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Chapter Text

TJ and Liz's House

"Stop it, you two! I can't believe two out of my three guys are fighting!"

"He blew up my truck, Liz."

"Aw come on! I said I wuz sorry! Jeez! Luke! Haventcha ever made a mistake?"

"Making a mistake is forgetting to order turkey for the week. If you're asking me if I've ever blown up somebody's car, the answer is no, TJ."

"Well, maybe you shouldn'ta parked your car there."

"In the driveway, TJ? Where should I have parked it?"

"Well you knew we were doin' the fireworks 'cause why else would we invite people over on the 4th a July?"

"I don't know TJ. Maybe to have a barbecue?"

"Come on, Luke. Have a little patriotic compassion. It wuzza 4th a July party. It's really good for Freddy. Not havin' thumbs, there's some stuff he can't do so good. But there's no one better for settin' off the bottle rockets than Freddy!"

"Listen to TJ, Luke. Freddy is really good with fireworks."

"Liz, I don't want to hear it. Your husband and his thumbless friend blew up my truck. You know how long I've had that truck?"

"Well, look at it this way. Now you get to buy a new truck."

"I don't want a new truck, Liz. I liked my old truck. Before it got blown up."

"Aw, Luke. You're makin' me feel bad." TJ starts to tear up.

"Big brother, have a little compassion. TJ didn't mean to do it. It was an accident."

"Yeah-uh," agrees a sobbing TJ. "It'twaz uh accident!"

"I know that Liz. But I still don't have a truck. And it was an accident because your husband and Freddy Four-Fingers -"

"Hey! That's mean, big brother!"

"your husband and Freddy Four-Fingers thought it was a good idea to set off the fireworks five feet from my truck. Five feet Liz."

"It'twaz uh mistake!"

"TJ, I was sitting in the truck! You idiots could've killed me!"

"But we did'unt! Isn't that wut counts?"

Suddenly the doorbell rings.

"Thank goodness! I invited my third number one guy over to talk some sense into you two."

"Who?"

"Who's my third number one guy?"

"I don't know. Taylor Doose?" asks Luke.

"Freddy?" suggests TJ.

"No! It's my firstborn! Jess!"

"Oh." Luke's voice echoes a note of surprise. "What about Doula? Won't she be home from school soon?"

Still crying, TJ manages to sputter out a few words. "You invited Jess?"

"Yeah. I thought he could talk some sense into you two lug heads."

Liz leaves to answer the door. Suddenly on their own, TJ and Luke exchange looks. Angry, Luke glares, while a remorseful TJ sniffles loudly. 

"You see what you did?!"

"I did'unt know she'd call Jess!"

"You should've. You know how she is! Any excuse..."

"Aw! I'm sorry, Luke!"

"First you blow up my truck. Now I gotta listen to-"

From the living room, they overhear Liz greeting Jess.

"Jess! My baby boy!"

"Hi mom. So what's going on?"

"You know. Same old, same old. Luke's upset because TJ accidentally blew up his truck with a bottle rocket -"

"Series of bottle rockets!" Luke interjects from the next room.

"They're really the best of friends. I hate when they let little things like this come between them."

"Yeah, me too, mom. I'll talk to them."

"Good. I"m going out for a bit."

"Great. This is just great," Luke says with no small amount of sarcasm. "You owe me for this, TJ. Big time."

TJ lets out a loud heaving sob. 

A moment later, Jess stands before the two men in the doorway. Looking at one, then the other, he smiles. "TJ. Luke."

"Hi Jess."

"Heya there, Jess. How ya' doin'?"

"Liz tells me you two aren't getting along."

"Oh I wouldn't say that. Your stepdad and I get along okay. We're just different. Our personalities are different."

"You know wut they say. Ev'ry bromance has its thorns."

"We do not have a bromance, TJ."

"Now, yuh hurtin' me, Luke." TJ, choking on his emotion, emits another loud sob. 

"Well," Jess nods, looking between the two older men. "Liz, is concerned. And I don't blame her. This...this isn't you. I know you, Luke. TJ. I know you, too. And fighting like this. This isn't you."

"Oh, okay. Well, actually Jess, TJ blew up my truck and -"

"I like ta fight. I had yuh mother in a headlock b'fore yuh got here. We wrestle sometimes. Yuh know. Fuh fun. Doula's teachin' me Taekwondo. She says I'm too soft."

