Title: Birthday Boy

Author: Veritas-amore

Rating: T

Disclaimer: People, please, if I owned even an atom of Gilmore Girls (theoretically impossible as Gilmore Girls isn't a material thing) then Dean and Logan would've both died in horrible, mutilating freak accidents whilst Jess prevailed as ruler of the world and Rory's heart.

Warning: It's seriously fluffy at parts. So if you're looking for some angst (really, I think we had enough of that in canon) turn back. If Lit-fluff if is what you're looking for, proceed my merry readers. This is my first venture into the Lit fandom (weird actually; cause I've been shipping these two for years) so thoughts are loved.

He stirred at the sound of the door snapping shut, the hazy content of unconsciousness slipping away into harsh awareness of his surroundings. But he wasn't opening his eyes. The duvet and pillow were just begging him to stay in his warm cocoon a few hours more and he was gentlemanly enough to not deny them his presence. Nothing would tear him away from this little slice of heaven. Not even Luke's approaching footsteps, abnormally soft. Usually when Luke approached to wake him up, he felt like he was Japan hearing Godzilla loom closer.

"I can't believe you're still asleep!" a voice that was definitely not Luke's said loudly and Jess's sleepy smile was seen by none but the pillow. "Do you know what day it is?"

A soft weight came down on one side of the bed and hands pulled the duvet away from his frame before faltering slightly. His smile grew into a smirk in the pillow as he knew exactly what had made them falter.

He usually slept with a t-shirt on but he hadn't been able to find any clean laundry the night before and the weather had been warm enough for him to get into bed void of clothing on his upper body.

"It's Saturday," he grumbled throatily and turned to lie on his back, his eyes opening to find his girlfriend's wide-eyed mien before him. Her eyes were flickering from his eyes to his lips to his chest and he smirked, knowing the effect it was having on her; her pupils were too diluted for this time of morning and the colour on her cheeks wasn't due to her exerting herself on the way here from her house. "Morning," he then said and raised a bit to press a light kiss to her lips before falling back onto the pillow, his muscles too weak to allow him anything but the liberty to lie motionless in his bed.

"Good morning," Rory smiled, seemingly have regained control of herself, and leaned in to press a longer kiss to his lips but he turned his head and allowed it on his cheek.

"Haven't brushed yet," he mumbled.

"I don't mind," she shrugged before a devious smile fell on her lips, a devilish gleam in her crystalline eyes. "So, I think I've already asked what day it is."

"And I've already answered Saturday," Jess pointed out, his hand going to lace with hers above the duvet. She squeezed it when their fingers entwined but her eyes were held disbelievingly on him.

"No, it's not Saturday!"

"Really? Because yesterday was Friday and tomorrow is Sunday which makes today Saturday," he drawled and she looked tolerantly exasperated with him.

"It's March eighteenth!"

It took a few seconds for her words to register and when they did, he felt strangely self-conscious. His birthday wasn't something he usually looked forward to.

"Oh," he muttered, his eyes going away from hers for a bit. "I suppose it is."

"Your enthusiasm is astounding," she said dryly before a serious expression befell her features and she said softly. "It's your birthday."

Jess didn't know how to reply to that, so he stared at their entwined hands, his thumb moving restlessly against her smooth skin.

"Happy nineteenth," Rory said quietly, almost uncertainly and the slight disappointment in her voice went through him like a cold knife. He didn't like to hear it there. So he released her fingers before wrapping both hands around her arms and pulling her next to him on the bed, getting the duvet over the both of them with some difficulty before pressing his lips to her ear and whispering a sincere, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she sounded happily smug as she turned on her side to face him and put a hand on his exposed upper arm. His muscles tensed underneath her touch and his arm extended to wrap around her waist, drawing her closer. "So," she licked her lips and her eyes were playful as she looked at him. "You sleep shirtless, huh?"

"Just for you," he bantered and she grinned in reply, kissing him softly once before pulling back.

"What do you want to do today?"

"I was thinking staying in bed like this with you would be perfect," he answered as she turned her back to him, snuggled closer and moved her neck a little for him to rest his chin there. "You just need to be at the same level of nakedness as me." His voice dropped to a low, husky breath as his hand slyly slipped underneath the hem of her shirt to move across the smouldering heat of her stomach.

