Title: Day 12
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Gilmore Girls
Rating: PG
Pairing: Past-Jess/Rory
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I wish they were mine. I definitely don’t get paid for this.
Summary: Jess and Rory meet up again.
Notes: Written during my 12 Ficlets in 12 Days in 2015 project for symphonyflute

Jess hardly knew what to expect, having not heard from Rory in years. But when the email had come, forwarded from the address he used once upon a time, it had taken him only a second to reply with a date and a time and an address. Rory Gilmore in town for business. Rory Gilmore wanting to meet up with him. Rory Gilmore on her way here right now.

“Another cup of tea, please.” Jess's voice was rough and broken, even after the first cup. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his nose as he handed the barista his credit card. If it weren't for Rory, he'd be back in his apartment, under the covers with a flashlight, good book, a box of tissues, and some Theraflu. But he'd never been very good at taking care of himself or doing what was expected of him, so why start now? He wasn't going to miss this for anything. “Thanks,” he said, when the barista handed him his card back. “Hey, I'm taking a poll here. Does this cold make me sound sexy or pathetic?”

She gave him a laugh. “Let me get you your tea.” She turned and left the counter.

“Yeah. That's what I thought, too,” he said softly, to himself. His voice sounded even worse at a whisper. He'd have to remember that for when Rory came.

Rory. Rory Gilmore. God, even just imagining her here made him feel like the Jess Mariano he had once been, not the one he was now or even the one he'd pretended to be. Or maybe that was because he felt sick and weak and vulnerable. But Rory always had a way of looking right into his soul, seeing who he really was and what he was capable of. Rory'd been clever, observant, brilliant. Rory had seemed to know everything about everyone except herself. 'Round these here parts, that's what folks called irony.

He hovered by the pickup counter and collected his mug of steaming tea the second it was available. The warmth was half the reason he wanted the drink. Wrapping both his hands around the mug, fingers in his fingerless gloves absorbing its warmth, soothed him.

Briefly. “ehhh... heh-Shih! HihIhhsh!” The tea sloshed, and he held onto the handle with one hand in order to pull back the other. It wasn't hot enough to burn, but it had been hot enough to startle. He rubbed at his nose, making sure it was dry. He couldn't have Rory seeing his nose run; she'd totally notice that.

Anxious, Jess checked his watch. Quarter 'til five. He never used to care about the time, still didn't, really. The nice thing about writing was being able to set your own hours. But he'd gotten to the coffee shop an hour early so he wouldn't be late because he knew she cared about the time. He rubbed his nose to get rid of the sneezy feeling in it. The last thing he wanted was for Rory to see him for the first time, caught in the middle of a serious, uncontrollable sneezing fit.

“Jess?”

Of course she would be early. He raised his head and there she was. Rory Gilmore. She looked good—maybe a little tired and definitely older, but there was this beautiful, quirky Roryness to her that made him smile.  “Hey.” He jumped to his feet and stuck out his hand awkwardly.

She didn't take it. “Are you kidding? I don't even get a hug from you?”

He cocked his head at her, as though he could somehow see if she were cheating on someone with him.  “Are you married? Engaged? Dating someone?”

“No...”

“Honestly? You're not just saying that?”

“Honestly.”

“Okay.” He hugged her, not thinking about the years they'd been apart or his cold or anything except that this was Rory Gilmore and she was back in his arms again. It made him feel young and alive. And confused. How could he have lived without her for so many years, made a life and a name for himself only to be taken right back so quickly? It was almost painful to pull away.

And then it was painful, right at his throat. He turned, coughing repeatedly until he grabbed his mug and managed a few gulps of tea.

“You sound terrible,” she said, as they sank into seats across from each other at the small table. “Flu?”

