- -
She thought of how he would react when she brought his world crashing down on
him, as hers had done on herself. All because the stick turned blue.
Blue, like the jeans covering both future mother and father's thighs.
"I want to come with you," Dean whined.
"Why?" Rory asked blandly, hardly glancing up from the magazine she had been
reading for the last half hour. Rory took her time in reading anything.
Magazines, books, brochures. She read them absolutely cover-to-cover. That way,
she didn't miss a thing.
"Because," Dean said, "it's important. Not just to you, but to me, too."
Gently he started pulling the magazine away from Rory's grasp, trying to get her
to focus. "It's a life-defining moment for you. I want to be there. I think I
deserve to be there."
"Fine, you can come, if it's that important to you. But really, it's nothing.
I already took the home pregnancy test, now it's just a matter of getting some
confirmation that I am indeed pregnant. We already know what the answer's going
to be. The test I took was 99 percent accurate. How could this test with my
doctor alter a thing?"
"You just never know," Dean mused, sort of jumping around in his seat.
"Okay, I must say, you are getting way too excited about this."
"What's not to be excited about? We've been on such an emotional low for what
seems like so long. Even if it's only been, what? A few weeks?..."
Rory sighed, set the magazine down on the table, and smiled. "I'm also
getting an ultrasound. I'm sure you'd want to be there for that."
"Really? Awesome." Dean was starting to come around on the idea of this
pregnancy, almost to the point of accepting it. He even seemed excited about it,
at times. Rory had noticed, but said nothing, not wanting to jinx the
relationship her one true love was beginning to have with their unborn baby.
Technically, though, was it even a baby yet, or simply a pool of goo? What did
it matter as long as Dean was happy, and actually excited about something.
--
Dean whistled nervously as they awaited the doctor's arrival. The medical
room was bland, seemed sterile. It was good to be clean, but this was a bit
much. Dean reached over to the examining table that Rory occupied, swiping a
finger along its side, looking for dust or dirt. There was none. Whoever cleaned
this place was an expert. Maybe they could teach the Gilmore girls a little
something called vacuuming.
"So..." he began, tired of the silence, the wait. "How come I can't see it
yet? How come you're not showing that there's a baby in you?"
"Too soon," said Rory in a distracted way, sighing out of boredom. She was
trying so hard to be nonchalant, as her stomach was twisting and untwisting in
knots, contracting and letting go, over and over again. She wanted to pretend
this day wouldn't be one of the most important yet of her life. That it wasn't
such a big deal to have the confirmation that her life indeed would be changed
from this moment on. She didn't want to face the consequences of either having a
baby within her, or having nervous conclusions that were nothing but imaginary.
She was afraid to be pregnant, and afraid to not.
Rory looked at Dean, sensing that he was also afraid. Although, above
everything, he was annoyingly curious. His eyes were bright where hers were
bleak. He seemed to be dusting the walls with his hands. She frowned. Was he
trying to be annoying on purpose, or...?
At long last, the doctor walked in. Dr. Brown, whose name described the color
of her skin, looked to be far older than Lorelai, perhaps even in her fifties.
She smiled reassuringly at the two "adults" turned children before her. "And how
are we doing today?" she asked kindly.
"Great," said Dean with a smile that almost seemed sincere. He wanted to
believe they were great. He wanted to believe they weren't both ready to vomit.
Certainly that couldn't be good for the baby.
Dr. Brown took a seat in front of Rory and Dean, and looked meaningfully at
Rory. "We have examined the urine you brought in a few days ago, and we have
found" -- heartbeat, beat, beat, Rory fluttered her eyelashes, feeling the
suffocation of the heat around her closing in on her; time seemed to pass so
slowly, when truly no time passed at all -- "that you are indeed pregnant."
Dean didn't know if he should raise his arms above him, Super bowl style, and
scream, "Yes!" or if he should sulk quietly in his seat, disturbed by the
responsibilities that lay ahead. In the end, he did nothing but stare, his jaw
dropped, mouth open, looking very much like a toddler.
Rory released the breath she had been holding for weeks. "I am... I am."
