Gilmore Girls ficlet: like getting caught by a drop of cold rain (Rory/Jess)
title: like getting caught by a drop of cold rain
fandom: Gilmore Girls
pairing: Rory/Jess
rating: R to be safe
word count: 600
notes: Written for comment_fic, prompt "Rory/Jess, burning in your embrace". Futurefic.
It's late. He should be on his way to the airport, and it's-it's really late.
She's still kissing him, though. Clutching the back of his shirt in the living room of her rather modest apartment in Washington, where he's come to promote his new book.
And visit her, he said, like it was an afterthought, and Rory knows-she knows she's never an afterthought for him. Not even when she should be.
He bites her lower lip, and she pulls away and illogically shushes him. "You should leave," she says, but she's still pressed up against him, wriggling against him with the weight of her breathing.
Jess chuckles, something like a mock sigh contained in it, says, "You're not letting me," and he gently pushes her away. The back of her knees hit the couch, and she stumbles back, holds onto Jess's shirt, pulls him down with her.
"Why did you get a red-eye flight to Philadelphia, anyway? It's still gonna be dark when you get there."
He looks at her for a second, then leans down to leave a trail of kisses from her collarbone up to her ear. "Why did you wait a whole weekend to do this?" His voice is a whisper, a murmur echoing through Rory's body, which rises up continually until Jess starts unbuttoning her shirt. "I don't think I'm gonna make it," he says, his hands roaming over her breasts. "They won't let me check anything in."
Which is a good point, in and of itself, except he's being stupid and Rory's aware enough to tell. She laughs, breathy and exasperated. "You don't need to check in. You only brought a carry-on," she manages.
"Whatever helps you get laid, Rory," Jess says condescendingly.
She hits him on the shoulder and squirms out of her shirt. "Whatever helps you get laid, you mean."
"I think I'm the one doing the laying here," he replies, the zipper on her jeans going down like a ghost in the room, in her ears, "but that works too," and Jess's hands pulling the pants down, covering her ass, then the back of her thigh where she lifts it up around his.
The talking dies down after that.
Afterwards, they disentangle themselves from each other, Rory's mind suddenly much clearer than before. Her body feels heavy, and she wonders if she's gonna be able to make it to her bed.
She groans when he starts putting on his clothes, and grabs his wrist. "It's late."
"I should be in Philly by now."
"You know where I should be?" Rory says, but doesn't give him time to answer. "I should be in my bed."
"Okay. I'll let myself out."
Rory tugs at his wrist. "I think you should carry me to my bed."
Jess snorts. "What, you can't walk?"
"Don't be an asshole," says Rory. "Take it as a testament to your. . .sexual prowess or something."
Jess rolls his eyes at her, she thinks, she can't be sure-the light that comes in from the street lamps is not exactly bright, and at some point she's flung her arm across her forehead, creating a visor of sorts over her eyes-but then she's up, up up, and those are Jess's arms against the back of her knees. Soon enough, she feels the mattress give in to her weight, soft sheets and Jess leaning down to kiss her and insult her-if you don't like being called an opportunist, anyway-before he leaves.
"Big word," she says, but he can't hear her.
fandom: Gilmore Girls
pairing: Rory/Jess
rating: R to be safe
word count: 600
notes: Written for comment_fic, prompt "Rory/Jess, burning in your embrace". Futurefic.
It's late. He should be on his way to the airport, and it's-it's really late.
She's still kissing him, though. Clutching the back of his shirt in the living room of her rather modest apartment in Washington, where he's come to promote his new book.
And visit her, he said, like it was an afterthought, and Rory knows-she knows she's never an afterthought for him. Not even when she should be.
He bites her lower lip, and she pulls away and illogically shushes him. "You should leave," she says, but she's still pressed up against him, wriggling against him with the weight of her breathing.
Jess chuckles, something like a mock sigh contained in it, says, "You're not letting me," and he gently pushes her away. The back of her knees hit the couch, and she stumbles back, holds onto Jess's shirt, pulls him down with her.
"Why did you get a red-eye flight to Philadelphia, anyway? It's still gonna be dark when you get there."
He looks at her for a second, then leans down to leave a trail of kisses from her collarbone up to her ear. "Why did you wait a whole weekend to do this?" His voice is a whisper, a murmur echoing through Rory's body, which rises up continually until Jess starts unbuttoning her shirt. "I don't think I'm gonna make it," he says, his hands roaming over her breasts. "They won't let me check anything in."
Which is a good point, in and of itself, except he's being stupid and Rory's aware enough to tell. She laughs, breathy and exasperated. "You don't need to check in. You only brought a carry-on," she manages.
"Whatever helps you get laid, Rory," Jess says condescendingly.
She hits him on the shoulder and squirms out of her shirt. "Whatever helps you get laid, you mean."
"I think I'm the one doing the laying here," he replies, the zipper on her jeans going down like a ghost in the room, in her ears, "but that works too," and Jess's hands pulling the pants down, covering her ass, then the back of her thigh where she lifts it up around his.
The talking dies down after that.
Afterwards, they disentangle themselves from each other, Rory's mind suddenly much clearer than before. Her body feels heavy, and she wonders if she's gonna be able to make it to her bed.
She groans when he starts putting on his clothes, and grabs his wrist. "It's late."
"I should be in Philly by now."
"You know where I should be?" Rory says, but doesn't give him time to answer. "I should be in my bed."
"Okay. I'll let myself out."
Rory tugs at his wrist. "I think you should carry me to my bed."
Jess snorts. "What, you can't walk?"
"Don't be an asshole," says Rory. "Take it as a testament to your. . .sexual prowess or something."
Jess rolls his eyes at her, she thinks, she can't be sure-the light that comes in from the street lamps is not exactly bright, and at some point she's flung her arm across her forehead, creating a visor of sorts over her eyes-but then she's up, up up, and those are Jess's arms against the back of her knees. Soon enough, she feels the mattress give in to her weight, soft sheets and Jess leaning down to kiss her and insult her-if you don't like being called an opportunist, anyway-before he leaves.
"Big word," she says, but he can't hear her.