“Just a little cold.” He tried to sound dismissive of it, like it was just a minor little bother. But the truth was that his throat hurt, and the plaid scarf around his black turtlenecked neck kept him warm but didn't do a thing to make it hurt less when he swallowed. And his nose felt full of sneezes, and rubbing helped him keep them back but didn't get rid of the tickle entirely. But he was fairly certain he wasn't running a fever, and it had been mostly coughs and sniffles so far. And maybe a headache. “ehhChihshhhhhh! Eh-ehh-Ch87ushhhhhh!” And sneezes. There were definitely some of those. “eh-hehCHishhhhh!”

“Done?” Rory asked, a playful lightness in her voice. Jess found himself with a sheepish smile on his face as he nodded. “Then bless you.” She glanced over at the counter. “I'm going to go get myself some—”

“Coffee?”

She nodded. “Oh, you know me so well.”

He whispered after her, in his rough, choppy, sick voice, “Maybe not as well as I used to.” He watched her head to the counter. Her hair was short now, a little spiky, sticking out in funky directions instead of swinging back and forth in a ponytail. It looked good on her, with her smart gray blazer. He watched her until his eyelids slammed shut on him. “IhChhhhh! Eh-heh-hehhChhhhhh!” Ugh. Uhhhhhhhhhhhg. Sniffing, he gave his nose a good, hard rub with the back of his gloved hand before drinking a little more of his tea.

She was gone a while. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his fleece-lined jacket. It wasn't the coolest thing he owned, but today wasn't about impressing her. And it was damn cold out there. Snow from the last snowfall still sat around trees and lampposts and mailboxes; it hadn't been warm enough to melt yet, though it wasn't supposed to snow again any time soon. Maybe that was good; the last thing he could handle right now was Rory Gilmore in town for more than one night. He just had time to rub his nose again before she got back to the table.

“I liberated half the bakery case. Vive les croissants! Hope you don't mind. I had a long day and I'm famished.” Rory wasn't exaggerating. She set down a stack of boxes, each filled with muffins and bagels and eclairs and such.

How could she eat all that and still weigh, like, nothing? “Good to see the Gilmore metabolism's still intact.”

“Help yourself,” she said, just before biting into a jelly doughnut and moaning. It was a moan that did bad things to his imagination. He didn't want to help himself to that. They'd tried to be a them and it hadn't worked. Oh boy, how it hadn't worked. And they'd both moved on with their lives. That had been the best thing for them both. He had no regrets. But it didn't mean he didn't want to crawl under the covers now with tissues, medicine, and Rory as a substitute for that book. “Jess?”

He cleared his throat and grabbed one of the croissants not slathered with chocolate. He felt unusually awkward. Was this why people tended to cut ties after a break-up? Is this how it was when Rory and Dean got together to catch up? Did they even do that? “Sorry. Guess I don't know where to start.” He gestured to her. “Tell me what's new with you.”

She told him. Not everything, he was sure, but a lot. Enough to make him proud of her. And enough to make him wonder what their lives would have been like if he'd stayed in Stars Hollow, if they'd stayed together. She talked a lot about her writing, as though it were the common ground on which they could connect, rather than their past together. They had shared so much—jokes, dreams, thoughts, kisses. Oh, the way they used to kiss. Standing out by the gas pump, the cold tip of her nose brushing his cheek. Her hands sliding against his sides, under his leather jacket. Her lips so tender and sweet.

Jess didn't need her to tell him about her writing, because he'd read all of it. Or, at least, what he could access online. Her writing was good. Good voice. Good reporting. Good tone. It wasn't just insightful; it was enjoyable. Jess enjoyed listening, though, because it meant it could sit back and drink the tea and rub his nose as often as he needed to. He still felt miserable, but this was the best he could have asked for; just sitting and listening to Rory Gilmore again. “ehhChihhhhhh!” Even the occasional sneeze wasn't that bad.

“But what about you, Mr. Published Author? What are you working on right now?” Sure, now she had a chance to eat, as she listened, but he wouldn't be able to keep from sneezing for very long. She'd put up with his sneezing thus far, but even Rory must have her breaking point.

