Readers:
My condolences for the extraordinarily long wait. "Things" are indeed abundant on this side of the woods. The reviews have been an incredible perk. In response to a review about the music that Dave and Lane listen to, I am inclined to disagree; I don't think that either limit their collections to only influential musicians - groups like the Hollies and Chicago were both one hit wonders, but need not be dismissed as useless or unlistenable. Of course, to each one his own. I expect this chapter will be the last, but then again, I haven't written it yet.
With all due respect,
authors-anonymous
p.s. A VERY important note: This chapter contains more "adult" subject. If you're not comfortable with that...
Another post note: I recommend listening to the Beatles while reading (the 'love songs' would be best, but 'Beatles 1' would suffice)
Sorry, last one: So, I just finished writing, and I'm not sure if I am entirely happy with it. Now the question is: are you?
---
Dave carefully drove through Stars Hollow, weaving his station wagon around people who flooded the streets, heedless of the traffic. Huge baskets overflowing with chocolate on long tables with pink tablecloths lined the streets, massive papier-mâché rabbits hung from light posts and pink and yellow ribbons were tied on every tree branch. Somewhere from the gazebo, Taylor was bellowing instructions.
"What's going on?" he asked, upon arriving at the Gilmore house. He didn't bother knocking anymore, knew that the downstairs bathroom door stuck unless you were forceful and that anything eaten from the fridge was always at your own risk.
There were bags and bags of chocolates - on the couch, the floor, the coffee table, the mantle, lining the stairs. Lorelai had obviously begun the festivities early. Lorelai danced in, hands full of chocolates in colourful wrappers. "New festival, invented by yours truly!" she sang happily, stuffing chocolates into her mouth as she skipped around the room. "Lane's in the garage, by the way," she added, and ran back into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with a bowl full of candy. "For you guys!" she explained to Dave, and needlessly added, "in case you get hungry!"
The phone rang and Lorelai nearly jumped over the couch to get it. "Whoa! Too much sugar!" she giggled, and drunkenly slurred greetings into the phone. Dave adjusted his hold on his guitar case and wondered if it was alright to leave her alone with a virtually unlimited supply of chocolate.
---
"Hey there," he said, setting down his guitar, walking over to her. Lane stopped mid-hit and jumped up.
"Bless you! You brought chocolate!"
"Care to fill me in?" Dave asked, watching Lane's mouth as she licked her lips. He kicked the door closed, tilted her head up, kissed her.
"New festival," she said between kisses. "After-Easter-chocolate- festival...it was Lorelai's idea."
Dave broke away from her, "I thought you just had an Easter festival?"
"Easter slash Passover please. Here in Stars Hollow, we're very welcoming," Lane scolded, grinning up at him. Dave dipped his head to kiss her neck.
"So Lorelai felt bad for at the Easter chocolate that wasn't bought and decided that we should honor it with a festival?"
"Close enough," Lane replied, and pulled him closer. "Basically she wanted an excuse to buy chocolate at a discount price."
"Did she really need an excuse?" Dave asked, pressing Lane against the wall, pressing his lips hard against hers. Lane moaned, ran her hands up his shirt. "We don't have time," he said, pulling away regretfully.
"Yeah we do," Lane wielded, pressing up against Dave again, running her fingernails down his back.
He groaned into her mouth. "The guys will be here any minute," he said, creating distance.
Lane looked up at him. "I love you." Dave, grinning, tossed her a chocolate, and popped one into his own mouth.
---
Lane was lying on Rory's bed, Bright Eyes playing softly from her speakers. Rory was out with Jess; she hated Bright Eyes. So did Lorelai, and Lorelai was at Luke's. Mama Kim had never heard it, for obvious reasons.
There were thoughts, sometimes, that filtered into Lane's head. Like running away. Becoming vegan. Converting to Judaism. Dave had said something earlier, about college. How he was thinking of taking one class a week at the music academy. He could go into a trade, he said, work on a construction site. He didn't want too, but the helpless feelings had overcome him, and he applied for a job, starting in September.
When Lane told Rory, she hadn't understood. Patiently she had told her ivy- bound friend that music wasn't tangible enough. That was Dave's explanation. Lane was merely mimicking. There was no bread in music, no clothes, no rent, no sleep. He could do it, he said, because they were hiring construction guys all the time. Union wages, four days a week.
What could Lane do? She wondered, and the walls began to press into her sides, the ceiling and floor sandwiching her. There would be no hammers in her future, and perhaps no music either.
The phone was ringing, she noticed now. Lane made no attempt to move, and the machine picked it up. Lorelai's voice filtered into the room. "Good evening. You have reached the Gilmore Residence. Neither of the two lovely Gilmore ladies are in right now, so when you leave a message, keep in mind that we will only phone you back if we like you, or if you offer us chocolate." Here Rory's voice could be heard, "Mom, do you know where my blue sweater is?' 'Shh! I'm recording!' 'Mom! You knew I wanted to wear it!' 'Uh, no I didn't!' 'I told you last night at Luke's.' 'If I recall, last night at Luke's, you were too busy being kissy-kissy with your boyfriend to tell me of your fashion choices!' 'Mom!" The beep sounded, and a new voice filled the room.
"Lane, it's Dave. Uh, I just wanted to talk to you. Call me."
Tears were rolling down Lane's face, soaking Rory's pillow. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and Lane couldn't do anything about it.
---
"Lane! You will be late!" Mrs. Kim called up the stairs. Lane awoke groggily. She had slept through her alarm, and more than a few reprimands. Quickly she pulled on a pair of jeans and brushed her hair. She ran into the kitchen, taking her already made lunch from the fridge and pouring herself a glass of milk to help soften the whey and lentil muffins her mother made for breakfast.
