GG Fic: Sometimes You Do 13/40
Aug. 14th, 2009 02:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faye_dartmouthA/N: I know, I'm behind again on replies, but I should get there today. If you've read the other fics in this verse, then you'll be prepared for the May Forester that Rory talks to. If not, then I'll just say you'll see more of her in this fic. Her character wasn't well defined in the show, but I've taken some liberties with her, to say the least. Thanks all! Previous parts here.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was the same house she remembered. A tall, two-story home, complete with shutters and little green bushes adorning the front. May Forester had been a gardener long before Lorelai ever had, and her gardening style seemed to be a bit more classic--clean and simple and perfectly suburban.
Funny how Rory had never noticed before. Never noticed how upright the house seemed, how proper and neat. She'd never hung out there often--whether that was Dean's choosing or hers, she couldn't remember. In fact, she couldn't remember a lot of the details about their time together. Like why she'd hardly met his parents. Why she'd hardly spent time in his room. Why all she'd ever attained was a civil relationship with his parents while he'd nearly been adopted by her mother.
Part of her wondered if that was maybe because of her and her own comfort zone. Because climbing those stairs, she felt anything but at ease.
Maybe it was the way his mother had last looked at her. Maybe it was that last time she'd been in his bedroom, Clara's music blaring, May's stuff cluttering the area. Maybe it was the look on his face when he'd disappeared inside--that sense of guilt that hung over Dean every time he seemed to come near it, toward the end.
Or maybe it was just the fact that she'd never bothered to try. After all, she had her mother, her grandparents, school, applications--everything. She barely had time for a boyfriend, much less a boyfriend's family. Those years had been so crazy and hectic and so full of potential and possibility and she had never been one to let herself be deterred from her dreams.
Well, she was trying now. She still had things to do, things to prove, she just wasn't sure what yet. Her new job at the paper required minimal time and would only reap marginal results. Perhaps it was her time to redevelop her somewhat stagnant social life. Lane was busy with her kids (three of them now, three) and not to mention managing her marriage. There were other casual acquaintances and of course Lorelai and Luke, but Rory needed friends her age else she would risk becoming an old maid far before her time. So that left Dean.
Not like that. He wasn't a last resort. He was just...Dean. The same old Dean with a brand new glossy cover.
The spark was still there. Rory could sense that. And that spark was about the only exciting thing she had going for her at the moment, so she wasn't about to squander it.
Which meant it was her turn to be on the pursuit. She'd read enough books to know how to do this. She'd been courted enough to have some ideas.
The first step: ring the doorbell.
Nervously, she swallowed, smoothing her shirt reflexively, before pressing the bell.
She heard it echo inside, low and long, and she tucked her hair behind her ear and hoped that she'd chosen an appropriate wardrobe. She could have gone with a skirt, something softer and more feminine, because guys liked that and Dean had always seemed to be attracted to that kind of thing and she wanted to pique his interested. But she didn't want to look like she was trying. That would undo everything. But shorts? She should have gone with capris. They were a nice mix of casual and classy and--
The door opened.
She held her breath, waiting and anxious.
And rightly deflated at the sight of Dean's mother.
But not all was lost. She had to rally. "Hi," she said, smiling as warmly as she could.
Dean's mother looked older. More wrinkles, her hair a little gray, but still the same fastidious woman that Rory remembered. And that critical scowl, that questioning one, was still there. It hadn’t always been, of course. At first, Dean's mother had adored her. But the affair--well, the affair seemed to change a lot of people and what a lot of people thought, and clearly May Forester was not over it.
"Hello," May said, her voice measured and polite.
"I'm not sure if you remember me," Rory ventured, fibbing a little. Of course the woman remembered her. How could she not? Unless she gave strangers that look all the time, which would truly be a bit ridiculous.
"Of course I remember you, Rory," May said simply. "How are you these day?"
"Good," Rory said with forced brightness to the obviously forced triviality. "I'm back in town for awhile and I've run into Dean."
May's look was borderline venomous. "He hasn't mentioned you."
"Ah, well, it's just been a few times," Rory said, though she couldn't deny her disappointment. Dean hadn't mentioned her? When all she'd been doing was thinking about him? Well, him and her job and his arms and how much she'd like to touch them. "Is he around?"
"I'm afraid not," May said, and Rory was certain the woman sounded relieved at that.
"Oh," Rory said, rocking on her heels. "Do you know where he is?"
"Why, he's at work."