"Play-fighting, yeah. But this arguing. This isn't you."

"Jess, I've been arguing with people my entire life. You and I have argued. Don't you remember?"

"I really like ta fight. Doula says I need practice on my jump kicks. She promised to bring me to practice with her friends when I'm a little better. She's afraid I'll get hurt. Those ten-year-olds can be vicious!"

"I'm not leaving until you two make up and shake hands." Jess sits at the kitchen table. "And neither of you is leaving, either." 

"For the love, this is ridiculous," hisses Luke. Gesturing angrily at TJ, his temper finally bubbles over. "He blew up my damn truck! With bottle rockets! While I was sitting in the truck! Him and Four Finger Freddy!"

"Oh yeah? And you're an uptight jerk! And you're prejudiced against the thumbless!"  

"I'm prejudiced against the brainless!"

"Aw! Did'ja hear wut he said 'bout me? Huh! Brainless! Them's fightin' words!"

"Why did you think putting a guy with no thumbs in charge of the fireworks was a good idea?"

 "Listen, you two. Nobody's leaving until you shake hands and are friends again."

 An Hour Later

 "TJ, I think that jump kick was okay."

"Oh, yea-uh? Doula's been workin' wit' me. I think your right hook is pretty good there, Luke."

"Thanks. I'm a bit out of practice but I guess it wasn't bad for an old guy."

"How long yuh think 'til he comes to?"

"I don't know. But I'm gonna take off before Liz gets back."

"Oh, yea-uh. Maybe I should go wit' you. She'll prob'ly be pissed!"

The two start as they hear the sound of the front door opening. 

"Where's my guys?"

Luke grimaces as he looks at TJ. 

"Hi Liz. We're here. In the kitchen."

"No! She'll see Jess!"

Soon Liz stands before them, peering in from the doorway of the kitchen. 

"So what happened? You two clock Jess?"

"You knew we'd do that?" asks a surprised Luke. 

"I suspected. So you two are okay, now? No more fighting?"

Luke shrugs. "Yeah."

TJ grins happily. "Yea-uh!"

"Terrific. I'm so happy. Why don't you two go out and get a beer? But first, could you carry Jess into the guest room? I also got him a steak for his eye."

AN: This may be just for me. OMG. I'm crying. So the idea is whenever the good townsfolk of Stars Hollow get into fights, St. Jess flies in to mediate. Or whenever someone is doing something he thinks is out-of-character, St. Jess will swoop in to counsel them. Just. Because. Yes, it's demented. What can I say? I enjoy crap like this. "Oh No! Vampire Bill!" is one-shot after one-shot of Bill Compton accidentally meeting his demise like Kenny on South Park. Suggestions welcome. Thanks. 

Chapter Text

The Front Desk, Dragonfly Annex, Afternoon

"What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving?"

The older woman asks, forceful in her directness. The average person would be intimidated by the exchange and accept her words as a challenge to leave immediately lest their presence further displease her. Michel Gerard is not the average person.

"I ask myself that question constantly. I can only conclude I am in a co-dependent relationship with your daughter. As her 'hot mess' level slowly ticks upward, I am left all warm and gooey inside."

"You and my daughter are the ones who should be in therapy."

"Like many in this town, you are half off. Besides the Hot Mess's therapist is now Broadway-bound. She is also standing right behind you." Michel gestures to a spot directly behind Emily.

Emily swings around expecting Michel's words to be a joke. An unfunny, nonsensical joke on par with something her daughter would utter under her breath for her own amusement. But sure enough turning around she sees none other than Claudia her former therapist standing behind her on the registration line.

"Claudia! What on earth are you doing here?!"

"Emily! How funny to bump into you here!"

"Hardly. This is Lorelai's business. I'm nothing if not a discerning hotel patron. I'm always invited for Lorelai's soft openings." At the sound of Michel snorting, Emily turns to glare at him before bringing her attention back to Claudia. "But what're you doing here?"

"Oh. The guy I'm seeing is friends with the owner -who I'm now realizing is Lorelai! Small world! We're here for the soft opening, too."

A moment later brings a new arrival to the front of the line. The man, at first only has eyes for the young blonde woman. He pays scant attention to the older woman next to the blonde woman, or to the man standing behind the front desk.

"Here Claudia. You okay holding your own bag? I'd carry it but my shoulder is still a bit off and I don't think I should stress it."

