Disclaimer: Amy and Daniel Palladino, along with the rest of the WB, own Gilmore Girls. I'm just borrowing the characters. Men at Work owns the amazingly wonderful song "Land Down Under."
A/N: So, another story. Um, finally. Haha. Unless you count my drabbles, which I advise you to go read, because some of them are pretty funny, and I'm totally not pimping my stories or anything. But they're called "Drunken Lullabies." In case, you know, you were interested. Oh, and onto le story!
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According to Wikipedia, the Commonwealth of Australia was formed on January 1, 1901. It is made up of six states, two mainland territories, and several other minor territories. It is the only country that is also a continent. It boosts the largest coral reef, the Great Barrier Reef, which expands over 2,000 kilometers – around 1,250 miles. It was also Rory Gilmore's favorite country.
She had never been there, but in second grade the teacher asked the students to do a report on a country they would like to visit. Rory was first in line to request Australia. She and Lorelai rented Crocodile Dundee so many times that the Stars Hollow video rental just gave it to them. Rory also watched the Crocodile Hunter when it debuted. She was eleven at the time and her dream was to go to Australia. She watched documentaries and read books and even practiced an Australian accent until she was fourteen and decided to become a foreign correspondent. From then on, she was more and more focused on her studies while her fascination with Australia just dwelled in the back of her mind.
Of course, until she met Logan's friend Finn. Of course. Though he may have been a walking stereotype, her appeal to Australia strengthened. Never one to stray, however, she just forced it back into her head as it had been for the past five years and tried in vain not to think of it again. She had Logan and didn't need a stereotype of a country she loved.
"So does that sound good?" Rory snapped out of her reverie. What had even caused her to think of that?
"Does what sound good?"
Maxine giggled at her friend and co-worker. They worked together at the Los Angeles Times. "Lost in thought again, Reporter Girl?"
"Just thinking about something," Rory replied nonchalantly.
"Someone," Maxine corrected. "You were thinking about someone."
Rory raised an eyebrow. "So you get assigned to lead photographer for the sports section and suddenly you can read minds?"
"Well, little Miss Sarcastic, as a matter of fact, I can. I'm in your dome. Be scared," she deadpanned. "I know that look. It's the look you get when you're supposed to be thinking of someone you're not supposed to be thinking of. And given your multitude of forbidden and dangerous loves, it could be anyone. So I see that look a lot."
"You know my looks?"
"I told you before: I'm in your dome. So are we doing lunch? I need to tell you about Soph's bachelorette party."
"If we're going to that Mexican restaurant again, then yes, we are," Rory replied. "I just need to finish up this article."
"Okay, but don't linger too long," Maxine turned away for a moment, then decided against it and faced Rory again with a huge grin. "So I was going to tell you our theme for the party over lunch, but it's too good, so I can't keep it in. We're all dressing up as naughty school girls."
If Rory had been drinking anything it would have been all over her keyboard. "What? You're not serious." Rory was not naughty anything. Even for Halloween, despite Lorelai's pleas, she did not dress up as a French maid, naughty nurse, anything.
"Yes, I am. Alli and I came up with it last night. Because Soph is so young, it's kind of a joke thing."
Rory rolled her eyes. She loved her friends, she did, but they tended to be a bit eccentric with an unusual sense of humor. "She is not that young. I've seen younger get married."
It was Maxine's turn to roll her eyes. "Ror, she's 21 and she's an intern. Get it? She's still in school so we're all naughty school girls."
"I've never dressed up as anything naughty," Rory protested.
"Have you ever worn lingerie for any of your boyfriends?"
Rory looked down and blushed, but didn't answer. Maxine looked triumphant. "There, you've dressed up as something naughty. So, Saint Rory, are you going to sit there and be a party pooper and commit the ultimate party foul, or are you going to go out with us on Friday and show off those good ole down under home grown curves?"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not from the South?"
"You're from a small town. It's close enough for me."
"You've been in LA too long."
"And you haven't been here long enough, darling. Not nearly long enough." With that, Maxine finally left Rory to get back to work.
Rory shook her head at her friend's retreating back. That girl always had to have the last word.
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"You mean that my years and years of trying to get you to dress up slutty have had no impression on you, but after a fifteen minute conversation you're all Britney Spears, pre-babies?" Lorelai asked incredulously over the phone.
Rory sighed and sat down on her bed. "It's just for a bachelorette party. I'm probably going to end up getting drunk anyway."
"The way any proper bachelorette party should end. So, do you have it all? The knee-highs… do you have knee-highs? Or are you just wearing stilettos?"
"I'm wearing knee-highs and Mary-Jane heels. Why is this a concern?"
"Because my little girl is growing up into a sexy school girl. Finally," Lorelai pretended to cry. "Does this mean that you'll dress up with me for Halloween and go trick-or-treating?"
"I'm coming home for Halloween, but I'm not trick-or-treating."
Lorelai pouted. "LA makes you mean."
"Sorry, Mom. Do you want to hear about the rest of my outfit?"
"Because you won't send me pictures I can later blackmail you with, yes."
"How could you blackmail me with pictures that I send to you?"
