a stressful state. Soundlessly, she glides to the wall near the nursery door and rests her head there to listen.
"Look at you eating from a bottle, Persie," she almost gasps out loud when she hears this, "god, you're making me want to cry tears of joy."
He murmurs a few things more quietly that she can't make out, before she realizes he's talking about her.
"I know you're attached to mommy, I get it. But she's very tired, you know. We have to help her and give her time to rest and to just be…Rory," he pauses here, and she holds her breath to stay quiet, "I hope this means that you and bottles are good now, so I can feed you every night. Would you like that? I would love it."
Her heart feels like it could beat out of her chest; and as she listens to him privately being the sweetest father and the most caring fiancé, she starts to feel a beat at the apex of her legs that she hasn't really felt in almost two months.
"I'm so relieved you're not afraid of me. I felt so terrible about scaring you earlier. I know what it's like to be a scared kid, and I would never in a million years want you to feel that. But you're being so good for me tonight, eating from the bottle and not crying at all. You're my forgiving little sweetpea. Thank you. I love you."
Rory takes a quiet, steadying breath as it feels like every dulled hormone inside of her is coming alive at once.
"I realize, thanks to your crazy aunt, that I have no idea what it's like to grow up as a girl though. I want to keep you safe from everything, every stupid, scary, disheartening, and dumb thing in this world. I know that I can't. But I hope we give you enough love and support that you'll trust us to help you through any difficult thing you encounter. Mommy and daddy are yours forever and ever. Here we stand; firm as a rock."
She recognizes his paraphrased quote and smiles wide. She can't decide if she wants to go in or go back to the bedroom and wait for him, when she hears him chuckle.
"Am I putting you to sleep? You know what, that's okay. I take that as a compliment that you find my voice so soothing. I know you're tired, but we have some things to do before you go back to bed. Come on Persie-girl."
Her body pulses with hot desire, and it seems to cause her breasts to leak as she looks down at the wet spots on her shirt. She bites her lips as she slowly, and quietly, steps backward to their bedroom again. Her thighs rub together as she walks, hitting the now sensitive spot between her legs. With a full body tremble and a shuddering breath, she realizes that she is finally ready to make love again with her beautiful, wonderful man. She feels her breasts leak a little more, surely caused by the surge of arousal throughout her. She quickly finds her breast pump and attaches it to herself, then takes soft steps to the nearby bathroom to check her appearance.
She's even more grateful to Jess now for giving her time to herself earlier as she regards her body. She's freshly shaved on and between her legs, leaving smooth, soft skin for him to run his rough, sturdy hands all over. The hair on her head is freshly washed. She runs a brush through it to clear it of any random tangles that might have formed while sleeping - this way he can easily get a good grip or maybe bury his fingers there while he's buried inside of her. Her cheeks tint, and she sucks on her lips to curb the impish grin forming on her face as carnal thoughts rush through her head.
But as she removes the breast pump, she's reminded of how new her body still feels to her and how changed it may seem to him. Though he makes her feel like nothing less than gorgeous, insecure thoughts still gnaw annoyingly at her. She looks at her reflection as her fingers skate across the new stretch marks on her breasts, and then down to the few stubborn, pink lines near her stomach leftover from carrying Persie there. Her resolve to have sex starts to weaken as she considers how different she might feel between her legs too. But then, through the wall she hears the telltale intonations of Jess murmuring to the baby, followed by the gentle rumble of the brown noise machine being turned on in the nursery. And thinking of his devout love for their daughter and getting just a glimpse in these last seven weeks of his forever dedication to her and their children, the beat between her thighs is revived in a way that drowns out any concern.
She detaches the two bottles of milk she created from the pump, and pads down the hall to the kitchen. She hears water running and turns the corner to find Jess standing over the sink as he washes out a baby bottle. Either seeing or feeling her presence, he turns to her; she can see a proud look in his eyes and notices a gentle tug of his lips. A surge of desire rushes through her, turned on by the domestic scene in front of her; the way he's bent just slightly over the faucet, the size of the small baby bottle in his hands and the rubber top he already washed resting nearby on a drying rack. He's wearing a basic, but delightfully fitted, cream colored t-shirt that seems to be strangled at his thick biceps. A spit up towel still rests on his shoulder, though she smiles when she sees that it's clean; it seems he had an all-around successful feeding. She is drawn closer to him, wanting to know more.