"Yes." Dr. Brown smiled. "I'm not sure if that was what you were ready to
hear, but oftentimes the home pregnancy tests are, indeed, correct. Good of you
to check with us, however, as there is a one percent chance that it could have
been off."
"Thought it was best to check..." Rory said, in a little girl voice, as she
stared ahead at nothing in particular. She felt removed from the situation, as
if she were looking at the grey snow of a broken TV. Sitting here, in this
Hartford doctor's office, she was far from tears, very much like plastic,
unfeeling, uncaring, unrevealing of what was inside.
Dean found a smile. "Thank you. For letting us know."
"It's my job," Dr. Brown said pleasantly with a shrug. Just then, a nurse
came in, rolling equipment into the room on a crate. "And now, time for your
ultrasound."
Rory was taking deep calming breaths, in and out. Dean, finished now with his
dirt inspection, was fiddling with the hands in his lap. Both were awaiting what
would come with a sickening amount of anticipation that felt like dread.
"Rory, if you'll just lay back now," Dr. Brown instructed. Rory situated
herself evenly on the cushioned surface, and slowly leaned back until she was
laying down in her thin, scratchy hospital garment. "That's right. Now, Dean,
you can scoot your chair over to be with us so that you can see what's on the
screen, too."
Dean scooted forward gratefully, letting his chair rest right next to where
Rory was laying. "Ready to pay all kinds of attention," he offered.
"Dean, is there something brown on your nose?" asked Rory. "Why are you
sucking up to her?"
Dean laughed under his breath and ignored her. "Just being nice."
"Well stop it. I mean, stop being nice the way you are."
Dr. Brown watched quietly, amused. This was one of the younger couples she'd
ever done an ultrasound with. A bit of agitation in the ranks was to be
expected. As soon as she had Rory's attention again, she began by squirting some
gel onto Rory's exposed stomach that still remained flat. One look at that
stomach, and no one would know she was pregnant. One look at her face, and no
one would know that she'd ever been through anything to taint her innocence.
With wide blue eyes, she looked at the doctor's face, awaiting any instruction.
"The gel is a bit cold, I should have warned you," said Dr. Brown, picking up
an instrument from the crate. It looked like a long handle of some sort. She
touched it to Rory's stomach, beginning to spread the gel around. She reached
over and turned the machine atop the crate on, and immediately the whirring
sound of Rory's body began buzzing around the room. Dean inched closer to his
love, fascinated, his eyes never leaving the screen. Onto it popped an image of
many lines without much color, the picture of Rory's insides.
Rory gasped as much from amazement as from the cold. Her sight followed
Dean's, and they stared together at the screen.
"Now, it's too early to determine much of anything," Dr. Brown explained,
"including the sex. Right now, your baby isn't much more than a bundle of nerves
inside your body. But if you look closely, you can see it."
Both teenagers strained their eyes, but neither could pick out a single shape
from among the masses. Everything looked the same. Wherever their baby was, it
was lost in a tunnel of pure sound. Dr. Brown continued to move the device
around and around over a small area on Rory's stomach. Sensing the confusion of
her companions, she reached forward and pointed at a particular area on the
screen. "See that small object there?"
"No," said Rory and Dean together.
Dr. Brown laughed. "Right there," she said, motioning again to the screen
without touching it, which would cause it to short circuit for a moment, and
would ruin the picture. "That small bundle there? That tiny shape?..." She
looked pointedly at Rory. "That's your baby."
Dean reached out and squeezed Rory's hand. "Wow..." he muttered. He looked at
her, and smiled. He loved her so.
Finally, she smiled as well. She appeared to relax, dropping her shoulders,
allowing her muscles to fall from their invisible restraints. "Wow," she echoed.
"There it is. We created that." She said it as if she were telling the story.
Dean nodded blankly. "We did."
Rory found it to be the most defining moment of her life. Seeing this being,
one that she had created by being irresponsible and rash, was almost more than
she could comprehend. Oh, what would Lindsay think if she were looking upon this
image, this little peanut inside her rival? Rory sighed. Lindsay was no longer
in the picture anymore. It was now all about Rory for Dean. She and this baby...
they were his everything.
