Jess and Cece decide to spend their Saturday going to see the earliest possible matinee of New Year’s Eve, in order that they spend the smallest possible amount of money doing it. The plan is to go and mock it mercilessly, although Jess confesses, with earnest Jessishness, that she’s got high, unironic hopes for the Michelle Pfeiffer and Zac Efron storyline. Cece can’t blame her. The Zefron charisma is pretty undeniable; it’s impossible to be sad with that in your face, and Jess is still fighting off some breakup blues.
Jess tells her that Nick and Winston are out for the day (in – a grocery shopping battle? Cece hears Winston shout “THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE” in the background, and chooses not to ask), but Schmidt is hanging at home, and Jess’ll be out of the shower and ready to go at 11. Cece storms out of the house at like 10:15, because Kyle’s being an ASS, surprise surprise, and there’s only so much she can take. She’s getting really sick of storming out of her own apartment. But, like. What can ya do.
When she steps inside Jess’s apartment, Schmidt is on the couch clutching a pink-and-green striped mug of tea and staring happily at the TV. He’s also wearing the tiniest friggin’ robe Cece’s ever seen. Again.
“Oh!” he says, jumping up and spilling a few drops of tea on some exposed thigh. “Gyahhhhh-that-burns! Uh. I mean. Lady Cecilia. Damn, girl. What up. You caught me. Hectic work week, you know. Rockin’ this weekend, Rebecca Black style! Partyin’, partyin’. Got my Tazo, got my ‘mono, got my Stars Hollow shenanigans. Ballin’.”
“I didn’t know Jess had Gilmore Girls DVDs,” Cece says, peering at the TV.
“Yeeeeah,” Schmidt says, in a much smaller voice, the sheepish one that makes her like-like him in addition to just finding him dance-monkey-dance amusing, “Jess doesn’t.”
Cece stares at him. Schmidt stares back, looking embarrassed and puppy-hopeful all at once. She thinks of Kyle’s stupid douchebag face, and then Zac Efron’s dreamy age-inappropriate golden boy face, and (although no way is she ever saying this out loud) the winning choice, between the three, is obvious.
“I like Gilmore Girls,” Cece tells him.
“Tha’s fly, yo, tha’s cool,” Schmidt says, like eight octaves lower than he naturally talks. Then the excitement apparently gets to be too much, because he abandons that and eagerly asks, “You wanna watch the one where Rory goes to her first dance?”
“Okay,” Cece says, trying not to smile.
By the time Jess gets out of the shower, Cece and Schmidt are nestled up on the couch sharing the cup of tea, and Schmidt is getting pretty emotional about the fact that a sleepy Lorelai just called Emily ‘Mommy.’ He’s already gone off on a long and detailed and only sort of pervy explanation of why Emily Gilmore is his perfect woman. Cece, who has always admired Emily Gilmore, appreciates this.
“Change of plans,” she announces while Schmidt wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his … ‘mono. “Gilmore Girls marathon.”
Jess’s face is fleetingly wistful (about Pfeiffer and Efron, Cece can tell), but then she bounces over to them. “Yay! Sign me up. For that.”
She snuggles up to Cece’s other side instead of sitting down between them. Cece appreciates that too. Although she probably shouldn’t.
“Sometimes I feel like evil TV scientists broke into my room in the middle of the night circa the year 2000 and stole Stars Hollow out of my brain,” Jess says as the end credits roll. “Like Inception.”
To be fair, there is a town troubadour. Cece didn’t even know town troubadours existed outside of Jess’s brain. (Jess, of course, had tried to become one for several months in sixth grade. Cece kept hanging out with her anyway, and punched most of the kids who made fun of her. One of them got off with a stern hair-pulling.)
“I wrote a song about it,” Jess adds.
“Of course you did, sweetie,” Cece says.
“COOL,” Schmidt says, looking legitimately jazzed.
“I’ll sing it for you later,” Jess says. “But first we have to watch the next one.”
“The Santa Burger!!!” Schmidt cries, flapping his hands.
“You are such a dork,” Cece declares, and sounds way more admiring than she’d meant to.
“Girl, you know you want inside this kimono,” Schmidt retorts; there’s a sparkle in his eyes, and she can tell he’s in Teasing Her mode instead of I’m Achingly Serious About Being This Douchey mode.
Cece taps her chin with her finger, pretending to consider it. “I wouldn’t say no to borrowing it sometime.”
“Hellllllllll no,” Schmidt retorts, smiling broadly.
She ruffles his hair, which makes him squawk indignantly and go after her hair, and it is basically a Bad Hair Day fight to the death until Jess breaks out her no wrestling … each other’s hair! teacher voice that’s both soothing and weirdly effective. They settle back down and start the next episode. Schmidt’s stupidly bare leg rests against hers. On her other side, Jess puts her head on Cece’s shoulder like she has a thousand times. Cece’s kind of starting to feel like she lives here, in all the ways that matter.
They sing along with the theme song.
The next day, the doorbell rings, but she and Kyle are actually getting along well enough to have sex on the kitchen table (which still isn’t that well), so they ignore it. She opens the door later to find a Santa burger waiting for her on the floor. It’s a fairly flawless replica of the Luke Danes original.
She just stares down at it for who-knows-how-long, almost disoriented by … well, whatever feeling this is. She doesn’t really have anything to compare it to.
“Why does your burger have a face?” Kyle asks when she brings it in and sets it on the counter.
“It was a gift,” Cece answers, smiling down at the little ketchup hat.
Kyle snorts. “Nice gift.”
“Have you ever watched Gilmore Girls?” she asks. It feels weirdly like a test.
“Hell no,” Kyle says, and shudders. “Old ladies are creepy as shit.”
Cece sighs. Then, to piss Kyle off, she eats the Santa burger instead of whatever depressing raw food crap he made for dinner. The burger, like Cecilia No. 5, is disgusting. She’s starting to notice a pattern. Still, she takes a picture of it first and makes it the background on her phone.
“Aw!” Jess coos when she notices it a few days later.
“Tell him and I’ll eat your hair,” Cece replies.
Jess promises the secret’s safe with her.