For the TWOP ficathon Spin the Genre Challenge. Choose an event and a genre to write about it in. Herein: A late summer wedding continues at The Dragonfly a la Shakespeare.
Feel the magic, madness and marriage of A Midsummer Night's Dream
I.
"Please, take one," smiled Michel oilily as he proffered a be-ribboned basket to a guest. "The happy couple would like you to have a memento of their special occasion."
"Why, Michel," said Patty wide-eyed, "These are from Tiffanys!" she exclaimed, as she fingered the small trademark turquoise gift box she'd selected.
"Naturally," tossed off Michel.
"Ooo! I wonder what it is!" said Babette in excitement, as she reached into the basket and took a favor as well, then shook it up next to her ear.
"Who cares, honey!" said Patty, "They're from Tiffanys, and we all know that good things come in small packages!"
"Not all good things, doll!" winked Babette with a leer.
"Oh you! Terrible!---- Though true!" laughed Patty.
Michel sniffed and walked away. There seemed to be a direct correlation between the length of time the champagne fountain in the gazebo had been bubbling and flowing, and the plunging level of couth-ness amongst the denizens of Stars' Hollow.
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He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
The good thing about a bar is that, usually, there are stools in front of it on which one might sit and stew. Fortunately Emily, in her great wisdom for such things, had the designer set up an extensive outdoor bar with numerous stools and staff.
Luke signaled one of these many smart bartenders from his perch for a refill, and continued to watch the activity about him.
He knew that, generally, men were superfluous to these events and of course, as such, he'd had no say in the number of guests (three hundred,) the food (caviar, steak tartar, odd vegetables from California,) or the attire (formal, painfully expensive new shoes.)
But none of that bothered him all that much truthfully.
It was the being apart from Lorelai that was really getting to him. He'd known as a key player, so to speak, and what with the blasted thing being held at her Inn and all, that she'd be busy. But being without her was making him antsy. It seemed that, given the circumstances, they should be together in this.
And, he wanted to be with her. Not waiting for her to finish circulating.
Thus far, they'd only been able to steal one dance. That was it. One dance where he got to feel her body next to his before obligation had separated them again.
That had not been enough.
Maybe, he hoped, he could convince her to slip away from this goddamn royal wedding just for a bit. He wasn't drunk (yet) so he knew that leaving completely was out of the question, but maybe just a stolen hour? Or half hour? Twenty minutes? He raked his hand over his face and sighed. Well, he wasn't going to make it happen sitting on his ass at the bar.
So Luke swallowed the remainder of his drink and stood up. He'd kept his eye on Lorelai since the ceremony's completion when the deluge of well-wishers with kissing, tearful congratulations had descended then separated them. Of course, he'd made his escape as quickly as possible and slipped over to the bar. She, however, remained firmly entrenched.
He eyed her in the middle of it now, talking animatedly to someone he didn't know (though he didn't know most people here, he noted yet again.) He saw then that, as usual, she knew how to talk to everyone. It was easy for her. He, on the other hand, had only one way of talking and it seemed to piss most people off. Generally that was fine with him, but he was well aware that he and the Gilmores were intertwined now, and he had no wish to upset their reactionary friends.
That is, if he could help it. The best way to 'help it' (so far) had been to hit the bar. But he'd grown lonely for Lorelai there all too quickly.
Finally though, he caught her eye. She smiled and he felt a thrill of anticipation right down to his core. He couldn't resist. He crossed over to her and whispered into her ear, "Could we go someplace for awhile?" He hoped he didn't sound too desperate, but really didn't care if he did. Scotch was helpful that way.
"Meet me in the lounge in five minutes," she whispered back with a twinkle.
Her mouth still close to his ear, he inhaled of her perfume just before she pulled away. Damn. He was getting aroused just smelling her. Again.
Would this night never end?
