#well actually you’re not finished yet Jess so don’t jinx it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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The first Halloween party of college goes extremely successfully for Ben.

So successfully, in fact, that he doesn’t even get back to his room until approximately four in the morning. Unfortunately, his roommate is asleep, so he has nobody to rave to about the very very sexy girl from the basketball team he spent the wee hours of the morning with, but then again, Nando is a responsible citizen, and Ben doesn’t want to wake him so he can dish about a hookup. Instead, he sheds his costume, crawls into bed in his boxers, and waits until morning.

When morning comes, Nando wakes up first. Ben knows this because when he comes to, sometime around ten in the morning, with autumn light beaming into his eyes like a hangover laser through the window, Nando is not only already up, but already showered and dressed. He’s chilling on his bed typing on his phone, and smiling at his screen while he does it.

When Ben sits up in bed, blinking the light out of his eyes, Nando gives him a wave. “Hey, man.” He’s chipper, still grinning, and definitely not feeling the effect of last night the way Ben is.

Ben yawns, and stretches both arms to the ceiling. “‘Sup,” he gets out, after what feels like a prolonged, yawn-caused delay. He rubs out a crick in his neck, then, to Nando, says, “How long have you been up?”

Nando is typing on his phone again. “Like an hour?” he says, then shrugs. He sleeps his display, then puts the phone down on his chest. He’s still smiling. “What, uh… what time did you get in?”

Ben pretends like he has to think about it for a second. “Around four,” he remarks, after the consideration.

Nando lets off a vaguely impressed chuckle. “You don’t fuck around.”

“Actually,” Ben corrects, finger-gunning him, “that’s exactly what I was doing.”

Nando laughs. “I hate you so much.”

Ben winks at him. “Most people do.” He grabs his most recent half-finished water bottle from his bedside table, and downs the rest in one gulp— which definitely clears his head a little. From next to the bottle, he takes a blue scrunchie, and starts to tie up his hair while he looks again to Nando. He’s texting again, so Ben gives him a minute before he begins his dishing about Jess.

And he intends to tell him about Jess. Or at least to make an offhand comment about how he’s lost his basketball team virginity, to be funny. Nando may not be able to relate to his sentiments about girls, but when Ben comes back from a hookup, Nando usually asks where he was.

So he’s about to tell him. He waits for him to be off his phone before he does. But when Nando puts his phone down again, he folds his hands on his stomach, and he talks first.

“So, like,” he says, smiling at the ceiling, “not to jinx it?” It’s only right then that Ben realizes something might be up for him , and his next sentence confirms it. “But I’m pretty sure I met the cutest guy on this campus last night.”

Ben’s internal simp sensor rings off the hook. “Oh, did you?” he chirps. “Did you really? The cutest guy on this campus?” The doofy smile on Nando’s face is a fucking delight to behold, and so is the way it keeps widening as Ben makes fun of him. He can’t believe he didn’t notice this right off the bat. “You better start talking right fucking now, Seb,” he declares, and lowers his voice in his unparalleled glee to whisper, “Did you get lucky?”

“What? No!” Nando laughs, and shakes his head. He twists his hands where they’re resting on his stomach, and shrugs, with the simp smile lingering. “We just talked.”

“ We just talked ,” Ben mocks, and cackles, as he drums on his own pillow. “ Dude !” He wants to jump on his bed. Nando meeting a guy is good on its own, and even better when you consider the sheer amount of chirping this gives Ben ammunition for. “Who? When? At the party?”

“Yeah, at the party.” Nando ruffles a hand through his curls, then his smile widens. “He agreed to go on a date with me.”

“ What ?!” Ben very well may be waking up all their dorm neighbors, and he gives a literal negative amount of fucks about that. He slaps his pillow again. “You fucking casanova!”

Nando says nothing, but peeks at his phone, and keeps smiling when he goes to type again. “Jesus Christ,” Ben whispers, in his awe. “Are you texting him right now?”

Nando nods, and Ben yells into his pillow. His best friend, who got cheated on and dumped the third week of school, is a complete ball of mush over some guy right now. Ben could not be more fucking amped. And also he’s going to get details. ASAP.

“Who, who, who?” he says, as soon as Nando’s attention is away from his phone again. “Who is it? Do I know him? Do you have a picture?”

“I don’t think you know him,” Nando replies, “but, uh, yeah, I think I have a picture. Hold on.” He picks up his phone again, and Ben does his best not to vibrate out of his skin. While Nando surfs through his phone— not texting, this time— he announces, through his smile, “His name is Quinn.”

Nando looks about to melt, and Ben is going to combust over it. Wait until Remy gets a load of this. “Nanny’s fucking wheeling,” he shouts, for nobody to hear, and claps a couple times. “ Dude . You’re a fucking legend!”

Nando laughs. He taps something on his screen, then says, like it’s no big deal, “All I did was get his number.”

“And get him to agree to a date with you!” Ben cries. “All in the same night? That takes skill!”

Nando rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop smiling. “Look who’s talking,” he says, and then announces, “I sent you his Instagram.”

“Oh, say less .” Ben leans to grab his phone from the nightstand, and grins a little when he opens Instagram to find a follow request from Jess. He accepts it, then clicks on the profile Nando sent him. It brings him to a quinn cooper🌈🌷🧏‍♂️ , whose bio informs Ben that he’s kiersey college ‘22 and GRTA , whatever that second part means. A few taps through an aesthetically coordinated profile in muted, warm colors land him on a post from September 24th, in which a ginger twink with a white scarf is smiling in the apple orchard next to a very pretty blonde girl dressed all in pink. “Ginger boy?” he asks Nando, who’s texting yet again.

“Yeah,” Nando says, and then smiles up from his phone. “He’s cute, right?”

Ben cackles again, and nearly falls off his mattress. “Dude, you’re fucking simping right now.”

“Stop!” Nando’s smile hasn’t faded. Ben takes a minute to look through other pictures on Quinn’s Instagram. His most recent post is from October 6th, and it’s a shot of a tree Ben recognizes as one outside the performing arts center, in peak foliage. it’s a lovely time of year🍂 , reads his caption. Other, older posts include a big cast photo from some kind of play, a bunch of tulips in a huge garden, and three cats on a sofa. “Wow,” Ben remarks, once he’s done stalking (for now). When he looks up at Nando, he has to shake himself out to keep from yelling again. “ Dude ,” he says, instead. “You’re in deep. I can see it on your face.”

Nando presses his cheek into his fist, like he’s trying to rub the blush out. “I had a good night,” he murmurs, smiling down at his downturned phone in his lap.

A ‘good night’ seems like an understatement.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Ben announces, and jumps out of bed. “I’m gonna get dressed,” he starts, sauntering to his closet to prove it. “And then,” he adds, looking over his shoulder once he yanks his KMH sweatshirt off a hanger, “you’re gonna buy me brunch.”

Nando laughs. “Whaaat? No fair,” he says, but he doesn’t seem too pressed about it.

“And then ,” Ben continues, while he pulls out a pair of jeans, “you’re gonna tell me all about your new ginger friend.”

He waits for Nando to protest, but he doesn’t. Instead, when Ben turns again, Nando is smiling all the same, with his arms folded all smugly.

“Okay,” he says. “I can do that.”

Ben is going to lose his mind. For the first time, things seem to be looking up for Nando in the love department. He’s still smiling at his phone, like a fucking simp ass.

Ben laughs as he gets dressed. Good for him .

Ben doesn’t know it, but years down the road, he’ll tell this story— among many others— at Nando’s wedding to this new ginger friend. For now, though, he’s getting brunch and a dishing session out of this. It’s going to be even better than the dishing session he expected.

That’s another win for the fucking boys .

#mel writes #ficlet #my writing #kiersey college #rhode island headass #nandoooooooo #quindo #sort of #idk this came to me out of nowhere #i am a huge sucker for the nando&ben friendship dynamic #and for Soft Nando #in general

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santana-maribel · 4 years

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who: @santana-maribel and @finnsterhuddy. where: santana & quinn’s apartment. when: monday 30th March. what: two morons make grilled cheese and fate intervenes once more to fuck up santana’s thirsting. warnings: nada.