"Jess," Rory giggled but made no move to stop his hand. "Luke could come in at any moment."

"Luke's gonna have to deal. I'm the birthday boy; birthday boys get what they want. And I want to have my hands all over your body." He never thought he'd use the birthday boy card, but if it was going to guarantee him easy access to Rory's body, then he sure as hell didn't mind using it. To further prove his point, his hand slipped up from her abdomen to feel her breast through her bra and Rory gave a small gasp and her eyes fluttered closed. Jess smirked and placed a low, suckling kiss on her neck where pulse beat the strongest.

"You haven't been awake for ten minutes yet and your thoughts are already heading for sex," she chastised breathlessly and stopped his hand with her own before it could slip past the barrier of her bra. She gently slid their hands out from underneath her shirt but raised his hand to her lips for a kiss before lowering it to her waist.

"Well, I did read that men are most aroused first thing in the morning. So if you'd like to make all my dreams come true, then hey, I'm ready!"

"Jess!" she laughed at his teasing tone, and edge herself even closer to him when he brushed her hair away from her neck to place butterfly kisses beneath her ear. "No sex now, or later or whenever."

"I thought I was the birthday boy," Jess said and she raised her head to smirk at his pout.

"Birthday boys ask for presents not sex."

"Wrong," he scolded mockingly. "Nineteen-year-old birthday boys ask for sex not presents."

"Can we stop talking about sex?" she asked through a giggle, her uneasiness at the subject lessening with each bantering session they had about it. He was glad about that; it meant she was just a bit surer and closer to finally giving in. "I wouldn't put it past Luke to be holding a glass tumbler to that door listening in on what we're saying."

"Fine," he huffed. "So, we on for staying like this for the rest of the day?"

"No. I blew off my mom and Lane today and asked Paris for permission to not work on The Franklin so I could celebrate with you; we're not spending it lying in bed talking about sex."

He greatly appreciated the gesture but didn't show it, instead choosing to remark on the last part of her statement. "Because then you'd really be unable to turn me down, huh?" he breathed into her ear dangerously, his hand once more beginning to move across her body, down her abdomen to the juncture between her thighs.

Rory slapped his hand away though and raised it to keep it firmly under her own at her stomach. He sighed, disappointed. He wondered just how much she would've reacted to his hand there, but apparently she was set on talking about his birthday.

"You're insufferable," she told him.

"I'm sure that's why you're dating me," he said solemnly and she laughed briefly.

"I'm dating you because you're wonderful and cute and smart and can appreciate Dickens and Tolstoy when little else people our age can," she smiled and turned her head for him to place a kiss on her lips, instinctively knowing that it was what he was going to do. He smiled but didn't comment. "I was thinking we could go to Andrew's first where I will let you buy any book your heart desires before lunch at the bridge. Is that okay?" she nervously bit her lip in apprehension and he was struck by the huge want to tell her that it was more than perfect and he was more than grateful for her thoughtfulness. But that wasn't him.

"I'm game," he muttered into her ear.

"I was banking on you saying that," she said and sat up before manoeuvring herself so that she was straddling him on the bed. It certainly didn't help that she was wearing a skirt. The hot skin of her thighs at his sides was enough to have him thinking of undressing her entirely right then and there. She smirked devilishly at his tortured expression as she ran her hands up the defined muscles of his chest to his shoulders.

"You're an evil, evil woman," he glared.

"I'm sure you'd be changing evil to wonderful, beautiful, heaven-sent if I ever complied fully to your wants," she grinned before her features softened into something warmer and a carnal gleam appeared in her mesmerizing eyes. "You look quite beautiful from this angle, you know."

A blush accompanied her softly whispered words and whilst a part him was a little embarrassed at her observation (and overly conceited) he knew that she was the beautiful one out of the two of them, inside and out.

His hands rested lightly above her knees on the part of her thighs that the skirt had revealed when it'd ridden up and he answered sincerely, "You do too."