He put his hands in his pockets, nodded, and walked toward the back porch of The Dragonfly, taking in the vista as he went: The endless buffet tables, the stage and concert shell (the Big Band orchestra blaring away,) the bar, the champagne fountain in the gazebo... And seemingly thousands of people dancing and guzzling and stuffing their faces. He stepped up on the porch now and glanced at a table in a corner laden with gifts. Geez. Was there anyone here who needed any of the crap that was under those fancy bows? He glanced to his right then where Lane and her band were tuning up at the other end of the wide porch (Lorelai had promised them they could play later, and was making Emily shell out big for it. 'The young people will love it!' she'd wheedled.)
He was pretty sure Lane could use a toaster or blender or something...
He stepped through the screen door and into the back hall thinking about blenders and the way Lorelai smelled at the same time, when he heard Rory's voice...
"Dean, this is not a good time!" She seemed to plead. "We have a reception going on here!"
"I know that, Rory! What was I supposed to do? You won't return my calls. You drive to Hartford every day to work, and your mom won't let me anywhere near the house---I had to talk to you!"
"There is nothing to talk about! Please Leave!"
Luke could hear the tears in her voice now, and much as he wanted to just sneak back out the door, tears had to be addressed. He stepped around the stairway and into the front reception area where he found Dean and Rory facing each other, she crying.
"Dean," he used the most menacing voice he could muster, and was pleased when Dean jumped a little. (Good. He'd been a little worried about his Menacing Voice lately as it was seeming to lose some of its efficacy on Kirk.) "I think it's pretty clear that Rory wants you to leave," he continued as he moved toward them.
Dean backed away a little. "I need to talk to Rory," he said emphatically.
Luke turned to Rory then, "Do you want to talk to him?"
Rory looked up at him, "No. I really don't," she told him, then lowered her eyes.
Luke nodded and looked back at Dean then. "Dean, she doesn't want you here, and you weren't invited. Now get lost. I don't want to ruin this night for everyone by having to throw you out."
"What's going on?" Luke turned then to see Lorelai standing behind him.
"Nothing," mumbled Rory, her embarrassment plain.
Lorelai stepped up next to Luke then, "Dean, go home. This is not a good time," she said firmly.
Rory turned then and fled from them all.
Dean started after her but was stopped by Luke's hand on his arm. Dean looked up at the older man and Luke was surprised to see tears in the younger's eyes.
"Go now, Dean," said Luke.
Dean jerked his arm free and with as much dignity as he could muster, walked out the front door.
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"So guys, the Gilmores are really giving us a great opportunity here," enthused Lane from her corner of the porch where she was rhythmically tapping her drumsticks on the railing.
"Not to mention a heck of a lot of greenbacks," added Brian.
"Lane, I don't get how playing for a bunch of smashed Republicans from Hartford is a big opportunity," groused Zack as he continued tuning up.
"Chill Dude, Lane's right. The rich are always having parties and events and stuff. It's good to get the exposure," added Gil in his typically good natured way.
"Whatever, Gil, I just don't like sucking up to the establishment. That's not what my music is about," zinged Zack.
"Knock it off, Zack," said Lane rising. "We need to do a good job tonight. If for no other reason than Lorelai has supported us from the beginning."
"She's right, Zack," said Brian as he swiped at his noisy nose.
"Alright, for Lorelai then," gave in Zack reluctantly, "Let it not be said that I forgot anyone on my way up, guys."
"Way to go, Dude!" said Gil as he clapped him on the back.
"Yeah, yeah, let's just get warmed up," grouched Zack.
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"She's disappeared," puffed Lorelai as she rejoined Luke by the gazebo. "I couldn't find her anywhere. And I even hiked over to the stables."
"Yeah, none of the valet guys have seen her, and I checked upstairs, too," added Luke, "Do you think she went home?"
"Oh Luke, I don't know. I wouldn't think she'd leave tonight, but I just don't know... things with Dean are... complicated," said Lorelai as she pushed her hair behind her ears and scanned the crowd.
"Lorelai, what is going on with that kid and Rory?" asked Luke.
"Oh, Luke, I shouldn't say... Rory'll---"
"Luke? Lorelai? Is that you?"