Finn arrived to Santana and Quinn's apartment, a bag with grilled cheese ingredients in one hand. Not to repeat the same mistake as last time, he only brought enough ingredients for two sandwiches each, as he left a whole loaf of bread and an unopened pack of cheese at Rachel's. He knocked on the door, feeling slightly nervous although he wasn't sure if he had anything to be nervous about. Flirting with Santana was, to say the least, a highlight of his day, and he was intrigued to know if she had any motives behind it or if she was just simply being herself. Either way, he had always liked her company despite not having had a lot of it. "Hey. Ready for some grilled cheese?"

It was weird, one day Finn existed only on the edge of her radar. He was just her greek life partner, Sam's roommate. Then all of a sudden, Santana found herself with a pull towards him, something she couldn't explain or control. She'd slipped out earlier, bought a couple of six packs at the grocery store. She'd briefly remembered seeing him with the brand she'd bought, at the disastrous sleepover the previous week. So that's what she got. She was trying to impress him a little, not that she'd admit it. The apartment was quiet, as she paced around the kitchen, resisting the urge to look at her cellphone again, when there was a knock at the door. She opened it and looked up, smiling softly at him. "Come on in, make yourself comfortable," she requested, closing it behind him.

Finn stepped inside the apartment, once again in awe of how much higher standard these other apartments held compared to his and Sam's. "Should I leave this in the kitchen?" he asked, holding up the bag with groceries.

She nodded and made her way into the spacious kitchen, gesturing for him to follow her. "You can put it in the fridge or leave it on the counter, it's up to you," she suggested, as she leaned casually against the island countertop. "There's beer too."

"Cool, I'll just leave it in the fridge for now, just in case," Finn decided, leaving the bag as is in their fridge. He wasn't sure if he should be drinking at this point, but a beer couldn't hurt, right? Plus, it seemed like a casual hang-out enough to be chill about it. He grabbed a beer while he was at it. "So, about that fried chicken?"

"Pass me one too, would you?" she asked, stretching her hand across to him to take the beer. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. She reached into the utensil drawer for an opener, flicking the cap off of her own and then passed it to Finn to use. "Next time. I need to buy a pot big enough to actually fry chicken or a deep fat fryer. But I promise, it'll be the best chicken of your entire life," she gave him a cheeky wink at the end of her sentence.

Finn grabbed another beer and slid it over on her side of the countertop. "Thanks," he said as he accepted the opener, flicking off the cap on his bottle. "You telling me you haven't been making fried chicken here yet? Disappointed." He let out a small laugh, shaking his head in faux disapproval. "Is this why you're making me come over, to make you food?"

She shook her head back at him, "I normally go to Sam's, well your place to do it, but I guess I haven't for a while," she laughed, feeling her face turn a little pink from embarrassment. Oh well, it was just another excuse to hang out, wasn't it? "I made you come over because i'm craving a grilled cheese and I heard a rumour that you make the best ones," she teased, before taking a large gulp of her beer.

“I would’ve been all over it if I had been there for it,” Finn said with a certainty. He was happy she wasn’t totally disgusted over his grilled cheese - although he couldn’t understand why anyone would be. All due to his unconventional, yet genius method. “You’ve requested the right man,” he declared in a darker, goofy voice. “You want one now or do you wanna chill for a while?”

She nodded in agreement, he would have been all over it if she'd been around their apartment and making food recently. She made a mental note to check in with Sam later, now that she was done busting his balls about body shot-gate. "We could chill, finish our drinks, it's been six minutes and no one has interrupted us," she teased, as she breezed past him to walk into the living room, brushing against him slightly as she did. "I've got a good feeling about tonight."

"That's pretty crazy," Finn nodded at Santana's observation. It had been a running joke between them that started at the frat rushes and later at the mixers with her sorority, and while it was funny at first, it slowly became more and more frustrating that they never really got to talk before someone interrupted. "Don't jinx it though, Quinn's gonna come home in any second now." His face plastered with a grin, he followed Santana into the living room, taking a large swig off his beer. "So, West Side Story, huh? Didn't know you were into musicals."

The inside joke about being interrupted was one of the most irritating things in her life at that time. It seemed that fate intervened, every single time they tried to get to know each other better. Maybe they were cursed. She shook her head, as she plopped down on the couch, curling her feet under her. "Quinn is with Jesse, date night before rehearsals start, so no interruptions there. Unless Sammy decides to double down on the other night and burst through the door," she laughed, although her eyes did flicker towards the wooden frame, if only for a moment. She shrugged at his comment about the musical, "it started as just something to do but now i'm kind of into it. I like to sing and obviously as a raging narcissist, I love the attention," she explained, taking another large swig from her beer bottle.

"I see," Finn said nonchalantly, his heart skipping a beat knowing that they--or at least Quinn--weren't happy as she had confided in him. In a sense, he should've been happy about it considering he had been brewing feelings for the blonde the past few months, but he couldn't bring himself to be that selfish knowing his friends' relationship was on the line. He let out a faint, heartless chuckle, too caught up in his head to react to Santana's comment. "Yeah." He snapped out of his thoughts, turning to face Santana as she spoke further. "I'm not sure I've heard you sing properly, or at least in a performance kinda way. Glad I said yes to run lines with you, maybe I'll get to hear you sing."

Santana narrowed her eyes at him, watching silently as the wheels turned in his brain. She wasn't sure what he was thinking about, only that it gave her a strange sort of sinking feeling in her stomach. Her fingers traced over the silver scar on her left arm, a nervous habit that she'd had for as long as she could remember. No memory of how she got it, just that it had always been there. She nodded, now a little absentmindedly as he spoke. "Yeah, I mean it'll be fun. I'm just glad you said yes, Rachel, Jesse, Kurt, Blaine, they're all super into it, you'll be more fun," she smiled at him, before draining the remaining liquid in the bottle. "I'm gonna grab another."

"They'd scare you off," Finn chuckled half-heartedly as he took another sip of his beer. "Glad to hear you have faith in me to not be crazy about it." He nodded as she announced she was getting another beer. "Grab one for me too?"

"Yes they would," she readily agreed. She loved her friends but their intensity was a little much at times. Which was why she could find solace in a quiet, chilled night with a handsome man. Santana nodded as she rose from her spot and carried her empty to the kitchen. Out of sight, she took a moment to suck down a greedy breath of air, calming herself. What the fuck was going on? Why was she this flustered by Finn goddamn Hudson? Unclear. She grabbed two bottles and the opener and returned to the couch, springing the caps off of them. "So you're serious about leaving the frat then?" she asked, settling her beer on her thigh.

Finn leaned back in his seat, letting himself get comfortable on the couch while waiting for Santana. It was pretty nice getting this quiet, alone time with her, considering they never made the time to do so otherwise. It felt comfortable, safe, almost as if he kinda belonged in a weird way. He didn't exactly understand why - it wasn't like he really knew her that well. But yet, here he was, feeling almost more comfortable with her than he did with himself. "Thanks, San." He sat up a little, clearing his throat before speaking. "Uh, yeah, I think I am. I have to convince Seb and the rest of the boys that I'm not doing it because I wanna leave them, which is gonna be hard because they already gave me so much crap for moving in with Sam," he sighed, taking a large, final swig of his first bottle before moving on to the next. "It sucks a lot, but it's for the best. At least for me."

She nodded understandingly. It was no secret that she wasn't super into her sorority either, so she understood. Like a lot of things in Santana's life, rushing a sorority had just been something to pass the time. "So you told Seb then? How did he take it?" she asked, remembering how irritated the other man had been when Finn moved out. She couldn't really be bothered with him giving a pissy attitude over this. "Like I said though, you gotta do what's best for you," her voice trailed off at the end, before piping back up softly, "I'll miss you, really. If it wasn't for you swooping in and saving me at that first mixer, I would have got paired with that super senior, the grabby dickhead." It was a sweet memory now, lanky freshman Finn slipping in front of her, saving her from getting her tits squeezed like a stress ball, under the thinly veiled excuse of hazing.

