#and I had one teacher in particular who would rib me relentlessly for it

[hardly-an-escape]

it's funny – as an American who writes a lot of fanfic for mostly British shows, but reads a lot of fanfic for both British and American shows, I do kind of get a feel for when someone is writing characters who don't share their own nationality.

and it definitely goes both ways; there are Britishisms that pop out at me in fics for American shows, and Americanisms that come out of British characters' mouths.

and I'm certainly not immune! I think I'm pretty good at writing British English, but I'm sure there are American words and turns of phrase that still sneak through. and equally, I've read/watched SO much by English and Irish writers that I'm sure I use weird Britishisms myself that sound natural to me but not to other Americans.

I don't know, it's just one of my favorite little things about fanfic and fandom in general. I feel like britpicking isn't a term that's used that often these days, but that's what it is. and I love that it goes both ways.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Holden Caulfield or Nancy Drew

PART THIRTY-ONE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: nightmares, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of domestic abuse/violence, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 7.5K (this is long for some reason idk lads)

Summary: Jess and Ella return to Stars Hollow for Liz’s baby shower.

“So, how do you feel about artificial intelligence?” Ella asked, unprompted, finishing a drawing of some ducklings feasting on a vulture. Her sketchpad sat to her right on the arm of the couch. She was working with the new theme of opposition.

Jess looked up from his book, his head lying on her lap, and furrowed his brows. “What?”

She shrugged. “I read about some guy in the woods of Montana creating an AI all on his own. I think it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“How so?” Setting the book on his chest upside-down, Jess glanced at her inquisitively.

Her eyes were still trained on the drawing she was completing with only one hand. “Well, once they gain a more humanoid form, will they assimilate completely into the human race or will they be distinct from us? I mean, will they enact some revenge plot on us or will we coexist peacefully? We’re not the first humans who’ve had to think about this, but it’s the new millennium. Seems like that kinda stuff is closer than ever.”

Breathing a long sigh, Jess let a smirk cross his face. He peeked at his watch, and found it was only half past five. Chris was due home soon, having gone to do some PR business. Matthew was staying at Mabel’s place for the weekend. The apartment, silent save for their voices, was bathed in evening light. It had been warm for a February day, but a cold front was set to arrive very soon.

“It’s not even six yet. And already we’ve arrived at Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” he asked with a doubtful chuckle.

Finally, she did the last bit of shading on her sketch and shut her book, her pencil saving her place. Her smile was small and sardonic. “You mean Blade Runner? Or are you actually insinuating that the book was better than the movie?”

“I’m not insinuating, Stevens. I’m stating a known fact,” he argued flatly.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you ever gonna get some taste?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back.

Ella scoffed. “Says the man who honestly believes Coldplay could be described as an alternative band?”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” Jess deadpanned playfully, picking his book back up.

“Because you know I’m right.”

“Because you’re relentlessly stubborn.”

“On this particular topic?” Ella said, eyebrows raised. “Any sane person would be.”

“‘Sane’ isn’t quite the right word,” Jess muttered, pretending to ignore her.

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then gave a curt nod and snatched the Kesey book from his hands before he could even react. Sitting up instantly, Jess eyed the book where she held it over the arm of the couch. Certainly, it was in his reach, but that wasn’t the point.

“You know this means war, right?” he asked.

“I’m aware,” she replied coolly, mocking. “But you’ll just have to try to come over here and get this back.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged, sighing slightly.

He launched forwards and began tickling her sides. Eyes widening, Ella dropped the book. The paperback fell with a small thud on the cracked hardwood on the other side of the couch, forgotten. Her sketchbook also slipped off the arm of the couch, the pencil falling out and rolling underneath the chair nearby. Jess had gone straight for the jugular. It had only taken sleeping in the same bed with her a few times for him to realize Ella was one of the most ticklish people he had ever encountered. She laughed loudly, openly, throwing her head back. Her hair splayed behind her as she laid her head against one of the throw pillows and Jess ended up on top, straddling her.

“This is what you get for being a book tease, Daria,” he said.

Her smile was wide, hurting her cheeks, as she pleaded through breathless giggles. “Fuck you! Stop!”

After a few more seconds, he obliged, his hands going slack and gripping her sides gently instead. The grin remained on her lips, her cheeks a lively pink. She caught her breath, dreamy eyes softening as her gaze lingered on his face. “I hate you, Mariano.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “You love me.”

Ella shrugged as Jess leaned in closer to her, breath hot on her face. “Close enough.”

As he went to kiss her, she placed a hand on the back of his neck, cool against his flushed skin. Her lips were soft but firm, needy. She was just wrapping her legs around his waist as he sat up, preparing to lift her up and take her to their bedroom, when Chris walked in. Immediately after tossing his keys on the kitchen counter, he staggered back and clamped his free hand over his eyes.