She lowered herself to bring her face closer to his, her breath hot on his skin as he steadied her with his hands on her waist. Her eyes blinked into his with an unspoken smile before they shut and her lips touched his. The gentleness of their previous words did not participate in this kiss and they moved against each other passionately, a maddening chase and follow and dance of tongues. Rory gave a little moan of disappointment when Jess pulled back for air, smirking at her knowingly as he did so.

"Don't look so disappointed; I'm going to be asking for kisses all day long," he reminded her as he failed to control his heavy breathing and she slid off the bed to pull the hem of her skirt down.

I'm not complaining, her smile told him.

"So what's with the skirt?" he asked as they walked away from the diner towards Andrew's Bookshop a while later, one arm looped through his and the other holding a cup of coffee pilfered from the diner. "You're much more of a jeans kind of girl."

"I have this boyfriend," Rory began mischievously. "He likes it when I wear skirts; short ones to be precise, but I never seem to oblige his fondness for them. So as a small birthday gift to him, I thought I'd wear one for him."

"Lucky man," Jess sighed jealously and Rory giggled into his arm.

Andrew didn't look up as they entered the store and made their way to what he had fittingly christened as their aisle (they were seriously spending too much time here) and Rory turned to him with the most angelic smile he'd seen yet on her face.

"So, as promised, I will let you buy any book you want from this store on my account; I'm just that nice."

"Frighteningly nice," he agreed before his lips gave way to a small smile. "Thank you."

"Feel free to browse at your own leisure; I'm just gonna be here"

She extracted herself from him and stepped away to run a finger along the spines of the books on one shelf, already losing herself in the titles and Jess spared her a fond glance only briefly before he went in search of that freebie book. He was never one to pass up the chance to claim a new book, no matter how tantalizing staring at Rory bite her lip as she searched for a book was.

The next half hour was spent perusing through numerous books, trying to mentally calculate which shiny new book would be the best addition to his collection. Rory didn't interrupt him during his perusal –she was sat reading a book in their aisle as she waited for him to pick a book– and when he finally choose a book and went back to her side, she didn't even look up as she nonchalantly asked, "You choose a book?"

"Far From the Maddening Crowd."

"Great book," she said earnestly but her eyes were still focused on the book before her. Sighing, he moved to sit next to her, wrapping an arm about her shoulders as she leaned into his chest, her hair tickling his neck only the slightest, and held the book out for him to read with her. Her eyes finally slipped from the book to his face. "You want to read Chekhov with me?"

"How can I say no?" he said and she gave him a lazy, content smile before turning the pages until she stopped at The Lady and The Dog.

"This good?"

"Perfect."

Jess' fingers absently played with her hair as she snuggled closer to him through their silent reading, the fingers of his free hand turning each page perfectly on time when they both finished together. Though he tried desperately to lose himself in the story, his thoughts couldn't help but keep straying worlds away from Chekhov to how wonderful and idyllic being with Rory was. He wanted nothing more than to just sit with her snuggled into his side, his fingers in her hair, her soft, fruity scent in his senses as they read a book they could both appreciate together. He wanted it for a long time come. And not even daring to believe the path his wants had taken, he knew there was a small part of him that was contently whispering forever.

That didn't sound so terrible.

Condemned to forever with Rory.

He'd take that sentence any day.

"You gonna help me at all today?" Luke asked when Jess had entered the diner later, both Chekhov and Hardy in his hands. Rory had decided that he could have Chekhov too on the condition that he bring it to the bridge for their lunch to continue reading it together. How could he resist?

"No," he replied bluntly as he swept the curtain back and made his way up the stairs. Rory had requested only half an hour away from him in order to get lunch and mockingly ordered him to be at the bridge on time.

"Jess," Luke called behind him and he slowly turned round to face his uncle, stood staring at him from the bottom of the stairs. From the look on his face, Luke apparently knew that Jess had an excuse for not working today. He knows.

"What?"

"You got mail; it's on the table."

Which wasn't what Jess had been expecting; maybe Luke didn't know. He shrugged and continued into the apartment, telling himself that he didn't care whether Luke knew it was his birthday or not. Except lying to himself had never his been forte. It bothered him that Luke didn't know it was his birthday. Luke was the one who cared about Jess and yeah, he wasn't exactly accustomed to celebrating his birthday, but Rory's consideration and dedication to making this day happy for him had made him believe that perhaps Luke also held the same care. He and Rory, after all, were achingly akin in believing there was good in people who didn't really deserve to have anyone believe anything in them.