They both groaned in recognition.
Lorelai looked up. Miss Patty was leaning out of The Dragonfly's brand new gazebo (built just for tonight) and was peering down at them.
"Darlings! Hello!" she called tipsily at them. "Come join us! The champagne is flowing and we're having a ball!"
Luke shot daggers as Lorelai grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the stairs.
"What about Rory?" he hissed at her.
"We'll just have to leave her to sort it out for the moment," Lorelai whispered back. "We don't want to draw any attention to what happened."
"What did happen?" he asked.
They were in the gazebo now.
"Aw, aren't they sweet, Morrie?" cooed Babette as she gazed upon Luke and Lorelai, their hands still clasped.
"Sweet," agreed Morrie.
Lorelai looked about the circular benches surrounding the ridiculous champagne fountain her mother had insisted on. Patty, Taylor, Babette, Morrie, Kirk, Lulu and even Sookie and Jackson (with a sleeping Davey in his arms) were seated, each with a champagne flute in hand and crooked smile on their face. She had to grin at this sight despite everything.
Luke took in the same sight but did the opposite of grinning.
"So, what's going on here?" asked Lorelai in amusement.
"Oh, we were just all discussing amore, my dear," said Patty happily as she took another sip of champagne and fanned herself at the same time.
"Amore?" asked Lorelai.
"Yes, it is the subject of the ages," added Kirk.
"Well, romantic events like this can certainly bring in the tourists," reflected Taylor.
"Taylor," laughed Sookie, "This is a private wedding. How does that bring in tourists?"
"Actually, Sookie, I was thinking about Valentines' Day," explained Taylor. "Perhaps a festival. It could be like a wedding. People love going to weddings."
"It might just work," agreed Kirk.
Luke groaned audibly.
"Gentlemen, we are not talking about crass business advancement here," reprimanded Patty, "We are talking about the magic of love! Oh, Michel! Look everyone, there is Michel! Michel is French, he'll know what I'm talking about. Michel?! Yoohoo! Michel! Come over here a minute, darling, we want to talk to you!"
"Well, I should really go check on my parents," said Lorelai as she felt Luke's hand tugging on hers to leave.
"Of course, hun, you go ahead!" smiled Babette. "Come back and see us again, though, cause we ain't leaving this champagne!"
"Okay, will do!" smiled Lorelai as she and Luke passed a grumbling Michel on his way in to the gazebo.
"Michel! Darling..." they heard as they made their escape.
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"Mom? Dad?' How are you doing?" she asked with a smile as she and Luke joined her parents at the edge of the dance floor.
"I'm worried about the canapes," responded Emily. "Do you think there are enough?"
"Yes, Mom. There are still several trays in the kitchen waiting to be served," Lorelai assured her.
"And the brie? What about the brie?"
"Still two wheels to go."
"Well, good," said Emily. "And where is Rory? I haven't seen her since the processional."
Well, that answers that question, thought Lorelai with a look at Luke, "Oh, you know," she plastered on a smile, "She's probably off with some friends."
"Well, I want to find her. It turns out that Biddy's nephew is starting at Yale this fall. I want Rory to look him up."
"Well, that's nice, Mom, I'll tell her if I see her! Going to go mingle now! Come on, Luke!" she said as she started to drag him off.
"Emily! Just look at Lorelai dragging Luke off that way!" Richard called out heartily, "They're acting just like an old married couple!"
Luke turned away with a grimace at that.
Emily grew thoughtful as she watched her daughter and Luke begin to cross back to the Inn, "If only he had more money... and a barber," she sighed.
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II.
Rory sighed as she looked about the moonlit apple orchard.
The Big Band music floated about her, even out here. Stupid cheerful dancing music, she thought as she gave a river stone at her feet a vicious kick.
The full moon and the twinkling party lights gave more than enough illumination for her to look about. She spied a lovely big downed log two rows of apple trees away, and walked easily over to it and sat down.