“Ugh, c’mon guys!” he whined.

Ella gasped and pulled away, hiding her face behind Jess, who turned to his friend with an annoyed stare. About a minute more and they would’ve been in the clear.

“How many times?” Chris continued, glancing through his splayed fingers to ensure it was safe before removing his hand again. “This is a communal living room! Communal!”

“Sorry,” Jess said lightly. “Next time, we’ll hang a sock on the door.”

Ella shoved his shoulder playfully, embarrassed. “Shut up!”

Chris grimaced in distaste but let it slide. He cast a stack of envelopes on the coffee table in front of them before going to hang up his things. “Some mail came.”

Swallowing thickly, Ella climbed off of Jess and began sifting through the mail. Jess watched her go through the envelopes, his chin resting on her shoulder. She tossed a few his way, some bills and some author inquiries.

Only two of them were for her, one being a check for her teacher’s assistant services. The spring semester was going considerably better than the fall, as Ella got the hang of the program. She smiled down at it and picked up her sketchbook again, tucking the check inside and making a mental note to cash it on Monday. Underneath it was a larger envelope, addressed in delicate, handwritten cursive. The return address was for a woman named Carrie from Stars Hollow. For the life of her, she couldn’t produce a face to match the name. Furrowing her brows, she ripped it open and read the stiff card which fell out.

“Hm,” she hummed, beginning to chew at her thumbnail as she looked it over.

“What’s up?” Jess asked absently, flipping through his own pile.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella took a hesitant pause before she spoke. The door shut behind Chris as he disappeared into his own room, and Ella was glad the inquiring ears were gone. “I got invited to Liz’s baby shower.”

“Huh,” Jess chirped, indifferent. “When?”

Her eyes landed on the date and she smirked bitterly. “Tomorrow. What a master at planning, your mother.”

“It’s what she’s famous for,” Jess quipped, finally setting his mail back on the coffee table and meeting her eyes again. “You wanna go? There’s no other plans this weekend, right?”

“I don’t know,” Ella shrugged. “Obviously, you could come with. Maybe catch up with Luke or something. He’s probably not doing so hot since everything with Lorelai. I mean...do you want me to go?”

“Not my decision to make,” he said in a clipped tone. He ran a hand over his mouth and peeked down at the invitation. It was pink and glittery. He snorted a bitter laugh. “If you wanna go, I’ll come with.”

“You have no opinion on this?” she asked. “None at all?”

“Nope,” he answered, shaking his head. “No opinion at all.”

She blew a breath out her nose, eyes calculating, as she read the invitation over again and considered the options. Jess didn’t seem thrilled about it, but didn’t seem enraged either. It was nice they had thought of her at all. And Ella had been worrying about Luke in the back of her mind quite a bit as of late. She’d heard through Lane that Lorelai had somehow ended up marrying Rory’s dad, Christopher, in Paris. Besides, Jess spoke with Liz on the phone at least once a month. They weren’t estranged. It would be good, she told herself. Mature.

“Might as well,” she said with finality, adding her own envelopes to the madness on the coffee table. She would have to grab her lone, neat stack later. “Since they remembered to invite me. Feels like I should go.”

Jess nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoed, tugging on her earring. “We can take my car. And we’ll have to stop and get a gift on the way, I guess. But the party’s not until four, so we can definitely swing it. I guess you’ll have to hang out at Luke’s or something while I go?”

“Sure,” Jess said, aloof. “I’ll call him later and let him know we’re coming. We should probably stay with him. There’s no telling what kind of state Liz and TJ’s house is in.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a wise choice.”

“Agreed.” He ran an anxious hand through his hair and straightened up slightly, then seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders. The small smirk reappeared on his lips. “But, in the meantime, you wanna finish what we started?”

Ella grinned wickedly and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the bedroom door. “No time like the present.”

.   .   .

Usually, when Jess emerged from a nightmare, a big gasp brought him immediately back to reality. He would jolt physically as soon as his eyes flew open. But, this time, he found he couldn’t get quite as much of the dry central heating air as he needed when he reentered the waking world. His chest felt tight, as it often did in a bad dream’s aftermath, but his throat also felt impossibly small. His breathing came in short gasps. His heart beat hard against his ribs, making him feel almost nauseous. Though he was sticky with sweat, shivers rolled through his body, making his hands tremble. And for just one moment, he feared he was so lightheaded he would pass out.

Ella didn’t feel his movements so much as hear his shuffling around. When she cracked her eyes open, and blinked away the first few seconds of blurriness, she found him leaning up against the wall behind the bed. His eyes were wide and terrified, and he couldn’t control his breathing despite the hand he held desperately to his chest.

“Whoa, hey, Jess,” she murmured softly.