"Okay, I'm going to school now Mama!" Lane called, running for the door.
"Why you sleep so late?" Mrs. Kim asked, intercepting Lane's escape.
"I dunno, I've been pretty tired lately, I guess..." Lane answered, trying to meet her mother's eye. She was tired because she had spent the entire night with Dave.
"Are you getting sick?"
"No Mama."
"Taking drugs?"
"No Mama."
"Is there a boy?"
"No Mama," Lane repeated, stressing the words slightly. Mama Kim peered down at her daughter.
"Take one more muffin," she said, shoving one into her hands. "Now go."
Lane didn't need a second command.
---
Their fingers were intertwined. "I guess you have to leave now," she said, looking over the tops of the houses at the sunrise.
"Yeah..." he responded, running his eyes over her flawless profile. She blinked but didn't respond to his lack of movement. "I have something for you," Dave murmured, not moving.
"What?" Lane asked curiously, turning to look at him. "A present?"
"Not quite," he replied, and kissed her softly.
Lane raised her eyebrows at him.
"It's actually information."
"Really."
"Yeah. How much is it worth to you?" he asked, and when he ran his fingers over her inner thigh, she giggled. Lane leaned her head against Dave's shoulder, her hips pressed close against his. "Tonight," he continued softly, looking again out over the town, "is the one hundredth night."
"One hundredth night?" she repeated, looking up at him.
After a minute he responded quietly, "I've been up here one hundred times." She turned to face him, his hands in her hair, over her face, down her body. Insistently he placed hot kisses on her mouth, down her neck. One nightgown shoulder slipped down.
"Dave," she said, pulling away to look at him. He turned also, lazily loping one leg over the other. "I know that this has been hard for you...with all the sneaking around." Lane looked down. "I know that you wanted for us to have a normal relationship, and I...I don't think that's going to happen." She blinked rapidly, careful to avoid his eyes. "I love you, but...this...this isn't...I'm really sorry...but-"
"Lane," he interrupted, sharply. Easily he swung himself next to her, pinned her mouth shut with his. "Shut up."
---
Dave, Zack and Brian were driving through Stars Hollow, instruments and spare body parts draped out of windows. As usual, Brian was complaining about food, and Zack about Brian. It was unusually hot and sticky outside, and they were complaining about that too. Only Brian had the decency to keep clothed, at least until practice started. Dave himself had taken off his shirt, fearing a Mrs. Kim meeting less than being roasted alive.
Brian and Zack both dove for the cover of the garage, but Dave lingered, seeing Lane sitting on the porch. She was talking to Rory and Lorelai, her back to him. A half grin and a slight wave in their direction was enough to realize that they were talking about him.
"Honey," Lorelai interrupted, "speaking of, well, Dave. He's here."
Lane turned around quickly, and knocked into Dave, spilling the lemonade she was holding.
"Huh, I guess I should have told you he was behind you..." Lorelai mused aloud.
"I'll lend you a shirt," Rory offered, shooting her mother a dirty look.
Brian stuck his head out the door, "what's the hold up?"
It was Lorelai who replied, surprisingly enough. "Uh, lemonade! I'm making lemonade! With lemons! And, uh, other stuff that goes into lemonade. It'll just be a minute, because I'm still growing the uh, lemons, and the sugar isn't cold enough yet, so...yeah. In a sec, 'kay?"
"Cool," Brian responded, and ducked back in.
Dave raised his eyebrows at Lane, who was equally bemused.
---
"Here," Lane said, offering Dave a towel from the back of the bathroom door.
"Thanks," he replied, but didn't use it.
"What?" asked Lane, as she took off her lemon-drenched shirt.
"You're not wearing a bra."
She looked at him amused. "So?"
"How am I going to be able to play when you're ten feet away, and I know you're not wearing a bra?"
"You're not wearing a shirt," she responded, "besides, it's too hot."
Dave pulled her to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, answering his kiss hungrily.
Outside, Rory was knocking timidly on the door. "Guys? Uh, Lane?"
Dave was the one to break away first. He pointed to the door.
"Lemonade's ready," she called through the door.
"Thanks!" Lane replied breathlessly, and with one final kiss broke away from Dave.
"This is going to be an interesting practice..." he murmured as he watched her pull a shirt over her head.
"Come on," Lane said, pulling him out the door.
---
Today the diner was full. From the mafia seats Lane and Rory had a good view of the other customers. Jess was racing around, coffee pot in hand and scowl on face. Every few orders he would come over and kiss Rory. Lane rolled her eyes.
"You're kidding!" Rory squealed loudly before the fifth such visit.
"What?" asked Jess, turning one chair around and swinging his leg over.
"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Lane quipped, sipping her coffee.
"Break." Jess turned his attention once again to his girlfriend. "So?"
"Brace yourself," she said grinning. Lane glared at her. "Dave, the man who we all know and love-"
"It's not a big deal," Lane interjected, but was ignored.
"Dave owns the Clueless soundtrack," Rory said, grinning from ear to ear.
Incredulously, Jess turned to Lane. "From the movie?"
"So what?" she asked defensively, "it's a good soundtrack. When's the last time you saw Clueless?" Grinning, Jess picked up the coffeepot from the table and kissed Rory. Shaking his head, he walked away. Rory swung her attention back to an indignant Lane.
"What?" she shot back, blushing. "It is."
---
"No. No way."
"Come on man, just-"
"No," Dave said again, taking off his guitar and slamming it down on the stand more harshly than necessary. "No way. We decided that we would never do our own and-"
"But that's when we sucked man! We're good now!"
"Zack, we agreed. We are a cover band. We do not write out own songs. Garage bands that write their own songs suck. They sound like their influences, they get played on MTV."