"At work? But it's nearly eight at night."
"He has to close down the store," May explained. "And then after that, he needs to balance the books for the day and fill out inventory sheets. He's hardly ever home before midnight."
Well, that was news to Rory. She knew he was helping out, but she hadn't had any idea just how much. Between the hours he was pulling there and the hours he was putting in at the mechanic shop, when did Dean manage to do anything? "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry about Mr. Forester. Dean says his therapy is coming well?"
Something dark passed over May's face--something of grief, something of fear. "He's doing the best he can," she said, her voice tight now. "It's been a tough go for all of us. Which is why Dean has had to work so hard at the store. His father can't do it, so it is his responsibility."
Rory tried to smile. "Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said, meaning that most sincerely. Talking to people she didn't know was never one of her favorite things to do, and clearly May Forester still equated her with the devil. She would have to keep in mind to call Dean before stopping by to see him. There was no way she wanted to endure May's laborious stare unless she had to. Not to mention the painfully polite conversation.
"Quite alright, dear," May clearly lied, already shutting the door.
By the time it was closed, Rory was more than a little relieved.
And more than a little perplexed.
Why had Dean not told her just how serious this all was? Why was Dean downplaying his father's condition? Why was he not telling just how much of the family business he was carrying?
She'd seen him as mysterious, but she'd never had a clue that his mysteriousness was the complete and total familial obligation he was carrying. No wonder he looked so tired. No wonder he looked so resigned. No wonder all her questions about what job he'd wanted, about what dreams he had, just made him clam up.
Dean needed help. He needed out. He needed to find the freedom that Rory had felt when she'd broken up with Logan, when she'd graduated, when she'd gotten her first job. Dean needed to rediscover who he was.
And Rory was just the girl to help him do it.
Maybe that was why she'd come back. Not just to rediscover her own direction, but to help Dean find his.
-o-
It took her nearly ten minutes to find the stereo shop.
Ten minutes.
How could she have lived here most of her life and not know where her ex-boyfriend's family stereo shop was?
Yet more evidence mounting in the case of Rory Gilmore's Oblivious Years.
When she got to the door, she could see all the lights were still on and the sign on the door was turned to the open side. Looking inside, however, she could see that the place was mostly empty. There was an older man perusing an aisle of CD players and there was Dean behind the counter, head buried in a book, a pencil moving briskly along its pages.
So this was what was sucking up all his time. A dead-end of a stereo shop that Dean didn't even want to run. He was throwing away his dreams and his aspirations for a dingy rented-out building filled with stereo equipment. It just seemed wrong to see him there, all hunched over, working and working his life away and for what? To carry on his family's business? To make his mother happy?
She let herself in and the door dinged. The man looked up at her, scowling a little, and Dean turned his head up, his face blank.
A dozen emotions flitted across his face, almost too fast to keep up with. The gist of it was, he wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her. Which did nothing to assuage her nerves.
But Rory was on a mission. She'd let Dean ruin his life once. Okay, maybe twice. She couldn't do it again.
Maneuvering through the aisles was easy--the place was not large. There was a variety of equipment, all electronic, all completely out of Rory's domain of knowledge. She recognized clock radios and large stereo speakers and next to the cash register where Dean was stationed there was a small display batteries.
"Hey," she said, grinning.
"Hey," he said slowly, as if he didn't know why she was here.
Which, of course he didn't. It wasn't like Rory had planned on coming. Nor was it like she'd ever been here before, either. "I realized I'd never been here before," she explained. "It seems like my grandparents always took care of my stereo needs."
He nodded. "And I don't suppose they shop the mom and pop shops, do they?"
"Well, I'm just not sure they shop in stores with people, period," Rory said. "You know how they are."
Dean snorted a little. "Yeah, I remember," he said, looking back down at his books.
So, that wasn't the best memory to bring up. The first interaction Dean had even had with her grandparents had ended with him being emasculated and put down. Later meetings had gone better, not that they could have gone much worse. And it was true, Dean had never really been invited back, by them or by Rory.
"Hey, look," she said, pointing to the batteries. "You sell Energizer. "I was always a little creeped out by the bunny. I mean, always going? That's just not natural. Nor is it very energy efficient. I mean, I don't care how long the battery lasts, why waste it on a drumming bunny?"
Dean didn't quite smile but he didn't quite look annoyed either. "Rory, what are you doing here?"
"Visiting," she reiterated. "I mean, I wanted to see where you worked. I wanted to talk to you."