"Don't question mommy's logic."
Rory laughed. "Okay, so I'm wearing a black miniskirt, a see-through pink button down shirt, and one of those knit argyle sweaters that basically just goes to my ribs. Plus matching knee highs."
"I'm guessing that you didn't pick it out."
"Actually, I did."
Lorelai gasped. "What has LA done to you?"
Rory rolled her eyes. "I have to get ready, Mom. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Have fun at the party, sweetie. And bring lots of ones," Lorelai advised.
"They didn't hire male strippers. Sophie didn't want them."
"At least tell me that you're going bar hopping or something then."
"We're playing that dare game thing. So I'm assuming that means lots of drinking and bar hopping. Happy?"
"Very. It sounds a lot more fun than my bachelorette party, at least."
"Which one?" Rory joked.
"Funny, Ms. Spears."
"'Bye, Mom."
"I love you!"
"Love you, too."
As Rory hung up, she looked at the outfit spread out on her bed and wondered what she had gotten herself into.
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"The rules are simple," Maxine said. "We're going to split up into two teams, and which ever team gets the most points-or drinks the most wins. Simple, right?"
She looked at the five girls in front of her. The bachelorette of the night, Sophie, was wearing a school girl outfit along with a huge, fake diamond ring and a veil. Though each girl was stunning in her own right, nothing had surprised her more than Rory. She wasn't shy, but she wasn't exactly one to show off her body. So when she showed up in the outfit and the pigtails, Maxine nearly had a heart attack.
"Lex, Alli, and Jess are on team one." She handed the girls a piece of paper.
Jess grinned. "A strange man's underwear?"
Alli took the paper. "That one isn't even worth the most points! Jesus, Max, what the hell have you gotten us into?"
"Nothing a good luck shot can't cure!" The girls picked up their shot glasses and held them out. "To Sophie!"
Four hours, countless drinks, and many bars later, the six girls found themselves at a karaoke bar. "How many numbers do we have?" Sophie whispered, rather loudly, to Maxine and Rory.
"Nine," Rory whispered back, shooting a glare at the other team. "I think they're winning!"
Sophie giggled. "They can't win. It's my bachelorette party, I need to win. I'm gonna go get a name… number. I'm gonna get a number. And Rory should sing."
Rory then laughed. "I can't sing, silly. Singing is… it's against Gilmore rules. Unless it's in the shower."
"So pretend you're in the shower," Maxine urged.
"Why can't you sing?" Rory pouted.
"Because the bachelorette told you to sing, and you kinda have to. Plus, you're more sober than me so you can read the words better."
Rory sat back and pouted. They'd had a lot of alcohol. So much, in fact, that even if she was the most sober, that was like saying she was the most likable Olly girl – it's nice to know, but she's still annoying. Hell, she was even seeing people. She thought she saw Finn staring at her, but she shook her head. It had to be the thoughts she was having the other day. There was no other reason. He couldn't be in LA. Could he? No.
Sophie stumbled over to them, and collapsed into giggles when Rory caught her. "I got the number of that guy over there!" She pointed, but then frowned. "He was there. He seemed very interested in giving me his number. I've still got it, ladies! Now, my darling, it is time for you to sing the song!"
She untangled herself from Rory and swayed over to the person in charge of karaoke. After a few words and dramatic gesturing, she came back over. "You're up next!" She almost yelled this.
Rory sighed and ordered another drink. "Liquid courage." She then made her way to the stage. She heard Maxine and Sophie cheering and hollering behind her, before she even got up.
"What song am I singing?" She asked.
The guy just looked at her, almost amused. "Your friend said it was a surprise. She said you know it, so not to worry."
Which, of course, worried Rory. There were many catcalls when she finally stumbled onto the stage. Her shoes were killing her, honestly. Plus, you know, the whole drunk thing was going on. Which reminded her of a good point – when drinking, never wear heels. It always ends in tragedy. She'd already almost broken an ankle twice.
She took a breath and waved to the crowd of mostly drunk college students. "My name's Rory and my friend Sophie is getting married next weekend." A mixture of cheers and boos rippled throughout the crowd. "So I'm going to be singing… uh… a song."
The song started up, which unfortunately Rory recognized immediately. She flashed back to a few days ago when talking to Maxine, who had proclaimed that she was "in her dome." And maybe she was, if this song had anything to do with it. It was no other than the famous Men at Work's song "Land Down Under." She was going to kill her friends.
"Do you come from the land down under?" She sang, resigning herself to get into the groove of the song. She began to sway on stage, and not due to the alcohol. "Where women go and men plunder?"
The crowd was cheering along now, despite her terrible voice. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the famed song that garnered their attention. Either way, Rory was beginning to feel pretty good about her status as Center Of Attention. She closed her eyes as she got to the chorus. She knew the words by heart, and judging by the singing coming from the crowd, they did as well.
What she did not expect, however, was the mic being taken away. Her eyes flew open and connected with blue ones. They were sparkling with amusement and familiarity. Rory took that moment to chastise herself for coming up with such lame descriptiveness to describe what was happening. Though not a fan of Hemmingway, he did have a way of summing things up with nice simplicity.