Sitting up, she immediately went to bring a hand to his shoulder, but he flinched away from her.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, okay?” she told him.

He nodded weakly.

Worry crept up her throat, but she did her best to keep her voice calm. She had seen shades of the same reaction each time he had a nightmare, but it had never been quite so extreme. His pupils had never been blown-out, as she could see in the grayish light of the early morning, and he had never had trouble breathing before.

“What do you need?” she asked, trying to get him to meet her gaze. When he finally did, she could see tears just about to spill over.

“Elle, I...I don’t…” He struggled for words, panting.

“Alright, that’s fine,” she whispered. “It’s fine if you don’t know. Everything is fine, Jess. But let’s just breathe, alright? Breathe with me.”

She took a long, loud breath in through her nose, then let it out through her mouth.

“Do it with me, James Dean. In and out, huh?” she said.

Though he raised a doubtful eyebrow, eventually, he did as she instructed. His hands almost felt numb, pins and needles, but they stopped shaking after a few minutes of slow breaths. He grabbed her hand in his own, squeezing tightly. He wondered instantly why he had withdrawn from her before. The feeling of her skin against his did perhaps more to soothe him than the breathing did.

She offered a tiny smile as he interlaced their fingers, and squeezed back. “Good job, Jess. Everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

Again, he nodded, more emphatically. There were glistening tear tracks running down his cheeks. He sniffled as his breathing became regular again, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to maintain whatever semblance of control he could.

“You okay?” she asked, watching his muscles begin to ease up.

Releasing her hand, Jess averted his gaze and felt a blush heat his skin. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine.”

Ella said nothing more, instead gently laying him back down. She tugged the covers over them again, though she knew the alarm would probably go off in less than an hour or two. She brought his head to her chest, running her fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Wiping some of the dampness from his face with her thumb, she rubbed her free hand up and down over his back.

“One of those dreams, cutie?” she asked quietly.

He hummed in confirmation.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” he said, and she thought she heard his voice becoming watery again.

“Okay,” she replied, soft but resolute. It was the response she had expected, but it seemed worth asking for such an acute reaction.

A calm, comfortable silence passed between them. Outside, the birds were chirping, and the traffic noise had already started. Slats of light snuck through the closed blinds and cast white strips over the gray comforter. Reaching over, Jess began to trace a fingertip over the tattoo on the inside of her left forearm. He did it often with her body art, after having watched her run her hands over her sketches so many times.

“Remind me about this one,” he said softly.

She smiled. He’d asked her more than once after a nightmare. She only had two tattoos so far, though she had plans for a third. Quality meant money, and she was still saving up. Sometimes he asked about the one on her leg, an antique bird cage with an open door. Neither of her tattoos had any color, drawn in a delicate, shaded style by an artist in New Haven. She was talented, and Gil knew her through his sandwich shop connections. She was still apprenticing, making sandwiches to get by before she could open her own shop or get permanently hired at one.

The birdcage had actually been Lane’s idea, after Ella moved in with her. Partially inspired by Keats’s odes, Ella had thought of getting a simple bird tattoo. She’d mentioned it to Lane, who lit up immediately at the mention of a rebellious act, and suggested something a bit different. The metaphor was clear, the tattoo was beautiful. The experience was better than she thought it would be, and she’d gone back for her second only a few months later, on Mother’s Day.

As much as Ella loved the birdcage, the tulip on her arm was her favorite. By the same artist, it had the same style. It was delicate, the bloom near the crook of her elbow and the stem tapering off and disappearing gracefully a little above her wrist.

“When I was a kid,” she began, “my mother had a kickass garden. I always wanted to help her, planting and watering and everything. But, as we all know, I kill everything except cactuses. She gave me a bunch of tulip seeds for my birthday once, and I made them my project. Got some books about flowers from the library, and everything. Only one ended up growing, anyway. But I was proud of it. And my mom was proud of me. And now I remember every time I look at my arm.”

Jess could feel the vibrations of Ella’s raspy voice in her chest, his ear pressed against her t-shirt as he listened. His eyes were getting heavy again, his body stressed from the rude awakening. It made him feel silly, but it had always so easily put him back to sleep. Not having to talk. Just listening to her.

“Pretty sentimental of you, Stevens,” he joked.

She chuckled. “Hypocrite. Love at first sight much?”

“Who am I to deny a law of the universe? Not like I could help it. I saw you and it was done,” he argued impassively.

“Guess I’m just irresistible,” she teased.

“Seems that way.”

Her own eyes fluttered shut. She was warm but not uncomfortable. Cozy, she supposed, was the word for it. Jess on her right side, with his head on her chest, seconds away from snoring.

“Hey, I do love you, Mariano.”