"You've known me since we were sixteen. You never once came here."
"Well, you didn't always work here."
"I was here more than you thought," Dean said.
This wasn't going well. Not at all like she'd hoped. Time to try a different tact. "Well, I'm not sixteen anymore," she said.
He looked like he wanted to say something, something probably that she wouldn't like, because his eyes darkened and his brow bunched. Fortunately, he seemed to think better of it and the brief wave of frustration passed benignly from his features. "Well, now you've seen it," he said, and it wasn't as rude as it could have been, which Rory was grateful for, but she could feel a certain coolness in his tone.
"And it is quite impressive," she said with a nod, taking in the store once more. The walls were painted a deep beige and the carpet was a mottled collection of blues. "Your shelves are nice and dusted. That must take tons of work. And it's especially important since you have dark ones. Light ones wouldn't show as much, but those dark ones--I'm sure that's tedious work. Good thing you're the boss and can tell other people to do it, huh?"
His lips evened out in a tired smile. "I do it every other night," he said.
Rory's eyes widened. "Oh. So you build cars, you run businesses, and you clean? And why are you still single, may I ask?"
It was a joke. Really. A dumb joke that was out of her mouth before she could even think about it.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, before he could respond. "That's really none of my business."
But he didn't look mad. Didn't even look hurt. Just looked resigned. "It's okay," he said. "And I think there are plenty of reasons that the girls of Stars Hollow steer clear of me."
"Well, they don't know what they're missing," Rory said promptly, hoping to fix some of the damage. Because the goal was to get Dean interested in her and reliving their past trespassing and heartbreaks probably wasn’t the way to go. Especially since they were really more his heartbreaks than hers--on every front.
The man in the store came up to the counter and deposited a packaged cable on it. Dean smiled broadly at him. "You find everything okay, sir?"
"Indeed, I did," the man said. "Heck of a time figuring out why one was priced more than the other. Same damn product and one cost five dollars more."
Dean picked up the cable, scanning it. "Well, you made the right choice," Dean said. "Don't always listen to the packages. Sometimes when it says gold standard, it's just a fancy way of saying that it does its job like it's supposed to. Funny thing is, so does this one but they don't need to call it gold and you save five bucks."
The man looked genuinely pleased. "You don't say, huh?" he asked.
Dean hit a button on the register. "It's true," Dean told him. "Some people like the comfort of a gold standard. Others like the five bucks in their pocket. Which you prefer is up to you, but this is the one I'd buy. That's eight dollars and two cents."
The man produced a ten and handed to Dean, who plugged more buttons on the machine. Rory couldn't help but watch, all too aware of the fact that she was staring shamelessly.
But it was just rather remarkable. She wasn't sure why. She'd seen Dean at work before. She'd seen him at work many times. He'd practically been a staple at Doose's, and he'd always been capable and diligent, even when provoked otherwise. It was always one of the few places where Dean had never lost his temper, even when he was pushed beyond all reason.
Still, this was different. Seeing him take charge, be so informative, so friendly. Again, all things she knew but seeing it in action was downright impressive. And it was more now, somehow. More capable, more experienced, more mature. Especially when she knew he didn't care at all about stereo components and he almost certainly didn't care about gold standard cables. And no one would have known it at all.
The man thanked Dean again as Dean handed him the change, and Dean's smile was all dimples as he wished the man a good evening and good luck installing his new cable. Rory didn't speak until the bell tinkled above the door and he was gone.
"Wow," she said.
Dean looked at her. "Wow?"
"That was...really good. How did you know that about the cables?"
Dean shrugged a little. "I've done my homework."
"But you don't even like that stuff, do you?" Dean laughed a little at that. "Nope," he said. "I mean, it all relates. The engineering used to design a stereo has some correspondence to the engineering used to make a car, but the mechanics are all different. The end destination is different. So, it's not hard to get up on my stuff here. It's just time consuming."
"How do you have time for anything?" she asked.
His smile wavered a little as he looked at her. Then he strengthened it again. "Who says I do?"
It was a light and airy comeback, but Rory could feel the hurt under it. The truth. The fact that Dean had given up his entire life for this.
"Well, I think you need a break," Rory announced.
He seemed to shrink a little. "Rory--"
"I know, I know," she said, holding up a hand. "Just friends. I get it. But there's nothing that says friends can't have fun together. Especially when one friend so clearly needs a break like you do. I mean, the saying all work and no play, it was practically coined for you. You are the epitome of that cliche, and that's really no good, you know, to be the epitome of a cliche because a cliche isn't supposed to really define anyone. So, you totally need a break before you become reduced to cheesy one-liners."
