Title: Additional Reporting By:
Chapter 4: Warning
Summary: A chance meeting on an airplane puts two old acquantainces in an awkward situation. But they are determined to make the best of it. Plus, he charms her.
Author's Note: Next chapter will hopefully be sooner. I actually sort of have the next two chapters written. Hint: the next one is called "There's Always Someone Cooler Than You." And the one after that may be called "Goodnight & Go." But maybe not.

Enjoy!

1.

Rory is cleaning. It's not an everyday occurrence, but it's not the rarity that it is for her mother. She believes that she has cleaned within the last month. The last three months, definitely.

But now she is doing it again, if only to keep her mind from the happenings of the last 48 hours.

It's not that she doesn't want to remember. She does. It's just...if she sits around remembering, she'll never actually get to sleep, or to doing anything useful. And she does, eventually, need to finish her article. So she's cleaning, to keep her mind off Dave, and she hopes that it will keep her mind clear long after she stops.

However, as she's sweeping and wiping and organizing, he creeps into her mind, inevitably. It starts with a tiny thing triggering it, like something from her high school days, when Lane was the one in love, and she'll smile a tiny smile, and then keep thinking, about the plane, about the pre-show banter, about the drunken rambling, and pretty soon she'll be grinning and windexing the same three inches of mirror over and over again.

Almost on the verge of giving up this cleaning thing altogether, she sits on the floor in her study and organizes the mess she made of her notes last night. It is stupid, but not quite mind-numbing, so her mind starts to wander, and she's deeply lost in a daydream of what it would have been like if Dave had continued kissing her instead of grinning and running back to his hotel when suddenly her answering machine picks up and the first three drumbeats of Green Day's "Warning" echo through her apartment.

It scares the crap out of her and she screams and jumps and throws every paper in her hand in the air. When she hears the song continue, however, she just smiles and forgets her mess and lays on the floor, letting his voice wash over her.

"This is a public service announcement, this is only a test," Dave sings. It sounds as if he's also playing the guitar, and the only remaining part of the recorded song is the drum in the background. "Emergency evacuation protest. May impair your ability to operate machinery, can't quite tell just what it means to me." He stops singing, but continues strumming as he says, "Sorry if I scared you. I turned the ringer on your phone off last night, and didn't remember until I called you three times this afternoon and you never answered."

Rory starts to get to her feet, ready to answer the phone and talk to Dave.

"Don't answer now; just let me talk. One of these days, you'll be able to sell this tape on eBay. But right now, I'm just gonna ramble."

He plays the tune from "Ramblin' Man" for a second, and then slips back into his soft strumming.

"I had a really nice time with you, Rory. At least, once we had alcohol. I'm planning on doing it again, hopefully with you. Maybe with a little less alcohol. And maybe a little more public. So I was thinking, tonight, I'll pick you up around seven, we'll go to a fancy casual restaurant--I'll be wearing a simple suit, but that's because that's what we rock stars wear nowadays. I heard it's supposed to get cold or something tonight--we don't have cold in LA. I'm thinking cold means 65? It's been awhile since I've lived in the northeast. But after the restaurant, I was thinking we could head back to your place. Or here, but your place has music AND alcohol, and mine just has the latter. So, don't worry about callin' me back, but I'll be at your place at seven, and hopefully you'll be ready by 7:45...I used to hear horror stories about your mother's tardiness, so I'm hoping it's not too genetic. Alright. Thanks for listening. Bye-bye. Oh, and this is Dave, by the way."

There is a click, and then a light on the machine starts blinking. Rory smiles, sighs, and stretches. Seven isn't that long from now. It'll probably take her an hour, at least, to decide what to wear. And if Dave's going to come back here, she'll need to clean up this mess she just made. She starts gathering the paper together, a slight smile playing on her lips. She has another date with Dave!

2.

He is nervous.

Well, that's a stupid statement. Of course he's nervous. He really likes Rory--really really. And it's been a while since he's liked anybody, and he can't quite remember how to act.

But he remembers flowers.

He stands at the bottom of the stairs in her apartment building holding his bouquet. He managed to sneak in without Rory buzzing him in, but now he can't quite get the courage to take the five flights of stairs and surprise her.

He's early. It's only quarter 'til seven, which, granted, isn't that early, but it still feels really early. He paces back and forth for a while, and then he runs up the first flight of stairs. He pauses, very slightly, and then takes the next two flights three steps at a time. When he gets to the fourth floor, he leans over, his hands on his knees, and pants. He checks his watch. Ten 'til seven. He stands up and races up the next flight of stairs. He doesn't allow himself to pause when he gets to the top, and instead finishes the trek, sprinting up the fifth flight. He continues sprinting down the hall, making a very shocked teenager flatten herself against the wall as he goes by.

He makes it to Rory's door and collapses outside it, breathing heavily, one hand on his chest, the hand with the flowers laying off to the side. He glances at his watch. Hopefully he'll be able to catch his breath in the next eight minutes. Maybe.

He sprawls out a little more, kicking his feet out to each side. He absentmindedly knocks his empty hand on the door, and then rearranges his tie so it falls straight down his chest, instead of skewed to the side. He reaches up one hand to tousle his hair, hoping it'll dry a little (damn him for sweating) and then knocks his hand on her door again.

She sits on the couch, having been ready for twenty minutes already, and her ears have already picked up the first halfhearted knock. Now there is a second, and she worries for a minute that perhaps he is sorry that he asked her out tonight. Perhaps he's dreading it, and can't bring himself to knock like a normal person. But when the third knock (though it really sounds like a kick) comes, she can't help but stand up and open the door, even if he's dreading it so badly.

She almost laughs when she sees him--the looks that pass over his face when she opens the door are hysterical.

After the initial shock and embarrassment, he finally just grins at her, remaining on the floor but reaching up with the flowers. "Ready to go?"

She (barely) suppresses a smile and takes the flowers from him. She lays them on the table near the door and reaches for her coat and purse. "Ready when you are."

He jumps up lithely, dusts himself off, and offers an arm. She laughs, reaching up quickly (while she dares) and running a hand through his hair, calming down what he'd set on end. He grabs her hand as it comes down, staring at her with an intensity she didn't expect so early in the evening. He leans forward, and then pauses. His eyes flick from her eyes to her lips and back again, and then he closes the space between them, dropping her hand to grab her face as he kisses her deeply. When they part, he is grinning like a schoolboy. She grabs his hand, and they walk down the stairs and out the front door.