--
When they drove home from Hartford, Rory let Dean have charge of the wheel.
She simply sat back in her seat, with tears in her eyes. "I love you," she said,
thinking of her baby, the baby they had created, together. This baby that was a
part of both of them, this baby that would be a part of the rest of their lives,
fusing them together for eternity. It suddenly wasn't just about them anymore.
It was now about this tiny, innocent being that they must raise to be a good
person. Rory wondered, was she a good person? Would she be a good model for her
baby? Certainly the baby's conception wasn't something to be talked about. But
was she a bad person? Could she teach someone else to grow?
Dean smiled faintly, and glanced at his true love. "You know I love you,
too."
--
Lorelai's car was absent from the Gilmore home. She was working at the Inn,
her brand new Inn that was doing well. Rory had been trying to sum up the
courage to ask her mother about the picture of the kiss she had found in the
town's new tabloid. She kept a copy of the detested magazine in her room, hidden
under her bed. Occasionally, she took it out, when she was alone, and just
stared at the picture of she and Dean, being broken together in the middle of a
grocery store.
It was good that Lorelai was gone, for what Rory had in mind shouldn't bear
witnesses. Dean stopped the car engine after parking, and took the keys out of
the ignition. "Get out. Hurry," said Rory, jumping out of her seat and slamming
the car door behind her. She grabbed Dean's hand and ushered him into the house.
She was giddy, knowing that her destiny was now marked, and that her baby was
okay. She was giddy, because maybe her life would be okay, as long as Dean was
with her, to support her when she could no longer support herself.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked, confused, as he was pulled along by his
shirt sleeve.
Safe inside of the house, Rory threw the door to the latch, and raced to her
bedroom, Dean following behind her, tripping here and there from the force of
Rory's insistence. When they got into her room, she closed that door, as well.
"The scene of the crime..." said Rory, looking around without releasing her
grip on Dean's sleeve. "Dean..." She looked at him, right into his crystal clear
eyes. "I need to feel something good. Something other than this death and doom
that has been surrounding me for weeks now. I... need to feel you."
Dean stepped closer, gently running a stray finger along the side of Rory's
face, caressing her cheek with such care. "I'm always here," he said, his voice
husky. He tilted his head, the expression in his eyes turning playful. "You
wanna wrestle?"
Rory giggled as she was swung up into Dean's arms. He spun around, taking her
with him in a circle. Dizzy, he stumbled as he finished, and nearly dropped the
package in his arms to the floor. "Oops," he said in a giddy sort of way. He and
Rory laughed, bending their heads until they touched together.
Carefully, Rory navigated herself away from Dean's arms, until she was
standing on her own two feet again. She wasn't sure how to say what she needed
to; all she was sure of was that she needed to say it. "I... I love you, Dean.
And I'm sorry for the pain that I've caused you, the finality I have now given
your life." Dean cocked his head to the side, listening intently. He would
always listen, any time she wanted to speak. It was his greatest asset, his
loyalty. He had been loyal from the very first time he laid eyes on her, in the
dimly lit halls of Stars Hollow High where he fell in love with this girl on
first sight.
"Dean, I..." Rory touched her lips together, smacked them, and pulled them
apart. "I need to feel something good, something carefree again, before I die of
cold and loneliness." Before Dean could interpret and nod, understanding her
world because it was his as well, she crushed her lips to his, with stunning
brutality, with fevered ambition. She worked his lips apart with her tongue,
stabbing him affectionately on his teeth and later on into his mouth.
Dean didn't argue, merely stumbled back a step from the force of Rory's
collision with his head. Lost in her, lost in everything Rory, in the idea of
being without pain, he forged ahead into the kiss, meeting her tongue with his
own, thrust for thrust. Their mouths never came apart, even for an instant, as
they battled one another to feel the highest high, to lift out of the pain of
their minds and just be bodies, crushed together, in motion.