There was no mail on the table; just a brand new book. Curious, Jess approached and read the title, his eyes widening slightly as Luke's gesture dawned on him. The Complete Collected Works of Allen Ginsburg.

Rory must've helped him choose it! he immediately thought. Luke couldn't tell Dickens from Shakespeare.

He reverently picked up the book and flipped it open, only to find a crisp fifty dollar bill in the title page, making his stomach lurch unpleasantly. He could be a real bastard to Luke sometimes but when he did crazy, sentimental things like this, he found himself grateful that he had him for an uncle. There was no note, no card, nothing wishing him a happy birthday, but really, this gesture was more telling than a message written in the sky.

Swiping at the heat behind his eyes with his sleeve, he hid the fifty dollars in his battered copy of Oliver Twist, set the book from Luke on a shelf along with Far From the Maddening Crowd, keeping Chekhov close by, as he changed out of the navy sweater he had on into the only white shirt he owned. This was another one of Rory's insane requests. She said she'd wanted to see him in white instead of the usual darker tones he preferred. He'd blatantly refused at first; it was his birthday after all and he would wear whatever he pleased, but she'd pouted and pulled the bambi eyes on him until he'd relented and she'd grinningly pecked him on the lips in thanks.

He went back down to the diner where Lorelai had appeared and was chatting at an insanely fast speed with Luke, discussing the latest Brad Pitt movie she had seen previously. Unsurprisingly, Luke looked bored to tears.

"I'm going out," he said gruffly as he passed the pair.

"If it isn't the birthday boy acting like it's not his birthday," Lorelai commented and he shot her a brief exasperated look, bit the inside of his cheek to refrain his cutting reply, and walked out the diner, Chekhov held tightly in hand as he beat the familiar route to the bridge.

It was a surprisingly warm day for March and he silently enjoyed the luxurious feeling of having the sun shine down on his face. Metaphorically, it was also optimistic, and he secretly enjoyed that too. As he approached the bridge and caught sight of Rory's frame there, he couldn't help the amused smirk that broke out across his lips, embarrassingly faltering into a real smile after a few minutes.

She was sat on a large, chequered mat, before her the very same basket that he'd bid for almost a year ago, the biggest and smuggest of beams on her face. Amidst the stunning scenery of the river and the foliage around them, she looked beautiful in her little skirt that she'd worn just for him, and the pretty grey cardigan she had not been wearing earlier today.

So this is what true happiness looks like. Because he was truly happy. To be here, with Rory, about to have lunch on his birthday.

"This looks familiar," he intoned dryly, his smirk punctuating each word as he neared her. She stood up and put her arms about his waist, grinning with the essence of the true five-year old girl that she was inside.

"I know! Except you didn't pay ninety bucks for it this time and it's not leftovers!"

"It really must be my birthday," Jess mused and Rory playfully slapped his arm before she captured his lips with hers for a slow, needy kiss. He responded back immediately but groaned in disappointment when she pulled back much too quickly for his liking and running her hand fondly over his white-shirt-covered arm.

"You wore it for me," she said softly, her voice all kinds of sweet and grateful. It made his stomach churn not unpleasantly.

He shrugged, not sure how to respond to that, and she smiled at him but didn't push him for a response. "You bring Chekhov?"

"Would I dare disobey orders from a Russian literature nut?" he gasped and she giggled as she pulled him down to sit on the rug.

"Good boy!"

"Woof?" he arched an eyebrow and her giggles morphed into a pure, innocent laugh.

"That's fitting," she praised before she sobered up. "Chekhov or lunch first?"

"I've always believed in saving the best till last so, lunch."

"Smart choice."

"So," he said as he leant on his back and placed his head in Rory's lap, relaxing at the almost immediate response of her fingers, curling through his hair and languidly running through the dark tresses. "What's for lunch, chef?"

"For starters," she smirked down at him, "we have… gummy worms!"

"That's not real food, Rory!" he groaned and she shot him a passing, half-hearted glare.

