TITLE: "Margaritaville Painkillers and One Shot of Gilmore," Part One of Cornerstones of Confusion
AUTHOR: Barb
RATING: PG - oooo, I said "hell" - and one "damn" within a musical context
SPOILERS: Big ones for "Love, Daisies and Troubadours," the season finale.
SUMMARY: Rory catches Luke drunk after-hours at the coffeeshop - she thinks he's upset over Rachel leaving,
he's a little too drunk to care whether or not he keeps his mouth shut - irony ensues.
FEEDBACK: brenna_mairi@yahoo.com {Cut and paste numerous witty feedback pleas I have read
over the years of being a fanfiction reader. I don't think I need to reiterate that I would love some
feedback - good as well as "constructive criticism"!}
DISCLAIMER: Yadda, yadda, I'm jealous that they *don't* belong to me, but that's how my
life goes so. Amy Sherman-Palladino, who is the creating goddess, and WB are the guardians of
this wonderful material.
Enjoy!
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Luke hated 80s music.
More precisely, Luke hated anything that had to do with softy-gooiness and flashy outfits. The music of the
80s contained both. Hence his burning hatred.
He would probably, after some deliberation, make the declaration that he hated all music. Every last bit of it.
This complete and utter hatred of everything sing-songy was the main reason why he wondered out loud why
the hell he had the radio on.
"Why the hell do I have the radio on?"
The Bangles' most angelic voices soared into the air - throwing knives into Luke's skull.
His head fell hard and swift, coming into somewhat uncomfortable contact with the diner counter. Ok. Slightly
more than "somewhat uncomfortable."
"Ahh!" Luke shrieked. "Who cares? Pain." Bang. "Is." Smack. "Good." Thud.
He then unfathomably continues to hit his head against the counter after four attempts that were within some
sort of twisted reason. Some one might call that moronic. Some Lorelai might call that moronic, Luke thought
to himself, which was hard to do considering he was ramming his head against a counter.
He finally lifted his head. There was an enormous red mark where he repeatedly bludgeoned himself, but no one
was there to notice. Not even Luke.
"She looked so happy." Siiiiiiiiighhhhhh. One would be surprised at how much air that man could hold in his lungs.
None of this would have happened if Rachel didn't awake my inner demons.
"I'm sure you tried Luke. But admit it, you're heart wasn't in it. … So don't wait too long okay."
"To what?"
"To tell her."
Why did she have to say that? I would have continued to lie to myself and have it actually work and
seem reasonable. Now all of these thoughts are coming out of nowhere and I can't lie to myself anymore.
Hell, I can't lie to Rachel, how could I do the same favor to myself?
I'm going to have to, though. I can't make things awkward for Lorelai just when things are going right for her.
All of a sudden, out of the blue, Mr. Jimmy Buffet begins to croon his ever-popular hit, "Margaritaville" on the radio.
Well, in all honesty, the song was prefaced with "and next - shake it up and grab those little umbrellas!
It's 'Margaritaville' by our good friend, Jimmy Buffet!" This situation calls for more of a dramatic emphasis, though, and
therefore, Luke felt it appropriate to say to himself that he was indeed startled by this rousing number.
Growling and mumbling something about how much "anything with notes and words sucks," he is about to turn the
radio off when he half-mumbles, "Hmm. You know what? That's a good idea, Jimmy."
The man was now on the search for that sweet, potent cure for the love-lorn - a margarita.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Earlier that day, Luke still had a semblance of confidence. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling, but...
ew, he just said "feeling."
He was actually somewhat proud of his exhibition of testosterone at Lorelai's house. Max was scum.
Unworthy. *Dead meat.*
And Lorelai was in love with him.
When she burst into the coffee shop she looked distraught. Luke soon found out that it wasn't a
"coffee-could-fix-anything" distraught. It was far beyond that. And far too... happy.
"Calm down, is everything okay?"
"Yes, maybe, I think so. I don't know."
She was uncertain. That's a good sign, he thought. Not sure - no positiveness whatsoever.
"So what's going on?"
"Big things. Big potentially life-changing things."
Oh. Gulp.
"Have some coffee while you wait."
"No, I couldn't take coffee, big hole, through the roof, very bad."
No. Bad bad bad. No coffee? Who died? Luke's mind raced, but he knew exactly what she was
talking about - he just kept hitting it with a monster-sized bat back to the recesses of his thoughts.
Bad thoughts, bad.
"You're saying no to coffee. This is big. Can't tell me what it is?"
"I just really need to tell Rory first."
Understandable. Just... have some coffee. Put me at ease, woman! If I can't be the man with heaven
in a mug, what can I be?
"But you're happy about this news."
"I might be. Maybe. It's just kind of a, wow I can't believe this is happening to me kind of a
mindblowing moment."
One of those. Oh. Ok.
Lorelai hands Luke a daisy, "The whole town gets one today."
Luke says "bye" to the dust Lorelai leaves as she runs out of the door. Luke doesn't feel too good.
He said he'd always be around and that wasn't a lie. But - would she always be around to notice?
Luke had no power over the overwhelming sense of hopelessness he had at that moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm outtie!"