She stands near him at the sink, with big eyes of gratitude and wonderment as she deduces,
"You got her to take a bottle."
Every feature on his face lifts, and she can see the proud look more distinctly now. He shrugs one shoulder and turns the sink off, resting the cleaned bottle on the drying rack. He turns to lean backwards against it, his hands resting on the edge of the counter and his arms slightly bent; she gets an impulsive yearning to lick along every muscle indentation she can find on him as her eyes shoot between his arms and his face.
"I did. I bought a bottle nipple that's much more like yours."
That statement successfully distracts her from his arms, and she meets his eyes with an inquisitive look.
"Like mine?"
"Yes," he nods, and the proud smile morphs into something closer to a smirk, "like your nipples."
She tilts her head and laughs in confusion, "what?"
His eyes shift between her chest and her face, smirk increasing in size. He uncrosses one arm from his body and hesitates with his hand in the air for just a moment before reaching out to brush her long hair over her shoulder. She quietly sucks in a breath as his fingertips ghost over her shirt and then to her shoulder; he grips her there before moving his hand to rest on her arm.
"Yours are soft and smooth. A little petite too," he explains, eyes moving from her body and back to her face, "I had to stop at a few stores on the way home, but I finally found extra soft, slow flow bottle nipples. She took to it right away. She just needed something that felt like mom."
The wink he gives her is somewhat playful, but the process he's described is one that's relieved a heavy burden for her. She blinks at him in disbelief.
"You're kidding."
"Not at all," his smirk drops, and he shakes his head to convey his seriousness. In a moment though, the smug look is back as he adds, "I know your body very well. I hope you haven't forgotten that."
The skin on her chest, up her neck, and on her face flushes with heat at his words and the images they evoke. Her gaze moves to his lips; the shape of his crooked smile forces her to squeeze her legs together. As she steps closer to him to plant a kiss there, she's reminded of the bottles of milk in her hands. She looks down at them, and before she can handle it, he's already taking them from her and putting them in the fridge.
When he stands before her again, she presses her body to his. Her movements push him back against the sink; he lifts his arms to wrap around her and gets swept up in the hot kiss she's giving him. He can feel a sensual hunger in her that he hasn't felt in a while as her mouth ravishes his. And even though he's had a terribly long day, and only ten minutes ago he was determined to pass out in bed, he's fully prepared to meet her wherever she is. When they part for air, and he looks at her soft, pink face he knows exactly what she means when she whispers,
"I'm ready."
He kisses her gently then and asks, "are you sure?"
Her reply is immediate, "Yes."
He regards her another moment before grasping one of her hands in his and leading her to their bedroom.
He lies her on the bed and reaches out to turn on a small lamp. He looks down at her now, bathed in the warmth of the light in black sleep shorts and a tank top; the pearliness of her skin stands out against the dark grey bed sheets. With a smile that makes his love and excitement almost palpable to her, he takes her in, consuming her with just his golden eyes. It's only a moment, but it's heated and heavy as he rakes over every curve and every inch, even paying attention to the indents in the sheets surrounding her. She looks up at him too, the pulse between her thighs increasing at the anticipation of feeling all of his wonderful, comforting, muscular weight on her.
"Beautiful," he mumbles as he leans over her. She reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer for passionate kisses. He matches her ferocity, hands running all over her body while they practically suffocate from not wanting to part. He leans forward a little more, and the weight of his hips rest against hers, causing her to moan into his mouth as she finally gets pressure where she needs it. They both gasp in air as they part, though he immediately switches to kissing her all over her face. Her hands glide down his back until she finds the bottom of his shirt and pushes under it to explore the divots in his muscles. She grinds her hips against him; he pushes himself up to stand again and his hands move to the top of her shorts.
As he tugs on them, he notices her face and body harden slightly. He pauses the motion, hands resting at her hips, and meets her eyes. He hesitates before asking,
"Is it okay if I take your clothes off?"
Her face puckers for a moment, like the thought of that is uncomfortable for her. He's about to remove his fingers when suddenly she laughs and puts her hands on her face before dropping them back on the bed.