"For starters," she continued as if he hadn't interrupted. "Gummy worms, fries and egg rolls."

At least it was respectively picking up, Jess consoled himself.

"Main course; the finest hamburgers Stars Hollow has to offer and for dessert, chocolate muffins, Oreos and soda!"

Which made up the weirdest menu he'd ever heard of. And he told her as such.

"You're dating a Gilmore; I thought you'd be used to it by now," she teased, a sparkle in her eye.

He opened his mouth to undoubtedly rebuke with a sarcastic comment but she'd popped a green gummy worm into his mouth and smiled triumphantly when he closed his mouth obediently and ate it, awarding her with a stern look.

"Your pouting just makes this day that much better," Rory sighed happily, pretending to be smug about his displeasure, but really, her smile was the closest thing to real joy he'd ever seen.

His eyes held her stunning ones captive for many moments, wondering if perhaps she could read the thoughts he refused to say out loud through them.

Having you in my life makes it that much better.

Later, they switched places. Rory was the one who now lay with her head in Jess' lap, reading Chekhov aloud as he idly ate away at the fist-sized muffin Rory had dubbed dessert, one hand running through her hair soothingly.

Suddenly, she snapped the book closed, halting herself in the middle of a sentence and causing Jess' eyes to travel from the water to her face. He didn't say anything, but the angle in his eyebrow was more than screaming 'what?'

"I bought something else to read," she explained simply.

"I thought you wanted Chekhov."

"I do. But I also want to read something else."

"What is something else?" he prodded before an excited gleam appeared in his eyes and he smirked down at her. "Please say you're going to read Hemingway for me. It's one of my biggest fantasies."

She giggled and awkwardly raised her hand to slap him lightly on his chest, ending up patting him clumsily because of her odd position. "That's your biggest fantasy?" she snickered. "For someone who goes on about sex as much as you do, that fantasy of yours is surprisingly disappointing."

"I could tell you about the others," he whispered conspiratorially, his voice dropping as he bent over to linger his lips above hers. "But then you'd have to comply with my wishes and make them come true. Deal?"

Rory's eyes fluttered closed and she raised her head to press her lips to his, sharing a slow, wet kiss with him before pulling back breathlessly after many moments. "Deal," she breathed, her eyes still closed.

Jess' eyes widened as he pulled back a little. He hadn't expected that response from her. When it came to sex, she was one tough cookie to crack.

"But when I'm ready," she continued and her eyes flew open to meet his, her hand going to lace with his by her hair.

Disappointed, he was. But there was the sound of a promise in her words and that was enough for him for now. When she was ready; he could respect that.

He nodded once, never one to say more than necessary (or even enough for that matter) on topics he knew he wasn't going to get far with or enjoy.

"So what do you want to read instead of Chekhov?"

"Neruda," she replied softly and reached her hand for the basket where she pulled out a book and brought it to rest on her chest. "You mind?"

Rory and Neruda on the bridge on his birthday after an idyllic lunch date. No, he certainly didn't mind. He shook his head silently, and she took that as her cue to open the book.

He couldn't see what poem she had flipped to because the book was much too close to her face to allow him to see anything, but then her voice sounded softly and her opening words were not Neruda's but her own.

"This is for Jess."

His surprise took him back a little but he managed to gather his wits in time to say without his usual dryness, "Good start."

Her eyes rolled up at him and she set the book on her chest, face down, eyes closing as she began to recite the words to a well-known verse, his heart slowing with each word that came out of her sweet mouth.

"When I cannot look at your face, I look at your feet."

Me too.

"Your feet of arched bone, your hard little feet. I know that they support you, and that your sweet weight rises upon them. "

A smile broke out across his lips as he knew what lines were coming next and he made a mental note to thoroughly remember this moment, being read special a poem about a woman from a girl he cared a great deal about on his birthday.

"Your waist and your breasts, the doubled purple of your nipples, the sockets of your eyes that have just flown away, your wide fruit mouth, your red tresses, my little tower."

The snicker had escaped him before he could stop it and he glanced nervously at Rory to see what her reaction would be, but the curve of her smile was bemusedly exasperated, her eyes still closed. He relaxed and she continued.