So what exactly was happening? Finn was staring back at her, mic in hand, singing the chorus to her, as she was in too much shock to sing herself.
"I come from the land down under, where beer does flow and men chunder. Can't you hear, can't you hear that thunder? You better run, you better take cover," he crooned.
Or, at least, tried to croon. He was trying very hard to impress her, however it was having no affect. His voice was about as good as hers, which meant it wasn't very good at all. He took her hand and spun her. That's when she gathered her jaw up from off the floor and put it to good use- she sang. It was the worst duet the karaoke bar had probably heard in a while. However, the crowd loved it.
Rory was so shocked she could have fainted. This was not happening, there was no way. Absolutely no way. Unless Maxine was actually in her sphere or dome or whatever ridiculous West Coast term she used to signify 'head.' That was the only explanation. Maxine figured out what she was thinking about and called Finn to –
This was getting too conspiracy theory for her. Of course she wasn't drunk. Preposterous. And no one could read her thoughts. She hoped. That would suck.
She didn't know how she managed to finish the song. All she knew was that she bowed – and almost tumbled off the stage – amid cheers of 'encore' and 'Freebird!' Then Finn led her safely down the stairs, wrapped his arm around her waist, dipped her, and proceeded to kiss her senseless.
Except that totally didn't happen, and she didn't know why she was imagining it happening because it wasn't like she wanted it or anything. Because he was Logan's best friend.
"Oh God, is Logan here?" she blurted out.
Finn raised an eyebrow. "I haven't seen you in nearly five years, and your first question is about Logan? Ouch."
Rory blushed. "It's just that, you know, it's been so long since I've seen him, and I thought it was maybe like a boy's trip or something like that."
"He's still up in San Francisco." He licked his lips and looked her up and down. "Though, I must say, and I'm going to be candid and hope that you don't smack me, you look fucking amazing, love."
"That's actually the best compliment I've gotten all night. I'm at a bachelorette party." She looked over to her friends, who were giggling and continuing with the festivities. "Which I should be getting back to."
"Bailing on me?" He pouted. "I thought we had a connection. I am, as you know, from the land down under. Can't you hear, can't you hear that thunder, love?"
She groaned. "I didn't pick that song."
"And here I thought you were calling out to me. You missed me so much, you used my calling card. You did know it was my calling card, right? Like my Bat Signal. I hear it and come running, doll."
"You're not serious."
"No, I'm not. But wouldn't it be awesome if it was?"
"Would it be cool if you had your own Bat Signal?"
"I'm not sure if you know this, love, but every guy you meet secretly wants to be Batman. They may lie, but know that secretly that's their dream," he informed her as he signaled the waitress for two shots.
"They do?"
"True story, Reporter Girl."
She laughed, but didn't reply. They fell into a silence until she said, "I really should be getting back to my friends."
They both looked over to the group of loud girls dancing around the bar. "Those are your friends?" Finn asked incredulously. "Why didn't you have friends like these in college? All hot and whatnot? Hell, why didn't you have girlfriends in college that you could have invited to our parties?"
Rory bristled. "I didn't think you and Colin had any problems picking up girls," she replied defensively.
"We didn't. But if you brought hot girls, half our work would be done already. I mean, you'd still be the hottest girl at the party, but you were already taken, so that was useless."
She raised an eyebrow, ignoring the compliment. "Work?"
"It takes a lot of work, love. Take you, for example. Tonight, I have to be funny and charming. More than usual, I mean. I have to work to woo you and seduce you and all of that bullshit just to ask you out on a simple date. Doesn't that sound like a lot of work? Now, add in the fact of actually getting girls to said party."
"That does sound hard," she conceded.
"So do we have to go through all that?" he asked.
"Excuse me?"
"The woo-ing and all that, when all I'm really trying to do is to get you, Reporter Girl, to on a date with me, Your Man From Down Under, tomorrow night."
That's when the shots arrived.
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Rory awoke the next morning more than a little hung-over. She groaned and rolled over, wincing when she heard the crunch of paper. She willed herself not to fall back to sleep, and grabbed the note, along with her phone. Who had left her a note? Finn? She hadn't remembered much after the third shot with him. She did, however, remember saying 'yes' to his ludicrous offer. A date? With him?
There were approximately a zillion text messages. Well, not a zillion. Maybe more like ten. But it might as well have been a zillion. And they were all from Maxine, ranging from the simple "Who was that man?" to the more obscene texts asking what they were doing together. Rory almost blushed at some of the detail she got into.
Realizing that she couldn't put it off much longer, Rory opened the note to read it:
Dearest Reporter Girl,
Sorry I couldn't stay longer, I had a lunchtime appointment. I will, however, being seeing you at around seven for our pre-arranged date, and I really hope you weren't kidding about what you said you'd be wearing (which was nothing, in case you seem to have a slight case of amnesia that is usually associated with the amount of alcohol you imbibed the previous evening). If not, something lace and/or silk shall do to appease me. Do accept my apologies, and I will be seeing you tonight, love.
Yours truly,
Finn
PS: You snore. Thought you ought to know, love.
Fin
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