Dean's hands were brought up, and he cupped the back of Rory's head with
them, then went on to trace the length of her shortened hair. Silky soft, the
strands moved through his fingers with ease, falling through the separations
like curtains being pulled, shutting the two of them off from the rest of the
world. They were in their own world now, together; a world of their desired
making. Everything else paled in comparison to losing one another in each other,
feeling something other than bad, something good, something real.
Something they could only create together.
Rory finally broke apart from the kiss, breathing hard. "Dean, I love you,
you're..." She broke down from the ferocity of her emotions, tears spilling from
her eyes. "You're my everything. I feel that you're all I have left now..." Her
voice cracked.
With speed and intent, Dean swooped in once again to capture her lips,
tasting the salt of her tears, bringing his hands up to wipe them off her cheeks
as they slid in trails down her face. From the warmth of the fire in Rory's
closed eyes, the tears cooled as they zigzagged down the length of her skin,
finally being wiped away with Dean's caring hands. He wished them gone, wanted
them blown out of this universe. There was no room for tears in this lust that
he felt, this need to have his hands on Rory, with everything in him, giving
himself up to the power of her heart.
He thought of the baby, the tiny peanut within Rory's stomach that he had
created with his seed. He kissed her lips, again and again with his own,
creating fire with fire, igniting her flame from within his own body. Their lips
fused together, separated, and then crushed together again, countless numbers of
times. He pulled gently on her lower lip, biting it between his teeth with a
softness that betrayed his love for her. He wanted to rile her up, but he could
never hurt her. Rory's lip tasted good in his mouth, and he was hesitant to
release it in order to grab the rest of her mouth for another searing kiss.
Mind controlled by the fire burning in her loins, Rory broke away from Dean
with hesitation, and began unbuttoning his long-sleeved shirt, with speed,
intent on getting to the soft, tanned skin underneath. Tossing the garment away,
she pulled her own t-shirt up and over her head, discarding it in some far away
pile, paying no attention to where it landed, or if it landed at all.
She felt that she was flying as Dean bent to rain kisses on her shoulders,
her collarbone, and the tops of her breasts. With skill that she appreciated, he
managed to unhook the back of her bra, and slid the straps down her shoulders
and away from her arms completely. He loved her breasts. They were small without
being too small, firm yet moldable. His hands moved of their own volition,
attacking her skin with love, caressing her nerve endings to make her come
undone, just as the bra hook had displayed.
Trying to catch her breath, now standing a couple of inches away from Dean,
Rory's breasts heaved up and down slightly as she looked upon Dean's face with a
softness reserved for him alone. Her first love, who had always been so kind and
gentle with her, wanting to hold on even when she was ready to let go. No longer
would she ever let go. She wanted to be bound to him forever and, lucky for her,
she now was.
Looking meaningfully into Dean's eyes, Rory trailed her fingers lightly over
his exposed skin, on his shoulders, and down his chest, to the revealing line of
downy hair that trailed down from his belly button, pointing to his groin,
concealed beneath his jeans. He giggled girlishly because her touch tickled, and
she laughed right along with him as she continued her exploration. He was
perfect, he was hers, all of this skin, and what was underneath. Bound to her,
as she was bound to him. The proof lie in her flat stomach that concealed the
fruit of their joined passions. It had been so long since they had felt passion
together. After the initial night and the shock of what was to come, she hadn't
felt in a particularly warm mood. She had left him alone, simply laying beside
him last night as she watched him breathe, and knew that she loved him, she did,
she did. With all the passion in her, she would love him until clichés were
killed, love him until the day the "first love" idea died. They would last far
beyond their combined years, in their child that would be born in less than nine
months.
She loved exploring his body in this way, getting to feast her eyes and her
hands, her careful fingers, along the skin that patched up Dean's insides,
holding him together. She couldn't take it any longer. She stopped the
exploration of her fingers, and reached for the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning it
until it reached the bottom, then tearing them down his legs, taking his boxers
with her hands that were so quick to undress him, as she had been doing with her
eyes for the entire ride home. He hadn't known it, but she had stared, lost in
him, loving him, as he paid attention to the road. Her mind dilly-dallying from
what was stark and plain and painful, she had begun to feel the fire spread
through her limbs, the telling fire that made her sense that she needed to see
the very deepest part of her lover again, before she died of the aching
loneliness that surrounded her, ever since that night when her own mother called
her "the other woman", tastelessly stealing from her any of the happiness she
and Dean had created together.