Brian put up his hand. "I agree with Zack. If we want any respect, we need to write our own songs."
"Come on Dude, just look to them!" Zack said, thrusting a stack of paper at Dave. "I wrote the words, and we can work on the music."
"No." Dave said, ignoring Zack's outstretched hand. "We are a cover band. That's what we agreed when we started this."
"Dave, this could be a good idea! Cover bands don't get famous!" Brian argued.
"Famous?" Dave practically yelled, flinging his arms up in a most un-Dave- like fashion. Lane looked on nervously. Zack and Brian stood on one side of the garage, facing the guitarist. "We couldn't even choose a name for ourselves, how are we going to choose a sound?"
"A sound? What are you talking about man? We have a sound!" Zack yelled back.
"Yeah, we sound like The Beatles and Nirvana and Queen and the White Stripes and every other band that we cover!"
"Dave, think about it this way-" Brian tried.
Zack, impatient, cut in. "Dude, what kind of democracy is this?"
"Democracy?" Dave seethed, "You want a fucking democracy? Fine. Zack, you want us to do our own songs. Brian?"
Brian swallowed. "It could work. But they have to be good," he added hastily, shooting a look at Zack who looked increasingly pleased with himself.
"Fine. Brian and Zack want to write music. I don't. Lane?"
Nervously, Lane looked up from her drum sticks. "Write our own songs?" In the garage, Zack and Dave were feet apart, and looked moments away from starting a fist-fight. "Well...we could at least look at what Zack has. I mean..."
Dave cut her off. "Three to one. Fine. Fantastic. I have to go. I'll see you guys later."
"Don't worry," Brian said, seeming Lane's distressed look. "He'll get over it. He always does." Ignoring the victory 'high-fives' going around, she ran after her boyfriend.
---
Lane found Dave sitting on the bridge, his feet dangling over the water. "Dave?" she asked, tentatively sitting next to him. He remained silent. "Dave, I'm sorry. I don't think it's so bad. What does it matter if the guys want to experiment a bit?" Still no answer. "Who knows, Zack might be a good songwriter." Dave said nothing. "Dave...what is it?" She put her hand on his leg.
He shook his head. "I..." he stopped. "We weren't supposed to do our own stuff. You weren't supposed to side with them."
"Oh Dave," Lane said, and slipped her arm around his waist. "I love you."
He turned to look at her. "I know."
Smiling slightly, Lane leaned and kissed him softly. "Would you have really left?"
They stood up to leave. "No, I couldn't have. I forgot my guitar."
She laughed, hugging him close to her. "Men..." she mused aloud.
---
"I'm have a problem," Lane told Rory. They were sitting on the front steps, drinking iced coffee and eating popsicles.
"What is it?" Rory asked, licking her blue lips with her even bluer tongue. With one hand she brushed her hair over her shoulder and turned to face her best friend. Lane swallowed. How could she tell her? It was yet another hurdle that Rory had never faced, and undoubtedly wouldn't understand. "Lane, you can tell me," she worriedly said when the Korean girl didn't reply.
"It's a boy problem," Lane said slowly, after a long sip of coffee. "More specifically, a Dave problem."
"What's wrong? You guys always seem so perfect..." Rory stopped at the look on her face. "Did you break up?"
Lane blinked. "Oh, no. Things are going great!"
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Rory replied, slightly confused. "Then what's the problem?"
"Well, things are going really great, and well..." Lane trailed off, looking at Rory hopefully.
"Oh!" she replied, looking at the other girl, eyes saucered. "That's great Lane!"
"Except..." Lane took a breath. "He doesn't want too."
Rory's eyes widened. "Oh..."
"Yeah..." Lane laughed dryly, "I bet you've never had that problem." Rory couldn't meet her eyes.
After a few silent minutes, Rory looked up at Lane again. "Maybe he isn't sure that you really want too. Before Jess and I-" she stopped embarrassed. "He kept asking if I was sure. He really didn't want to pressure me."
Lane shook her head. "No, he knows." She looked at the steps, where her fingernails had pulled up strips of paint and wood. On the other side, Rory had done the same thing.
"Maybe he isn't ready. Jess-" Rory stopped again. Hearing of Jess' sexual prowess probably wasn't the best treatment. "Lane, I'm sure he wants too, but maybe it isn't the right time."
Lane contemplated her popsicle. Inside, the phone rang. "It's for you," Rory said, looking at her watch, which read four thirty. "He's getting kind of good at that, huh?" she asked, hugging her best friend.
"Saturday, four-thirty on the dot..." Lane said, and went to answer it.
---
Dave was sitting on the Gilmore stoop, waiting for Lane. A car pulled up in the driveway and both Lorelai and Rory got out. "Dave?" the latter queried, walking over.
"Oh, hey Rory. What's up?"
Rory handed her bags to her complaining mother and sat on the step next to Dave. "Dave, you were here when we left. Didn't Lane-"
"No, actually, Lane didn't." He stood up, brushed off his pants. "Lane hasn't done anything, actually. She hasn't returned any of my calls, she hasn't tried to contact me, her Mother says that she hasn't been home, obviously she hasn't been here-" He stopped, turned to face Rory. "What did I do?"
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," Rory said, not sounding entirely sure either.
"Please. She's not at school, she's not at church, she's not at Lukes, she not at any of the twelve record stores I know she likes-"
Lorelai poked her head out the door. "Hey Dave, wanna stay for dinner? We're ordering Chinese. I'm sure that Rory and I can straighten things out for ya." When he hesitated, she added brightly, "come on, it'll be fun!"
He exchanged a look with Rory before following Lorelai into the house.
