*re-uploaded to add a disclaimer… oops!*
Title: A Day in the Life
Author: luckdragon
Rating: G
Summary: Short Lit fluff that is perhaps too cutesy for its own good but still sweetly enjoyable. 1/1.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them. I'm just borrowing. They belong to ASP et al. If any of the owners are reading, it's not really worth it to sue me – the lawyer's fees will cost far more than you'll get in return.
Author's Note: Hi all! I had hoped to make my grand entrance onto ff.net with a long Lit piece that I'm working on, but this piece of fluff got stuck in my head this afternoon and wouldn't come out until I wrote it all down. It don't think it quite fits with the scope of my longer fic (and it might be a little while before I am ready to post any of that), so I decided to post it as a stand-alone piece. It's cheesier than I normally like to write, but what can I say – I'm a romantic at heart. : ) There's no backstory to this, so just forget about how they got here and enjoy (I hope)!
Rory hears the door open, and then slam shut. "Kitchen!" she calls.
He strolls in and kisses her cheek as she stirs at the counter. "Whatcha making?" he asks.
"Scrambled eggs." She likes her bright sunny late afternoon kitchen, except that she can't see the flame from the burner very well. It is a small annoyance, and small annoyances don't amount to much in her life. The apartment is undersized, but cozy, and so are all the kitchen appliances. She bends down and adjusts the flame, then sets a pan on the burner.
"Such a connoisseur," he teases, dropping his jacket over a chair near their small square table. "For me too?"
"Well," she gears up, turning from a second round of scrambling, fork in hand and eyes sparkling, "I thought you were going to be home late tonight, so I'm afraid I only made enough world-famous cuisine for one." He grins fondly at her as she spins back around and pours the yellow batter into the carefully placed pan on the stove.
"Well, we have freezer food, right?" he asks, pulling open the short refrigerator's stubborn freezer door to check. He rummages, pushing aside an ice-fuzzy carton of vanilla frozen yogurt swirled with cocoa fudge and miniature peanut butter cups.
"There might be some fish sticks left in there somewhere." She stirs the mixture on the stove, and a few moments later remarks tangentially, "We need one of those spoon-setting-down-things."
He raises an eyebrow. "A spoon-setting-down-thing," he remarks. He cuts a sly glance at her out of the corner of his eye; she is gazing into the pan and holding her stirring spoon aloft. He hasn't found any fish sticks, but his hand is hovering near a box of frozen burritos.
"You know, you put it on the stovetop to set the spoons on so they don't have to touch the dirty stovetop," she explains absently, beginning to stir again.
This statement is apparently a challenge too great for him to resist. He shuts the freezer door without removing anything and gives her another amused look, this time turning to face her. "You could just clean the stovetop." He lists backwards until he is perched against the corner of the refrigerator, his hip leaning against the counter.
"You could clean the stovetop," she returns instantly, glancing up with twisted lips, trying not to smile. Of course, she is failing at that endeavor. She settles for raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips.
"You could cook me dinner," he points out, eager to hear what she will say.
"We've been over that."
"That doesn't mean that you're not neglecting your housewifely duties."
"Well, see, technically I don't have any housewifely duties to fulfill," she says, spilling the perhaps underdone eggs onto a plate, "given that I'm not married."
"You could be if you say yes."
"What?" she says suspiciously, startled.
He winks, and retrieves a small box from his jacket pocket. He tosses it to her.
"Now? It's happening now? Oh my god!" Rory exclaims, finally losing her languid air.
"So?" he asks, leaning against the refrigerator again, resuming his old stance as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
"Jess Mariano! You do it right or I'm not saying yes!" she squeals, thrusting the jewelry box back into his hands.
"What if it's a one-time offer?" he shoots back, still jovial.
"Then I guess you'll never know what I would have said!" she retorts, snatching the handle of the silverware drawer. She is pretending; she can't wipe the grin from her face. Her hand reaches into the drawer under the pretense of retrieving a clean, non-egg-battery fork to eat with.
He covers this hand with his own, causing the fork to clatter back into the drawer. He turns her softly from the drawer and lowers one knee to the vinyl floor. "Geez," he says, as he hears a soft crunch that he associates with pieces of cereal before the milk has made them soggy, "you could maybe sweep down here once in a while too."
A tinge of slightly hysterical yet joyful irritation creeps into Rory's expression. "Wait, wait, sorry," Jess says, starting to laugh. He smiles warmly, flips the box open, looks into her eyes, and says, "Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, will you marry me?"
Rory beams and pulls him up for a kiss.
Author's Note part deux: Well, I know there's not a ton here to comment on, but feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think. Also, if you'd be interested in beta reading for my longer project (when that is eventually a little more ready to go)… or listening to my ideas and letting me know if I should even continue the undertaking, please let me know. That piece will be really quite different from this – it will be Lit-based but angsty with a broader focus.
Well, I'm not really sure how to end this… Have a great day! : ) Thanks for reading!