"God, it feels like I'm about to have sex for the first time ever."
The side of his mouth perks up in a soft smile. He rubs his thumbs over her hip bones and gives her a loving look.
"Does it feel intimidating to you?" he asks, looking between her eyes, "it must feel a little weird right now using your body for something other than taking care of the baby. That's part of the reason why I wanted to keep trying with the bottle, so you can get in touch with being…yourself."
His tender, curious words start to wash away her insecurities again, and she lifts a hand up to affectionately hold his face. She opens her mouth to communicate her secret concerns, but she struggles to get the words out. After a few tries, she manages to stutter,
"Jess…I'm just…"
But it's enough. He can hear it in her voice and see her inhibitions in her eyes.
"Rory," he murmurs, his hands gliding now back and forth between her hips and waist, "you're so beautiful. I love you, I love your body. I'm enamored with every inch of you."
She inhales deeply as his words diffuse her hesitance. He leans down and presses a kiss on the sliver of bare skin between her shirt and shorts. He inches his head up her body, lips grazing over her jaw. He whispers near her ear,
"And we will take this slow. Slow and steady. There's no rush and no pressure. We are not going to do anything that hurts. We're only going to make you feel good. I promise."
She shivers beneath him, blood and hormones coursing through her. Any and all reluctance vanishes, and she begs,
"Please take my clothes off."
He takes his time, shimmying her shorts down her legs and trailing back up her body with velvety kisses. Before removing her tank top, he takes his clothes off first to allow her to feel less vulnerable. She sits up on her elbows to check him out with half lidded eyes.
"I'm enamored with every inch of you too," she whispers, feeling the urge to return his sentiment as her gaze drifts over every hard and soft spot of his olive skin. He smirks and pulls her to sit up as he lifts her top off of her. The knowledge that her post pregnancy breasts are on display in a sexual setting tries to poke at her conscience; the feeling of his hardness pressing against her legs silences it. His lips cover every part of her chest in kisses.
Slowly and carefully as he promised, he starts to explore her with gentle touches. His fingers stroke languidly through her lips, evoking muted moans that he can feel with his mouth on her neck. Encouraged, he travels down and dips just one finger in and out of her, delicately easing her into it. He continues these careful but satisfying hand movements, switching between stroking her swollen clit with his fingertips and then back down to gently entering her, adding fingers as her body allows him to. His caring touches make her tingle all over, drawing her nearer and nearer to her first orgasm in over a month; her breathing is heavy with her love for him, for making this almost virginal experience wholly enjoyable. There's no pain as she expected there to be, there's no awkward pauses or insecure moments. And she wonders why she ever worried in the first place; his specialty is putting her at ease. As he said, there is no rush; there's no urgency to his touches and she has no idea how much time has passed when the pleasure progresses to its peak, holding her breath and her movements hostage before she slides into a powerful orgasm around his caring fingers. Her legs clasp together, trapping his hands between her thighs as she shakes and shudders. He leans back just enough to watch her release; the pleasurable sounds and faces she makes filling him up with satisfaction. He knows the last seven weeks of their life have been a huge shift from how they lived before having a baby, and he knows that even though they both love it, it's caused plenty of stress. Feeling her come apart around his hand, seeing her whole body wind up and let go of tension - this is exactly what he wanted for her. He considers stopping here, not pushing her body any further tonight, but when his erection twitches against her leg and she reaches out to touch it, he knows she wants more.
He moves his body to hover over hers, arms framing her head as he locks his lips to hers for a deep kiss. His tongue softly swirls over hers in her mouth, giving her a preview of what's to come. He crawls down her body when they break apart, tracing over her nipples, then her stomach and bellybutton, to the apex of her legs with his mouth. With a soft hold on her thighs, he licks around her currently ultra-sensitive bud. A combination of a moan and a hiss comes from her throat; she grasps onto his hair and squeezes her legs closer together. He presses her legs to spread open again as he runs his tongue up and down her a few more times. Then he crawls back up her body and positions himself between her thighs. She bites her lip in anticipation, watching as he nudges himself closer to her center. Just as he pushes the tip into her, his eyes meet hers - searching for any sign of discomfort or pain.