Gathering himself, he collected and released a sigh. "Maybe," he said. "But I can't set a time just now. It's just been too busy around here. And the weekends I usually need to do stuff around the house, too. Stuff Dad usually takes care of. Not to mention going to help him with his therapy and stuff. So, things are busy right now. But I'll take a raincheck, okay?"
It took effort, and she was pretty sure she failed, but she attempted to not let her disappointment show. Dean's reasons were perfectly logical and perfectly a brush-off all at once. He was busy. She just didn't understand why he didn't want to make time for her.
Not that it wasn’t without precedence in their relationship. She was just used to being the one doing the excusing and brushing off. During a younger time, a time when she'd been so obsessed with college applications that she'd let Dean fall by the wayside. He'd been angry then. He'd been angrier when she spent her time with Jess instead and ignored his phone calls. At the time, he'd just been annoying and difficult. Now, she could understand why.
Because there was nothing more painful then wanting to be with someone who wouldn't give up the time, for whatever reason. She suddenly wished she'd been softer to the hurt in his eyes back then, and realized that maybe this was all an expression of karma coming back to bite her in the butt.
"Okay," she said, buoying her mood purposefully. "I will have to come back soon, you know. Because you never know when the need for new stereo equipment will arise."
Dean gave her the same smile he'd given that old man. Professional. Perfunctory. "See you around."
"Yeah," Rory said. "See you."
She turned and walked away from the door. She wanted to turn around, to wave again, to see if he was even watching, but she couldn't bring herself to and the tinkle of the bell sounded the closing of the door behind her.
-o-
Checking email was always something that calmed her down. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. It was a mode of communication that helped her stay in touch with the friends she'd made near and far, and offered her a medium to go off on any tangent she wanted without wasting any breath. Her wrists didn't benefit from that deal, though, especially since she rarely believed in things like good posture at her keyboard. Typing in bed was far too tempting--after all, wasn't that a perk of owning a laptop?
Her physical status aside, emails were like little beacons of distraction. Morsels of hope that she didn't need to focus on just how weird things were in the here and now.
There was the regular messages from a few mailing lists she was on, various political and journalistic organizations. Lane had forwarded a message to help figure out her Star Wars name (Lorre Lelow, which was actually kind of nice, now that she thought about it).
And an email from Paris.
Not the city, but the girl--her friend. It'd been hard to keep in touch, with Paris' career and her own and all the places they were traveling, it was just sort of easy to let some things slide. So seeing the email in her inbox was a pleasant surprise--something she definitely needed after her night with Dean. A little pick-me-up, some happy reminiscing would do her good.
And Paris was well. Better than well. She'd been offered a place at Johns Hopkins for her residency. Better, it was an oncology internship, the perfect jump start to Paris’ lifelong plan.
Only she'd turned it down. She'd turned it down because Paris was getting married.
Rory had to read that again, just because she couldn't believe it.
Paris was getting married.
Paris. Planning, precise, anal-retentive Paris. The girl with no social skills. The girl who would climb over just about anybody, including possibly her own grandmother, to get where she wanted to go. Paris had turned down a coveted promotion in order to stay with Doyle, her equally arrogant husband-to-be. The Doyle she had tried to dump for her career. The Doyle she couldn’t leave behind because he had followed her, and now, she was following him.
Moreover, she sounded wonderful. Together, calm, happy.
While it was possible that a lot was lost in the electronic communication in terms of nuance, Rory knew Paris. Rory knew Paris' writing. And she knew that Paris didn't have any regrets or fears. Not about this.
Rory sat at her laptop for quite some time, just staring at it, rereading the email again and again, wondering when everyone in her life had started to grow up and slow down.
Next
It was the same house she remembered. A tall, two-story home, complete with shutters and little green bushes adorning the front. May Forester had been a gardener long before Lorelai ever had, and her gardening style seemed to be a bit more classic--clean and simple and perfectly suburban.
Funny how Rory had never noticed before. Never noticed how upright the house seemed, how proper and neat. She'd never hung out there often--whether that was Dean's choosing or hers, she couldn't remember. In fact, she couldn't remember a lot of the details about their time together. Like why she'd hardly met his parents. Why she'd hardly spent time in his room. Why all she'd ever attained was a civil relationship with his parents while he'd nearly been adopted by her mother.