"Digger Stiles?!" At the sound of his name, the man's head swings around to the person addressing him. A look of horror briefly falls across his countenance. 

"Emily! What the ...charming twist of fate to see you here! You look as delightful as always!"

"You can save it, Jason. I read that interview you gave."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Emily."

"The interview? In The New Yorker? The one where you talked about former colleagues? And their spouses? About how they were of "the old guard"? And 'I do mean old' as you so eloquently put it."

"Emily! I wasn't talking about you! I was talking about other old people!"

"Jason!" Claudia hisses as she struggles under the weight of her oversized weekend bag. "Remember our talk about filters? And you being your own worst enemy?"

"Claudia, I was caught off-guard. And how the hell do you know Emily Gilmore anyway?"

"I can't say."

"Oh, no! Don't tell me it's a doctor-patient thing?!"

"Oh, goody! Can I say? Lorelai and her mother were seeing this woman, the singing therapist, last year."

"You're kidding!" 

"Really, Jason. Isn't she a little young for you? And you," Emily's eyes shoot daggers at her former therapist. "Have you no integrity?"

"I'll have you know I've always sang. After years of advising my patients not to settle into an unsatisfying life because they feel unworthy of more, I decided to follow my own advice!"

"I don't care about you singing! But dating Jason Stiles?! What on earth is the matter with you?! I can't believe I confided in you about my problems." As Emily glances away from the couple she mutters. "I need a sherry."

Michel, meanwhile, has been observing in silent amusement. Suddenly he chortles.

"And this is why I stay. You," he gestures with a finger to gain the attention of one of the bell boys. "Get Mrs. Gilmore a glass of sherry. Then go to the kitchen and bring me some of Sookie's kettle corn."

"Jason, I know you were talking about me in that article."

"Emily. Can you even fathom all that you could accomplish if only you could redirect the energy that currently feeds your paranoia?"

"Oh. Are you a therapist now? I'm paranoid? Me? I even have the article on me. I brought it to show Lorelai. I'll show it to her right now. We'll show it to everyone. We'll see who's paranoid!"

"Fine, fine. Where is Lorelai?" asks Jason.

That appears to be the million dollar question as all three Dragonfly guests suddenly focus their attention on Michel, eagerly awaiting his answer. He shrugs in a non-committal way before replying.

"I believe she is visiting with Little Lorelai and the baby."

"Well, she needs to come here right away and settle this. She needs to see that article. And when she does, Jason, she'll see you for your true colors. Finally."

"Lorelai knows exactly what the color of my parachute is, Emily. Please."

"Your parachute? What does that mean, Jason? Did you and Lorelai date?"

"My God, Claudia. How do you not get that reference? How old are you, anyway? Why don't you just go outside and practice humming or something?"

Outraged, Claudia doesn't hesitate in dropping her weekend bag. As it falls straight down, it lands heavily on Jason's foot.

"Ow! You did that on purpose!"

"Did not."

"Well done," Emily smiles at Claudia.

Jason, grimacing, sighs through the pain. "You know I'm still recovering from a case of plantar fasciitis." Turning his attention back to Emily, Jason continues. "Don't feign injury at a few non-specific non-sequiturs in a half-page interview. You sued me. You attacked my character. You damaged my reputation. What you did was far worse. Especially since I didn't actually say anything about you. I've worked with many, many members of the old, old guard in my life."

"You know, Jason. As you're so fond of reminding me, I did sue you once. Since I did it once, what's stopping me from doing it again? For defamation of character?"

"You'll go to court and in front of a jury claim to be the oldest of old guards in my life? Please."

"Hey, hey, hey! When can we get our room?"

At the sound of a young female voice, the four individuals responsible for bringing the Dragonfly's check-in line to a complete and utter standstill, finally fall silent. Puzzled they don't at first see the source of the voice. 

"Who said that?" asks Michel.

"It's me!" Suddenly a blonde moppet appears before them. 

"Oh it is Doula. Niece of Flannel Man."

"Hi Michel."

"Are you here alone, Doula? You are very precocious. And very wise to leave your parents." Michel whispers to the adults. "We hired her father to help with the decorations. I caught him eating glue. With a spoon." Michel turns back to Doula, smiling. "This is why adoption is preferred. It is obvious your father must have given all his brain cells to you, as now he has none." Michel laughs as he finishes his comment. 

"Hey, that's not cool."

At the sound of another new voice, Michel's eyes roll upward. 