"But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me," she concluded softly with a whisper and her eyes opened to meet his dark ones, shinning brighter today than she could ever recall them doing so. When he said nothing and continued to merely look into her eyes, his hand absently running through her hair, she spoke up. "Apart from the whole you not being a woman and not having breasts and red hair… it reminded me of you."

She bit her lip as she confessed to that and he closed his eyes briefly, savouring the moment, sure that there would be very few like it in his life. She had read him a poem that had reminded him of her and held a message of love in its achingly, beautifully simple words.

"That poem's been reminding me of you recently as well," he admitted quietly and looked out across the water, the afternoon sun gleaming across the surface in blinding flashes. Her hand squeezed his tightly before relaxing in his grip but that was the only sign of response she made to his uncharacteristic disclosure of the rawer feelings he had inside him under lock and key.

"I'm going to borrow this," he then grinned wolfishly and pulled the book out of her hands.

Rory's mouth fell open in indignation. "No!" she refused hotly as she sat up and made to pry (unsuccessfully) the book from his hands. "I haven't read all of them yet and it's new and you will not get to borrow it until I am finished with it!"

Jess laughed at her wholesome, childish resentment, pulling the book out of her reach as she continued to make abysmal attempts at retrieving it. He backed against the edge of the bridge, book in his hands as Rory huffed before she made to pounce on him. Dodging to avoid her form colliding fully with his, he felt Rory brush past him clumsily and her guileless scream as she faltered off the bridge and into the water.

Splash!

"Rory!" he yelled and turned to look into the water where she emerged coughing and spluttering, her hair plastered to her face in wet strands. However, painted on her lips was the biggest grin she'd ever hosted on her face.

"You are so paying for that!" she threatened merrily and swam closer before she raised a wet hand and pulled him forward by the front of his shirt before he could gather his wits as to what she was doing. Jess gave an ungraceful shout, letting Neruda slip out of his hand in time before it too took a dip in the water. Then there was the eerie quiet and suffocating stillness of being underwater, his senses muted down before his face broke the surface with a gasp of air and he was fully aware of his surroundings. The water wasn't cold but it was cool enough to have his senses sharpen.

The sound of Rory's pealing laughter caught onto him and she splashed water at him when he glared at her.

"That wasn't funny, Gilmore!"

"Hilarious!" she objected and splashed some more water on him. "You totally deserved that!"

"Hey, you're the one that fell in by yourself."

"Because you weren't chivalrous enough to catch me and greedy enough to steal my book."

His face was resigned as he swam over to her. The water wasn't all that deep; it reached jut below his shoulders. "I guess I did deserve it."

"Yes you did," Rory confirmed and slid her wet arms around his neck, making him recoil slightly at the sudden coldness but not complaining.

"I saved Neruda from an eternity with the fishies, though."

"You did?" her eyes lit up as she glanced behind him at the bridge but she couldn't make out anything but the silhouette of the basket. "My hero." She brought her lips to his, her mouth brushing smoothly against his in a kiss that warmed him despite the coolness of the river. Wasting no time in responding, Jess' hands grasped hers underneath the water and his tongue parted her wet lips to slip into the crevasse of her mouth, delighting in her little moan of pleasure and the aftertaste of Oreos still in her mouth, sweet and candid.

She pulled back breathlessly after many minutes –in which her hands had snuck underneath his shirt to roam across his abdomen underneath the water– and said with a laboured breath, "Maybe we should get out now."

"As the lady wishes."

They waded over to the bridge's before jumping out of the water and onto the edge. Rory immediately went to gather their belongings, stuffing all the waste haphazardly into the basket as Jess bundled the mat into his arms. "We are going to be one sight through town," Jess noted wryly as Rory sidled up to him, wrapping an arm about him, wet shirt and all, and walking off the bridge together.

"Aren't we already?" Rory smirked smugly and rested her head against his arm. Jess's only response was to drape his arm across her waist, drawing her closer to him as they slowly made their way back.

"Thanks," Jess muttered ambiguously to Luke later once he'd arrived back at the diner and changed out of his wet clothes.

"For what?" Luke played dumb.