"Not good," Finn groaned, shaking his head at the thought of Sebastian and the other guys condemning and icing him out from their lives. If it did any good, it proved that they were never real friends to begin with. "Yeah, that guy was a total dick. Pretty sure he got kicked out of school too," he reminisced. Honestly, he didn't remember too much from that first mixer, but he did remember thinking Santana was hot and didn't at all deserve to be harassed by that awful dude. It made him smile knowing she had remembered it, though.

She didn't say anything about Sebastian's shitty attitude towards him instantly, just nodded and took a sip of her drink. She didn't need to hear anymore than what he had said to know exactly the mood her best friend would be in. Deciding she had mulled over it long enough, she reached over and squeezed his hand with her own. "Seb will come around and if he doesn't, if it's any consolation, you'll still have me," she gave a soft smile. "But who's going to save me from sex offenders now?" she teased, leaning over to prod him in the ribs with her other index finger.

Finn felt a smile creep onto his face when he felt Santana’s hand in his, squeezing hers in return. “Thanks,” he said softly. “Sorry—“ He jerked to the side as her finger poked his ribs, letting out a short, breathy laugh. “You’re on your own. Or maybe Seb can scare them off.” Shrugging, he took a sip of his beer. “You hungry yet? Let’s make some grilled cheese.”

If she believed in that shit, she could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat the minute he squeezed her hand back. But she simply shrugged it off, laughing alongside him when he reacted to her prod. She nodded, she was actually quite hungry. She'd almost forgotten the bullshit reason that she had made up to get him to come over. "Sure," she agreed. She took another quick gulp of beer for courage or whatever, she didn't know, but the ice cold alcohol was welcomed. She stood up and walked into the kitchen, setting her beer on the counter, before hopping up beside it, crossing her legs at the knee.

Finn got up and walked into the kitchen alongside Santana, opening the fridge to get the ingredients. "Why don't you get me an iron and some tin foil and I'll show you the greatest way to make a grilled cheese?"

Santana nodded, pointing towards the drawer closest to Finn. "Tinfoil is in there, i'll go grab the iron," she chirped, hopping down off of the counter to go to the laundry cupboard in the hallway. She wasn't someone who ironed often, so really it didn't matter if the iron got all messed up anyway. Lifting it off of the shelf, she wrapped the cord up tightly and brought it back to the kitchen. "Your tool," she giggled, handing it over to him, before resuming her position on the counter top, the almost empty beer in hand.

Finn went to the drawer she pointed to, grabbing the tin foil and making sheets for each sandwich. He began doing his thing - buttering the bread slices on both sides, though lighter on the side touching the foil, then putting two slices of American cheese on one slice per sandwich. He assembled them, packed them in the foil and waited for Santana to return with the iron. "Awesome. Get ready for some epicness," he announced, turning the iron on and waiting for it to get warm. "This doesn't look bad, does it?"

If someone had told her a month ago, that she'd be sitting on her kitchen counter, throwing back beers and waiting on a grilled cheese with Finn, she would have laughed in their face. But the world had a funny way of surprising her. She watched, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing at just how serious and methodical he was, as he assembled the sandwich. "No, it looks pretty good," she admitted.

Not even a week ago, Santana just about refused to try his grilled cheese or even believed it could be any good. Yet, she somehow had changed her mind, much to Finn's surprise (but excitement, nonetheless). Truth be told, his grilled cheese wasn't that unique, which everyone probably thought it was due to the way it was made, but he wasn't going to tell anyone that. "Right? People think I'm doing this to be weird, but honestly, it's just a convenience thing. It became a habit when my mom would use the kitchen and I would crave a grilled cheese, so I saw someone make it with an iron on TV and started doing it myself," he told. "And I guess it just kinda became a thing after that. I do know how to make a grilled cheese the usual way, just so you know."

Santana nodded, more bemused than anything else, watching as Finn wrapped the sandwiches in foil and then turned to speak to her about his method. She balanced the bottle on her thigh and listened intently as to how he came about his methods, still stifling a giggle that threatened to escape her. He was so cute and like she had said in her previous texts to him; it made he nervous. A hissing brought her back to earth with a bump and she eyeballed the iron. "I think it's ready to go, Chef Hudson," she remarked, eyes on him as he went to work. This was the most fun that Santana had, had in a long time, it was almost embarrassing how much she was enjoying simply being able to let go of everything else and just enjoy Finn's company.

Finn took Santana's cue and grabbed the iron to put it on the foil-packaged grilled cheese. "If you're new at this, you should hold the iron while it's on the sandwich. But you know, I'm a pro, so," he teased, laying the iron carefully on the sandwich and letting it rest on it for 30 seconds. "You should try the next one, if you want."

"Are you sure that i'm ready?" she joked, watching as he placed the iron on top of the little silver package that he'd made. Her stomach grumbled a little, as she waited for the sandwich to be ready. "Thanks for coming over and feeding me," she smiled at him. It was undeniably comfortable with him here. For some reason, it felt like he belonged. The thought made panic run through her body and she drained the rest of the golden liquid in her beer bottle.

Finn flipped over the sandwich, repeating the same steps with the other side. "I think you are," he encouraged, flashing a cheeky smile as he took the iron off the sandwich. "It's gonna be a little hot, so you have to be careful." Slowly, he took off the foil, revealing his infamous grilled cheese. The bread had browned slightly, but not charred, and the cheese had just begun to ooze out the bread. "Can you get me a knife?"

Her stomach grumbled again and she rubbed it soothingly, ignoring how her stomach then lurched when he shot her a devastatingly handsome smile. She nodded, watching as he unwrapped the foil to show her the sandwich. It looked absolutely to die for, she thought inside her head. Santana lifted a knife from the block on the counter next to her and held it out for him to take. "It looks really good," she acknowledged.

"Thanks," Finn said, grabbing the knife and cutting the grilled cheese in halves. He picked up one half for Santana and the other for himself. "Cheers. Hope you like it."

She took the sandwich from Finn and smiled at him, before she raised it to her mouth and took a large bite. Maybe it was the fact she was several beers deep, or the fact that she was battling a weird, out of nowhere infatuation with the boy next to her; but the grilled cheese might have been the best thing she'd ever eaten at that moment. "It's so good," she groaned through mouthfuls.

"Right?" Finn was truly excited that she actually liked it, but he never really doubted she would. It was a classic grilled cheese, after all. He took a last swig of his beer before handing the iron over to Santana, signalling her to try the next one. "Give it a go."

She sat the iron down on the counter for a moment and hopped off of her make-shift seat, slotting in directly next to him. She'd never quite realised just how small she was standing next to Finn and she lifted the foil wrapped sandwich and placed it in front of her. Heeding his original warning, she lifted the iron and held it on the sandwich, not letting her hands move from it, her tongue poking out a little in concentration. If she managed to screw this up, he'd never let her live it down.

Finn took a large bite of his sandwich, stepping carefully behind Santana. “If you want, you can put a little pressure on it too,” he said, gently laying his hand on top of hers to press the sandwich down. It felt nice being this close to her, almost as if it was something familiar instead of new, despite not having been close to her like this before. “Like this.”

If she thought she was in trouble before, when he was simply near her, Santana wasn't entirely prepared for Finn to step behind her, press his body into hers and clasp his hand over hers. Her entire brain was in panic mode now, as she kept her eyes down, ignoring how right it felt to have Finn grasping her hand. "Like this," she repeated, thumb brushing against the side of his hand.

