Disclaimer: I am simply a fan of the Gilmore Girls. I have no relation to the WB whatsoever. I only own the first two season on DVD and that is all the relations I have.

This story is a Rory/Jess type. It takes place shortly after the season three episode "Swan Song" where Jess screws up dinner with Rory and Emily by showing up late and with a black eye. Some of it is OOC, but its told from Jess's perspective, and since noone's entirely sure what goes on in his head, we don't know whether or not it is OOC.

As an author, my work either has a lot of description or a lot of dialogue. This one's mostly description. I'm not a big fan of my work, but other people apparently are, so if you like, feel free to comment. :)

--skazumbi

Chapter One: Makes me want to give myself a beating…

There was a knock on the door. I looked up, seeing a small, human-like figure standing behind the glass window on the office's door. Now, it wasn't an office, but an apartment. Luke had decided to buy the building and tear down a wall to make it bigger since we were living together.

Luke sometimes annoyed me. Not all the time, just some of it. He always wants to get into other people's business. My business. I'm eighteen, I can take care of myself, right?

I put down the book I was reading, Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle and went to the door before the human shaped person could knock again. Sighing heavily, I pulled it open.

There was a beautiful young lady standing there, holding coffee, the addict that she was. Her chestnut hair was curled today, something she did rarely. It made her look exactly like a younger version of her mother, Lorelai. That was her name. Lorelai. Rory.

"Your eye's healing." She greeted me with a kiss on cheek; avoiding the black eye I had received the past week. She smiled lightly. "You going to let me in or continue staring at me, entranced?" I bent down a little bit to kiss her square on the mouth, a gesture that she gladly gave in to.

"Come on in," I said quietly, and stepped to the side to let her in. "Lorelai downstairs?"

"But of course. It's early on a Sunday morning; one should hope she gets some sort of caffeine." She turned to me, and just stared at me. "I'm glad we made up."

"Not as glad as I am," I said, grinning. She came a little bit closer to me, still looking at me.

"Jess?"

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

"O…kay…" Sometimes, with a girl like Rory, you can't just kiss and make-up. Even if that is what we did. Last Friday, she twisted my arm to go to dinner with the grandparent Emily Gilmore. The ever-lovely Emily Gilmore. I screwed everything up by arriving late and with a black eye, which Rory auto-assumed was from a fight with her ex Dean. Sadly, it was from a swan. A large white bird "beaked" me, if you can use beak as a verb. It led to me walking out on her and her grandmother and leaving her to stay the night there.

In Star's Hollow, news travels fast. So everyone thought that I had had a fight with Dean. Tall and Frankenstein-esque Dean, a dumb-as-a-post farmboy from Chicago.

Rory took my hand and wove her fingers between mine. When we first started dating, we were in a similar scenario: awkward, we decided to get closer to each other, and fingers intertwined, we had tried to have our first official kiss as a couple, but my uncle Luke barged in with a cheeseburger for Rory.

That's the weird thing about Rory. She's always eating, but never gains a pound. Not that I really object to that.

I touched her cheek with my free hand and she leaned in for a kiss. I leaned in for a kiss. We both leaned in for a kiss (very dramatic, aren't I?). I caught her lips and she brought her free hand up to my neck pulling me in closer. I put my free hand on her hip.

Our other hands were still laced together. She pulled hers away and placed it on my chest, pushing me away slightly.

I pulled my mouth away from hers, and we both stood there, breathing heavily. One of her hands was still on my chest, and she was running the other's fingers through my hair. I had my arms around her waist. We just stood there, staring at each other, breathing heavily.

I removed one of my arms from her waist and placed it on hers that was resting on my chest. We turned about 180 degrees, still facing each other, hands still touching the opposite sex.

I caught her up in another passionate kiss, teasing her with my tongue. Her mouth parted and I let go of her hand and placed mine on the side of her head, pulling her closer to me. She pulled my waist closer to her as we fell back onto the couch.

We were in a position very close to the one that Lorelai had caught us in earlier last week. Horizontal.

She moved up her hand up to my face and lightly touched the fading black and blue near my eye. I stopped what I was doing, and she kissed the bruise lightly, playfully.

"'You kiss by th' book'," she said playfully, quoting Juliet.

"Don't I though?"

She pulled her head up to meet mine, but we lay there, not kissing, foreheads touching. "Jess, I wanted to tell you something."

"What?"

"I'm ready when you are."

THE END of chapter one
and you might say its self-inflicted
but you see that's contradictive
why on earth would anyone practice self destruction?

and pain opinions are sitcom feeding
they dont know that their minds are teething
makes me want to give mankind a beating

i've tried bandages and sinking
i've tried gloves and even thinking
i've tried vaseline
i've tried everything
and no-one cares if your back is bleeding
they're concerned with their hair receding
looking back it was all maltreating
every thought that occurred misleading

makes me want to give myself a beating...."

--The Dresden Dolls "Bad Habit"

"i am the tower around which you orbited
i am not proud i am just taking orders
i fall to the groud within moments of impact
i hit back if hit
and attack if attacked

i am an accident waiting to happen
i'm laughing like mad while you strangle the captain
my place may be taken, but make no mistake
from a little black black box i can say without shame
that you've lost
do you know what you've lost?

so take whatever you'd like
i'll strike like the States on fire
you won't sleep very tight
no hiding
no safe covers
make your bed and now lie
just like you always do
you can fake it for the papers but i'm on to you...."

--The Dresden Dolls, "Truce"