Jess awarded him with a silent, don't-kid-me look. Luke took no notice for he pressed on staunchly and Jess was sure he was getting his kicks out of this.

"No, seriously, what for?"

"Are you gonna make me say it?" Jess challenged, amused by Luke's bravado.

"That is the direction I'm angling for," Luke replied as he wiped the counter down.

"I'm not saying it."

"You don't have to," Luke smirked. "It's in your eyes."

And leaving Jess slightly bewildered he moved to take an order from Kirk. Discomfited that Luke had so easily read him, Jess grabbed the coffee he'd prepared for Rory before making for the diner entrance.

"When are you coming back?" Luke called out to him before he could slip away.

"Late; don't stay up."

The sun had set sometime after he'd dropped Rory off at her house before going to the diner to change into warm, dry clothes. Now the night was a little cold in comparison to today's unexpected spell of sunshine and warmth and he hurried to Rory's house for more of her birthday shenanigans. He'd only agreed to go on the premise of Lorelai not chaperoning and Rory had rolled her eyes and assured him that Lorelai would be out on a date in Hartford. Small blessings.

He reached the Gilmore's' house and knocked on the door, shuffling his feet restlessly as he waited for Rory to open.

"Who is it?" her voice came through the door.

"Who else would it be?" he rolled his eyes.

The door opened to reveal Rory's grinning face. "Well, I do have an entire town full of well-wishers and admirers so, you never know…"

"And you have a boyfriend whom you happened to invite over," he rejoined and stepped in, his arms going around her waist to draw her in for a kiss, seamlessly closing the door behind him with a kick of his foot.

The soft feel of cotton beneath his hands stirred him from the kiss and he stared down disdainfully at her choice of attire. "You're wearing pajamas to my private birthday party?"

"What would you rather have me wear?"

Jess grinned wickedly. "Black lace underwear?" he suggested hopefully.

"No dice," Rory declined and Jess' face fell as she pulled him into the living room where there was already a large bowl of popcorn and a huge ensemble of movies on the coffee table.

"Come on gloomy, don't pout," she encouraged smilingly as they sat down.

"Did you at least include Almost Famous in the movie collection and bring a huge chocolate cake to lift my spirits up after you knowingly shot them down into the pits?"

"Cake, yes. Almost Famous, no."

"And here I thought it was my birthday," Jess muttered sulkily and made a show of edging away from Rory. She caught his arm in both her hands and pulled him back to her, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her head on his shoulders consolingly.

"I've got something better than Almost Famous."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. The Godfather. Come on, Al Pacino, Marlon Brando and the Italian Mafia in New York. What more could you want?"

He arched an eyebrow arrogantly at her and she flushed an appealing pink. "Ugh! Forget I asked."

Smirking, her put an arm about her waist and bundled her closer to his side, kissing her temple as he did so. "It's okay; I doubt we're gonna watch much anyway."

"Because of all the making out you intend to do?"

"Exactly," he confirmed matter-of-factly but there was a smug gleam in his eyes and Rory rolled her eyes.

"You want me to go get the cake before we begin and we can finish it as we watch?"

He shrugged and Rory gave him a playful shove as she got up and left for the kitchen. "I bought candles!" she cried gleefully and he groaned.

"Just don't say you're going to sing to me, please," he called back as he moved to start the movie on the TV.

"I might spare you," Rory grinned as she came, carrying a round chocolate cake (with flickering candles on top) in her hands and awkwardly turning off the light with one hand whilst precariously holding the cake in the other. Jess really couldn't help his smile from showing, taming the desire to grin like a five year old but making the uplifting his lips into more of a smirk.

"Happy birthday, Jess," she whispered softly as she sat down on the couch, cake before her in her hands and her beautiful face illuminated by the light of the candles. The tender cadence of her voice was doing funny things to his body. "Make a wish."

He stared down at the one and nine candles twinkling up at him before his gaze moved up to Rory's adoring face, her lips pressed together lightly in nervous anticipation, her eyes wide and bright with happiness and her countenance patient as she waited for him to blow the candles out.

And in that moment, he knew exactly what he wanted.

I wish to spend the rest of my life with you, Rory Gilmore.

Blowing out the candles, he allowed his eyes to close briefly in the dark -to childishly consummate his wish- before Rory's voice had found his ears.

