Title: Dr Feelgood [Love is a Serious Business]
Chapter: Prologue
Author: Mehitabel
Rating: PG (There's the s-word, twice).
Author's Note: My first GG fic, reworked. I posted it last week, with abysmal formatting, so I deleted and started again. Thanks to all who revieved v.1. What if, when Lorelai's heel broke, Dean was nowhere to be found? Later chapters will be higher-rated, and significantly longer.
The band had fallen asleep, leaning back in their chairs, instruments tossed aside or lying skewed on their owner's laps, and Taylor was tormenting the dancers with an album probably entitled something like The Least Energetic Ballads From History. There were still a fair few couples left, swaying slowly to the music, trying not to succumb to the temptation that the darkened room and deliberate, lilting beat offered. Despite the hour, she was alert and upright, shuffling rigidly from side to side, her arms held constantly in the first position.
"I think my shoulder just gave notice." He winced slightly, rolling his left shoulder and leaning his head to the right, trying to stretch the abused muscles of his neck. "You know, doctors have told me that I'm a real boy now, so while the Pinocchio style of dancing is apparently your thing, Gepetto can't just rehinge me in the morning."
She made no reply, other than a withering glare, her lips drawn tightly together, tensing her already rigid muscles even further, in defiance. She scowled at the clock, mentally compiling a hit list in her head; stupid Stars Hollow, stupid dance marathon, stupid Taylor, stupid Luke, stupid Lorelai, stupid shoddy pre-war craftsmanship, stupid Dean, stupid Jess. Stupid Jess who was standing a foot away, attempting to do something that may have been called dancing.
"Okay, that's it," he growled, his feet planting solidly onto the wooden floor. "I didn't ask for this any more than you, okay?" Nails biting into his skin, through the fabric of his shirt, pinching sharply, and a reflex jump back, dodging a swing from her oh so pretty little shoes, aimed right at his shin. Bitch. And a miss, Rory losing her balance, and starting to fall ever-so-slowly backwards. Suddenly, his blunt fingers were digging into her upper arms, pulling her out of the impromptu dip, back onto her feet, shaky, but still standing.
He was closer than before, and shuffling his feet in something close to the beat while she stood statuesque, waiting for the world to stop spinning. He had that goddamned smirk on his face, and for a moment, she considered another attempt at injuring him, but his voice interrupted her before the angel and the devil perched precariously on her shoulders could come to a consensus.
"You know, you need to get over yourself, and get that pole out of your ass." His lips were mere millimetres from her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin, his anger palpable and suddenly very real, his grip on her upper arms rushing to the forefront of her mind. "It's not as if I am any more pleased about this than you are. I was minding my own business with company that doesn't find me repugnant. I did not sabotage your mother's shoes. It's not my fault that Dean was in absentia when your mother was running around like a banshee trying to find someone to fill in for her, because God forbid you just pull out. It certainly was not me who acted like a pompous ass when Taylor said he couldn't cut in and take Lorelai's place with you, and then stormed off like a five year old. So while, yes, this sucks a large amount of ass, don't think that you're going to take it out on me. Trust me, Gilmore, this wasn't on my list of the top hundred ways to spend today either."
"I'm sure humiliating Dean was somewhere on that list," she pouted in reply, unable to refute his point. While it was possible that he had secretly loosened the heel on her mother's shoe, had Dean detained briefly, and managed to get himself here on the dance floor with her, it was around the same likelihood that aliens had somehow had a hand in the evening's events.
"Well, Dean seems to be able to do a fair job at humiliating himself without my assistance," Jess chuckled, amused. "Although I won't deny that it was a pleasure to watch him engage in a public performance of his idiocy."
"He's not an idiot," Rory said, suddenly finding tears welling in her eyes. Great. Crying was just what she needed to make this situation even more horrific than it already was.
After a brief silence, he sighed, meeting her evasive eyes in the semi-darkness.
"I'll make you a deal, Gilmore," he said, loosening his grip on her arms. "How much does winning this stupid marathon mean to you and your insane mother?"
"We've already cleaned a spot for the trophy," Rory admitted, embarrassed. "I mean, it's the last year I'll really be around for it."
"All right, so here's the deal." He watched as she fidgeted, before putting his hands on her shoulder, stilling her, while he shuffled his feet back and to, careful to ensure Taylor couldn't fault them for anything. "We call a truce. We win this ridiculous competition, because God knows I don't need another reason for this town to hate me, and making you cry is probably a capital offence." She smiled, in spite of herself, and looked down at her feet. "So, we pretend that it's at least slightly enjoyable to be in each other's presence, and-----"
"And we dance the shit out of it," Rory added with a decisive nod.
"Something like that," he agreed, perplexed by the rapid shift in her emotions. "You realise, you just said 'shit'? I've never heard you swear before."
"Well, it was a quote, so it doesn't count."
"Ah, but you chose that particular quote, knowing full well that it had 'shit' in it, which means you wanted to say it."
"Jess, shut up and dance," Rory sighed, as the clock began to sound the hour.
Consciously, she relaxed into Jess' arms, the tension flowing slowly from her sore muscles, glad for small mercies. And as Miss Patty took over the music selection, Rory blocked out the rest of the world, and the repercussions of tomorrow, and held on to Jess tightly as they danced the shit out of it.