Part of her wondered if that was maybe because of her and her own comfort zone. Because climbing those stairs, she felt anything but at ease.
Maybe it was the way his mother had last looked at her. Maybe it was that last time she'd been in his bedroom, Clara's music blaring, May's stuff cluttering the area. Maybe it was the look on his face when he'd disappeared inside--that sense of guilt that hung over Dean every time he seemed to come near it, toward the end.
Or maybe it was just the fact that she'd never bothered to try. After all, she had her mother, her grandparents, school, applications--everything. She barely had time for a boyfriend, much less a boyfriend's family. Those years had been so crazy and hectic and so full of potential and possibility and she had never been one to let herself be deterred from her dreams.
Well, she was trying now. She still had things to do, things to prove, she just wasn't sure what yet. Her new job at the paper required minimal time and would only reap marginal results. Perhaps it was her time to redevelop her somewhat stagnant social life. Lane was busy with her kids (three of them now, three) and not to mention managing her marriage. There were other casual acquaintances and of course Lorelai and Luke, but Rory needed friends her age else she would risk becoming an old maid far before her time. So that left Dean.
Not like that. He wasn't a last resort. He was just...Dean. The same old Dean with a brand new glossy cover.
The spark was still there. Rory could sense that. And that spark was about the only exciting thing she had going for her at the moment, so she wasn't about to squander it.
Which meant it was her turn to be on the pursuit. She'd read enough books to know how to do this. She'd been courted enough to have some ideas.
The first step: ring the doorbell.
Nervously, she swallowed, smoothing her shirt reflexively, before pressing the bell.
She heard it echo inside, low and long, and she tucked her hair behind her ear and hoped that she'd chosen an appropriate wardrobe. She could have gone with a skirt, something softer and more feminine, because guys liked that and Dean had always seemed to be attracted to that kind of thing and she wanted to pique his interested. But she didn't want to look like she was trying. That would undo everything. But shorts? She should have gone with capris. They were a nice mix of casual and classy and--
The door opened.
She held her breath, waiting and anxious.
And rightly deflated at the sight of Dean's mother.
But not all was lost. She had to rally. "Hi," she said, smiling as warmly as she could.
Dean's mother looked older. More wrinkles, her hair a little gray, but still the same fastidious woman that Rory remembered. And that critical scowl, that questioning one, was still there. It hadn’t always been, of course. At first, Dean's mother had adored her. But the affair--well, the affair seemed to change a lot of people and what a lot of people thought, and clearly May Forester was not over it.
"Hello," May said, her voice measured and polite.
"I'm not sure if you remember me," Rory ventured, fibbing a little. Of course the woman remembered her. How could she not? Unless she gave strangers that look all the time, which would truly be a bit ridiculous.
"Of course I remember you, Rory," May said simply. "How are you these day?"
"Good," Rory said with forced brightness to the obviously forced triviality. "I'm back in town for awhile and I've run into Dean."
May's look was borderline venomous. "He hasn't mentioned you."
"Ah, well, it's just been a few times," Rory said, though she couldn't deny her disappointment. Dean hadn't mentioned her? When all she'd been doing was thinking about him? Well, him and her job and his arms and how much she'd like to touch them. "Is he around?"
"I'm afraid not," May said, and Rory was certain the woman sounded relieved at that.
"Oh," Rory said, rocking on her heels. "Do you know where he is?"
"Why, he's at work."
"At work? But it's nearly eight at night."
"He has to close down the store," May explained. "And then after that, he needs to balance the books for the day and fill out inventory sheets. He's hardly ever home before midnight."
Well, that was news to Rory. She knew he was helping out, but she hadn't had any idea just how much. Between the hours he was pulling there and the hours he was putting in at the mechanic shop, when did Dean manage to do anything? "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry about Mr. Forester. Dean says his therapy is coming well?"
Something dark passed over May's face--something of grief, something of fear. "He's doing the best he can," she said, her voice tight now. "It's been a tough go for all of us. Which is why Dean has had to work so hard at the store. His father can't do it, so it is his responsibility."
Rory tried to smile. "Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said, meaning that most sincerely. Talking to people she didn't know was never one of her favorite things to do, and clearly May Forester still equated her with the devil. She would have to keep in mind to call Dean before stopping by to see him. There was no way she wanted to endure May's laborious stare unless she had to. Not to mention the painfully polite conversation.