"What did you wish for?" she breathed gently as she set the cake down on the coffee table and snuggled in to him.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," he said simply and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as the opening credits appeared on the television.

"I'll find out you know."

"I doubt you will."

She pursed her lips sullenly but rested her head against his shoulder all the same, her arms already wrapping about his torso. He sighed happily and prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in for his wish to come true.

If I tell you it won't come true.

Somehow, a year later, Jess knew that if he had told her his wish, there most certainly would've been the chance for his wish to come true; for him to spend the rest of his life with Rory Leigh Gilmore.

The sun outside was gradually bidding New York goodbye once again by flooding the sky in a magnificent array of fiery hues and they filtered through the window of the room to cast a soft, golden glow on the room, alleviating the sharp reality of what a dump it was. One could almost find it artistic if in an optimistic enough mood.

Jess hadn't been feeling optimistic for the best part of the past nine months. He saw it for what it really was, no artistry or poetry to lessen the ugly truth.

It was shit-hole.

And he was condemned to it.

He stood at the window his eyes fixed on the city outside but far from seeing it. His thoughts today had been in another state altogether. Far from New York, far from the maddening hustle and bustle of the city to a quiet, insane town in Connecticut. His thoughts weren't even set in the present.

Reliving his birthday a year earlier with Rory was as painful as it was exhilarating. He remembered every word shared between them, every exchanged smile, grin, smirk and every heart-stopping kiss. Luke's apartment, Andrew's Bookshop, the bridge and her darkened living room that day were imprinted on the forefront of his memories, glaringly vivid and bittersweet. If he tried hard enough, he knew he would even recollect the taste of Oreos and chocolate cake on Rory's lips as he'd kissed her that day.

Today, he had nothing. There was no one to wake him from his sleep with a grinning reminder that it was his birthday. There was no visit to the bookshop to claim a free book and read in the corner of the aisle with a wonderful girl wrapped in his arms. There was no rendezvous to the bridge for lunch where the menu had been bizarre, the sun had shone, Chekhov had been read, Neruda had been dedicated and an unprecedented dip in the water had happened. There was no invite to a much-loved house to watch a movie and devour cake in between heated kisses on a disapproving mother's couch as The Godfather played on the TV, no enthusiastic audience to watch and admire its timelessness. There was no one to stay the night with, falling asleep on the couch and waking up to pleasantly find that the aforementioned disapproving mother had covered the pair in a blanket when finding them entwined innocently and sleepily in her living room.

His grip tightened on the books in his hands as he fought valiantly –as he had been doing all day- to blacken these memoirs from his memories and failing abysmally. Hardy, Chekhov and Neruda suffered his tense grasp only a few moments more before he let them fall to the floor and stared blankly at them. Neither one of the three had been touched by him since he'd left Stars Hollow, but today, he had found it hard to not dig them out and go through them, remembering every moment linked with each. Hardy at the bookstore. Chekhov at the bridge. Neruda in the water. He would never look at another book of theirs and not be reminded of Rory.

Hardy and Chekhov had fallen innocently without being disrupted but Neruda had opened up to a poem and as Jess bent to retrieve them from the floor, he grimaced as his eyes caught the title. Your Feet.

The irony wasn't lost on him. It wasn't welcome.

Settling on his mattress and staring briefly at the ceiling before closing his eyes, he allowed himself the small torture to think that perhaps Rory was there in Yale, her thoughts also set one year into the past. He inflicted himself one last time with the image of having her next to him on the mattress, curled up into his side as was only natural for her, her lips at his neck, ghosting kisses against his skin as she whispered a soft, loving, "Happy twentieth, Jess."

A/N: Tada! So I guess the last part –damn these two and all their angst- made up for all the fluffiness. I don't know why I kept the Neruda part at the bridge (it was too much, even for me) but I do believe that in happier times, Rory and Jess were that saccharine sweet kind of compatible with each other. This was inspired by my own birthday a couple of days ago, so, it's a little late now, but give me a teeny tiny present in the shape of a review. And if you're reading this on the 18th, it's only nice to leave a review. It is Jess' (imaginary) birthday, after all.