Do You See Her Face? (A Jess Mariano Fanfiction)

What about Byron?

"Look at you, Mr. Sunshine," she quipped as she dried the last plate.

Jess shut off the water and watched the soapy foam begin to circle down the drain. He wiped his hands on his jeans, eyeing the tall stack of dishes which sat on Ella's other side. She was right. Even a chipped set of plates didn't look quite correct in their faded, out of date kitchen. But he only shrugged off the nerves. They were in for it, and there was nothing they could do about it. He came to stand in between Ella's legs. She brought her arms to rest on his shoulders as he shifted closer.

"I'm working on my positive outlook."

She snorted a laugh. "Good luck."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, that wasn't very convincing."

"I just don't know if I'd be able to handle you waking up to a motivational tape every morning," she said, shrugging.

Jess smirked. "That's cute. But it's not 1985 anymore. It would be a motivational CD, at least."

"Maybe you could start with reading that self-help book again?" she suggested, teasing. "Maybe Luke could bring it up for you on Wednesday?"

"Touché," he replied.

"Hey," she began, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, "I kinda like that you read that book."

He scoffed. "Why?"

"I don't know," she said, searching his face for a moment. "Just seems exactly like something you would do...in a good way. Are you sure you're okay with seeing your mom and everything?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I promise," he said matter-of-factly.

"Okay. But just tell me if you're not okay. I can kick them out without a second thought," she said with mock gravity. "There's a reason I was Luke's favorite waitress."

Jess chuckled. "Good to know."

Then, she took a deep, tired breath. Tilting his head at her, he noticed the constant tinge of pink on her cheeks, and the way she seemed to sit as though the weight of the world was on her limbs.

"You okay, Stevens?" he asked.

"Other than the sense of impending doom...yeah, I'd say I'm doing alright," she said.

Furrowing his brows, he brought the back of one hand to her cheek.

She groaned in annoyance at his needless concern. "You can't get all Mother Hen on me now, Mariano. We've got pies to bake and a turkey to roast."

"Elle, if-"

"I'm fine, Jess," she continued, swatting his hand away when he attempted to move it to her forehead. "It's just PMS. I have cramps, too. Don't worry about it."

After a moment, he finally managed an unconvinced: "Okay."

. . .

Wednesday afternoon brought flurries of snow in stray showers throughout the day. A crisp, biting wind blew through the Philadelphia air, but it still felt a bit warmer than Connecticut to Lorelai. She could already smell the fragrance of pie as they approached the door of Jess and Ella's apartment. It was odd, to say the least, standing in the dingy, grayish hallway of the building in front of the door, adorned with a rusty '7.' A flash of memory crossed her mind, sitting in the living room of her home, braiding Ella's hair. She'd warned Ella back then not to get involved with Jess, told her he was trouble. Sometimes, when she heard through the Lane grapevine about fights the two had, Lorelai wondered if she should have done more to protect Ella. She remembered nights comforting her on the couch after her mother died, feeling helpless and unable to get Ella to work through her emotions. Often, Ella would just sit there staring at the television screen, with the same glazed expression no matter what they were watching. Even after Rory fell asleep, Lorelai would stay up with her. Just to be there.