Today, it was time to find that happiness again. Dean stood before her,
naked, and stepped out of his pants, flinging them aside with an ankle. "Your
turn?" he offered, hooking his fingers on the inside of her pants.
"Yes, please," she chirped cheerfully, helping him to undo her buttons and
slide down the cloth that covered her bottom half. Tossing her clothes aside as
he had done, she looked into his eyes, his eyes that looked only at her, at the
damp curls between her thighs that called to him with a deafening roar that
threatened to undo them both if they didn't take each other, right here, right
now.
"I..." began Dean, reaching between her legs to finger her folds. Rory
moaned, throwing her head back, fighting to maintain her balance. "Love..." He
could feel her slick wetness, just waiting for him. Perhaps she had been waiting
without realizing it since the very last time he touched her there. "Y -- "
He couldn't even finish, as Rory hungrily grabbed his hand and shoved one of
his fingers up inside of her. "Ohhh," she breathed, gasping upon his hand as she
leaked juices onto his palm. Breathing hard, she struggled to find her voice
again. "I know you do," she acknowledged, understanding what he had been trying
to say.
Working his finger slowly in and out of her, Dean's lips curved into a smile,
a cocky one at that, as he knew that he was now in charge. He had her, quite
literally, in the palm of his hand. Rory didn't smile back, barely saw him, in
fact, as she threw her head back and her eyelids fluttered open and closed
repeatedly. She didn't know what to do as she finally, after so long, simply
felt, without consequence. There was nothing to lose now. Nobody could take
this moment away from her. It was hers; she had earned it. She would remember
it.
Her wetness made his mouth water as he longed to taste more of her. She
stumbled, unable to keep herself on her feet, and regretfully, Dean withdrew his
finger from her intense heat, and grabbed her body, tossing her onto the bed.
Falling onto a feather-soft mattress, Rory licked her lips. "Mmm... I hope
you're not finished."
Dean's eyes sparkled, as he was anything but. Climbing atop her, his cock
brushed her curls, leaking at the head, ready to plunge inside of her. He held
back, grabbing his instrument and playing it by squeezing and pumping his hand.
He was hard, but he could grow harder. He could be more ready for her. As Rory
lay back, panting from the effort of having to stand that whole while, Dean
grunted in pleasure as his hand moved up and down his shaft, milking his body
for all it was worth. He wanted to be hard as a rock for his girl, for the first
time that he would be inside of her, with no barriers, no condom to fail to save
them both. Now, he could spill his seed inside of her body, and truly claim her,
as she was begging to be claimed.
Finally catching her breath, Rory glanced up to see her boyfriend on his
knees, coaxing himself into a frenzy. She followed his lead, sliding a manicured
nail into her wet core, burying her finger until she reached its end, then
pulling out and pushing deeper still yet again. She combined her moans with
Dean's thrusts into his own hand, as she thrust her finger, inserting another
one to make her shudder. It wasn't the same as having his touch inside her, but
still, it wasn't bad.
Dean had at some point closed his eyes, losing himself in the feel of his
masturbation. But now, as his hardness grew, his ears began working again, and
he heard one of Rory's moans, that made his heart thud quicker still. His eyes
popped open, and he let go of his penis, taking Rory's hand out of her body. She
looked up at him, trying to smile, for she did love him so much, to a
suffocating degree. She wanted to be suffocated by his cock, to be ridden like a
pony, to finally step off the edge of the cliff. She waited for his decision,
putting her fate in his hands.
Bringing her two wet fingers up to his mouth, Dean sucked them in past his
lips, tasting her, tasting her... She was salty and slick on his tongue,
delicious as homemade chocolate pie. He wanted to share this experience with
her, but was too selfish to let go of her fingers, sucking them dry with his
tongue that had so recently been a resident of her mouth. His aching flesh
begged for release, his cock snapping to attention as finally he let her fingers
slide from his mouth, and he prepared to bear down on her, to give her the ride
of her life. She deserved it, after all. She deserved everything...