Finn had always enjoyed flirting, knowing he had a charm that seemed to work most of the time. It was fun, easy and harmless. With Santana, it felt different and he couldn't point his finger at exactly what it was that was different. He never really thought about having real feelings for Santana, despite acknowledging that she was stunning, smart and a lot of fun to be around. But maybe that was what he was feeling now, or? "You're doing good," he said in a low voice, leaning in closer to the girl.

She'd been teetering a line with Finn recently, one that like him, she couldn't explain. Even Sebastian, her best friend and current bed warmer, who'd never once got jealous before when she'd been into someone, could tell that there was something different when it came to Finn. She didn't dare turn around to face him, not yet. Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest, she was afraid that he could hear it. "Well, I learned from the best," she chuckled softly, letting out a small shiver as his warm breath hit her bare skin.

With his hand still on Santana's, Finn moved his thumb slightly by instinct to rub her hand softly. He had bent down slightly due to the height difference, his lips inching closer to her face. Was he about to do this? Every bone in his body compelled him to make a move, and it was getting harder and harder to resist. It wasn't like he needed to resist - there was nothing in the way. Yet, he couldn't get a grip on why he didn't just turn her around, lift her onto the counter and finally feel her lips against his. The thought of it made him nervous. Maybe, that was why she was nervous now, too. He could feel his palms starting to sweat, worried that she would sense it too.

Santana was practically frozen, trapped between the kitchen counter and Finn. Not that she minded it at all in the slightest normally, but right now, she was panicking. His hand brushed hers and she let out a soft whimper at the small interaction. She wasn't the kind of girl who considered consequences, she simply just took things that she wanted. And fuck, she wanted Finn. There was no explanation, no reason, she simply just knew that she needed to take a chance and make a move. Yet, she was terrified. This was uncharted territory; a culmination of so many attempts to get to know one another. Now they were alone, with no interruptions, his lips dangerously close to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

It was like the whole world had stopped and it was only the two of them and nothing else. Finn had never really felt that way before, not intensely as this moment felt. This moment felt like a now-or-never kind of ordeal, and if he missed out on taking a chance, he'd never get the opportunity again. They were unfortunate, bound to have their chances taken away from them in a heartbeat, and he was certain he had to act on it now or someone would barge in the door. He grabbed the hand he was already holding, jerking his hand up her arm and swiftly turned her around so they were facing each other and looking into each other's eyes. He moved his hands to her waist, scooting her body closer to his and he leaned down to kiss her. His lips had barely just begun to touch hers when he registered a loud beeping noise coming from somewhere, and he let go of Santana's body the moment he realized why it was beeping. The hot iron on the foil had been lying on it for far too long, and the scent of smoke was becoming more and more prominent. "Crap," he muttered as he quickly removed the iron from the sandwich, waving off the smoke that was forming in front of them.

Time seemed to slow down, as they stood together in the kitchen, fingers lacing together. The room was silent, save for the sound of their breathing, her shallow breaths filling the air. She considered saying something but before she could, Finn’s hands were on her, spinning her around to face him. This was a side of him that she'd never seen before; the take charge and get shit done side. She was definitely a fan of it. His hands moved to her waist and she pressed her body into his, arms moving to circle around his neck. “Finn...” she whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he closed the gap between the two of them. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. She could hear ringing and this time, it wasn’t in her ears because of the man in front of her. Her eyes shot open and she glanced up towards the ceiling. The smoke alarm above their heads was beeping, smoke riding from the sandwich underneath the iron. She’d committed the cardinal grilled cheese sin and taken her focus off of the iron. “Fuck,” she groaned, grabbing a kitchen towel and wafting underneath the alarm. The moment was lost.

The smoke alarm going off really slapped Finn back to reality. Dumbfounded, he stood there taking a moment to realize what had happened. Time went so fast, yet simultaneously so slow, but now they were faced with another situation where things got cut off between the two of them, only this time it was due to the lack of attention being paid to the grilled cheese. "I got it," he said as he reached for the smoke alarm, ripping the battery off the device to stop the shrieking sound. "Crazy, huh?" He attempted to chuckle it off, not sure whether to find the situation humorous or not, as the atmosphere was pretty intense just a short minute before.

She'd promised Aubrey that she'd give it one more chance, that she would make her move and see where it led them. She'd done that and once again, they had failed to take it further. It really was like the universe couldn't stand to see them together, couldn't stand to see them explore whatever the flirtation that they had going on. Maybe that was it really, maybe it just had to stay a flirtation. She gave him a half smile and lifted the now burnt sandwich, wrinkling her nose at the smell before she tossed it in the trash can. Part of her wanted to grab his face and press her lips against his, hard, but she busied herself tidying up the mess that they'd made. "Crazy, yeah," she murmured, as she looked over to him, trying to get a read on his thoughts.

"At least we got to eat one," Finn comforted, his genuine attempt at lightening up the mood falling short even for him. "I don't wanna be weird, but I think I have to go. I got a presentation for human development class tomorrow, so I gotta get that finished." It wasn't like he tried to escape this moment, but that was probably what it seemed like. Maybe that was for the best. "It's been really cool hanging with you, Santana. We should, uh, do it again."

For someone like Santana, the feeling of utter humiliation and rejection that was washing over her body, was completely foreign. This wasn't supposed to happen. She stayed silent for a moment before she gave him a half smile. "Yeah, sure," she said quietly. Her appetite for food was lost and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. She was right; he wasn't into her. At least now she had concrete confirmation. They'd almost kissed, he'd ran out straight after it. Hard to find a grey area with that. She helped him pack up his things and walked him to the front door. "Well, you know where to find me, Huds," she offered, in a voice that didn't quite sounds like her own. "Good luck with your... thing," she called after him. Truthfully, she hadn't listened to exactly what it was, just that he was most likely making an excuse to get out of the apartment, quickly and without hurting her feelings. She closed the door behind him and let out a soft sigh, as she leaned against the cold wood. Fuck feelings.

#002.#face to face: finn #face to face.

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ksfd89 · 6 years

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Welcome Home

Literati fic for Day 5 of AGilmoreChristmas!

Lorelai's house is like something from a picture. Chrystallised in snow, it resembles the gingerbread house Sookie makes this time of year and, as Lorelai remarked, the entire town looks like it was built in a snowglobe. Rory tucks her legs up on the couch, taking the cup of coffee her mother hands her. This year, she doesn't care how few barcounts Stars Hollow has. It's good to get away.

"You okay, sweets?" Lorelai asks, sitting next to her and Rory smiles and nods. She glances over at the basket beside her to see if her daughter's stirring. Charlotte is still soundly asleep, the Santa hat Lorelai gave her tickling her cheek, and Rory smiles.

"She's still out for the count," she says and Lorelai sighs.

"You'd think she'd be more excited for her first Christmas."

"Mom, she's five months old."

"I know, I know."

"Anyway, I'll take as much sleep as I can," Rory says, lowering her voice. "Charlotte still won't sleep through the night."

"Give it time," Lorelai says and Rory nods. "You were a fussy baby too and then you just settled, until you found your voice. You slept pretty well though."

"I hope it's not too long with her," Rory says, somewhat pessimistically, and Lorelai pats her hand.

"Has it been tougher lately? You sound stressed."

"I've been stressed since she was born."

"I know - but more lately."

"I'm just tired," Rory says honestly. "You know, sometimes I think she's still mad at me for moving back to New York. I think she was calmest when we brought her here after the hospital."

"Well, who wouldn't love it here?" Lorelai teases but she adds, "You know you guys can move back here. Anytime, hon. The door's open."

Rory smiles and nods, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she places a hand on the edge of the basket, looking into Charlotte's face. When her daughter's eyes are open they are bright blue, just like hers. Baby eyes, everyone said, but they haven't changed. Lorelai eyes, Luke called them. Rory likes that. Under the Santa hat Charlotte has a swirl of dark hair and Emily said, somewhat sadly, that she looked just like her mother. Rory didn't tell her how she prayed that hair would stay.

"She looks so peaceful," Lorelai whispers and, as if on cue, Charlotte's eyes snap open and she starts to scream.