One corner of Jess’s mouth quirked up in a lazy smile, as he dozed despite the uneasiness and embarrassment still sitting in his stomach. “I know, Stevens. Love you back.”

.   .   .

Humming along with the CD, Ella cast nervous glances Jess’s way. His scowl was near permanent as he stared out the window at the passing scenery. The breeze was frigid as the sun beat down on the Connecticut streets. They were only five minutes away from Liz and TJ’s house, and Ella felt far less nostalgia than she was expecting. Fiona and Adam both had plans for the day, and said they simply couldn’t carve out the time to see her. Not one minute. Adam had some project he was spending the weekend at a friend’s house to finish. And Fiona had hair appointments booked solid. Ella knew it was naive to think they would fit in time for her on such a spur of the moment visit, but the disappointment remained. Stars Hollow didn’t look the same to her, feel the same to her, no matter how identical it seemed. Colorful decorations popped up on the sidewalks and there was a banner for some random town holiday above Taylor’s store. She didn’t bother to read it; next weekend was Valentine’s Day and she knew whatever the town was currently celebrating would just be an excuse to drum up business for the actual calendar event. As soon as “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” ended, she pulled her station wagon over to the side, outside Liz and TJ’s modest ranch-style, adorned with lawn ornaments and wind chimes and other kitschy decorations. A bunch of pink balloons streamed from where they were tied to the mailbox, which was shaped like a fish.

“Okay. Out with it,” she said, turning to him just as she pulled the parking brake.

Jess faced her, furrowing his brows. “What?”

“What’s with you?” Ella asked. “You always sing along to Elton John. At least, when it’s just the two of us you do. ‘Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters’ is your favorite. You’re not singing so...what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jess said shortly, arms crossed over his flannel.

Ella blew her curtain bangs from her eyes in frustration, the rest of her locks pulled back in a low bun. She pulled the keys from the ignition. “Can we just skip this whole denial part and get to the part where you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“This isn’t the denial part,” Jess said, rolling his eyes. “This is the part where I tell you nothing is wrong because nothing is wrong. Two different parts entirely.”

“I asked you if you still wanted to come after everything that happened last night. And you said, and I quote: ‘Yes.’ And you didn’t want to talk about it, which is totally fine. But you seemed so out of it this morning, and-”

“This isn’t about last night,” he interrupted, a defensive bite in his voice. His muscles were tense.

“Alright,” she nodded, eyebrows raised. “Then what the hell is it about?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“I think you might be a worse liar than me,” she mused peevishly. “Just give it up, Mariano. What is wrong?”

“The third degree is getting a little old, Nancy Drew,” he shot back, raising his voice slightly.

She spoke with her hands, a small, bitter, sarcastic smirk on her face. “You know what I think is getting old? The Holden fucking Caulfield act, which I haven’t seen in, like, three years. Now, you obviously don’t wanna be here, jackass. You obviously didn’t want me to go to this thing. Which you could’ve mentioned about two hundred miles ago. But I guess I wasn’t worthy of that courtesy. I’m only your girlfriend and your best friend, but who am I kidding? There’s no one on the planet who could possibly be privy to the thoughts of tortured genius, Jess Mariano! Excuse me!”

Grabbing the present and her purse from the backseat and shutting the driver’s side door behind her harshly, she began trudging up the cobblestone path to the house.

Jess sighed heavily as he got out of the car and leaned against the passenger side. He watched as Ella stopped abruptly and turned on her heel, fire in her hazel eyes as she doubled back and held the keys out to him.

“For you, Caulfield. Avoid the phonies on your way. I hear they tend to jaywalk,” she snapped as he took the keys.

“You’re so fucking hilarious,” he retorted, eyes narrowed.

“And you are so fucking annoying,” she shouted over her shoulder as she neared the front door.

“Right back at ya, Stevens!”

Jess ran a hand over his mouth as he saw Liz come out to meet Ella, enveloping her in a warm, cheerful hug. Her baby bump was round and visible from the street, and she offered her son a wave from the distance. He returned it begrudgingly. Feeling his stomach do a flip, his eyes followed Ella as she vanished into the house and didn’t turn back for a final look at him.

.   .   .

Evening had darkened to a deep, silky blue outside. The air was icy and thick with the promise of forthcoming snow. Ella sat on the porch with Miss Patty as she smoked from her long cigarette holder. The day hadn’t been her happiest, but Ella was glad to have a chance to reunite with the best dance teacher on the East Coast. Babette had left earlier, something about a gig for Maury’s jazz group. Carrie, who Ella had recognized as one of the crazy guests from Liz’s bachelorette party upon seeing her face again, was inside with Liz and TJ. And, Ella couldn’t think of anything she wanted to hear less than the story TJ was currently telling of the fight he and Jess had gotten into at a strip club. The father-to-be had shown up halfway through the party to be present when the gifts were opened, wearing an ostentatious Hawaiian shirt, inexplicably.