"Is this okay so far?" he asks softly, not pushing any more of his length in. She nods, lifting a hand to play in his hair.
"It's okay. It doesn't hurt. You can do more."
He turns his head, resting his lips against her palm as he gently rocks his hips. He doesn't go in any deeper despite her words; he works to massage her entrance, easing the supple flesh there into opening up more - not wanting to take any chances of hurting her.
"I want to take my time," he mutters against her palm, then turns his head to look down at her under him. A smile stretches across his face, and she reflects it back to him.
"I like the sound of that," she says softly, running her fingers through his dark, messy locks. He brings his still smiling lips down to meet hers for a moment, before pulling back and crawling down her body again. He repeats his previous actions; kissing and licking the lips between her legs, then crawling over her again, giving her a little more of his length. He does this over and over again, taking care to work her body up to taking all of him. Going back and forth between licking and rocking, enjoying every moment because it's just the two of them in their world of love and pleasure; he didn't realize how much he missed this kind of time with her.
By the time he's fully sinking into her, she's trembling with arousal. His tender attention and his teasing licks have her whole body feeling electric. She meets every one of this thrusts with grinding motions, pressing her pulsating center to rub against him with each plunge inside of her. He still keeps a slow pace, and it is this careful slowness that amplifies everything between them. Their movements are heated and erotic, every touch and sound coming from a place of deep love. When their drawn out pleasure finally quakes into landslide-like mutual orgasms, they are fused together; mouths fastened in a kiss, his hips pinned on top of hers, legs entwined with a mess of blankets at their feet. The arms that Rory has wrapped around his back squeeze tighter with each tremor. They stay like this, tight and tangled, through the duration of their orgasms and some moments beyond. As pleasure fades, exhaustion sets in again in its place. Wordlessly, Jess places soft kisses on her forehead and cheeks before pulling out to lie beside her. He kicks at the blankets until he's able to grab one and pull it up and over their bodies. She turns and snuggles her head to his chest. He wraps an arm around her and kisses the top of her head, his other hand stroking gently over her bare hip and thigh. The motion easily lulls her to the brink of sleep, but the sound of Persie's cry next door interrupts it moments later. She hums, still feeling too gratified from sex to feel any annoyance. Jess makes a similar sound and kisses her head again before moving to sit up.
"I'll feed her, you can sleep."
She shakes her head, watching as he gets up to put shorts on. She grins at his mussed hair and how cute he looks when he yawns wide.
"It's okay, I'll feed her. I kinda miss her."
He chuckles and leans over the bed to drop a kiss on her head.
"Okay. Stay here, I'll bring her to you."
She pushes herself up to a more seated position in bed. She hears him mumbling to Persie as he picks her up from her crib, and soon he's walking back into the bedroom with her against his chest.
"She's definitely hungry," Jess teases with a smirk, and Rory laughs when she notices that Persie has her open mouth on his chest, trying to find something to suck on.
"You're not going to find anything there but cold hard muscle, Persie," she jokes, holding her arms out. He hands her over with a smile, looking down at his two favorite people. Rory takes her, positioning her on her arm. She sits back to get a little more comfortable, when she hears Jess gasp.
"Rory, look!"
Panicked, she holds her arms out a little so that she can see her better. And then she gasps too, when she sees the sweetest little smile gracing Persie's cherubic face as she looks up at her with round eyes.
"Oh my god, that's a smile! A real one for sure, not an accidental one."
Rory's own smile increases in size; she feels Jess kiss her head and then watches as he leans down and kisses the baby's too. He jumps into bed next to her, not able to take his eyes of their daughter's beautiful smile either.
"Look how happy she is to see her mommy," Jess mumbles near Rory's ear, "now that she's had time to miss you since she finally ate from a bottle."
She laughs at that and looks up to meet Jess's loving eyes. He lifts a hand to smooth over her hair, pressing it against her cheek in a cherishing hold.
"God, her smile is just like yours. Bright and infectious."
Her cheeks tint with a light pink hue; she leans over to give him a grateful kiss. She feels Persie's small hand clawing at her bare chest and pulls away.