---
The phone was ringing. Lane waited six and a half rings before remembering that her mother was out for the evening, and dropped the book she was attempting to read. She didn't know how Rory did it. After little more then an hour her eyes were dancing all over the page, looking anywhere but at the words. Hastily she disentangled herself from the covers on the bed and ran to the phone. "Hello?"
"Lane, I need your help."
"Rory?" she asked, not entirely sure the panicked voice belonged to her best friend.
"You have to come over."
Lane blinked rapidly. "What? What's wrong?" Instantly her mind jumped to Jess. "Did you-"
"Just come. Please." There was a tear in her voice. "Please Lane."
"Oh, of course. I'll be right there." Lane waited until she heard Rory's phone disengage, and hung up herself. Not bothering to write a note, Lane pulled on her jacket and left, slamming the door behind her.
She took the short cut, and minutes later was banging on the kitchen door. "Rory?" she called, pressing her nose against the glass. It wasn't often unlocked, but tonight was an exception. Lane cautiously let herself in, taking in the darkness of the house. "Rory?" she said softly, pushing open her bedroom door quietly. The house was quiet.
Lane tiptoed into the living room. "Rory?" she said, a bit louder. "Thanks," she said aloud. "Call me and then go out. Great. Really great. Nearly gave me a heart attack, but that's what best-" she stopped, saw the rows of candles lining the front door. Guardedly, Lane approached the front door and opened it. Outside the lines of candles continued, across the porch, down the stairs and beyond. Unconsciously tugging her jacket closer to her body, Lane closed the door and followed the path. The clear destination was the garage.
Lane started forward at an almost ravenous pace, but stopped herself. What if this wasn't for her? Maybe Rory and Jess had fought, and he was making it up to her. She obviously wasn't needed any longer, so she should just go home. 'But,' a little voice nagged at her, 'what if it is for you?'
Warily, Lane continued along the trail of candles, wished that the gravel wouldn't sound so loud beneath her feet. There was light spilling out from under the door. Taking a deep breath, Lane pulled it open.
---
Dave looked up from his guitar, but didn't stop playing. "...she said she loves you, and you know that can't be bad, she loves you, and you should be glad. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. With a love like that, you know you should be glad..."
"Beatles?" Lane asked, even though she already knew the answer. The garage was lined with candles also. She hadn't ever thought of candles as anything other then a waste of money, but Dave had bought five hundred. "Wow, Dave-"
He put down his guitar and stood, took her hands. "Hey..." he said, not meeting her eyes.
"Where's the music coming from?" she asked curiously.
"Uh, the car." Lane smiled widely, and looked out the window, and spotted the beaten up car a few feet away. 'She Loves You' had finished and the stereo was playing 'Love is All You Need'.
"So, Rory set this up," he said needlessly. Lane didn't hear him. She had just seen the open sleeping bag, the small box. Dave saw her startled reaction. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what- well, I do, but, I- I should have talked to you first, but I thought since you-"
Concerned, she lay her hand against his cheek. "Dave?" Before she realized it, he was kissing her. "Dave," she said again, breaking away. "We don't have to...if you don't want to. Just because I want to doesn't mean that-"
Dave shook his head. "Lane, I want to-" he started, breaking off to kiss her again. It was demanding, and Lane found herself let him take off her jacket, heard it hit the floor.
There wasn't enough air. They broke off, foreheads pressed together, panting. Dave linked his hands with his girlfriends. "Lane," he whispered, licked the tips of her fingers.
"Dave," she replied, gazing at him sultrily. He dipped his head and Lane opened her mouth to his, devouring his taste.
"You are amazing," Dave said into her ear, pressing himself against her. He led them backwards, and he seemed to know when bare floor met sleeping bag, and ungracefully they tumbled. Lane's laugh turned to loud moans. Quickly Dave unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it off. "You weren't expecting this, were you?" Dave asked, eyebrows raised. Lane blushed and crossed her arms over the uniform white cotton bra. Gently he took her wrists in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, and kissed her again.
-
Somehow Lane was on her back, struggling to remove the ever-present sweater best. "I hate this!" she growled.
"You gave to me for my birthday," he replied, chuckling. Lane glared at him and tugged it over his head.
"You're enjoying this," she snapped, now victorious, and rolled them over. Dave looked up at her; lips bruised, cheeks flushed, hair hopelessly tangled.
"I'm not denying anything." He pulled her mouth down to his.
-
Lane pulled away. "Why are we listening to Jesus Christ Superstar?"
"Sorry," Dave said, returning his downward descent on Lane's body. He fumbled on the buttons of her jeans, but managed to open them.
"No, it's fine, I find it refreshing," she laughed, her breathing coming faster. Beside the couple, an increasingly large pile of clothing was accumulated. He hooked his thumbs over the waist band of Lane's panties, his jagged fingernail catching in the material.
"Lane?" he asked, not entirely sure what to do. The lady in question smiled down at him and said nothing. "Well, here goes nothing" he said to no one in particular.
-
"Are you sure about this?" he asked nervously, watched her open the box of condoms he had bought from a convenience store two towns away.
"Dave," she said, and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. "Hurry up already."
He didn't need to be told twice. "God Lane, I love you."
She smiled up at him, ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck. "Believe me...the feeling is mutual."
---
"So, was that good for you?" he asked, nuzzling her face, like he had done that day in the woods, so long ago.
Lane curled up next to Dave, pulled a corner of the sleeping bag over them. "Mmmhmm..." she sighed, her eyes closing contentedly.
"Hey, no falling asleep...I have to return you soon." Dave kissed her. Lazily, Lane opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"Soon," she said, pulling him down for another kiss. "But not yet."