Ella’s glass was filled with watery orange juice, the ice cubes long since having melted. The drink was tangy, sour, and she had downed at least four of them over the course of the past three hours.

“And I told Marlene I simply couldn’t take her place,” Patty said, words snaking out of her mouth in white clouds. She was draped in velvet shawls and several long necklaces. “But she insisted!”

“I never knew you were a Dietrich stand-in,” Ella said, head buzzing and airy.

Patty nodded, an eyebrow raised suggestively. “I was her stand-in in more ways than one. Rudolf Sieber was a hell of a man.”

Snorting a laugh, Ella half-listened as she leaned over to get a better view of the full moon and the bright stars. She slid right off the porch swing and landed directly on her ass. Bursting out in drunken cackles, she somehow managed to keep the drink gripped in her hand. She gulped up the rest of it, then placed it down on the painted wood floor next to her. Patty laughed along suspiciously.

“Darling, are you alright?”

Ella nodded through her sloppy giggles, licking her lips. “I’m great, Miss Patty. Y’know, I don’t usually like orange juice too much, but I love it tonight. And Liz loved the pajamas we got. I thought the piglets would be better, but Jess insisted we get the sheep. He was right, I guess. It’d be nice if he was so open about more than just his onesie opinions.”

“My dear,” Patty began, stubbing out her cigarette, “that’s not orange juice. That’s a screwdriver.”

“Hm?” Ella asked, looking up at her from her place on the floor with large, glassy eyes.

“A screwdriver. It’s orange juice and vodka,” Patty explained, half-amused and half-concerned. She went and shouted something through the front door to Liz, TJ, Carrie, and the rest of the crowd. Ella said nothing, only looking down in confusion at her empty cup.

Liz appeared next to Patty in a second, both of them coming over and lifting Ella by the upper arms. Smiling widely, Liz gave Ella a hug goodbye. Ella laughed in her grasp, more receptive to the contact than she was when she first got to the shower.

“I had so much fun! Thank you for inviting me!” Ella exclaimed, her voice high and intoxicated.

Grin ever-present, Liz pulled away from Ella and held her by the shoulders. “Aw, thank you for coming. I love the onesie! Patty’s gonna walk you back to my bro’s diner, alright?”

Ella paused for a long, apprehensive moment, then nodded happily. “Okay, sure. Hey, did Carrie give me vodka? Patty said something about vodka. But Carrie said it was orange juice and I couldn’t taste anything else!”

“You’ll be fine, sweetie,” Liz said calmly, then turned Ella back to Patty.

Ella was about to question her further, but she was already being whisked away.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to the diner,” Patty said, pushing Ella forwards by the shoulderblades.

Babbling on about whatever passed through her brain, Ella appreciated the cold air on her flushed skin as they strolled through town on the five-minute walk back to Luke's. At some point, she shed her black peacoat and slung it over her shoulder. There were rosy patches blooming on her chest, exposed in her floral black dress. Her tights had somehow sustained more than one rip and her Doc Martens felt leaden on her feet. The lights of the diner were a beacon against the dark backdrop of town at night. She saw Jess, all broody on a stool at the end of the counter, through the front window.

“Ugh, Jess is such an asshole sometimes,” she muttered, her words thick like molasses.

Patty chuckled, walking her up the concrete steps. “He’s a man, honey. What did you expect?”

The bell over the door jingled jovially. Luke was cleaning up the counter as the Saturday dinner rush died down. The aroma of salt and grease was potent. Finally, the wave of nostalgia hit Ella as she hung her coat and bag by the door. She almost knocked the rack down as Patty’s hands hovered over her form cautiously.

“Yes, everyone, your eyes do not deceive you,” Ella announced. “Luke’s best waitress has returned to her humble beginnings in Stars Hollow.”

At the sound of her voice, Jess turned and his eyes widened. He abandoned his book on the counter and hopped up from the stool. Luke, equally startled, could only stand there with his mouth agape.

“What happened?” Jess asked, rushing over to Ella. His hands went to her waist to guide her, but she swatted him away with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“Get off me, Holden Caulfield,” she mumbled, wobbly on her feet.

“Carrie gave her five screwdrivers. She thought it was orange juice,” Patty said shortly, offering some greetings to the stray customers sitting around and looking on in curiosity. “You got her, Jess? I have a midnight sauna salsa class to set up for.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Patty,” Jess said, taking over for her.

Ella ran right into one of the tables. It screeched across the tile floor, leaving a dark mark. But Jess caught her before she fell on her face. Patty offered Ella a final kiss on the cheek before making her exit.

“Dammit, Crazy Carrie strikes again!” Luke exclaimed. Jess sensed a rant coming. “I never would’ve let her go if I knew that’s who was throwing it!”