"You jinxed it!" Rory moans and Lorelai cries, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"You had a baby, how could you forget?" Rory demands. She scoops Charlotte up, snuggling her against her chest. The Santa hat falls off but Rory wraps Charlotte tightly in the flannel shirt Luke gave her. It serves as a blanket, ever since Rory brought her home, and most of the time it calms Charlotte down. Now, however, she sobs inconsolably and Rory deduces, "She's hungry. I can't believe what an appetite she has."

"Well, she's got it from both of us."

Rory rolls her eyes, sitting back against the couch to feed the baby. Charlotte's cries cease as she eats and Rory lets out a long breath.

"Are things really okay?" Lorelai asks anxiously and Rory exclaims, "Mom, you're asking me every two seconds!"

"Well, I worry! I can't help it, I'm your mother, and this one's grandmother." Lorelai wrinkles her nose at the word but goes on, "I want to make sure you're both okay."

"We're both okay."

"Because if it's not okay -"

"Mom, we're okay," Rory says, sitting up as Charlotte finishes. "If we weren't, I'd tell you. And you call every week, sometimes twice a week, so you can see."

"I can see how tired you are."

"I'm a mom!" Rory exclaims. "That's part of the deal, right?"

"Right," Lorelai agrees, and then sighs and smiles. "I'm just glad you guys are here. I've missed you."

"We've missed you too," Rory says, smiling over Charlotte's head. She burps her and Lorelai holds out her arms.

"Come here, cutie."

"Do you mean me or the baby?" Rory jokes. She passes Charlotte over and Lorelai kisses her cheeks and each of her baby fingers. Charlotte’s mouth breaks into a wide smile and Lorelai laughs, kissing her again.

"I can't believe how big she is already."

"Next year it'll be even worse," Rory remarks, and Lorelai nods. "Maybe she'll actually enjoy Christmas though."

"Charlotte knows!" Lorelai protests. "She just doesn't know how to say it, right, angel?"

Charlotte stares at both of them, wide-eyed, and Lorelaia and Rory laugh.

"How about we take Charlotte for a Christmas walk?" Lorelai suggests. "Show her the town?"

"Mom, we went out this afternoon. I didn't think Miss Patty would ever give her back."

"Charlotte didn't see all the lights before."

"Okay, but I'm blaming you if Taylor kidnaps her," Rory says darkly. "He kept saying she could be used in the Nativity this year."

"But then he said Jesus was a boy, remember?" Lorelai says. "Come on, maybe we can snaffle some hot chocolate."

It's freezing out. Rory has put on a coat, scarf and hat and is still chilled through and she holds Charlotte closely, half thinking they should just go back. The town is beautiful though. The Christmas lights are shining all over the snow, like splashes of gold, and the tree stands proudly in the middle of the square. Rory stares up at it, remembering how last year the scent made her nauseous. Or maybe it was the situation. She didn't suppose Logan appreciated her news as a Christmas gift.

"Rory?"

Lorelai is looking at her, confused, and Rory shakes herself, smiling.

"Just admiring the tree."

Charlotte has dozens of admirers herself. They are waylaid by Miss Patty, Babette and Morey and Kirk.

"You know you can borrow Petal anytime," Kirk tells them. "She's always been a great buddy when I've thrown up, and I hear babies do that."

"You heard correctly."

"I'm sure Charlotte throws up as much as I do. Petal can clear that up in seconds."

"Thanks, Kirk," Lorelai says deftly. "Merry Christmas."

"This town is weird," Rory remarks and Lorelai laughs. "You're noticing now?"

Taylor gives them hot chocolate with a ten percent discount on account of the season, and reminds them of the Princess Charlotte sundae he concocted.

"I made it in her honour," he says sadly and Rory says, "And we love it, Taylor. But it's not really the weather for sundaes."

"Never stopped you before," Taylor sniffs, and Rory can't argue. "What's your daughter going to say when you don't buy her special sundae?"

"Seeing as all she can say now is baby sounds, I think we're good," Rory says. "Thanks, Taylor."

"I expect you to buy sundaes next time!" he calls as they walk out. "It's not for me, it's for her!"

"Crazy town," Lorelai comments, putting her arm around Rory. "Come on, let's go home."

They walk back as fast as the icy ground allows, and the house's lights are welcome and warm. Rory sees there's still no extra car and asks Lorelai, "What time is Jess getting here?"

"I'm not sure, angel. Luke'll know. Let's go in, it's so cold!"

Luke has started cooking and delicious smells fill Rory's nostrils. She breathes them in, instantly hungry, but a dull feeling takes its place when Luke tells them,

"Jess says the roads are jammed. He'll probably be here tomorrow, not tonight."

"That's too bad," Rory says. She concentrates on taking off Charlotte's coat and hat and jumps as Lorelai says, "Hey, let me hang those up. Go spoil your appetite."

"Charlotte needs changing," Rory says, for once relieved at that distraction. "That'll spoil my appetite, no need for snacks!"

Lorelai laughs and Rory takes Charlotte to the bathroom, changes her and takes her back through so Lorelai can spoil her some more.

The rest of the evening passes quietly. Rory and Lorelai have a movie marathon, showing Charlotte all the classics, before putting her to bed and watching some more. Rory's eyelids droop during some kind of Lifetime drama, a handful of chocolate halfway to her mouth, and she's dimly aware of her mother saying, "You're falling asleep."

"No," Rory yawns, letting her eyelids drop. The next thing she knows a blanket is being tucked around her and she looks up to see Lorelai bending over her, a tender look in her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, angel," her mother whispers. "Get some rest."

"I'm glad I'm home," Rory says, half-awake, and Lorelai smiles, running a hand through her hair.

"I'm glad you're home too. Goodnight, baby. I love you."

When Rory opens her eyes again the room is empty and dark. She sits up, wincing at the crick in her neck, and the time on her phone reads that it's just past eleven thirty. Rory opens the phone properly and sees there are no new messages and sits back against the cushions, feeling jumbled. It's not Christmas yet, but Rory is afraid Logan won't call at all. Part of her doesn't want him to. She’s barely spoken to him since Charlotte was born.

Getting up, Rory stumbles into her bedroom, her legs a little numb. Her breasts are hard and full and Rory is more relieved when Charlotte wakes up, indignantly hungry. Rory turns on the light, looking around her childhood room as Charlotte feeds. Her books are still on the shelves and Rory imagines showing them to Charlotte as she grows older, giving them to her to read. She doesn't know if Charlotte will even like books, but she always seems captivated when Rory reads to her. She tried a story Jess gave her and Charlotte dribbled all over the page.

Rory burps Charlotte as she finishes eating and lays her back in the cradle. Luke built it right before Charlotte's birth and there's an ABC carved into the headboard, along with an alphabet quilt. It's perfect, but tonight Charlotte doesn't want to lie down. She fusses and then starts crying properly, filling the room with loud wails.

"What's up?" Rory asks, picking her up. "You're wearing reindeer pyjamas, kid! How can you not want to sleep? You know it's Christmas Eve? Well, you probably don't, but Santa can't come if you don't sleep."

Charlotte ignores her and Rory sighs. "I should have figured you're too little for that to work."

She walks around the room in an endless circle, rubbing Charlotte's back and kissing her cheeks. Charlotte won't sleep at all and by now Rory's wide awake. She feels restless and cooped up, as she has for most of the past few months, and finally decides they both need some air. Tiptoeing out, she puts her coat on and buttons Charlotte's tightly around her, as well as adding a blanket and a scarf and hat. Opening the door, Rory steps out and then gasps. Everything shimmers, silent and frozen. The world, for a moment, is perfectly still. Rory closes her eyes, breathing in and out, and feels herself relax. She walks away from the house and down into the town, stopping by the gazebo. Charlotte's stopped crying by now, and Rory looks down at her blue eyes.