"Sorry Persie, I know you're hungry. We were just admiring your smile, we've been waiting so long to see it you know," she lifts her up to kiss her head before resting her near her breast to eat. She leans back further on the pillows once Persie is set. With a happy sigh, she closes her eyes. The comforting humming sounds of Persie's eating along with the feeling of her warm, soft baby limbs on her bare skin have Rory fighting to stay awake. After she switches the baby to her other side, she feels Jess massage his fingers gently through her hair. She turns heard head to face him, blinking back the dozy feelings. He grins softly at her and says,
"Go to sleep, Rory. I'll take care of her when she's done eating."
She blinks again, "but I'm feeding her."
"It's okay," he whispers as he leans down to kiss her shoulder, "I'm right here. I'll make sure nothing happens to you or her."
She gives in when he starts to play with her hair again, the soft scratches effectively pushing her into slumber.
When she wakes up next, it's to the feeling of the warmth of the sun on the side of her face and the sound of low murmuring nearby. She opens her eyes and realizes the sun is streaming through the bedroom window, which means it's later in the morning than she's used to waking up. She sits up in panic, until Jess says,
"Good morning, sleeping beauty."
She turns to see him resting on his side next to her, with a wide awake Persie lying on her back in between the two of them. Rory smiles, reaching down to caress her daughter's face and belly, then gives Jess a confused look.
"What time is it?"
He lifts his arm in front of his face to check his watch.
"Almost eight-thirty."
She looks down at Persie, who gives her an adorable smile, and then back to Jess.
"How?"
He smirks and shrugs his shoulder, "bottles."
She shakes her head in disbelief, a wide grin on her face.
"You're a freaking miracle worker, Mariano!"
He laughs, running a hand through his hair and then dropping it gently on Persie's belly.
"She's been very good for me," he mumbles and then says playfully to the baby, "haven't you, sweetpea? I'm so proud of you."
He moves his head to blow raspberries on her stomach. Rory laughs as she watches Persie blink in surprise; when he moves his head to grin at her, she gives him a big smile and reaches her little fists up towards him. He sighs happily and places loud kisses all over her face and arms.
"Oh Rory," he sighs again in a way that sounds almost like a groan, "she has got me in the palm of her little hand. I'm so in love with her."
As Rory looks down at father and daughter, she grins and nods her head.
"I totally get it."
He turns to look up at her, and they share a sweet look of mutual understanding. He leans slightly past Persie to press his lips to Rory's knee. When he lies back on his side, he meets Rory's eyes again while Persie reflexively holds on to one of his fingers.
"Did you sleep well?"
"I think so, I remember nothing after falling asleep while nursing her. Was she okay?"
He nods, "she was fine. She fussed when I took her away from you, but once it was just me and her in the nursery, she calmed down and went to sleep pretty easily. I even got a few solid hours of sleep myself."
"That's great," she reaches a hand out to run through his hair, "thank you for doing that. I was so tired."
"You don't have to thank me, Rory. We're in this together," he murmurs with an insistent look; it smoothly morphs into his signature smirk, "you were so tired from that mind blowing sex, huh?"
She laughs and starts to reply when she hears thumping footsteps above them.
Her face falls as she looks up at the ceiling, "what the hell is that?"
Jess pulls his finger from Persie's grip to place a calming hand on Rory's arm.
"It's Doula and Hannah. I picked them both up from that party. They wanted to take a train home last night, but I insisted they stay over. They were wearing tiny rave outfits and, well, you know how many creeps there are on the train at night. Or any time for that matter. I didn't want anything to happen to them."
She gives him a sympathetic look of understanding, but then it dawns on her that she's naked in bed right now, and she thinks about what his words mean.
She gasps, "oh my god, they were in the house last night?! While we were having…sex?"
She pulls the corner of the blanket up to her chin and whispers the last word. He rolls his lips to keep from laughing and nods.
"Yes. But they were upstairs sleeping the whole time, I'm sure. They partied for like sixteen hours yesterday."
She grimaces and groans, "that's so weird."
He reaches his hand out to squeeze her arm under the blanket.
"It's not that weird. I'm sure they didn't hear anything."
She continues to frown and asks, "how are you so chill about this?"