“You think you could stop Eleanor Stevens from going anywhere?” Jess asked doubtfully, continuing his failed attempts to direct her.

“Luke, your nephew is a jackass, did you know that? And such a dork,” Ella said, coming behind the counter and learning her elbows on it tiredly. Luke could smell the vodka, strong on her breath. “I mean, he loves broadway. I’m serious. And Elton John. And Nora Ephron. And remember when we were in high school when he got that black eye from-”

Jess finally managed to clamp his hand over Ella’s mouth, as she had been shoving his hands away during the entire diatribe. She was surprisingly strong while drunk, even though she was such a lightweight. Licking his hand, Ella managed to get her mouth free again. She laughed at Jess’s grimace as he wiped his palm on her sleeve, but pressed her back against him nonetheless. She felt some stability returning as he began to support her weight.

“Okay, I think it’s time we get you to bed,” Jess said. His cheeks were flushed and there was crease of concern on his forehead. “Don’t you think so, Luke?”

“Yeah, Ella, the sheets are clean. You guys can take my bed tonight,” Luke said, nodding along as he went over to the cash register.

“But I don’t wanna take your bed. Who are we to take your bed?” Ella argued, as Jess led her back towards the stairs. She stumbled over her words, and swayed as she tried to walk.

“It’s fine, Ella,” Luke insisted warily. “You’ll take the bed.”

“But-”

Jess uttered a long sigh, then hoisted her up bridal-style, fed up with struggling. Groaning dramatically, Ella stiffened for only a moment, then relaxed in his arms. Her head lolled drunkenly against his shoulder.

“Oh, look, my jackass in shining armor,” she spat out, eyes closed.

“Yeah, I’m the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, I know,” he replied, finishing his climb up the stairs and managing to open the door to the apartment with only one hand.

“At least you’re self-aware.”

She was already drifting off, and he set her down atop the soft orange cover on Luke’s double bed. She rolled over onto her side and grabbed a fistful of the sheets sleepily. By the time Jess returned to her with a glass of water and some aspirin, she was beginning to snore. He set the glass and pills on the bedside table.

“Elle? Wake up for just a sec,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.

She gave another petulant moan, but opened her bleary eyes and sat up against the headboard.

“Take these,” he said shortly, giving her the glass and the aspirin.

Shooting him a scornful glare, she knocked them back without a word.

“You want the Led Zeppelin t-shirt or the blue flannel?” he asked, going over to the duffel he’d brought up to the apartment earlier.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the headache already. “Fuck, I wish I brought the KISS t-shirt. But if I brought it, I would definitely forget it. I can see it already. Led Zeppelin, please.”

He nodded, then came back to the end of the bed and began untying her shoes for her. Her eyes fluttered shut again. The smell of pine in the apartment was old and comforting. The covers were soft against her skin as Jess tugged off her stockings, leaving her legs bare. He swapped them for a pair of plaid pajama shorts, which she actually tried (unsuccessfully) to help him put on.

Suddenly, she began to clutch at the leather cord around her neck. On it, there hung a heavy, blue geode, flat against the exposed skin of her chest. She tried twice to get it off herself, before Jess finished with her shorts and pushed her hands aside. He raised it up and off of her carefully.

“Your mom put that on me. I might’ve given her twenty bucks for it? I don’t remember,” she told him, surly.

Jess cracked a joyless smirk. “How mercenary of her.”

“I wish I wasn’t drunk,” she murmured as he instructed her to raise her arms so he could get her dress and bra off.

“I know,” he replied.

“Being drunk fucking sucks,” she continued as he slipped the worn cotton t-shirt over her head.

“I know,” he repeated. Jess scooted up closer to the head of the bed. “Turn around.”

She did as he said, though not without sulky huff. In measured, delicate movements, he undid her hairdo, taking out the bobby pins and the elastic. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, untangling it.

“Okay. Do you wanna brush your teeth first?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, burrowing beneath the covers and turning away from him. Swallowing dryly, Jess gave a curt nod and was about to turn and leave when Ella flipped suddenly onto her back.

“Hey, you have to stay on your side in case-”

“I just want you to talk to me,” she interjected, reaching up to stroke his stubbly cheek with her thumb. For a moment, as she continued, he thought he saw the shine of tears in her eyes. “We need to tell each other everything. I’m really fucking worried about you. And I just...I love you and...maybe I was being too aggressive. I don’t know. But I really, really wish I wasn’t drunk and my head hurts and I wish we could go home and-”

“Hey, Eleanor, just go to sleep,” he said softly, taking her hand from his face and running his thumb over the back. She was rambling, eyes red-rimmed, beyond exhausted. Tucking her in tightly, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Irrational hurt passed over Ella’s face and she scoffed angrily. She faced away from him again, the cold shoulder. “Whatever. Holden fucking Caulfield.”