"This was Mommy's favourite place," she tells her. "I used to come here all the time, with your Aunt Lane, or just by myself. I'd have a big pile of books and I'd be happy all day. I was so happy then."

She feels a little sad, thinking of her younger self, but adds, "I'm going to take you here too. Maybe we can read together, when you're older."

Charlotte blinks and Rory laughs. Looking up, Rory sees all the lights are on in the church and is confused before remembering. Midnight Mass. She edges closer towards the building. Lane is likely to be inside, but Rory stands out, closing her eyes and listening to the soft melody of the carols. She imagines the Nativity and is sure the same old doll is being used. Rory smiles, listening to the music and remembers a line from a book she once read. Could be better, could be worse...at least there's a baby at the center of it. Her own baby wriggles a little and Rory lifts her up, giving Charlotte a kiss.

"Let's get you home, angel. It's cold outside."

Rory turns and, just then, a car slows and stops. She is puzzled for a moment and then exclaims, "Jess!"

Jess cuts the engine and gets out, smiling.

"What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? I live here!" Rory laughs. "Or I did - you know what I mean. What are you doing here? Luke said you couldn't get here until tomorrow."

"I didn't think I'd make it but the roads cleared. I could have stayed in a motel but figured I'd surprise you."

"Well, you certainly did."

Rory takes him in; his jacket shrugged on and his crooked smile, his dark eyes warm. Surprise at seeing Jess is never longlived. Of course he’s here, of course he made it. Happiness bubbles through her chest, wiping the melancholy from before.

Rory smiles at him and Jess grins down at Charlotte.

"How is she?"

"Great. Well, a little restless, but she's calmed down now."

"Felt the need to take her on an impromptu town tour?"

"Neither of us could sleep. Besides, it's safer now that everyone else is in bed."

"I can imagine. May I?"

Jess gestures to hold Charlotte and Rory nods, gently passing her into his arms.

"Hey," Jess says softly to her. Charlotte stares up at him and then her eyes flutter closed.

"She's beautiful," Jess says. "Not that I'm surprised you had a beautiful baby."

"Why, thank you."

"And smart too."

"You know she can't read yet."

"She's going to be smart."

Rory doesn't argue and Jess adds, "She's twice the size since I last saw her."

"And twice as loud," Rory says ruefully. Jess chuckles but Rory's smile is faint and he pauses.

"Hey - how about we go sit somewhere warmer? I'm freezing my butt off, not to mention other things."

"Watch it mister, you're talking in front of a baby," Rory scolds but she's grinning. "Me too."

They head back to the house, leaving the car. "It'll drive Taylor crazy," Jess commented. "That's half the joy of Christmas."

It's only when they're back inside, Jess holding Charlotte as Rory puts on a pot of coffee, that she starts to feel shy. She hasn't seen Jess since summer, when Charlotte was just a few weeks old. He was there when she was born too, waiting outside. Lorelai was in with her, holding her hand, and Jess waited with Luke and Emily. Rory was the one to tell him. It's a girl, she said, her voice tired with pain. She was elated and exhausted and couldn't believe it was real, but she asked to tell Jess. She remembers the smile lighting up his face, replacing the concern which had been there before. Rory let him hold her, her nameless little daughter, and she'd never seen such a gentle look on his face before. He asked if she had a name yet and Rory said no, just baby Gilmore girl. You're amazing, he'd said, sitting beside her. You did it. And then Logan arrived and Jess left them alone.

Logan asked if she was okay. I'm fine, she said automatically and had laughed at herself. I just had a baby. I feel like I've been run over. Logan had taken her hand but Rory pushed the baby into his arms. Look, she's a girl. Did you think she would be? Logan said he hadn't imagined anything at all, piercing Rory's heart with pain. He'd brought a giant bear which he put on the chair, and walked around the room with the baby in his arms, looking terrified the entire time. She's so small. They made an arrangement - he'd see her whenever Logan had work in the states, and figure the rest out later. No, Odette didn't know. No, he didn't want to tell her. It's fine as it is. Rory named their baby Charlotte Lorelai and he said it was pretty. Then he went back to London, and it was Rory and Charlotte alone.

The first three weeks of Charlotte's life are a blur, but Rory remembers Jess coming to visit. She was staying with Lorelai for a little while, getting used to things, and Jess came for a few days while he had a thing in Hartford. He brought Charlotte baby books, gave her a bath and changed her diaper. He said again how he highly approved of the name choice, after Charlotte Brontë and her mother, and asked Rory how she was. Fine, she'd said. Because that was what you had to say.

"I think the coffee's done," Jess says, making her jump. "Need a hand?"

"Oh - thanks." Rory takes Charlotte from him, watching Jess pick out two cups and pouring the drinks. They go and sit down and Rory gently places Charlotte in her basket. She doesn't sleep but lies still, uncomplaining, and Rory releases her breath.

"So how are you?" Jess asks and Rory opens her mouth to give the standard response, but then says, "Exhausted."

"I bet."

"It's been so hard," Rory says and Jess frowns sympathetically.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Rory says quietly. "No one tells you what having a baby is really like. I love her - I love her so much it's insane, but it's so hard. Sometimes -"

She stops herself and Jess says, "What?"

"Sometimes I think I did the wrong thing," Rory says hesitantly. "But she's my girl. I love her. Even as I think it, I don't."

"What does Lorelai say?"

"I haven't told Mom. If I tell her, she'll worry and want me to move here, and I don't want to. I want to try New York first, at least for now."

"Are you doing okay?" Jess asks seriously and Rory nods.

"Yeah, it's just - some days are harder than others. And it's been hard today. I mean, I'm happy, it's Christmas, but it's not - I guess it's not how I imagined. Logan said he'd call, but he hasn't."

"Do you want him to?"

"I want him to for her," Rory says. "He calls now and then and said it still doesn't feel real to him, that he has a kid."

"That sucks," Jess says and Rory nods, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"He loves her. He's still in shock over it, I guess."

Jess looks like he has more to say, but simply sips his drink. They finish their coffee in silence and Rory says,

"Should I wake Mom and Luke?"

"No, keep it a surprise, or whatever," Jess says. "I'm beat. Had a signing yesterday."

"Lots of adoring fans?"

"Just a few," Jess grins. "How's your writing going?"

"It's not," Rory admits. "I've had no time since she's been born. I finished my first draft right before I went into labour. It was so funny, it was like she knew I was done."

Jess laughs and asks, "Can I read it?"

"Sure," Rory says, after a pause. "It's still on my desk, in my old room. It feels like forever ago that I looked at it."

"Is it okay if I add thoughts?"

"What kind of thoughts?"

"I don't know yet, Gilmore," Jess says maddeningly. "Whatever thoughts I have."

"Add away," Rory says, amused. "It's pretty messy right now."

"Thanks," Jess says and Rory smiles. Charlotte whimpers a little and Rory picks her up.

"She needs to get to sleep."

"She's not the only one," Jess agrees. "Night, Rory."

"Night, Jess."

Rory puts Charlotte back in her cradle and gets back into bed. She's just thinking that drinking coffee may have been foolish when she falls asleep.

Rory and Charlotte are woken the next morning by Lorelai waving candy canes in the air and two stuffed stockings.

"Merry Christmas, guys! And guess who made it last night after all, besides Santa?"

The morning is spent in their pyjamas, unwrapping gifts. Charlotte is enchanted by the presents and happiness around her, letting out excited burbles and grabbing at the torn paper.

"Kid has got tons of gifts and she's more interested in the box," Rory says, shaking her head, and Lorelai laughs.

"Welcome to having a kid!"