Why is it, she thought with her chin in her hand, why is it that it can be so easy for some people?
Her mother had always had men tripping over her. And now, of course, was tripping all over Luke, literally. Paris sailed through an extra load of classes, had an illicit affair at the same time, and was now slumming through literary England. Even Lane had fled her mother's tyranny and was finally making the life she wanted for herself.
I, on other hand, she thought miserably, the self-pity filling her eyes. I, barely make it through my first year of college and then jump into bed with a married man.
She realized then that she couldn't have screwed up any more without being pregnant (which, thankfully, she wasn't.)
She watched in silence then as a telltale Dragonfly, up from the lake, whizzed by and into the trees, scattering the lightning bugs in it's wake.
What was she going to do about Dean?
She knew from certain sources that he and Lindsay were fighting. What she didn't know was whether or not Lindsay (or anyone other than her mother and Dean for that matter) knew about what had happened that night.
She'd done well avoiding it most of the summer.
She'd been working long hours at an internship in Hartford, frequently staying over at her Grandparents. And then there had been this huge happy event to prepare for... And well, she'd just tried really hard not to think about it all and move on.
And, she'd failed at that.
In fact, she'd achieved absolutely nothing other than the realization that she did not love Dean.
Though he seemed to love her. At least he said he did, in the many phone messages he left.
And that made things very complicated.
And that made her sigh all over again, some stinging in her eyes now too.
She was beginning to wonder if either she or Dean were old enough to have any idea what this love thing really meant, anyway. In terms of the rest of your life, that is. And she hated that. She hated feeling young and immature and shielded.
But, she had watched her grandparents this past year. And she had watched her mother and Digger, and then Luke too, and she knew... She knew that she didn't really know anything. Not about love. Not about herself.
And certainly nothing about Game Theory either, given the overall progression of things. She added this last to the list ruefully and then kicked another stone.
So the whole year? Pretty much a wash really.
Fuck.
There really wasn't another more appropriate word.
She wondered idly then if that particular expletive was in the enormous dictionary her father had finally provided her. Huh. She'd never thought to look it up. And what was she, anyway, twelve?
Nope, just felt that way.
Fuck, again.
She turned her head then quickly at a noise. Someone else was coming into the orchard and she really didn't want to see anyone. Not while she was feeling twelve and like a failure and not even sure if fuck was in her dictionary.
Quietly she got up and moved away further into the trees.
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They were all still in the gazebo, dipping their glasses into the champagne fountain.
Only now Michel was drunk too.
Oh, what the hell! At least it was Dom, and not some vile posing California sparkling stuff, he sniffed into another sip. Besides these people were much easier to tolerate this way.
"Babette, I'm telling you it's true!" insisted Patty with a giggle.
"I don't believe it," slurred Lulu, "I never heard of such a thing."
"Oh, it's true," Patty assured her, "Especially on a warm moonlit night like this, and after drinking lots and lots of champagne!"
"True, hunh?" asked Babette dubiously. "I don't know, doll."
"My dear, simply try it," responded Patty airily. "Like this; Take a big sip of champagne, close your eyes and think about 'it', and then curl your toes just as tightly as you can... And, well girls," she looked at them with leer, "The juices will just begin to flow! (If you know what I mean!)" And she finished up with a wink and another hearty gulp of champagne.
"That's ridiculous, Patty! And more than slightly obscene." argued Taylor.
"Don't be such a prude, Taylor," Babette chided.
"I fail to see how sexual arousal can occur from curling one's toes," remarked Kirk.
Lulu collapsed into hysterical giggles at that.
Sookie and Jackson, sober now, wordlessly decided then that the time had come for their little family to leave. They arose together and began making their goodnights.
"We really need to get little Davey home to bed," said Sookie by way of explanation, as Jackson shifted the little fellow floppily from one shoulder to the other.
"Oh, but you haven't even danced yet!" objected Miss Patty. "I'll hold the baby for you," she said, then reached out for little Davey with a slosh of her glass.