.   .   .

It was past eleven when Luke finally closed up for the night. He had no place to be, and let Caesar go early. The diner was completely silent as he scrubbed away at smudged surfaces and swept up crumbs. He wished for Lorelai, could picture her at home with Christopher. Around the kitchen table where he used to sit, with Rory and Christopher’s own daughter, Gigi. Luke wondered at it in the back of his mind. Christopher had a daughter, just like him. But he’d made it work. He’d figured it out, and gotten Lorelai in the end. Why hadn’t he been able to? What was wrong with him?

He pushed the thoughts away again, shaking his head. They did no good. What’s done is done, he told himself. Maybe one day he would find someone again. But he had never met anyone who made him feel the way Lorelai did. No one else in the world. He wasn’t optimistic he’d honestly be able to come across true love again. He trudged up the creaky back stairs, his brow heavy with anguish, after shutting off the downstairs lights. Opening the door to the apartment, which still read ‘Williams Hardware’ all these years after his father had died, he was surprised to see Jess at the kitchen table, book in hand. The light over the sink was the only one left on, creating a dim glow.

“Hey,” he said quietly, locking the door behind him, even though the front door of the diner was locked as well.

Jess’s eyes lingered on the page for a moment as he finished a sentence, before he saved his place and looked up. “Hey. You finish closing?”

“Yep,” Luke said, placing his keys down near the door and immediately going to grab a beer from the fridge. He held one out to his nephew. “You want one?”

Not even considering it, Jess shook his head. He tossed a nervous look at Ella, who lay snoring and tangled up in the orange sheets. She was talking nonsense in her sleep, had been for the past two or three hours as Jess attempted to finish his Kesey novel. He was having trouble concentrating.

“No, thanks,” he said. “I think at least one of us should be sober tonight.”

“Suit yourself.”

Luke came to sit beside Jess silently, sipping his Heineken and waiting for whatever story was to come. It was only the second time in his life he had seen Ella drunk, and it was making him feel an odd sense of deja-vu.

“I wanted to help clean up downstairs, but I was worried she would flip over onto her back. I figured I should stay here and...make sure she was okay,” Jess explained, apologetic.

“Don’t worry about it.” Luke shrugged it off dismissively.

“She hates being drunk,” Jess said, eyes still on Ella. “I mean, on her twenty-first birthday, we didn’t even go out. We just watched Goodfellas.”

“Why?” Luke asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Jess smirked. “She said it was a makeshift rite of passage, since she didn’t want to drink. Because they say ‘fuck’ exactly three hundred times.”

“Sounds like her,” Luke said fondly.

“Yeah,” Jess replied, looking down at his lap and breathing a sigh.

“She didn’t seem too happy with you earlier,” Luke said pointedly, eyebrows raised. “Or was that just the booze talking?”

Jess uttered a bitter chuckle. “I’d say a sober woman’s thoughts are a drunk woman’s words, but she sounded pretty much the same level of pissed in the car on the way up here as she did after five screwdrivers.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jess said, his words a sigh. “I thought I’d be okay with all this. The baby shower and everything. But I got to thinking about it more and more and...I just don’t know. Do you think Liz is ready for another kid?”

Luke paused a moment, appraising Jess’s face. He saw sincere fear in his nephew’s features, taking him slightly aback. “I think so. And TJ’s not the sharpest tool in the shed by any means, but I think he’s even less of a flight risk than your mom. And they live right down the road from me, Jess.”

Jess hummed. “I guess that’s true. I just got to remembering some things about Liz and...Ella could tell something was up. She can always tell. But I guess I didn’t feel like talking.”

Blowing a long breath out through his nose, Luke nodded. “Well, you don’t have to worry about this kid. I promise. I won’t let anything happen.”

“Thanks.”

“And Jess?” Luke began, meeting his nephew’s eyes. “Talk to her. Tell her everything that’s on her mind. There’s no point in hiding things. It’ll drive her crazy, and it’ll drive her away. We’ve had this conversation before. Open two-way communication is-”

“The foundation of love, I know, Dr. Phil,” Jess grumbled, rolling his eyes at the self-help jargon. But, inside, he stored the sentiment away for later. “Old habits, I guess. I’m working on it.”

“Good. That’s all that matters,” Luke said, offering Jess a hopeful smile and finishing off the last of his beer. He tossed it in the recycling and retreated to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Jess ran a hand over his mouth and then rubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. His dream from the night before flashed across his mind quickly, and he tried to lock the images away. The thought of curling up on the old leather couch made him grimace. He wasn’t eager for a repeat. One more chapter, he told himself. Then he would be ready to try and rest.