"Oh! How delightful! It is The Second Coming of Flannel Man."

"Hi Michel. You givin' my sister a hard time?"

"Of course not! I was complimenting her precociousness and intelligence."

"So what's holding up the line? There a problem?"

"Hello Jess," Emily turns to greet the two new arrivals. "Doula. You know that's not a name, right?"

At Emily's words, the little girl shrugs. "It could've been worse. You've met my parents."

Considering, Emily nods.  "Jason Stiles and I were just having a disagreement. He said some very inflammatory things about me in a magazine article."

"Emily, I didn't say those things about you. Granted, they could've been about you. But they weren't. They happened to be about any number of other old people -old guard - people I know in Connecticut."

"Not cool, man."

"Excuse me?"

"Ageism is not cool." 

"Okay. Thanks for the Public Service Announcement. And who are you?"

"This is Jess, Luke's nephew, Digger." Emily makes the introduction. "Digger - er Jason - dated Lorelai."

"Oh. That explains a lot." It's Jess's turn to roll his eyes. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason shoots back. 

"Yes. What is that supposed to mean? You greasy little hoodlum. What gives you the right to attack my daughter?" 

"Oh, come on. Mrs. Gilmore. You know that daughter of yours is a wrecking ball."

"Jess, are you staying for dinner?" asks Michel, plainly delighted at thought. 

"No, you come on," replies Jason. "Where do you get off trash-talking Lorelai? She's not even here."

"Please. I know Lorelai. She's married to my uncle. I guess that makes her my aunt. And I dated Rory."

"For about five minutes. Twenty years ago!" counters Emily. 

"Oh, what do you know about it?"

"I know enough! You were a little criminal in the making, crashing cars -"

"Just because she's your aunt doesn't give you the right -"

"Please. I paid my dues with those crazy Gilmores -" 

"What did you say? You seem to have forgotten you have a crazy Gilmore standing right here."

"Michel, can I have some ice cream?"

"Everyone calm down. I am a licensed therapist. Sort of. I'm sure we can talk through this!"

"Where is my kettle corn?"

Jess and Doula's Room at the Dragonfly Annex, Later

"Should I ask Sookie for a fresh steak for your eye?"

"No, I'm good, Doula." 

Doula repositions the steak on her brother's black and swollen eye. 

"You wanna come with me and T. J. to Taekwondo next week? You've got muscle but you seem to need help with your moves. Mrs. Gilmore's right hook was good but not that good."

Jess starts to roll his eyes before he stops, wincing in pain.  

"Thanks Doula. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer."

"I think that would be for the best." Doula agrees, nodding.  

AN: I'm realizing that since ITMH is from Logan's POV and WITS is from Rory's POV (for the most part) this insane fic gives me an opportunity to check in with the other characters. OMG. That was fun. I love Digger. I even like the idea of shipping him with Claudia the Singing Therapist. 

Chapter Text

Main Parlour, Dragonfly Annex, Afternoon

A dark-haired man sits reading a book as a group of three brash partiers make a noisy entrance into the room.

"No. That was no pig." The tall accented man stops talking as his eyes fall on the man seated on the sofa. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"No." The man answers quickly, his eyes hard as he spits out the word.

"You sure? You look familiar..."

"Can't imagine in what universe you and I would run into one another."

"I know! Didn't I see you in Canberra last month bench-pressing a Scotsman?"

The two remaining members of the partiers finally make their way into the room. A blonde man and a dark haired woman. The woman throws a less than amused look at the accented man.

"No? My mistake then. Maybe it's just your fighter's physique. I guess it just reminds me of someone I've seen get their face punched in repeatedly."

"Finn!" The woman calls out to the accented man.

"What, love?"

"You're being rude."

"Am I? Here I thought I was being friendly. In a conversant way."

Finn swings around to face one of his other friends.

"Colin? Didn't you say I should try to relate to people more?"

"I recommended you stay conscious. Yes."

"And that's what I'm trying to do."

"Maybe we should just let him go the unconscious route," suggests the third man from the original trio, silent until now. "We could prop him up and push him around in a wheel barrel, 'Weekend at Bernie's' style."

"Robert!" The woman hisses with impatience.

"Or like the scarecrow from 'The Wizard of Oz.'"

"I thought that was the Tin Man?" questions Finn.

"What's going on with you two? I thought you'd made up?" The woman's eyes gloss over her two friends.