"Quite alright, dear," May clearly lied, already shutting the door.
By the time it was closed, Rory was more than a little relieved.
And more than a little perplexed.
Why had Dean not told her just how serious this all was? Why was Dean downplaying his father's condition? Why was he not telling just how much of the family business he was carrying?
She'd seen him as mysterious, but she'd never had a clue that his mysteriousness was the complete and total familial obligation he was carrying. No wonder he looked so tired. No wonder he looked so resigned. No wonder all her questions about what job he'd wanted, about what dreams he had, just made him clam up.
Dean needed help. He needed out. He needed to find the freedom that Rory had felt when she'd broken up with Logan, when she'd graduated, when she'd gotten her first job. Dean needed to rediscover who he was.
And Rory was just the girl to help him do it.
Maybe that was why she'd come back. Not just to rediscover her own direction, but to help Dean find his.
-o-
It took her nearly ten minutes to find the stereo shop.
Ten minutes.
How could she have lived here most of her life and not know where her ex-boyfriend's family stereo shop was?
Yet more evidence mounting in the case of Rory Gilmore's Oblivious Years.
When she got to the door, she could see all the lights were still on and the sign on the door was turned to the open side. Looking inside, however, she could see that the place was mostly empty. There was an older man perusing an aisle of CD players and there was Dean behind the counter, head buried in a book, a pencil moving briskly along its pages.
So this was what was sucking up all his time. A dead-end of a stereo shop that Dean didn't even want to run. He was throwing away his dreams and his aspirations for a dingy rented-out building filled with stereo equipment. It just seemed wrong to see him there, all hunched over, working and working his life away and for what? To carry on his family's business? To make his mother happy?
She let herself in and the door dinged. The man looked up at her, scowling a little, and Dean turned his head up, his face blank.
A dozen emotions flitted across his face, almost too fast to keep up with. The gist of it was, he wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her. Which did nothing to assuage her nerves.
But Rory was on a mission. She'd let Dean ruin his life once. Okay, maybe twice. She couldn't do it again.
Maneuvering through the aisles was easy--the place was not large. There was a variety of equipment, all electronic, all completely out of Rory's domain of knowledge. She recognized clock radios and large stereo speakers and next to the cash register where Dean was stationed there was a small display batteries.
"Hey," she said, grinning.
"Hey," he said slowly, as if he didn't know why she was here.
Which, of course he didn't. It wasn't like Rory had planned on coming. Nor was it like she'd ever been here before, either. "I realized I'd never been here before," she explained. "It seems like my grandparents always took care of my stereo needs."
He nodded. "And I don't suppose they shop the mom and pop shops, do they?"
"Well, I'm just not sure they shop in stores with people, period," Rory said. "You know how they are."
Dean snorted a little. "Yeah, I remember," he said, looking back down at his books.
So, that wasn't the best memory to bring up. The first interaction Dean had even had with her grandparents had ended with him being emasculated and put down. Later meetings had gone better, not that they could have gone much worse. And it was true, Dean had never really been invited back, by them or by Rory.
"Hey, look," she said, pointing to the batteries. "You sell Energizer. "I was always a little creeped out by the bunny. I mean, always going? That's just not natural. Nor is it very energy efficient. I mean, I don't care how long the battery lasts, why waste it on a drumming bunny?"
Dean didn't quite smile but he didn't quite look annoyed either. "Rory, what are you doing here?"
"Visiting," she reiterated. "I mean, I wanted to see where you worked. I wanted to talk to you."
"You've known me since we were sixteen. You never once came here."
"Well, you didn't always work here."
"I was here more than you thought," Dean said.
This wasn't going well. Not at all like she'd hoped. Time to try a different tact. "Well, I'm not sixteen anymore," she said.
He looked like he wanted to say something, something probably that she wouldn't like, because his eyes darkened and his brow bunched. Fortunately, he seemed to think better of it and the brief wave of frustration passed benignly from his features. "Well, now you've seen it," he said, and it wasn't as rude as it could have been, which Rory was grateful for, but she could feel a certain coolness in his tone.
"And it is quite impressive," she said with a nod, taking in the store once more. The walls were painted a deep beige and the carpet was a mottled collection of blues. "Your shelves are nice and dusted. That must take tons of work. And it's especially important since you have dark ones. Light ones wouldn't show as much, but those dark ones--I'm sure that's tedious work. Good thing you're the boss and can tell other people to do it, huh?"