"It's our home," he shrugs and gives her an inquisitive look, "you don't think we're still going to have sex in the privacy of our bedroom when we have a house full of kids? You know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you."
His words take the frown off her face; her cheeks flush. He tilts his head at her lack of a verbal response.
"You do still want to have more kids, right?" he asks, and playfully adds, "And more sex too?"
She breaks into a laughing smile, forgetting about her worry and letting the blanket drop again. Persie makes a funny sound, and Rory looks down to see her looking in the direction of her chest with a little smile. She chuckles and scoops her up in her arms. With one hand at the back of her head and one hand on her bottom, she holds her close and takes a serene sniff of her downy hair.
"Yes," she finally responds to Jess's questions, "to both."
She looks over to find that his smirk is back, but she hears a little nervousness in his voice when he asks,
"So last night…you enjoyed it? You feel good?"
She gives him a sweet smile as her eyes gaze over his face; he tries to hide it, but she can tell how important this is to him. She nods, removing one hand from the baby to hold his on the bed.
"It was better than I could have imagined. I feel great, I felt great last night too."
His body subtly melts in relief, visible only in his shoulder. He lifts her hand to his lips and mumbles, "Good."
She looks down at Persie again when she feels her wet mouth on her chest. She laughs quietly and moves her around to let her eat.
"She really is one hungry girl."
Jess sits up in bed next to her with a quiet grunt and teases, "well, we know where she gets that from."
She glares at him, but it's all playful; the energy between them wildly different from the afternoon before, when they were both struggling a little to communicate because of the stress they were feeling. Her eyes soften while she looks at him as she thinks about the night. How good and comfortable he made her feel, how even though she knows he was tired, and that they haven't had sex in a long time, that he still was patient and tender. How he let her sleep and took care of their daughter, not just once, but multiple times throughout the night. And finally, how happy he seems to be that she rested, despite the fact that he must be exhausted himself.
She whispers his name, and his attention turns from the baby to her.
"I know you said not to thank you, but I need you to hear this," she shifts slightly to properly face him as she says in a sweet, soft voice, "thank you for taking care of me and my body."
Her words seem to take him by surprise momentarily; his features drop and then rise again into a sincere grin. He says back to her, with the same affection,
"It's what I was put on this earth to do."
She blinks in surprise now and takes a second before responding with, "among many other amazing things."
He leans across the bed, pressing his lips to hers for a tender kiss. Then he sits back up again and turns to the nightstand next to him.
"Yep, like making you coffee," he turns back to her with a mug in his hand a smug smile that throws her off.
"You're the best. Thank you," she takes the mug from him curiously, waiting for the inside joke. But then she sees it: she looks at the ceramic cup and recognizes it as the silly gift he gave her early on in her pregnancy. He has crossed off the words "to be" with a permanent marker, so that the mug now just reads "MILF". She giggles and playfully rolls her eyes towards the ceiling before bringing the mug to her mouth for a big sip.
"Exhausted and still clever. You really are a miracle worker."
"That's one of the other things I was put on this earth for."
"What's that?"
"Being a smartass."
She giggles, "And you do it so well!"
He gives her a look, "Are you flirting with me, future Mrs. Gilmore-Mariano?"
She looks down at her ring for a moment, miraculously still fitting her finger after pregnancy, and then back up at him with a sultry smile,
"Maybe I am, Mr. Mariano. Or should I say, DILF?"
"Oh Persie," Jess pleads playfully, in a way that makes Rory cackle, "please hurry up and finish eating. Me and your mother have important things to do."
"Shh," Rory giggles, "don't rush her. She can eat as much as she wants, as long as she wants."
Jess sighs, but inside he's thinking about his conversation with his sister yesterday. He nods and lifts a gentle finger to rub over Persie's head; he smiles softly.
"Of course. You're part Gilmore. Never feel ashamed of your appetite. Your mother and her mother never do."
"Hey!"
He smirks and winks at her before adding on,
"Your mother and her mother never do, and they are two of the most intelligent and beautiful people in the world."
"Good save, Mariano."
He laughs and leans in closer to whisper one more thing to his daughter, words that make Rory's heart soar.
"The trick is to love yourself. And when you don't feel like you can, talk to people that do. We can help you remember."