"I spent two weeks in Minnesota on account of him, Rory," explains Robert. "Those are two weeks of my life I'll never get back."

"While I blessedly relive those weeks every day," smiles Finn. "They were quite possibly the happiest two weeks of my life."

"That's it. I'm going to punch you so hard you'll wake up at home. In your bed. In New Zealand."

"If I hadn't just gotten a manicure, you'd be in serious trouble. But, as it is, I did just get a manicure. With my new bestie. Miss Patricia. Besides Mother is growing impatient."

"Mother is growing more than impatient. Knock it off you two. Okay. Now that we're on our best behavior," Rory turns to the still-seated dark-haired man. "Jess, you met Logan. This is Finn. Colin. And Robert."

Jess rises to his feet.

"Jess. It's a pleasure." Logan, smiling, offers his hand to Rory's cousin.

"I suppose I could agree but then we'd both be lying." With a crooked grin, Jess accepts the blonde man's hand.

"Are you sure you weren't in Canberra last month? Perhaps you were bench-pressing an Irishman? Or maybe it was a Lamborghini?"

Squinting in distaste, Jess shakes his head silently.

"The famous Cousin Jess," says Colin. "Philly's publishing doyen. How do you do?"

"Fine. Just fine."

"Oh, I remember you now," nods Robert. "I ate bad clams one night. Rory lent me your book to keep me company. I'd be happy to write a testimonial if you ever print more copies. 'If you're trapped in the loo, there's no better book to have by your side.'"

"By your back side." Logan smothers a chuckle at Finn's whispered utterance.

"Robert! What's wrong with you? I thought you enjoyed 'The Subsect'?"

Robert turns to Rory. "What did I say to imply I didn't enjoy it? Barring the clams it was the high point of my evening." Robert returns his gaze to Jess. "Has anyone ever told you how incredibly average your writing is?"

"Good one." Colin nods approvingly. Logan bites his lip again. Finn, apparently irritated at Robert gaining the group's attention, quickly decides he also must comment on the book.

"I also read your book. I was having sex -"

"You read the book while having sex?" asks Robert in disbelief. Jess watches Finn with obvious disgust.

"It was very dull sex. Anyway if you ever raise the funds to print that second edition, I, too would like to give you a testimonial. 'I was able to simultaneously read this book and enjoy coitus. This extreme pleasure was made possible by the fact that there is not one word requiring a dictionary in the book's entire hundred -"

"Eighty-five," whispers Robert.

"Hundred and eighty-five pages," Finn finishes.

"No. Just eighty-five pages. Not one hundred and eighty-five."

"Eighty-five pages? What book is eighty-five pages? Our wine menus have more pages."

"Yes. And they're probably more complex," says Colin. "I too read this book. You achieved something very special. You managed to compress the most words into the smallest idea of any book I've ever read."

Rory, unhappy with her friends, frowns. She glares at Logan. She knows he didn't put Finn, Colin and Robert up to this but she suspects he expressed annoyance at Jess's presence at the inn and the boys picked up on that.

"Oh, yeah?" Jess responds. "I'd love to have this battle of wits with you but I don't like to fight unarmed opponents. I will say this. It makes sense. I can see how you guys are friends. You. Him. Him. And him." As he speaks, Jess thrusts his chin first at Logan. Then Finn. Then Colin. And finally at Robert.

"What do you mean?" This question comes from Rory.

"I mean, your boyfriend here and his friends are all cut from the same entitled cloth. Don't you see that? Rory? Don't you remember we used to make fun of guys like these? Rich guys. With Porsches."

"We did? I'm not sure I do remember that?" Perplexed, Rory looks questioning at Jess before shrugging. "When? Was it in Stars Hollow? Who in Stars Hollow drives a Porsche? Was it that one time we met up in New York? We really only dated for a few months. Were these rich guys guests at my mom's inn?"

"Rory. That's not the point. This." Jess shakes his head and gestures angrily with his hand. "This. Isn't. You. I know you, Rory. Better than anyone. And this isn't you."

"Sad Keanu."

"Finn!" Logan shoots a silencing glare at his friend.

"Okay? Seriously? You need to stop saying that. Before I moved back to Connecticut last year, I hadn't seen you in four or five years. You don't know me. You constantly saying you do annoys the hell out of me. It has for years."

"But it's not you, Rory!"