"Outtie? Outtie whereie? We just had the most exhilarating conversation over the most exhilarating plate
of brownies and you want to leave me here alone with nothing but the exhilarating brownie crumbs?"
Rory stares into some unknown distance. "Exhilarating has now lost all meaning to me."
"No. Seriously. I'm not finished gushing about Max. I want to use my oh-so-perfected imitation of
glamorized teen-talk a la Dawson's Creek!"
"Even though I'd pay money to see that, I just... I don't know! I have to get out of here. I need to
burn some physical energy. I've already exhausted my verbal. You can come, though. Just walk with me."
"Even though that is tempting, I believe these brownie crumbs are even more so."
"Wow. Thanks. At least I know where I stand."
Lorelai gives her daughter a "you-know-I-was-kidding" look and then followed that with her "now-I'm-
getting-serious-so-I'm-making-you-aware-because-this-is-a-rare-occurance-and-I'm-sure-you-might-not-be-sure" look.
"I'm going to stay."
"Mom..."
"No, I really want to. With you gone I might just make that dirty phone call to Max that I've been dying to make."
"Oh Mom..."
"What?"
"You really didn't have to push me any harder. I'm already gone. Night."
"Don't be gone too long on my account!"
With that, Rory was already out of the door and walking in the direction of - wherever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at the AA Ranch, Sir Self-Loathalot downed his first of what he hoped to be an astronomical amount of margaritas.
"I'm wastin' away again in Margaritaville. Searchin' for my... lost shaker of salt."
Luke sang with a heavy heart. Ok, he wasn't quite "singing," more just adding to the texture of the melody
Jimmy sang by pounding out the lyrics with his dry, monotone voice.
"Some people claim that there's a woooooman to blaaame. But I know... it's my own damn fault."
With those last five words, Luke bitterly stated the criticism aimed straight at his heart as he slammed the glass
on the table. He didn't expect to use that much brutal force, so he lifted it up to make sure no damage was done.
Then he proceeded to slam the glass, once again, against the table.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rory wandered up and down the streets of Stars Hollow, thinking, humming, even occasionally twirling out of nowhere.
She came upon a revered and sacred building, The Coffee Shop. Big T, Big C, Big S. She doubt it would be
open, but if Luke is hanging around he might just give into her charm and obey her every whim the way he does
with Lorelai. What I must live up to, Rory thinks wistfully. I need to start taking notes. Not that she ever had
any trouble wrapping Luke around her pinky finger five times over. Actually, it was more a protective ape-ish
quality than any awestruck submission of all power, she thought.
With jumbled images of Dean, memorabilia of encounters avec Dean, and a little side dish of "Oh-my-God-
my-Mom-might-be-getting-married-to-my-teacher" all floating around in her frazzled mind, she almost fell
on her backside while stepping up to the curb. The curb. A small raised section of the ground could completely
take the life out from under her. She was beginning to scare herself so she shook her head. That only got rid of the
side dish, though.
She walked up to The Coffee Shop door and peered inside.
What she witnessed she did not yet know was one of the most depressing situations in the entire world. Not
to mention one of the most pessimistic, comatose drunks one could lay their eyes on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One hour and five margaritas after Jimmy sang his God awful, worst-song-in-the-universe that likes to screw
with poor men's minds, Luke sat at a table at the far end of the coffee shop, feeling heavier than lead. Feeling
that feeling Superman gets when some witless villain whips out the Kryptonite and says "ah HA!"
Rory doesn't like what she sees. It can't be. Margarita mix at the counter. Wait. No. A total of 4 cases of
Margarita mix. He could ruin the livers of an army in there, she thinks with a concern all her own. Luke
drinking margaritas? Why does this sound so very wrong?
"Luke's come unhinged," she whispers under her breath. "I know what must be done. Gilmore genius to the rescue."
She is shocked to find the door still unlocked. She creeps in and is even more shocked to not see Luke turn
around to catch the weasly waskel that's trying to break in. He's out of it. Poor Luke.
"They call me Mr. Pitiful. Baby, that's my name now. They call me Mr. Pitiful. That's how I got my fame."
Rory winces at his scratchy, flat, completely unflattering voice. She recognizes Otis Redding on the radio and
is, for the thrice time, shocked that Luke even knows the words. He never seemed like the good old fashioned soul
music lover.
"But people just don't seem to understand. How someone can feel so blue. They call me Mr. Pitiful 'cause I
lost someone just like you."
"Hey."
"Ahhh!"
Luke finally turned around to look waveringly at Rory, who stood with mouth agape. This man needs major
reconstructive surgery.
"Rory?! What..."
"I was out for a walk. I saw the lights on and ... well..."
"Is something wrong? Is..."
"No. Nothing's wrong - with *me* that is. *You* on the other hand..."
Rory moves toward the table in the dim light and sees the ever-present scowl on Luke's face. She takes the seat
next to him.
"Luke?"
"Hum?"
"Margaritas?"
"Don't ask."
"I think I just did, but ... either way, that seems so not like..."
"What, I can't break out of my mold from time to time and enjoy a less 'manly' drink?"
"No. It's just that, well... Luke breaking out of any mold comes right before hell freezing over."
