A/N: I know Narcos aren't really the most beloved group of fans on fanfiction.net, so thank you to the people who gave this story a chance.
Disclaimer: Unless there are pigs flying outside my bedroom window and hell has a championship hockey team I do not own "The Gilmore Girls."
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Dean had never really spent very much time in New York City. The crowds of people rushing from place to place only served to remind him just how vast the universe was. Manhattan always gave him the feeling that he could spend years in the city and never see the same person twice. He was thinking about this as he stopped for coffee on his way to the modeling agency. A blur of brown frizz rushed past him as he walked in at a pace New Yorkers would only recognize from waiting in line at the Empire State Building. In the blur's race to get out the door she had dropped a small slip of paper. He picked it up to see that it was a white napkin with a logo for Luke's Diner.
While Dean ordered his coffee and drank it he examined the napkin. It was definitely the same Luke's, he would recognize the symbol for the little diner anywhere, having stared at it for almost 6 years while he lived in Stars Hollow. Around the little coffee cup were scribbled notes on what appeared to be a character.
Brianna, 32, publishing assistant. Daughter of Kelly and Edward, mother of Anne (16). Lives in a small house, Minefield, New Jersey. Brown hair, blue eyes, tall. Wild. Fun.
He pondered the napkin as he continued towards the modeling agency. There was something familiar about the handwriting, something familiar about the character it talked about. He just didn't know what.
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Rory snuck carefully out of the office twenty minutes after she arrived. She knew Paris would kill her when she found out, but Rory needed her notes, and while their was little chance of finding them, she needed to at least look.
It wasn't that she didn't already know everything about this character, she had lived with her for 19 years, after all, but having her notes made her feel more at ease when she began to write. If, for some reason, she didn't know something, and she didn't have it in front of her, she would have to interrupt herself and look for it. Her years at Chilton and Yale had taught Rory how she worked best, and she needed to stick with it.
A quick scanning of the diner did not reveal the little napkin, and she walked back to her office building slowly. Not slowly by the normal human standard, but by a true New Yorker's standard. When she reached the elevator another rider was going up as well. She didn't look at him, just pressed the button for her floor and sighed.
"Something wrong?" she heard a deep voice say. She looked up. Another model she figured.
"Nothing."
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Dean knew her. He didn't know why, but this woman was not new to him, and after three floors her name rolled off his tongue.
"Rory."
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words: 478
A/N: I know it's short. I'm sorry. There will be more soon.
Disclaimer: Unless there are pigs flying outside my bedroom window and hell has a championship hockey team I do not own "The Gilmore Girls."
__
Dean had never really spent very much time in New York City. The crowds of people rushing from place to place only served to remind him just how vast the universe was. Manhattan always gave him the feeling that he could spend years in the city and never see the same person twice. He was thinking about this as he stopped for coffee on his way to the modeling agency. A blur of brown frizz rushed past him as he walked in at a pace New Yorkers would only recognize from waiting in line at the Empire State Building. In the blur's race to get out the door she had dropped a small slip of paper. He picked it up to see that it was a white napkin with a logo for Luke's Diner.
While Dean ordered his coffee and drank it he examined the napkin. It was definitely the same Luke's, he would recognize the symbol for the little diner anywhere, having stared at it for almost 6 years while he lived in Stars Hollow. Around the little coffee cup were scribbled notes on what appeared to be a character.
Brianna, 32, publishing assistant. Daughter of Kelly and Edward, mother of Anne (16). Lives in a small house, Minefield, New Jersey. Brown hair, blue eyes, tall. Wild. Fun.
He pondered the napkin as he continued towards the modeling agency. There was something familiar about the handwriting, something familiar about the character it talked about. He just didn't know what.
__
Rory snuck carefully out of the office twenty minutes after she arrived. She knew Paris would kill her when she found out, but Rory needed her notes, and while their was little chance of finding them, she needed to at least look.
It wasn't that she didn't already know everything about this character, she had lived with her for 19 years, after all, but having her notes made her feel more at ease when she began to write. If, for some reason, she didn't know something, and she didn't have it in front of her, she would have to interrupt herself and look for it. Her years at Chilton and Yale had taught Rory how she worked best, and she needed to stick with it.
A quick scanning of the diner did not reveal the little napkin, and she walked back to her office building slowly. Not slowly by the normal human standard, but by a true New Yorker's standard. When she reached the elevator another rider was going up as well. She didn't look at him, just pressed the button for her floor and sighed.
"Something wrong?" she heard a deep voice say. She looked up. Another model she figured.
"Nothing."
__
Dean knew her. He didn't know why, but this woman was not new to him, and after three floors her name rolled off his tongue.
"Rory."
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words: 478
A/N: I know it's short. I'm sorry. There will be more soon.