---
FIN
---
My condolences for the extraordinarily long wait. "Things" are indeed abundant on this side of the woods. The reviews have been an incredible perk. In response to a review about the music that Dave and Lane listen to, I am inclined to disagree; I don't think that either limit their collections to only influential musicians - groups like the Hollies and Chicago were both one hit wonders, but need not be dismissed as useless or unlistenable. Of course, to each one his own. I expect this chapter will be the last, but then again, I haven't written it yet.
With all due respect,
authors-anonymous
p.s. A VERY important note: This chapter contains more "adult" subject. If you're not comfortable with that...
Another post note: I recommend listening to the Beatles while reading (the 'love songs' would be best, but 'Beatles 1' would suffice)
Sorry, last one: So, I just finished writing, and I'm not sure if I am entirely happy with it. Now the question is: are you?
---
Dave carefully drove through Stars Hollow, weaving his station wagon around people who flooded the streets, heedless of the traffic. Huge baskets overflowing with chocolate on long tables with pink tablecloths lined the streets, massive papier-mâché rabbits hung from light posts and pink and yellow ribbons were tied on every tree branch. Somewhere from the gazebo, Taylor was bellowing instructions.
"What's going on?" he asked, upon arriving at the Gilmore house. He didn't bother knocking anymore, knew that the downstairs bathroom door stuck unless you were forceful and that anything eaten from the fridge was always at your own risk.
There were bags and bags of chocolates - on the couch, the floor, the coffee table, the mantle, lining the stairs. Lorelai had obviously begun the festivities early. Lorelai danced in, hands full of chocolates in colourful wrappers. "New festival, invented by yours truly!" she sang happily, stuffing chocolates into her mouth as she skipped around the room. "Lane's in the garage, by the way," she added, and ran back into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with a bowl full of candy. "For you guys!" she explained to Dave, and needlessly added, "in case you get hungry!"
The phone rang and Lorelai nearly jumped over the couch to get it. "Whoa! Too much sugar!" she giggled, and drunkenly slurred greetings into the phone. Dave adjusted his hold on his guitar case and wondered if it was alright to leave her alone with a virtually unlimited supply of chocolate.
---
"Hey there," he said, setting down his guitar, walking over to her. Lane stopped mid-hit and jumped up.
"Bless you! You brought chocolate!"
"Care to fill me in?" Dave asked, watching Lane's mouth as she licked her lips. He kicked the door closed, tilted her head up, kissed her.
"New festival," she said between kisses. "After-Easter-chocolate- festival...it was Lorelai's idea."
Dave broke away from her, "I thought you just had an Easter festival?"
"Easter slash Passover please. Here in Stars Hollow, we're very welcoming," Lane scolded, grinning up at him. Dave dipped his head to kiss her neck.
"So Lorelai felt bad for at the Easter chocolate that wasn't bought and decided that we should honor it with a festival?"
"Close enough," Lane replied, and pulled him closer. "Basically she wanted an excuse to buy chocolate at a discount price."
"Did she really need an excuse?" Dave asked, pressing Lane against the wall, pressing his lips hard against hers. Lane moaned, ran her hands up his shirt. "We don't have time," he said, pulling away regretfully.
"Yeah we do," Lane wielded, pressing up against Dave again, running her fingernails down his back.
He groaned into her mouth. "The guys will be here any minute," he said, creating distance.
Lane looked up at him. "I love you." Dave, grinning, tossed her a chocolate, and popped one into his own mouth.
---
Lane was lying on Rory's bed, Bright Eyes playing softly from her speakers. Rory was out with Jess; she hated Bright Eyes. So did Lorelai, and Lorelai was at Luke's. Mama Kim had never heard it, for obvious reasons.
There were thoughts, sometimes, that filtered into Lane's head. Like running away. Becoming vegan. Converting to Judaism. Dave had said something earlier, about college. How he was thinking of taking one class a week at the music academy. He could go into a trade, he said, work on a construction site. He didn't want too, but the helpless feelings had overcome him, and he applied for a job, starting in September.
When Lane told Rory, she hadn't understood. Patiently she had told her ivy- bound friend that music wasn't tangible enough. That was Dave's explanation. Lane was merely mimicking. There was no bread in music, no clothes, no rent, no sleep. He could do it, he said, because they were hiring construction guys all the time. Union wages, four days a week.
What could Lane do? She wondered, and the walls began to press into her sides, the ceiling and floor sandwiching her. There would be no hammers in her future, and perhaps no music either.
The phone was ringing, she noticed now. Lane made no attempt to move, and the machine picked it up. Lorelai's voice filtered into the room. "Good evening. You have reached the Gilmore Residence. Neither of the two lovely Gilmore ladies are in right now, so when you leave a message, keep in mind that we will only phone you back if we like you, or if you offer us chocolate." Here Rory's voice could be heard, "Mom, do you know where my blue sweater is?' 'Shh! I'm recording!' 'Mom! You knew I wanted to wear it!' 'Uh, no I didn't!' 'I told you last night at Luke's.' 'If I recall, last night at Luke's, you were too busy being kissy-kissy with your boyfriend to tell me of your fashion choices!' 'Mom!" The beep sounded, and a new voice filled the room.
"Lane, it's Dave. Uh, I just wanted to talk to you. Call me."
Tears were rolling down Lane's face, soaking Rory's pillow. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and Lane couldn't do anything about it.
---
"Lane! You will be late!" Mrs. Kim called up the stairs. Lane awoke groggily. She had slept through her alarm, and more than a few reprimands. Quickly she pulled on a pair of jeans and brushed her hair. She ran into the kitchen, taking her already made lunch from the fridge and pouring herself a glass of milk to help soften the whey and lentil muffins her mother made for breakfast.