"Oh, this is me. As for you, this isn't cute, Jess. 'Delusional' isn't a good look on you."

"Rory, how can you be with this jerk?"

"Logan hasn't said a word!"

"Yeah. His friends said it all for him!"

Logan, grinning, looks at Jess. "Jess, I'm sorry my friends insulted you."

"No you're not."

"I'm not? Rory's looking pretty pissed. It's guaranteed it's gonna land on me. Why wouldn't I be sorry?"

"So you're sorry because Rory'll be pissed at you? Not that I was insulted?"

"Of course! I don't give a rat's ass about you!"

"Logan!"

"Ace! Come on! Cousin Jess?! I don't care about him!"

"Logan! High road?"

"Ace!"

"Rory. This isn't you. I know you, Rory!"

Rory, furious now, swings around to face her cousin.

"Jess if you say that one more time, I'm gonna clock you. Oh yeah! I know how. My grandma is not the only Gilmore girl who knows how to serve a right hook!"

"Listen to me, Rory! I know you better than any-!"

Before Jess has a chance to finish his thought, Rory swings and lets loose her right hook. Her fist solidly hits his nose. Caught off guard, Jess loses his balance and sways towards the sofa he had been sitting on. As Jess teeters unsteadily, Finn and Robert, standing behind the sofa, surreptitiously move the chair a few inches back. The side of Jess's head hits one of the sofa's wooden arms before the man finally comes to a rest, facedown, on the inn's hardwood floor.

"Mother!"

"Rory!"

"Ace!"

"That was hot."

"Shut up, Robert!" Rory and Logan both scowl at Robert.

The loud noises from Jess crashing to the floor draws a surly French man into the room.

"What is going on here, Little Lorelai? Why is Marlboro Man Jr. lying unconscious?"

"Ow! I need ice for my knuckles," Rory shakes her hand. "I'm going to the kitchen. Robert. Come with me. I'll give you a steak to bring back for Jess's eye. You guys bring Jess to his room. Michel, could you please show them to Jess's room?"

"Yes, yes." Michel, irritated, shakes his head before ranting. "First I have the Hot Mess and Flannel Man. Sookie did not want to shave her legs so she goes. Then she comes back. Now I have Little Lorelai, Blonde Man and the Three Stooges. Soon we will have the Singing Therapist and the Male Mess. Then the Evil Witch of the West and her Munchkin. I thought we already had all the weirdos living here. How does she always find more?"

"Boys?"

Logan, Finn, Colin, Robert, and Michel all turn to face Rory.

"From now on, I'll expect you to listen to me when I tell you to behave."

AN: Hahahahaha! This is why I enjoy writing fanfiction. It started out as Finn vs. Robert but once they were all in the room together it just turned into a free-for-all. I didn't plan on Rory dispatching the final blow but that's why my muse is in charge. See the poll on my profile to vote on future rounds of "Everybody Clocks Jess."

Chapter Text

Kims' Antiques

"What are you doing here? Where's Luke?"

"Hi Mrs. Kim. Nice to see you too." Jess swaggered inside the store, directing a cool glance around the entry.

"I didn't say it was nice to see you. It's not nice to see you. You're an angry thug. Wreck cars. Wreck furniture. Play pranks with police tape. I don't like boys who play pranks with police tape. I especially don't like boys who wreck furniture."

"Come on, Mrs. Kim. That was a long time ago. I'm not a kid anymore. And I can honestly say it's been at least five months since I've played any pranks with police tape."

'Harrumph," snorted Mrs. Kim before continuing. "Time is a great teacher. Unfortunately it kills all its pupils."

"Ah, thanks for that."

"Do not thank me. It is a quote from Hector Louis Berlioz. It is the truth. And the truth shall set you free!" She said vociferously. "Unless it is someone's testimony that lands you in prison. Tell me why you are here."

"Luke sent me over to pick up the table he bought."

"Luke did not tell me. He should tell me if he sends someone else to pick up his purchase. How do I know you're not here to steal the table? Or to steal other things from my store? You live in big city. Big city breeds drug addicts, fornicators, criminals. And much too much tv watching because everyone is afraid to go outside. This, this," Mrs. Kim nodded excitedly as she continued her diatribe, "is because of the drug addicts, and the fornicators-"

"- and the criminals. Yeah. I'm following. Doesn't change the fact that Luke did ask me to pick up the table." Jess stuck a hand in his pocket. "Here. He gave me the receipt."