Emily calls, thanking them for their gifts. She reminds Lorelai of the time she’s agreed to visit next week and asks Rory pointedly how Logan is. Rory gives general answers,deliberately vague, and weakly pushes the phone against Charlotte’s cheek. Her daughter makes babbling sounds until Rory takes it back, sheepishly wishing her grandmother a merry Christmas and new pictures soon. They get dressed for lunch, Rory putting Charlotte in the Santa outfit Lorelai sewed the week before. Everyone exclaims, snapping pictures, until it all gets overwhelming for Charlotte and she starts crying. They take her for a walk to calm her down, Jess staying behind to catch up on some notes and offering to help Luke prepare dinner. Lorelai and Rory are out for more than an hour, bumping into Lane and her boys and helping them build a snowman. Rory is already exhausted when they get back, despite it still being early, and is envious of Charlotte as she puts her down for a nap. She's considering napping too but is wide awake as her phone chimes. It's Logan.

"I'll be right back," Rory says, seeing her mother in the hall. She slips out and takes a deep breath before saying, "Hi."

"Hey. Merry Christmas."

"Yeah. Merry Christmas."

There's a long pause and then Logan asks,

"You guys okay?"

"Charlotte's fine," Rory says frostily. "We both are."

"I sent her some stuff," Logan says. "It'll be there soon...I sent toys and a dress."

"Thanks."

"I hope she likes it," Logan says. He sounds sad and Rory asks, "Do you want me to send you pictures? I took a ton of Charlotte today."

"Send them later," Logan says and Rory bites her lip. For a moment she's furious but instead says, "Are you having a good day?"

"It's quiet," Logan says. "How about you?"

"The opposite."

"Right."

There's another awkward silence and then Rory says, "You know, it's been a year, Logan. Since I told you."

"I remember," Logan says. "I couldn't believe it."

Neither of them could, Rory thinks. She thinks back to sitting on his couch, the Christmas tree in the corner and the smell making her sick. It almost seemed mocking as she saw the expression on Logan’s face. He kept asking her over and over, are you sure? Rory wanted to say she wasn’t. It was the week before Christmas and it almost felt like a dream.

"Can you believe it now?" Rory asks, feeling Logan pause across the miles.

"She's here."

"Yes, but you're not."

"Do you want me to be?" Logan asks and Rory squeezes her eyes shut.

"No. That's not what I mean." She pauses and then asks, "Do you?"

"I'm married now," Logan says simply. "You said it was over."

"It is," Rory agrees. "You knew it would be. Nothing's changed."

Logan is quiet, but doesn't challenge her. Rory is trying to find more words when Logan says,

"I have to go. We're seeing Odette's family soon."

"Oh. Okay."

"Give Charlotte a kiss from me," Logan says quickly. "See you, Rory."

"Yeah. See you."

They hang up. Rory turns back and bumps into Lorelai, who's waiting by the door.

"Everything okay, sweets?" she asks. Rory is going to say yes, of course, but then suddenly she's crying, holding her mother tightly. All she's aware of is Lorelai stroking her hair and murmuring reassurance and finally Rory breaks away, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Man, I'm crying at Christmas, that's not allowed."

"What is it, Rory?"

"I messed up," Rory says, starting to feel herself cry again. "I've failed her."

"Rory. No."

"It's Christmas and her dad keeps her secret."

"Sometimes it's harder, on holidays," Lorelai says gently. She leads Rory to the porch swing where they sit, brushing the snow off the cushions. "I'd take you to Mom and Dad's and Christopher would be there, or he wouldn't, and it would be so hard, either way. They'd make me feel awful about not being married to Chris. Every year it was the same. Half the time we'd have a big fight."

"I remember," Rory says, sniffling, and Lorelai says, "There's no rule that you have to be happy."

"Mom," Rory says, looking up. "It's been hard. Really hard."

"I know," Lorelai says gently and Rory goes on, "Half the time I don't know what I'm doing. And I feel guilty and afraid and that it's never enough."

She starts crying again and Lorelai looks like she might cry herself.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Rory, my job is to worry about you!"

"But I don't want to feel like I can't do it," Rory says, letting Lorelai hold her. "You did it, and you were twice as young as me."

"I did it, but I had help. I was home the first year you were born, and then Mia took me in. And yes, I did most of the rest alone and I'm proud of myself, but it was hard, and it was lonely."

"But you still did it."

"And you're doing it too," Lorelai says, looking into Rory's eyes. "It's okay to find it hard. It's okay to ask for help. I am always here for you."

"I know," Rory says. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, angel. Just talk to me. Talk to me and keep loving that little girl as much as you do."

"No question on that," Rory says, managing to smile, and Lorelai squeezes her hand.

"Ready to go inside?"

They head back in and Rory hears a crying from the bedroom. She turns to go in and then stops in surprise. Jess has got there first and has lifted Charlotte up, kissing her cheeks.

"There's a girl," he says gently. "Beautiful girl."

Rory watches him for a moment, heart full, when Jess sees her and stops.

"Sorry," he says shyly. "She was crying, so -"

"It's fine," Rory says, going in. "Thanks."

Charlotte is drifting back into sleep. Rory takes her back, gently placing her into the cradle, when her eyes catch the manuscript on the desk. There's a pen on top and Rory goes over to it, seeing notes studded all over it.

"I put thoughts in the margins," Jess said sheepishly. "Had a lot to say."

"Good or bad?" Rory's tone is light but she feels embarrassed, as if she's been caught without any clothes on, and Jess insists,

"Good. It's so good, Rory."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not, I swear," he promises. "Although..."

"What?" Rory asks, heart thudding and then laughing as Jess says,

"It did not happen like that, me asking you to bail."

"Of course it did."

"I was not trying something."

"Jess, come on. We were seventeen."

"I was only trying to impress you," Jess says and they both laugh. "Maybe I was hoping for something else too. But I didn't get my black eye how you thought."

"How did you get it?"

"Come on, I'll tell you. Let's take a walk."

They walk into the hall, telling Luke they're just getting some air, and then step out. It's earlier than the night before but still quiet everywhere.

"I guess everyone's busy," Rory says. They walk silently down towards the lake, without talking, and their breath comes out in clouds.

"Still my favourite place in Stars Hollow," Jess says. "And this is where it happened."

"Luke pushing you in?"

"And getting my black eye. It was a swan."

"Excuse me?"

"It beaked me, right in the eye. It's a vicious bird!"

Rory looks at him and then laughs and laughs, Jess shaking his head, and finally Rory says,

"Well, as long as we're telling things, I devil egged your car."

"I knew it," Jess says, rolling his eyes. "That's not exactly a secret."

"Guess we were both hoodlums," Rory chuckles. "Man, it all feels like forever ago."

"I think there's still a little hoodlum in us," Jess says, smiling. "Beneath growing up."

Rory nods, but she feels sad, suddenly, and then Jess takes her hand.

"Hey," he says, looking into her eyes. "It'll be okay."

"I know," Rory says quietly. "Thanks."

He squeezes her hand, using his other to brush the hair out of her eyes and Rory steps closer to him. A thrill is in her, unannounced, and Jess breaks their silence by saying weakly, "This is the part in the movie where the guy lifts out the mistletoe."

"No mistletoe?" Rory guesses and he nods. "No mistletoe."

"Doesn't matter," Rory breathes, and she is leaning forward, and suddenly she and Jess are kissing, out on the lake on Christmas Day. They kiss, soft then heavy, and then Jess steps back and says, "I didn't plan that. I'm sorry."

"Me either. I - don't be sorry."

"I wasn't going to kiss you," Jess says and Rory nods. "I know. It's okay."

"It's okay?" Jess asks and Rory smiles. She's dazed, the day is shining, and says,

"Yes, it is."

"I kissed you," Jess says. He sounds in shock and Rory says, "I kissed you too."

They walk back silently, glancing at each other now and then. Rory doesn't know what it means, but for now it's Christmas. Jess has to drive back anyway. He hugs Luke, takes another opportunity to call Lorelai his aunt, and gives Charlotte an extra cuddle and kiss. He kisses Rory on the cheek this time, nodding, and they wave goodbye as he drives.

"What was that all about?" Lorelai asks and Rory tries not to blush.

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"I swear..."