"Okay, I'm going to school now Mama!" Lane called, running for the door.
"Why you sleep so late?" Mrs. Kim asked, intercepting Lane's escape.
"I dunno, I've been pretty tired lately, I guess..." Lane answered, trying to meet her mother's eye. She was tired because she had spent the entire night with Dave.
"Are you getting sick?"
"No Mama."
"Taking drugs?"
"No Mama."
"Is there a boy?"
"No Mama," Lane repeated, stressing the words slightly. Mama Kim peered down at her daughter.
"Take one more muffin," she said, shoving one into her hands. "Now go."
Lane didn't need a second command.
---
Their fingers were intertwined. "I guess you have to leave now," she said, looking over the tops of the houses at the sunrise.
"Yeah..." he responded, running his eyes over her flawless profile. She blinked but didn't respond to his lack of movement. "I have something for you," Dave murmured, not moving.
"What?" Lane asked curiously, turning to look at him. "A present?"
"Not quite," he replied, and kissed her softly.
Lane raised her eyebrows at him.
"It's actually information."
"Really."
"Yeah. How much is it worth to you?" he asked, and when he ran his fingers over her inner thigh, she giggled. Lane leaned her head against Dave's shoulder, her hips pressed close against his. "Tonight," he continued softly, looking again out over the town, "is the one hundredth night."
"One hundredth night?" she repeated, looking up at him.
After a minute he responded quietly, "I've been up here one hundred times." She turned to face him, his hands in her hair, over her face, down her body. Insistently he placed hot kisses on her mouth, down her neck. One nightgown shoulder slipped down.
"Dave," she said, pulling away to look at him. He turned also, lazily loping one leg over the other. "I know that this has been hard for you...with all the sneaking around." Lane looked down. "I know that you wanted for us to have a normal relationship, and I...I don't think that's going to happen." She blinked rapidly, careful to avoid his eyes. "I love you, but...this...this isn't...I'm really sorry...but-"
"Lane," he interrupted, sharply. Easily he swung himself next to her, pinned her mouth shut with his. "Shut up."
---
Dave, Zack and Brian were driving through Stars Hollow, instruments and spare body parts draped out of windows. As usual, Brian was complaining about food, and Zack about Brian. It was unusually hot and sticky outside, and they were complaining about that too. Only Brian had the decency to keep clothed, at least until practice started. Dave himself had taken off his shirt, fearing a Mrs. Kim meeting less than being roasted alive.
Brian and Zack both dove for the cover of the garage, but Dave lingered, seeing Lane sitting on the porch. She was talking to Rory and Lorelai, her back to him. A half grin and a slight wave in their direction was enough to realize that they were talking about him.
"Honey," Lorelai interrupted, "speaking of, well, Dave. He's here."
Lane turned around quickly, and knocked into Dave, spilling the lemonade she was holding.
"Huh, I guess I should have told you he was behind you..." Lorelai mused aloud.
"I'll lend you a shirt," Rory offered, shooting her mother a dirty look.
Brian stuck his head out the door, "what's the hold up?"
It was Lorelai who replied, surprisingly enough. "Uh, lemonade! I'm making lemonade! With lemons! And, uh, other stuff that goes into lemonade. It'll just be a minute, because I'm still growing the uh, lemons, and the sugar isn't cold enough yet, so...yeah. In a sec, 'kay?"
"Cool," Brian responded, and ducked back in.
Dave raised his eyebrows at Lane, who was equally bemused.
---
"Here," Lane said, offering Dave a towel from the back of the bathroom door.
"Thanks," he replied, but didn't use it.
"What?" asked Lane, as she took off her lemon-drenched shirt.
"You're not wearing a bra."
She looked at him amused. "So?"
"How am I going to be able to play when you're ten feet away, and I know you're not wearing a bra?"
"You're not wearing a shirt," she responded, "besides, it's too hot."
Dave pulled her to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, answering his kiss hungrily.
Outside, Rory was knocking timidly on the door. "Guys? Uh, Lane?"
Dave was the one to break away first. He pointed to the door.
"Lemonade's ready," she called through the door.
"Thanks!" Lane replied breathlessly, and with one final kiss broke away from Dave.
"This is going to be an interesting practice..." he murmured as he watched her pull a shirt over her head.
"Come on," Lane said, pulling him out the door.
---
Today the diner was full. From the mafia seats Lane and Rory had a good view of the other customers. Jess was racing around, coffee pot in hand and scowl on face. Every few orders he would come over and kiss Rory. Lane rolled her eyes.
"You're kidding!" Rory squealed loudly before the fifth such visit.
"What?" asked Jess, turning one chair around and swinging his leg over.
"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Lane quipped, sipping her coffee.
"Break." Jess turned his attention once again to his girlfriend. "So?"
"Brace yourself," she said grinning. Lane glared at her. "Dave, the man who we all know and love-"
"It's not a big deal," Lane interjected, but was ignored.
"Dave owns the Clueless soundtrack," Rory said, grinning from ear to ear.
Incredulously, Jess turned to Lane. "From the movie?"
"So what?" she asked defensively, "it's a good soundtrack. When's the last time you saw Clueless?" Grinning, Jess picked up the coffeepot from the table and kissed Rory. Shaking his head, he walked away. Rory swung her attention back to an indignant Lane.
"What?" she shot back, blushing. "It is."
---
"No. No way."
"Come on man, just-"
"No," Dave said again, taking off his guitar and slamming it down on the stand more harshly than necessary. "No way. We decided that we would never do our own and-"
"But that's when we sucked man! We're good now!"
"Zack, we agreed. We are a cover band. We do not write out own songs. Garage bands that write their own songs suck. They sound like their influences, they get played on MTV."
