History Repeats Itself
Author: Elizabeth
Rating: PG, but not for anything specific
Pairing: It was kinda supposed to be a secret when I started the first chapter, but I didn't succeed very well…
Summary: Ok, this chapter is just what came out of my tired mind at midnight last night. So it may not make a whole lot of sense. Yet… Rory now is married and has a daughter, who is attending Chilton (yippidee yay). So far, that's about all the story is about. But please do read!
Feedback: Why not? It's fun to get, and it may help me get ideas on where to go with the plot, since I'm not entirely sure right now…
"Mmph," Rory groaned into her pillow, protesting the alarm clock's grating message. Rolling over and stuffing the pillow over her head, she allowed the clock to continue beeping until a hand reached over her prone body to push the offending object off the nightstand to its quiet demise on the floor. The arm then reached for the woman beside it, only to find empty space, still warm. Confused, the owner propped himself onto an elbow and sleepily searched for his missing bedmate, only to find her wrapped in the comforter on the floor, slowly crawling toward her ultimate destination.
He stretched, got dressed, and found his wife already sipping freshly brewed coffee at the kitchen table. Chuckling lightly to himself, he poured himself a cup and sat beside her. She smiled tiredly, and yawned.
"How can you survive on so little sleep?" he asked, yawning as well.
"I can't. That's where coffee comes in. Thank heavens I'm at home today; I swear I haven't talked to Mares in weeks." The two each got a devilish glint in their eye. Simultaneously they proclaimed, "Your turn!" Frowning at the tie, Rory held out her fist, and waited until her companion did the same. "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" they chanted, and Rory pumped her fists enthusiastically at the results.
"Ha! Paper beats rock, you get to wake Miss Sleepyhead up." Smirking, she turned to pour another mug of coffee, and added, "Good luck."
Groaning, he trudged up the stairs to his daughter's room. Peeking cautiously through the slightly open door, he witnessed the girl still sprawled out on her bed, fast asleep. He sighed, pushed the door open, and tiptoed to the plaid-covered bed, sitting gently on the edge.
"Mares, time to get up." Her only response was to turn away from her father and snuggle deeper into the comforter. "C'mon Mary, you're going to be late if you don't get up now." With no response from the peanut gallery, he resorted to plan B, which always, always worked.
"Rory! Mary said it would be great if you drank all of the coffee! In fact, she said she doesn't want any all day! She renounces its necessity in her life, and…" With that, he was violently shoved out of the room into the hallway, the door slamming behind him. With a smirk he ambled back downstairs and rejoined Rory in the kitchen. "Three, two, one…"
"Give me the coffee!" the teen demanded, sliding into the room in a slightly rumpled Chilton uniform. Glaring at her father, she took the mug her mother amusedly handed over and sat down momentarily to inhale the liquid. Sighing in pure delight at the workings of the magical liquid, she relaxed, only to glance at the clock. Mary ran hurriedly out of the kitchen, returning to deposit the empty mug back on the kitchen table. "I'm gonna need a…"
"Your turn!" he declared before his wife had time to swallow her coffee.
"…ride!"
"You officially suck. A whole bunch." Rory crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance, but accepted her husband's help to get out of the chair.
He smiled. "I woke her up, you only have to deal with her for a couple minutes. I think I got the worse part of the bargain."
She nodded, rolling her eyes. "Sure, use logic on the incapacitated one. The extra blood going to my stomach should be going to my brain."
"Aww, poor baby. Er… yeah, you know what I meant." He shook his head and kissed Rory. "I'll get off early today to help decorate for the party. I'll be home at 3."
"Adios, see you then." Seeing her husband exit, she yelled, "Mary, two minutes or you're walking, and forget an excuse form!" Ten seconds later, a plaid-clad girl dashed out the door, dragging her mother with her.