Lorelai looks disbelieving but she goes to pick out more movies for tonight. Rory picks up the set of books Jess bought for Charlotte and takes them into the room. She puts them on the desk next to the manuscript and then stops. There's a note on top which wasn't there before, and she reads,

Rory,

You don't think you can do it but you can. You can do anything. This writing shows more than I knew was there. I always knew you could do it. Charlotte is lucky to have a mom like you. If you ever want to talk to me, about anything, I'm here for you. Always. I really didn't plan on kissing you, but I'm not sorry we did. If you don't want to do anything though, I understand. I'm leaving now but if you want to talk to me, you can call. You know that.

Merry Christmas, Rory.

Jess.

Rory reads the note again and again, her heart thudding. The thrill is back, an excitement she hasn't felt in months. She doesn't know what it means, but for now it doesn't matter. She pushes aside the curtain, opens the window and breathes in the mystery of the Christmas night.

Note: The book Rory references is ‘Into the Forest’ by Jean Hegland

#Gilmore Girls #AGilmorechristmas #rory gilmore #jess mariano #literati

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youveneverbeenalone · 7 years

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Inktober for Writers/Fictober:

Day 14- Haunted (Darejones)

So I’m still behind, and later than I meant to be. I’m going to stop saying I’m hoping to catch up, because I continue to jinx myself with that. Eventually I will, but until then, please enjoy yesterday’s prompt. General enough to fit with my other stuff, and takes place right before they’re together, just as she’s finally getting over her denial about how well they fit together. Prompts here, just in case, and links to previous days at the bottom. Thanks for reading, everyone. I appreciate you all!

Oh, and just to be safe- Tw: for mentions of her time with Kilgrave and descriptions of her PTSD symptoms and experiences, including almost having a panic attack.

Day 14- Haunted

She’s still not sure why she called him, specifically. She could try to make an excuse, to explain it away by pretending she didn’t have any other options. She could say that it was because she was sure that Trish was busy with a work function- but that’s a fucking lie, and she knows it. She could say that it’s because Malcolm was out of town, visiting his family (but it’s not like she would have told him anyway, unless he had miraculously showed up at her door in the midst of everything). Or, she could say that it was an accident or that she butt-dialed him in the world’s strangest coincidence, but that thought is barely even worth the effort it takes to think it for how ridiculous it is. Eventually she’ll have to face the fact that she intentionally chose to call him because she wanted to. But that day is not today, if only for the fact that she’s still reeling from the flashback. And all because of that god-forsaken perfume.

J’adore by Dior.

In all her life, she doesn’t think she’s ever hated an inanimate object as much as she hates that fucking perfume. And it’s a shame, really, because it is a fairly pleasant scent in and of itself. But she will never be able to smell it and not be reminded of the worst year of her life- being a slave to that bastard’s every whim, being violated in every conceivable way, being a shell of her former self and being helpless to do anything about it. It’s just another thing that has been ruined for her by him, one more example of the way his influence lingers in her life, haunting her relentlessly. And all because the entire time he kept her captive, he made her wear that perfume every goddamn day.

But never again.

Unfortunately though, the rest of the world hasn’t received the memo about never using the perfume again, to her continual dismay. And so, there are days like today, which she can never prepare for or predict, when she’ll encounter it accidentally. It’s usually a day that starts out fairly well, lulling her into a false sense of security and complacency while she’s just trying to live her life… until she catches the scent of it on someone else. And it could be anyone. A passer-by on the street, someone in Hogarth’s lobby, or in this case (and in the worst scenario yet) a client coming in to try to hire her. And her reaction is always the same as time stops and her world descends into chaos.

First, her composure melts as her pulse skyrockets, her breathing shallows, and her temperature spikes. And then her lungs start to feel too big for her chest, as panic creeps up her spine from the pool of dread collecting in her stomach, until it crawls around her ribcage and constricts around her organs. Then, the walls start to implode, seeming to close in and trap her with no way out. And at this point, it’s all she can do to focus on the rhythm of her breathing as she recites a familiar and calming, if ridiculous, mantra.

Main Street. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane. Main Street. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane. Main Street. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane.

It’s enough to keep her mind from unspooling entirely into a never-ending stream of flashbacks, but it’s a close thing, just like it always is.

Today, though? Today it goes a little differently after that. Because today, the first thought she has after she finishes with the mantra is of Matt.

Matt, who makes her laugh. Matt who makes her smile. Matt who seems to understand her more than he has any right to. Matt who anchors her like no one ever has, even if she can’t explain why.

All she knows is that she needs to speak with him.

She dials before she even realizes she has her phone in hand. He answers on the second ring, and the amount of tension that drains from her body at the sound of his voice would be surprising if she wasn’t so relieved. And somehow the words come out without any coaxing or thought, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hello?”

“Murdock, you home?” She tries as hard as she can to keep her voice flat, to keep from letting any emotion creep into her voice. But part of her still worries that he can hear it anyway, even over the phone.

“Hey, Jess. Yeah, I’m home. What’s up?”

She covers the receiver for the amount of time it takes to blow out a steadying breath. “Just suddenly got the urge to pop open that bottle of Macallan you got me. But for once, I don’t want to drink alone.”

“Wow, okay. Rough day?” She can hear how concerned he sounds, and it makes her want to hang up and burrow a tunnel underground. Or at the very least, rescind her offer. But instead, she just lets a threatening edge into her voice to keep him from asking more questions.

“Look, I don’t want to talk. I just want to drink. If you can’t handle that, I’ll just have to drink alone.”

He’s quick to respond, trying to reassure her and calm her with his softest voice. “No, it’s fine. I can handle that. If it’s what you really want.”

She nods once to herself because she thinks she can handle this, so long as she just doesn’t say anything to him about what happened. “Good. I’m on my way. See you in 20.”

She wastes no time gathering her things and books it to his apartment. But she can’t help but think about everything on her way over, turning replaying the memory of his reaction and the interest he had shown in trying to help her.

And it’s strange because, by the time she’s there on his couch, with him pouring them both a glass of some very nice whiskey from where he sits across the coffee table from her, a part of her actually wants to say something. To offer some kind of explanation of what happened to him. But more importantly, to let it out. To let go of these painful, poisonous memories that continue to haunt her and follow her around by speaking them aloud and stripping them of the shame they create for every second she remains silent. Because she doesn’t need to be ashamed of anything that happened as a result of that son of a bitch’s influence on her. And something about the look Matt gives her helps her remember that.

So when the silence lingers for a moment, and she hears him shifting in his seat- likely as a result of the effort it requires for him to remain silent- she makes a decision. And she takes a gamble that she prays doesn’t backfire spectacularly. She opens her mouth for the third time tonight, surprised by the things that come out, but relieved at the same time.

“… So, uh, you probably already figured it out, but… Something happened earlier. Something that reminded me of him, and I freaked out a little bit. That’s why I wanted to come here. Because it’s harder when I’m by myself.”

Up until this point, she has been staring at the floor, afraid to look up and see whatever emotion might be written all over his face. But finally she does. And the genuine concern and acceptance that she sees there steals her breath. Thankfully, he talks next so she doesn’t have to.

“Jess, thank you for telling me that. I can imagine how difficult it was for you, but I do hope you know that I’m always willing to listen to whatever you’re willing to say. About this or whatever else.”

His words don’t do much to help her regain her breath. But she can’t help but believe what he’s telling her, with every fiber of her being. And that makes her happier and calmer than just about anything. So, with another drink of her whiskey, she opens her mouth to try to share something else. To shed light on another one of the awful truths she has been carrying on her own, for longer than she’d like to admit. And it’s unexpected and terrifying, but also exhilarating. Because she thinks she’s finally found someone to help her banish her demons and bury her ghosts. All she has to do is just talk. And for the first time she can remember, that doesn’t feel like an impossible task. As long as she’s talking to Matt.

Day 13 | Day 15

#inktober for writers #fictober #my fic #matt murdock/jessica jones #jessica x matt #mattjess #matt x jessica #matt murdock x jessica jones #darejones #messica

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