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It must be a side-effect of this ridiculous town. There must be some sort of psychosis-inducing drugs in the water supply in fucking Stars Hollow -- actually, that would explain a lot about this stupid place. And it is certainly, definitely, indubitably the only reason that Jess is sitting on the floor behind the counter in his uncle’s diner with a flashlight, squinting at the instruction manual that seems to have ten years’ accumulated grease over this particular page, and doing his damnedest to fix the fucking toaster.
He wanted to toss the damn thing through the window, but that would cause an unconscionable amount of noise. And as much as he feels like breaking something right now, he just does not have the energy to deal with Luke’s self-righteous pontification about all the ways he is-not-but-should-be living up to his apparent potential. Plus, Luke would definitely make him work off the cost of the repairs, and the diner is already his personal version of hell enough of the goddamn time. Plus, Luke had stood up for him at the town meeting.
That’s what Rory said when she yelled at him to be nicer to Luke. And even though Jess is pretty sure he’s never trusted anyone, ever, not since he was in diapers and first saw Liz get high using money that was supposed to buy their Christmas tree, he’s certain Rory was telling him the truth. And even though Luke spends most of his time either yelling at Jess to behave or yelling at everybody else because of whatever the hell thing the stupid fucking town is doing now, Jess is pretty sure that Luke defends him a lot.
And nobody else has ever done that for him.
And even though he would rather be drawn and quartered than admit it, Rory was right. Luke’s loyalty is something he doesn’t want to look too closely at, something that twinges a little bit when he gets too close, so he doesn’t get close. And since he can’t get too close to it, Luke can never, ever, ever know that it means anything at all. Because if it means something to have, it will mean something to lose.
So here he is, trying to fix the good-for-nothing-demon-possessed toaster. If all goes well, Luke will think the stupid thing got its goddamn second wind, and will never think for a second that his nothing-but-trouble nephew had sat on the floor for -- Christ, nearly three hours -- in the middle of the night, making the repairs.
Finally, after fucking eons , he has the final screw in place. Press down, pop up. Maybe the toaster isn’t so good-for-nothing. Maybe he should join a monastery, since he’s clearly destined to be a world-class exorcist.
That would sure make Stars Hollow laugh.
He slips the toaster manual back into the drawer with all of the other manuals and slides the toaster back into place. Good as new.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
This is probably a low point for him. He has never been so frustrated about life in this fucking freak show town. Running on less than four hours of sleep is bad enough, never mind that his hair looks like a dead animal that’s been run over a few times and plastered to the left side of his scalp, and now Uncle Luke is once again yelling at him to get out of the bathroom. Why the hell does he put up with this? He slams the bathroom door open and sneers a comment at Luke as he passes, because it’s just that kind of morning.
The first shirt he finds that doesn’t smell — too much — goes over his head and by the time he’s fully dressed, Luke is yelling at him again to get down the damn stairs and start serving coffee to the caffeine deprived, psychotic citizens of Stars Hollow. It is already a terrible fucking day.
He goes though, because he just doesn’t have the energy to argue about it. The diner is a madhouse already, and if he were feeling more charitable, he might feel bad that Luke would normally have served these people, if he hadn’t been kept waiting for the bathroom.
He’s not feeling charitable.
He grabs the coffee first and tops up all of the regulars — it doesn’t surprise him in the slightest that the pot is already made, because he can see Lorelai Gilmore looking far too innocent and awake near the door. He warns one of the less bizarre patrons that the coffee will most likely curdle his stomach. He doesn’t give a damn about this town or what happens, but he probably doesn’t need a murder charge on his record, and he doubts Taylor Fucking Doose would believe the “Lorelai made the coffee” excuse. And sending Luke’s not-so-secret love to prison for murder would probably be the one thing that could make Luke turn him out. There’s only a stab of amusement when the man chokes and spits a moment later.
Despite the exhaustion, it’s only a few moments before this feels disturbingly normal. This routine is already settling into his bones, and although he would deny it under every possible torture, the normalcy has a sort of comfort to it — it says there’s a space in this world with a Jess-shaped impression, a space where someone, at least, is expecting him to be. But those kind of thoughts go along with his feelings about Luke, so they’re buried as deep as he can as soon as they flit to the surface.
Luke appears minutes later — the man is as spartan as they come, and can be showered and dressed in seven minutes flat. Suddenly, people are settling down as their food is rapidly delivered. Jess continues his slow-as-molasses swipe-down of a newly vacated table. Suddenly, through the din, he hears a crystal-clear voice that always makes his heart skip a beat. “Luke, can I please get my toast?”
God, she always, always, always says please. Even when she’s practically vibrating in anticipation and has been waiting since before he got here. He can’t remember the last time he said please. How do the two of them both live in this little tiny corner of the world?
“It’s coming soon — the damn toaster broke yesterday so I’m using my little one.” Luke shoots the toaster an offended glare, but Jess is already in motion. On his way to the coffee pot to once again top up all of the caffeine-crazed denizens of the diner, he gives Luke a challenging look and pulls the toaster lever down. It pops back up again — clearly in perfect working order, and Jess feels his crooked smirk raise the corners of his mouth as he sets the coffee back down.
He doesn’t actually hear Luke’s surprised, less-than-his-usual-grump comment about the toaster, and he doesn’t hear Lorelai’s response. But suddenly he’s standing in a spotlight that only one person sees, and it’s almost unbearable -- unbearably sweet to have her fix those eyes -- God, those fucking carribean-ocean-blue eyes -- on him, and unbearably painful because his feelings about her are the one set of feelings that no matter what he does, he can’t seem to push down. They always float to the surface. He always sees those eyes. He is always tuned in to her voice. He constantly has to remind himself not to wonder what she’s reading today. He always gets up in the morning and serves the coffee because she is always here to drink it.
And she’s in love with her fucking boyfriend.
He thinks nobody will notice that he’s fleeing -- after all, it is time for school, and his comment to Luke is snarky enough to fool anyone. But as he escapes out the front door and into this mentally deranged little hamlet, he’s just enough of a glutton for punishment to look her way, hoping despite his better judgement for another glimpse of her eyes.
God, if anybody knew how fucking pathetic he was, he’d probably have to flee Stars Hollow entirely for all the mocking that would ensue.
But there they are, meeting his, and he doubts she can see past the challenging, sarcastic shell he’s built around himself. But she smiles at him, and her face glows, because she alone of all of these ridiculous people knows that he fixed the goddamn toaster and that shell feels dangerously close to cracking.
But he holds it together, breaks eye contact and steps out of the diner, fleeing from her and her eyes and the toaster that earned him that smile, but unable to flee from the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. Because if he were going to look closer at this whole fiasco, if he were going to be honest -- which he isn’t, but if he were --
He didn’t fix the toaster for his uncle. He fixed it for her.
And he can still see that smile when he closes his eyes.