Brian put up his hand. "I agree with Zack. If we want any respect, we need to write our own songs."
"Come on Dude, just look to them!" Zack said, thrusting a stack of paper at Dave. "I wrote the words, and we can work on the music."
"No." Dave said, ignoring Zack's outstretched hand. "We are a cover band. That's what we agreed when we started this."
"Dave, this could be a good idea! Cover bands don't get famous!" Brian argued.
"Famous?" Dave practically yelled, flinging his arms up in a most un-Dave- like fashion. Lane looked on nervously. Zack and Brian stood on one side of the garage, facing the guitarist. "We couldn't even choose a name for ourselves, how are we going to choose a sound?"
"A sound? What are you talking about man? We have a sound!" Zack yelled back.
"Yeah, we sound like The Beatles and Nirvana and Queen and the White Stripes and every other band that we cover!"
"Dave, think about it this way-" Brian tried.
Zack, impatient, cut in. "Dude, what kind of democracy is this?"
"Democracy?" Dave seethed, "You want a fucking democracy? Fine. Zack, you want us to do our own songs. Brian?"
Brian swallowed. "It could work. But they have to be good," he added hastily, shooting a look at Zack who looked increasingly pleased with himself.
"Fine. Brian and Zack want to write music. I don't. Lane?"
Nervously, Lane looked up from her drum sticks. "Write our own songs?" In the garage, Zack and Dave were feet apart, and looked moments away from starting a fist-fight. "Well...we could at least look at what Zack has. I mean..."
Dave cut her off. "Three to one. Fine. Fantastic. I have to go. I'll see you guys later."
"Don't worry," Brian said, seeming Lane's distressed look. "He'll get over it. He always does." Ignoring the victory 'high-fives' going around, she ran after her boyfriend.
---
Lane found Dave sitting on the bridge, his feet dangling over the water. "Dave?" she asked, tentatively sitting next to him. He remained silent. "Dave, I'm sorry. I don't think it's so bad. What does it matter if the guys want to experiment a bit?" Still no answer. "Who knows, Zack might be a good songwriter." Dave said nothing. "Dave...what is it?" She put her hand on his leg.
He shook his head. "I..." he stopped. "We weren't supposed to do our own stuff. You weren't supposed to side with them."
"Oh Dave," Lane said, and slipped her arm around his waist. "I love you."
He turned to look at her. "I know."
Smiling slightly, Lane leaned and kissed him softly. "Would you have really left?"
They stood up to leave. "No, I couldn't have. I forgot my guitar."
She laughed, hugging him close to her. "Men..." she mused aloud.
---
"I'm have a problem," Lane told Rory. They were sitting on the front steps, drinking iced coffee and eating popsicles.
"What is it?" Rory asked, licking her blue lips with her even bluer tongue. With one hand she brushed her hair over her shoulder and turned to face her best friend. Lane swallowed. How could she tell her? It was yet another hurdle that Rory had never faced, and undoubtedly wouldn't understand. "Lane, you can tell me," she worriedly said when the Korean girl didn't reply.
"It's a boy problem," Lane said slowly, after a long sip of coffee. "More specifically, a Dave problem."
"What's wrong? You guys always seem so perfect..." Rory stopped at the look on her face. "Did you break up?"
Lane blinked. "Oh, no. Things are going great!"
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Rory replied, slightly confused. "Then what's the problem?"
"Well, things are going really great, and well..." Lane trailed off, looking at Rory hopefully.
"Oh!" she replied, looking at the other girl, eyes saucered. "That's great Lane!"
"Except..." Lane took a breath. "He doesn't want too."
Rory's eyes widened. "Oh..."
"Yeah..." Lane laughed dryly, "I bet you've never had that problem." Rory couldn't meet her eyes.
After a few silent minutes, Rory looked up at Lane again. "Maybe he isn't sure that you really want too. Before Jess and I-" she stopped embarrassed. "He kept asking if I was sure. He really didn't want to pressure me."
Lane shook her head. "No, he knows." She looked at the steps, where her fingernails had pulled up strips of paint and wood. On the other side, Rory had done the same thing.
"Maybe he isn't ready. Jess-" Rory stopped again. Hearing of Jess' sexual prowess probably wasn't the best treatment. "Lane, I'm sure he wants too, but maybe it isn't the right time."
Lane contemplated her popsicle. Inside, the phone rang. "It's for you," Rory said, looking at her watch, which read four thirty. "He's getting kind of good at that, huh?" she asked, hugging her best friend.
"Saturday, four-thirty on the dot..." Lane said, and went to answer it.
---
Dave was sitting on the Gilmore stoop, waiting for Lane. A car pulled up in the driveway and both Lorelai and Rory got out. "Dave?" the latter queried, walking over.
"Oh, hey Rory. What's up?"
Rory handed her bags to her complaining mother and sat on the step next to Dave. "Dave, you were here when we left. Didn't Lane-"
"No, actually, Lane didn't." He stood up, brushed off his pants. "Lane hasn't done anything, actually. She hasn't returned any of my calls, she hasn't tried to contact me, her Mother says that she hasn't been home, obviously she hasn't been here-" He stopped, turned to face Rory. "What did I do?"
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," Rory said, not sounding entirely sure either.
"Please. She's not at school, she's not at church, she's not at Lukes, she not at any of the twelve record stores I know she likes-"
Lorelai poked her head out the door. "Hey Dave, wanna stay for dinner? We're ordering Chinese. I'm sure that Rory and I can straighten things out for ya." When he hesitated, she added brightly, "come on, it'll be fun!"
He exchanged a look with Rory before following Lorelai into the house.