His lips evened out in a tired smile. "I do it every other night," he said.
Rory's eyes widened. "Oh. So you build cars, you run businesses, and you clean? And why are you still single, may I ask?"
It was a joke. Really. A dumb joke that was out of her mouth before she could even think about it.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, before he could respond. "That's really none of my business."
But he didn't look mad. Didn't even look hurt. Just looked resigned. "It's okay," he said. "And I think there are plenty of reasons that the girls of Stars Hollow steer clear of me."
"Well, they don't know what they're missing," Rory said promptly, hoping to fix some of the damage. Because the goal was to get Dean interested in her and reliving their past trespassing and heartbreaks probably wasn’t the way to go. Especially since they were really more his heartbreaks than hers--on every front.
The man in the store came up to the counter and deposited a packaged cable on it. Dean smiled broadly at him. "You find everything okay, sir?"
"Indeed, I did," the man said. "Heck of a time figuring out why one was priced more than the other. Same damn product and one cost five dollars more."
Dean picked up the cable, scanning it. "Well, you made the right choice," Dean said. "Don't always listen to the packages. Sometimes when it says gold standard, it's just a fancy way of saying that it does its job like it's supposed to. Funny thing is, so does this one but they don't need to call it gold and you save five bucks."
The man looked genuinely pleased. "You don't say, huh?" he asked.
Dean hit a button on the register. "It's true," Dean told him. "Some people like the comfort of a gold standard. Others like the five bucks in their pocket. Which you prefer is up to you, but this is the one I'd buy. That's eight dollars and two cents."
The man produced a ten and handed to Dean, who plugged more buttons on the machine. Rory couldn't help but watch, all too aware of the fact that she was staring shamelessly.
But it was just rather remarkable. She wasn't sure why. She'd seen Dean at work before. She'd seen him at work many times. He'd practically been a staple at Doose's, and he'd always been capable and diligent, even when provoked otherwise. It was always one of the few places where Dean had never lost his temper, even when he was pushed beyond all reason.
Still, this was different. Seeing him take charge, be so informative, so friendly. Again, all things she knew but seeing it in action was downright impressive. And it was more now, somehow. More capable, more experienced, more mature. Especially when she knew he didn't care at all about stereo components and he almost certainly didn't care about gold standard cables. And no one would have known it at all.
The man thanked Dean again as Dean handed him the change, and Dean's smile was all dimples as he wished the man a good evening and good luck installing his new cable. Rory didn't speak until the bell tinkled above the door and he was gone.
"Wow," she said.
Dean looked at her. "Wow?"
"That was...really good. How did you know that about the cables?"
Dean shrugged a little. "I've done my homework."
"But you don't even like that stuff, do you?" Dean laughed a little at that. "Nope," he said. "I mean, it all relates. The engineering used to design a stereo has some correspondence to the engineering used to make a car, but the mechanics are all different. The end destination is different. So, it's not hard to get up on my stuff here. It's just time consuming."
"How do you have time for anything?" she asked.
His smile wavered a little as he looked at her. Then he strengthened it again. "Who says I do?"
It was a light and airy comeback, but Rory could feel the hurt under it. The truth. The fact that Dean had given up his entire life for this.
"Well, I think you need a break," Rory announced.
He seemed to shrink a little. "Rory--"
"I know, I know," she said, holding up a hand. "Just friends. I get it. But there's nothing that says friends can't have fun together. Especially when one friend so clearly needs a break like you do. I mean, the saying all work and no play, it was practically coined for you. You are the epitome of that cliche, and that's really no good, you know, to be the epitome of a cliche because a cliche isn't supposed to really define anyone. So, you totally need a break before you become reduced to cheesy one-liners."
Gathering himself, he collected and released a sigh. "Maybe," he said. "But I can't set a time just now. It's just been too busy around here. And the weekends I usually need to do stuff around the house, too. Stuff Dad usually takes care of. Not to mention going to help him with his therapy and stuff. So, things are busy right now. But I'll take a raincheck, okay?"
It took effort, and she was pretty sure she failed, but she attempted to not let her disappointment show. Dean's reasons were perfectly logical and perfectly a brush-off all at once. He was busy. She just didn't understand why he didn't want to make time for her.
Not that it wasn’t without precedence in their relationship. She was just used to being the one doing the excusing and brushing off. During a younger time, a time when she'd been so obsessed with college applications that she'd let Dean fall by the wayside. He'd been angry then. He'd been angrier when she spent her time with Jess instead and ignored his phone calls. At the time, he'd just been annoying and difficult. Now, she could understand why.