Sigh. "I guess I'm a little ... I feel a little different right now."
Rory decides to get down to business and places her hand gently on Luke's arm.
"You're thinking about... *her* aren't you?" Rory decided it was in her best interest and Luke's if she didn't
say Rachel's name. She felt it would only make Luke's face look even more floppy and forlorn, and she hated
to see Luke so upset.
Luke looked up in surprise and narrowed his hazy, drunk-man eyes. "Yeah. How... (narrowing of eyes... now)
did you know?" It doesn't matter that if Luke was in any way, shape, or form sober he would realize just what
"her" Rory was referencing. To him, there was only one *her* right now.
"Us Gilmore girls have a certain je ne s'ai quoi."
"Tell me about it."
"Oh believe me - I can. But I'm here for you, not me. I can see it in your hazy, drunk-man eyes, Luke. Plus -
you have an 'easy listening' station playing on the radio. Something very serious must be wrong with you."
Big O was singing, "How can I explain to you. How somebody can get so very blue." His voice real, more real
than Luke was feeling at the moment.
"It's nothing. Nothing *you* should worry about."
"How so? I'm worried as it is - I don't think there's any going back for me. Sorry. You're a good friend, Luke."
Luke's not drunk enough to not recognize a good heart and he looks at her and rewards her kindness with a
quarter of a smile. It's all he could muster. "Thank you."
"Of course. I would understand if you don't want to talk about it, but ... let me say a few things."
"No, no... I... you..."
"You can't stop a Gilmore from not talking so don't even try, mister." Rory took the sigh of resignation that followed
as an "ok" and continued.
Rory listened to Mr. Redding sing in a rather upbeat way, "I have to sing this sad song. To get back to her. And I'm
gonna sing this song to you. And I want you..."
"First off," Rory points to the radio, "he's singing pretty humpy-jumpy for being so pitiful. But that's beside the point."
"Why am I not..."
"Hush," Rory reprimanded. How can I make this man a little happier than before I arrived?
"You're a wonderful guy, Luke, and if she is so completely blind and ridiculously stupid to not see that then it's not
worth the margarita consumption." Rory disregards the very odd look Luke is giving her. "I, for one, think she deserves
a swift kick to the head."
"You wish that upon y..."
"Yes sir, I do! I'll even offer my own feet, sporting new cleats if need be, to do the job."
Luke scoffs, "I don't think that will be necessary, but thanks."
Luke gives her that weird look again. Rory just thinks he's being "Luke-on-twelve-hundred-margaritas."
"Do you love her?"
"What?! Oh gezz, Rory, I..."
"I know you're Mister Anti-Personal, but you can tell me. You look like you need to vent a little."
Luke just looked at her, his eyelids growing heavier by the moment. What if I just say it. What if I tell Rory
that I love her mother. Well, I'd say "maybe," because that's too much to tell her own daughter before you even
tell her and I don't even know if that's what it is. Maybe I'm just lonely. Maybe she just can't help being perfect.
Oh who cares?! I'm drunk! I could always use that as an excuse if this comes back to bite me in the ass.
"I wasn't given the time to... but... I think I might."
There. It was out. He gave room for possibility and it even extended past his inner torment. A part of him contemplates
the possible good-side to this declaration. Good-side? He must *really* be drunk. He thinks of how if Rory does in fact
"let this slip" to Lorelai, maybe, just maybe, she might realize she feels the same way. Or maybe this will just make
Max really, really mad and that's always a good thing, Luke says to himself.
Rory smiles. "Then go after her. Women are helpless when it comes to a man that desperately loves them. Especially
if they get so distraught that they turn to Jimmy Buffet."
"You... you really think I should do something about it?"
"Yes! Do it! Go after Rachel. Win back her heart - be the knight in shining armor I know you are deep down inside."
Rory realizes her mistake in mentioning "her." She waits for Luke's reaction, hoping her efforts weren't knocked down a
few points.
Rachel? Rachel... Sigh.
Luke hangs his head and feels like slamming that indestructible glass again but has no strength left whatsoever. He looks
up at Rory.
"Thank you, Rory. I appreciate the company."
"So... you're going to think about it, right?"
"Right now, my brain couldn't withstand anymore thinking, but I'll... I'll be ok. Don't worry about me."
Rory narrows her eyes looking for reassurance.
"I'll be fine, I swear! You should get back to your mom. I'm sure she isn't done with her gushy conversation."
"You know us all too well, Luke. And you say that *we* scare *you*."
Luke let's out an "umm-y" grunt and waves at her to get going. Rory stands up and places her hand on his shoulder
and decides for the unsuspecting display of sincere affection. She places a quick kiss on Luke's cheek.
"Don't give up on the future, Luke. You really *are* a very deserving, extraordinary guy. Goodnight."
And with that Rory heads back home. Luke leaves the mess for tomorrow morning. He's sure he won't get much
sleep and he'll be down early to get things in order. Before he gets up from the table he turns off the radio, cutting off
Billy Joel singing "Angry Young Man."
"Music really does suck."
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Fini.
Thank you for taking the time to read my first cosmic experience into Gilmore Girls fanfiction!