.   .   .

Whatever possessed her to wake up at five in the morning on a Sunday, she wasn’t entirely sure. But the pounding headache in her temples probably had something to do with it. Luke was already gone, the twin bed on which Jess had once slept made neatly and left empty. Early morning deliveries perhaps. Or maybe he was getting ready for the brunch crowd. It was his least favorite group of customers, Ella remembered. As she awoke and saw Jess was asleep beneath a throw blanket on the couch, book on the floor next to him, she hopped up from the bed. The weathered hardwood was cold beneath her bare feet, and she wished the room wasn’t quite as awash in morning light. She had to squint against it as she padded over, sitting on the edge of one couch cushion.

“Jess?” she whispered, groggy. She raked her hands through her messy hair and tucked it behind her ears. Goosebumps rose on her arms after having left the warmth of the bed. “Jess?”

He stirred on only the second try, scrunching up his face. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before. Eventually, his brown eyes were open, and surprised to see her up before him. “Hey, Elle. You okay?”

“Yeah. Why are you on the couch?”

“Oh,” he said, throwing an arm across his eyes and yawning. “You were pretty mad last night. I didn’t know if you’d want me to get in with you.”

She shook her head, a small smile ghosting over her lips. “I always want you sleeping next to me, cutie. Even when I’m mad. I mean, we’ve got sides of the bed now. There’s tradition to maintain.”

“Like you’ve ever cared about tradition,” he chuckled, blinking away the sleep in his field of vision. She looked pale, almost a sickly green, but her eyes were clear once again. And her speech was no longer drunkenly strung together.

“Fair enough,” she replied. “But I wasn’t sleep-in-separate-beds mad. I was just I’m-wasted-and-annoyed mad.”

“How the hell did you not know you were drinking screwdrivers?” he asked, a teasing smirk appearing on his face.

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “I don’t know, Mariano. I don’t ever drink. How am I supposed to know what alcohol tastes like? And I don’t know what the fuck Carrie did to those, but I swear they were a dead ringer for straight orange juice.”

“Whatever you say, Stevens.”

“Shut up,” she quipped with good nature. “Did I try to sing Rumors or anything? I don’t really remember.”

“Mercifully, no,” he said, sitting up against the arm of the couch. “Nothing crazy. You are a bit of a weepy drunk, but who isn’t?”

“Jesus,” she murmured, blushing slightly.

He chuckled half-heartedly, then his face grew more earnest. “Hey, Elle?”

“Hm?”

Pausing to heave a heavy sigh, he raked a hand through his bedhead.

“I didn’t want to come here because of the dream I had,” Jess spit out, before he could lose his nerve. “Nothing specific...just a bunch of stuff from when I was growing up. It just...Liz wasn’t the best mom and I was remembering...a lot. And I was nervous about her…”

“Screwing up that kid’s life?” she asked.

He nodded shyly.

“Okay. I get why you’d be nervous. But she’s with TJ now, and she’s older. And, plus, the day Luke lets anything happen to that baby is the day Coldplay is classified is an alternative band,” Ella said. At some point, she began running her fingers through his hair in reassurance. “I really, really think it’ll be fine.”

“I know. I talked to Luke last night.”

“And you’re feeling better about it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a small weight lift from somewhere inside him. “But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just...I don’t know. I was...scared. It was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Jess,” she shook her head, gaze softening. “It makes sense. I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. I didn’t mean to. You just...you scared me. And I was going insane because I knew something was wrong and...I was just worried about you.”

“I know, Daria,” he said fondly.

“I mean, you had a panic attack, Jess.” Her voice was deep with fatigue, and had pleading quality which struck Jess’s heart. “You couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know if I was gonna be able to help and...maybe you should see someone? My brother’s therapist helped him a lot after my mom.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jess replied, shockingly genuine. Ella didn’t think he would be entertaining the thought of getting help so easily.

“Good.”

“Not like I’ve got the best insurance though.”

Ella sighed. “Yeah. Fucking capitalism.”

“It’s a little early to be going Marxist, I think,” he said, laughing breathily.

“Oh, it’s never too early,” she shot back.

“Duly noted,” Jess replied. Then, after a hesitant pause: “So, we’re fine?”

“Everything’s fine, James Dean,” she said, nodding. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said with a bashful laugh, bowing his head.

Ella’s smile grew at his shyness, and she pressed a brief kiss to his forehead before he lifted his head back up and their lips met. As they pulled away from each other, he placed an affectionate hand on her cheek.

“How’s your head?”

“I’ll survive.”

“I’m glad,” he quipped. “You think you can handle some breakfast?”

“Worth a try.”

“Okay, once Luke opens up, we can head downstairs. Then let’s go home?” he proposed.

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan,” she said, almost wistful. “Let’s go home.”