---
The phone was ringing. Lane waited six and a half rings before remembering that her mother was out for the evening, and dropped the book she was attempting to read. She didn't know how Rory did it. After little more then an hour her eyes were dancing all over the page, looking anywhere but at the words. Hastily she disentangled herself from the covers on the bed and ran to the phone. "Hello?"
"Lane, I need your help."
"Rory?" she asked, not entirely sure the panicked voice belonged to her best friend.
"You have to come over."
Lane blinked rapidly. "What? What's wrong?" Instantly her mind jumped to Jess. "Did you-"
"Just come. Please." There was a tear in her voice. "Please Lane."
"Oh, of course. I'll be right there." Lane waited until she heard Rory's phone disengage, and hung up herself. Not bothering to write a note, Lane pulled on her jacket and left, slamming the door behind her.
She took the short cut, and minutes later was banging on the kitchen door. "Rory?" she called, pressing her nose against the glass. It wasn't often unlocked, but tonight was an exception. Lane cautiously let herself in, taking in the darkness of the house. "Rory?" she said softly, pushing open her bedroom door quietly. The house was quiet.
Lane tiptoed into the living room. "Rory?" she said, a bit louder. "Thanks," she said aloud. "Call me and then go out. Great. Really great. Nearly gave me a heart attack, but that's what best-" she stopped, saw the rows of candles lining the front door. Guardedly, Lane approached the front door and opened it. Outside the lines of candles continued, across the porch, down the stairs and beyond. Unconsciously tugging her jacket closer to her body, Lane closed the door and followed the path. The clear destination was the garage.
Lane started forward at an almost ravenous pace, but stopped herself. What if this wasn't for her? Maybe Rory and Jess had fought, and he was making it up to her. She obviously wasn't needed any longer, so she should just go home. 'But,' a little voice nagged at her, 'what if it is for you?'
Warily, Lane continued along the trail of candles, wished that the gravel wouldn't sound so loud beneath her feet. There was light spilling out from under the door. Taking a deep breath, Lane pulled it open.
---
Dave looked up from his guitar, but didn't stop playing. "...she said she loves you, and you know that can't be bad, she loves you, and you should be glad. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. With a love like that, you know you should be glad..."
"Beatles?" Lane asked, even though she already knew the answer. The garage was lined with candles also. She hadn't ever thought of candles as anything other then a waste of money, but Dave had bought five hundred. "Wow, Dave-"
He put down his guitar and stood, took her hands. "Hey..." he said, not meeting her eyes.
"Where's the music coming from?" she asked curiously.
"Uh, the car." Lane smiled widely, and looked out the window, and spotted the beaten up car a few feet away. 'She Loves You' had finished and the stereo was playing 'Love is All You Need'.
"So, Rory set this up," he said needlessly. Lane didn't hear him. She had just seen the open sleeping bag, the small box. Dave saw her startled reaction. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what- well, I do, but, I- I should have talked to you first, but I thought since you-"
Concerned, she lay her hand against his cheek. "Dave?" Before she realized it, he was kissing her. "Dave," she said again, breaking away. "We don't have to...if you don't want to. Just because I want to doesn't mean that-"
Dave shook his head. "Lane, I want to-" he started, breaking off to kiss her again. It was demanding, and Lane found herself let him take off her jacket, heard it hit the floor.
There wasn't enough air. They broke off, foreheads pressed together, panting. Dave linked his hands with his girlfriends. "Lane," he whispered, licked the tips of her fingers.
"Dave," she replied, gazing at him sultrily. He dipped his head and Lane opened her mouth to his, devouring his taste.
"You are amazing," Dave said into her ear, pressing himself against her. He led them backwards, and he seemed to know when bare floor met sleeping bag, and ungracefully they tumbled. Lane's laugh turned to loud moans. Quickly Dave unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it off. "You weren't expecting this, were you?" Dave asked, eyebrows raised. Lane blushed and crossed her arms over the uniform white cotton bra. Gently he took her wrists in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, and kissed her again.
-
Somehow Lane was on her back, struggling to remove the ever-present sweater best. "I hate this!" she growled.
"You gave to me for my birthday," he replied, chuckling. Lane glared at him and tugged it over his head.
"You're enjoying this," she snapped, now victorious, and rolled them over. Dave looked up at her; lips bruised, cheeks flushed, hair hopelessly tangled.
"I'm not denying anything." He pulled her mouth down to his.
-
Lane pulled away. "Why are we listening to Jesus Christ Superstar?"
"Sorry," Dave said, returning his downward descent on Lane's body. He fumbled on the buttons of her jeans, but managed to open them.
"No, it's fine, I find it refreshing," she laughed, her breathing coming faster. Beside the couple, an increasingly large pile of clothing was accumulated. He hooked his thumbs over the waist band of Lane's panties, his jagged fingernail catching in the material.
"Lane?" he asked, not entirely sure what to do. The lady in question smiled down at him and said nothing. "Well, here goes nothing" he said to no one in particular.
-
"Are you sure about this?" he asked nervously, watched her open the box of condoms he had bought from a convenience store two towns away.
"Dave," she said, and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. "Hurry up already."
He didn't need to be told twice. "God Lane, I love you."
She smiled up at him, ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck. "Believe me...the feeling is mutual."
---
"So, was that good for you?" he asked, nuzzling her face, like he had done that day in the woods, so long ago.
Lane curled up next to Dave, pulled a corner of the sleeping bag over them. "Mmmhmm..." she sighed, her eyes closing contentedly.
"Hey, no falling asleep...I have to return you soon." Dave kissed her. Lazily, Lane opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"Soon," she said, pulling him down for another kiss. "But not yet."
---
FIN
---