“It's going all right. I've got a few readings lined up to promote my last book. And I... I'm working on a collection right now about... ab... ab-ehtchhhh! AhhhIHschhhhhh! Ehhh-Hihshh! Uh... sniff! About... oh no...” His breath caught. No matter how hard he tried, how tight he clenched his jaw, how much he rubbed his nose, the sneeze was coming. And it was going to be big. “ehhhhGIHTShhhhh!” He pulled a wad of tissues out of his jeans pocket and snuffled into it.

“Jess, if you didn't feel up to this, why'd you agree to meet me?”

How could she even ask that? “I'm okay, Rory.”

She laughed. “And in Jess-world opposite speak, that means you're, what, ready to die?” Rubbing at his nose, he stared at her, trying to make sense of this. “You were always the opposite of what people expect. You were sweet and thoughtful when everyone thought you were some uncaring rebel. When you wanted me, you went and dated someone else instead. You got low grades but you're actually incredibly smart. And, apparently, when you say you're fine, you're actually sick as a dog. Have you even taken medicine?”

Jess shrugged. “Took something light. I didn't want to be out of it to meet you.” Coughing, he nodded at his mug. “I'll be okay. I've got tea and my nose isn't... is... n't... ehhh-HihSchhhhh! HehhhShhhhhh!” He tried to keep going, tried to prove that he was all right. But the very second he opened his eyes and gave her a reassuring, confident smile, his eyes slammed shut again. “hih-hihhIHShhhh! IhShehhh! EhhhShhhhh! Ehh-eh-IHKtschhhhh!”

She waited to be sure he was done. “Wow, you really are sick, aren't you?”

It wasn't as though he could deny it now. Not with those sneezes. So he nodded. And maybe there was a pitiful look given as well. Later, if asked, he would deny that. But it was enough to get her to coo in sympathy, a sound he would have done anything for, once upon a time.

Hurriedly, she rearranged, stuffing the uneaten food into one of the boxes. “Let's get you home.”

He chuckled. This was his city. This was his block. This was the coffee shop where he did all his best writing, whether with a laptop or a pen on the back of a napkin. She was coming onto his turf this time. “No offense, but unless you've picked up some skills in the past few years, I'm guessing you don't plan to go back to my apartment and cook me chicken soup.”

“No offense taken,”  she replied. “But you'd be surprised by my skills.”

“You're ehhhIHFshehhhh! Sniff! You're already thinking of Googling the nearest take out restaurant, aren't you?”

“Maybe.” He gave her a look as she stood up and stepped over to his side of the table. “Okay, yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do. But it's going to be good, I promise.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. But it's the least I can do after dragging you out here when you don't feel well.” She gave him a smile and reached out, taking his arm.

Jess would have thought it would have been awkward. But it wasn't. It wasn't the tingling heat he once felt at Rory's touch, but it wasn't the touch of a stranger, either. There was warmth and reassurance and caring and friendship. There was space and familiarity. And there was Rory Gilmore.

“So are you going? And am I inviting myself along?”

He smiled. “Okay.” He rubbed at his nose again. “But you're going to have to share care-giving duties back at my apartment with Jack.”

Something like surprise flashed across her face. Jess loved that expression. He'd always loved that expression. If he was opposite boy, she was predictable girl. And he had always loved throwing her out of her comfort zone. “Oh, so there's something you don't know about me?” Her cheeks flushed slightly, teeth lightly nibbled her lower lip, eyes avoided his as she tried to figure this out. “Jack Kerouac penned the great American novel. He also sleeps at the foot of my bed and enjoys daily Milkbones.”

Smiling that Rory smile of hers at this, she squeezed his arm. “Jack's welcome to some chicken soup, too, if he wants it. Maybe just the chicken?”

Jess nodded and rubbed futily at his nose. “eh ehhIHshuh! IhhShehhhh!” Thick blankets, cold medicine, chicken soup, a warm dog at his feet, and Rory Gilmore. He still didn't know what to expect from this evening, but he was Jess Mariano. He was willing to take a chance and find out what would happen.