Because there was nothing more painful then wanting to be with someone who wouldn't give up the time, for whatever reason. She suddenly wished she'd been softer to the hurt in his eyes back then, and realized that maybe this was all an expression of karma coming back to bite her in the butt.
"Okay," she said, buoying her mood purposefully. "I will have to come back soon, you know. Because you never know when the need for new stereo equipment will arise."
Dean gave her the same smile he'd given that old man. Professional. Perfunctory. "See you around."
"Yeah," Rory said. "See you."
She turned and walked away from the door. She wanted to turn around, to wave again, to see if he was even watching, but she couldn't bring herself to and the tinkle of the bell sounded the closing of the door behind her.
-o-
Checking email was always something that calmed her down. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. It was a mode of communication that helped her stay in touch with the friends she'd made near and far, and offered her a medium to go off on any tangent she wanted without wasting any breath. Her wrists didn't benefit from that deal, though, especially since she rarely believed in things like good posture at her keyboard. Typing in bed was far too tempting--after all, wasn't that a perk of owning a laptop?
Her physical status aside, emails were like little beacons of distraction. Morsels of hope that she didn't need to focus on just how weird things were in the here and now.
There was the regular messages from a few mailing lists she was on, various political and journalistic organizations. Lane had forwarded a message to help figure out her Star Wars name (Lorre Lelow, which was actually kind of nice, now that she thought about it).
And an email from Paris.
Not the city, but the girl--her friend. It'd been hard to keep in touch, with Paris' career and her own and all the places they were traveling, it was just sort of easy to let some things slide. So seeing the email in her inbox was a pleasant surprise--something she definitely needed after her night with Dean. A little pick-me-up, some happy reminiscing would do her good.
And Paris was well. Better than well. She'd been offered a place at Johns Hopkins for her residency. Better, it was an oncology internship, the perfect jump start to Paris’ lifelong plan.
Only she'd turned it down. She'd turned it down because Paris was getting married.
Rory had to read that again, just because she couldn't believe it.
Paris was getting married.
Paris. Planning, precise, anal-retentive Paris. The girl with no social skills. The girl who would climb over just about anybody, including possibly her own grandmother, to get where she wanted to go. Paris had turned down a coveted promotion in order to stay with Doyle, her equally arrogant husband-to-be. The Doyle she had tried to dump for her career. The Doyle she couldn’t leave behind because he had followed her, and now, she was following him.
Moreover, she sounded wonderful. Together, calm, happy.
While it was possible that a lot was lost in the electronic communication in terms of nuance, Rory knew Paris. Rory knew Paris' writing. And she knew that Paris didn't have any regrets or fears. Not about this.
Rory sat at her laptop for quite some time, just staring at it, rereading the email again and again, wondering when everyone in her life had started to grow up and slow down.
Next
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no subject
Date: 2009-08-14 09:15 pm (UTC)I love how you're writing Rory and how the world around her has changed and she's only just began to realize it...I know that I'm totally repeating myself but that's the best part of this story for me...
I also love how she reflects on how her younger self was so selfish
no subject
Date: 2009-08-21 06:33 pm (UTC)But Dean? Is awesome. Always has been. Rory's just been too stupid to notice.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-17 05:59 pm (UTC)Do like how you have Rory start to realise how little she actually got involved in Dean's life when they were together. Maybe she is growing a little, even with the slightly arrogant attitude that she is the girl to make Dean 'rediscover' himself.
And way to go Dean!! Brushing Rory's 'I think you need a break' off, because he really doesn't have time (though would like it to be a little bit of karma coming back to bite her on the ass)
no subject
Date: 2009-08-21 06:34 pm (UTC)Dean has to stand up for himself--he's had to grow up hard and it shows, even if Rory doesn't get it yet.
Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-08-25 02:04 am (UTC)Off to read chapter 14! Then bed, lol. School tomorrow. Urk.:P
no subject
Date: 2009-08-26 06:02 pm (UTC)Paris and Doyle were kind of awesome in their neurotic dysfunction. I completely fell for the idea of them when Doyle made a point to stay near her even after she tried to dump him. That was so made of win and an interesting contrast with the Rory/Logan situation to come.
School--I'm sorry! I remember those days and I can't say that I miss them all that much :)
no subject
Date: 2009-08-26 08:16 pm (UTC)