Mrs. Kim grabbed the slip of paper from Jess. Glaring at him, she pushed down her glasses so she could read the receipt. She squinted unhappily as she read.

"Why don't you call him if you don't believe me? I can give you his number."

"I have Luke's cell. I go call. You stay here. You do not move. You do not touch anything. You still use product in your hair?"

Jess made a face as he answered. "Yes, but -"

"No buts. Do not touch hair. Do not touch furniture. I do not want hair grease to get onto furniture."

"Fine. But I don't use nearly as much 'product' as I used to."

"I don't care. Antique furniture requires great care to maintain and preserve. Hair gel and mousse put filmy build-up and residue on wood. Very tough to remove."

"Whatever you say," sighed Jess as he shook his head.

"Do not shake your head like that. And do not give me that look. I've managed to keep my store in business a long time. I do that by not allowing nasty boys with hair product to touch my furniture."

"Come on, this place is huge. I can step inside and not touch anything. Besides it's not all wood in here. And who knows? If you let me look around, maybe I'll even buy something."

"Please. With what money? Doesn't matter what's wood and not wood. Everything in store susceptible to mousse and gel build-up. I don't want you touching my brass knockers either."

Rolling his eyes, Jess sighed again. "Fine, Mrs. Kim."

"Oh, I know it's fine. You wait here. Do not move. Do not touch anything. Wood. Brass. Ceramic. Pillow. Bag of rice cakes. Stay here. Next to door."

"Sure."

"I am going to call Luke."

"You do that."

Mrs. Kim nodded emphatically once more before taking her leave of Jess. Jess, meanwhile, continued to stand in his assigned spot adjacent to the door. Glancing around, he noted a clear space a few feet inside the store's interior. Peering in the direction where Mrs. Kim had disappeared he realized he could no longer see the woman. Waiting a few seconds to confirm her absence, he moved into the interior where he proceeded to wait behind a wall, not visible to anyone stepping inside the entrance.

Suddenly the doorbell rang and the door slowly opened with a creak.

"Hello. Hello. Hello. Anyone here?" An accented voice called out. Jess thought the voice sounded familiar. There weren't many Australians that made a practice of slumming in Stars Hollow. "I like that lawn jockey on the porch. I think it would look stunning in my pool room."

"Finn! Ssh!" Jess rolled his eyes as the name he heard confirmed his suspicions. "Your voice is echoing off the furniture. I'm still waiting for my vodka tonic to kick in."

"Yes," another voice agreed. "Your New Zealand mating call will have all the kiwi birds flocking to us."

"Shut up, Robert," the Australian replied. "Might I remind you I haven't punched you yet this week? You're long overdue. And my hangover Fin n' Tonic did kick in so if I do punch you, I'm assured of making contact with precisely the spot I'm intending to hit."

"You think so? See clearly do you?" 'Robert' responded.

"What do you mean? But for the redundancies, I see perfectly," assured Finn.

"Redundancies, Finn?" asked the third man.

"I think a little birdie - possibly of the New Zealand kiwi variety - might have put a little extra something in his Fin n' Tonic."

"You spiked my drink?"

"How did you not notice, Finn?"

"It's not unusual for me to see double, Colin. It usually clears up by three. I compensate with Robert by directing my fist six inches to the left."

"God, I'll be a wealthier man when I eventually win that death pool."

"Hello. Hello. Mrs. Kim?" Finn continued to make his way into the store. Soon he happened upon Jess. "What's this? Cousin Jess?"

"Finn. Did you find a Cousin Jess?"

"Yes. I seem to have found a Cousin Jess."

"How many Cousin Jess's do you see Finn? And are any of them remotely successful?"

"Good one, Robert."

"Back off," warned Jess. "You don't want to make trouble with me."

"We don't? Why not?" questioned Finn.

"We've found that trouble is often accompanied by great amusement," replied Colin.

"Yes. Great amusement," added Robert.

"Well, I don't want any trouble with you."

"Aren't you the least bit intimidated by the fact that there are three of us to your one?" asked Finn.

"Not really. You're wearing nail polish," sneered Jess.

"Oh," Finn looked down at his hand. Quirking an eyebrow upward, he muttered. "So I am. I don't know how that keeps happening. Colin?"

"Don't look at me. I think it's from when you went to the salon with Rory and Emily."

"Oh, yes," nodded Finn.