"I'm going inside you now, Ror," he informed her, unable to wait any longer.
If he wasn't buried within her between this minute and the next, he would
explode cum all over her body. He needed to release inside of her, caught within
her tightness, bathed in her heat. He positioned himself at her entrance, and
then bore down, sliding into her wetness like a swimmer into water, just as
confident, just as secure as an Olympian taking the first dive of their race.
Her muscles instantly contracted around him, squeezing him tight as he entered
her further still, burying himself within an inch of life, settling there,
basking in the glow of feeling himself within her, inside of her core. Their
cores pressed together, he enjoyed the moment, looking into her eyes to make
sure she was enjoying it, too.
Rory's eyelids stopped fluttering, and she began to stare at her boyfriend,
penetrating his head with a gaze, looking past his flesh, into his brain, seeing
herself tattooed there, permanent, and beloved. Purposefully, she squeezed her
inner muscles tighter around him, loving his lustful groan. She smiled. Now she
had the power.
It seemed as though Dean didn't want to move. He was so ecstatic with his
current condition, it didn't seem to enter his mind. Rory took it into her
hands, beginning to ride his cock slowly, sliding him out just barely, and then
plunging him inside of her once again. Pushing her body up with her hands at her
sides, his cock slipped from her core out to the unforgiving air, that was so
cold, compared to the inside of Rory's body. She began pushing him further out
of her, and therefore pulling him in deeper with every backwards thrust.
Sheathed within her, he was ready to explode.
"Gahhh!" Dean yelled out. Breathing hard, he began to take over Rory's job,
pulling himself in and out of her. His thrusts began to take violent power, but
neither of them minded the banging of their genitals into one another. Using his
arms that suddenly felt so weak, he rode his love, in and out, in and out. She
shuddered and moaned loudly into his ear. He lowered his body down onto hers,
skin meeting sweat-slicked skin. With one final thrust, she came, and upon
feeling her release, he came as well, within her.
Moaning her lover's name, Rory shook and shivered from the course of their
lovemaking as she felt Dean's hot seed filling her body, making its trip to her
baby on the inside. Quivering from the power of coming together with him,
finally, again, she reached for him, pulling his body flush with hers, kissing
him feverishly, shaking, shaking... They shook together, breathing hard,
kissing one another in a sloppy way on the lips, on the forehead, at the hair
line, on closed eyelids. Crashing, smashing together in the heat of their love,
they fell to stillness together, Dean on top of her body, holding her tight to
him.
It felt good, his weight upon hers, forcing every bone in her body to dig
comfortably into the mattress below her shoulder blades and her buttocks. They
breathed in unison, chugging oxygen into their starved lungs, and releasing
carbon dioxide with every rise and fall of their shoulders.
Dean was so sweaty. It felt good, the end of a great workout. They had
certainly burned off the calories of breakfast, and would soon be starving for
lunch. All he knew was, he sure as hell wasn't fixing it. His sweat combined
with hers, creating a river between them. He brushed her hair so tenderly from
her face, tucking it behind her ears, staring at her as if for the first and
last time, ever grateful that he would look upon that face, in all likelihood,
for the rest of his life. Surely, no one else had ever known such passion as
this. For if they had, how could they ever separate? How could they ever let go,
knowing the feeling of being fused together in such a way? Why would they want
it to end?
Kissing Rory on the forehead three, four, five times, Dean rested his own
forehead against hers. Their breathing slowed to a normal pace, their chests
ceased heaving, and it was just him, on top of her, after the dance of all
mortals. It was just them, together. Finally. Again.
"Dean?" said Rory, her voice so strained it was close to a whisper. He pushed
his upper body upwards with his strong biceps, and stared down at her, awaiting
what she had to say. Rory smiled, and caressed his face, as he had done hers.
And then, in answer to his earlier sentence, she said, "You know I love you,
too."
- -
to be continued...