"Hey," nodded Jess. "I'd step off if I were you."

"Step off?" repeated Finn.

"Off what? A cliff?" asked Colin.

"I'd definitely step off a cliff if I were you so that makes two of us," agreed Robert.

A frown of distaste on his face, Jess shook his head. "Where's the lead jerk, anyway?"

"Lead jerk?" questioned Finn.

"We regard ourselves as an anarchy collective," answered Colin. "We have no leader per se."

"Unless, of course, you mean Logan?" asked Robert with a shrug. At Jess's stony glare, Robert continued. "If you did mean Logan, I suspect he's getting busy with Rory."

Jess scoffed in disgust. "Figures."

"That," added Colin. "Or babysitting. He and your cousin, of course, have a son."

"Yeah, I know."

Robert stepped further inside the antique store. He ran a finger over several pieces of furniture before coming to stop in front of an oversized, dark oak wardrobe. "Hey, Finn," he called out. "I found a piece that's perfect for you. It has carvings of kiwi birds on the cabinet doors. So it will really allow you to celebrate the motherland."

"You think you're funny, don't you?" Finn took a step closer to Robert but in his attempt to face his sworn frenemy, he was actually off by about a foot.

Robert nodded, chuckling. "Actually, I do. Yes." He waved a hand in front of Finn's face. "I'm over here by the way."

"Finn. Robert. I don't think you two should get into it in Mrs. Kim's store."

"Well, it can't be helped. Because this reprobate has insulted me for the last time."

"I hardly think it's the last time, Finn."

"It will be if I kill you, Robert."

"That's a fine thing to say to a friend. Especially one who's been your strongest supporter in the LDB death pool?"

"How droll," nodded Finn. "You're asking for it and you're going to get it."

Finn slipped off his jacket and handed it to Colin. No longer encumbered by outerwear, he positioned himself into a fighter's stance.

"Are you sure you want to attempt this?" asked Robert. "By my calculations you should be seeing at least three of me."

"Yes, and all of them are meeting their demise today. Not only am I killing you but I'm achieving serial killer status."

"Finn, I don't think you should hit Robert. At least let's go outside. Rory will be furious."

"Mother will understand."

Jess grunted in displeasure.

"You say something, Cousin Jess?"

"No. Far be it for me to get in the way of you two idiots killing each other." He replied through his teeth. "Please continue."

Finally Finn held up his fist and gave a sidelong glance at Robert, before pulling his hand back and then bringing it forward in a quick jab. Robert, standing six inches to the left of Finn's aim, adeptly ducked out of the way. Encountering nothing but air, the force of Finn's punch caused his body to sway towards Jess. Tottering unevenly, time appeared to stand still before Finn finally toppled onto Jess. The much shorter yet sturdy man barely caught the Aussie as he was pushed into the oak wardrobe.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jess muttered. He pushed Finn back to standing upright. "Do me a favor. Stay the hell away from me."

"With pleasure." Finn winked at Jess, prompting the other man to roll his eyes. "I think I'm seeing clearly now. We should remedy that. Let's go see if we can get them to open the Secret Bar."

Jess watched as the libationous threesome made their exit. His face wore a judgmental expression as he stood staring out the window as the three jerks walked away. Jess was immediately startled by the sound of someone close by.

"YOU! You stepped inside store after I told you stay away! I see white filmy build-up on my newly delivered oak wardrobe!"

"Mrs. Kim, it wasn't me!"

"There is no one else here!" She stalked over to the oversized dresser and sniffed the filmy stain. "I know that smell! That is Axe gel for men!" Leaning over Jess, Mrs. Kim took a whiff of his hair. "There it is! You!"

"Mrs. Kim, I - "

"Don't 'Mrs. Kim' me! This is a long time in coming. What time doesn't kill, I will!"

Mrs. Kim angrily brought her fist up and popped Jess in the nose.

"Ow! You treat all your customers this way?! My nose is bleeding!"

"Please. You a customer? Get out. I don't want you to drip blood on my antique rugs."

"What about the table?" asked Jess as he leaned his head back, holding a tissue to his nose.

"Luke said not to worry about it. Table won't fit in your old jalopy anyway. He's sending son-in-law's friends with giant Hummer to pick it up."

AN: Imagining new ways of Jess getting punched is such a simple yet pure joy. Working on my third post-AYITL Rory/Logan fic. Posting will commence once ITMH is done. Thank you for reading.