Sookie's eyes widened at that, "Uh, that's okay, Patty! I'm awfully tired... We should head home."
"Don't be such a fool, Patty, you are drunk!" objected Taylor as he got unsteadily to his feet. "I'll hold the baby, Jackson..."
Jackson took a step backwards, tightening his grip on his son.
"You'll do no such thing, Taylor Doose!" screeched Patty into his face. "I said that I'd hold little Mavis!"
"Uh, that's Davey," interjected Sookie.
"Patty, you cannot hold a baby, you are intoxicated!" said Taylor as he stepped up to face her down.
"You're drunker than I am!" countered Patty.
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Oh, this is delightful," said Michel dully to no one in particular,"I did not think the conversation could sink lower than possible sexual arousal by toe curling."
"I am not drunk, Taylor!"
"Well, neither am I, Patty!"
"Hey! Everybody, it works!" screeched Babette suddenly, a delighted grin on her face.
"Did you curl your toes, Babette?" asked Kirk with interest.
"You are sloshed!" yelled Taylor to Patty, ignoring all else.
"I sure did, kiddo!" winked Babette, who then turned and began poking the dozing Morrie next to her, "Hey, Morrie, wake up!" she said eagerly.
"Taylor, you ass! You'd fall right down if you took another step!" declared Patty.
"Morrie! C'mon, hot stuff, let's go up to our room!" Babette was shaking him now.
Taylor drew himself up, "I am perfectly capable of remaining erect, Patty!"
"Erect! Hahahahahah!" giggled Lulu uncontrollably.
"Lulu?" Kirk turned to her in surprise, "Did you just make an off-color reference?"
"So prove it, Taylor! Prove to me that you are sober!" demanded Patty shakily, her hands on her hips.
"Very well!" he barked. "Come dance with me!"
They all stopped then and looked up at Taylor and Patty and their showdown in the middle of the gazebo, the champagne fountain bubbling away behind them.
"I'd love to," said Patty elegantly.
And with that a dignified Taylor offered her his arm, and the two waddled uncertainly down the steps, out of the gazebo, and off to the dance floor.
They were all silent a moment then, contemplating what had just happened before they were interrupted by Babette again..
"Morrie!" she cried, a little desperately.
"What is it, Babe?" asked Morrie sleepily as he opened his eyes.
"My toes are curling, hun! Let's go up to our room!" said Babette, and hurriedly pulled him up off the bench and down toward the Inn.
"Wow," said Sookie after a moment as she watched them go.
Jackson elbowed her in the ribs then and she turned to follow his eyes to where Lulu and Kirk were now passionately making out on a nearby bench. Sookie shook her head a bit and averted her gaze.
"Hmm. Disturbing. I think we better go home now," she told her husband.
"Okay," said Jackson and then leaned in, "Hey, Sook, after we put little Mavis here down, maybe you could curl your toes a little?"
"Oh, Jackson," giggled Sookie and swatted him gently on the arm.
And then they were gone too.
Michel sighed and looked over at Kirk and Lulu in disgust.
"Magic toe curling," he scoffed and downed another glass of champagne.
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"Lorelai, slow down!" called Luke as he followed behind her and then, "Ouch!"
Lorelai whirled around, "Are you alright?"
"Fine," he sighed, "It's these damn new shoes, I just tripped over a tree root."
"Oh. Sorry," she said and began looking around. "Dereck said he thought he saw Rory come this way," she repeated what they both already knew.
Luke sat down on a fallen log, pulled off his shoe and began rubbing his foot. "Lorelai, why would Rory come into the apple orchard in the dark in the middle of the reception?" he asked calmly.
"I don't know," fretted Lorelai. "Maybe to be alone?" she tried lamely.
"Then maybe that's what we should let her do," said Luke gently looking up at her.
She met his gaze and sighed, "You're right," she conceded and sat down next to him.
They sat quietly in the moonlight for a moment and then Lorelai got up and knelt down before him and took over rubbing his foot.
"Lorelai, you don't have to do that," said Luke in embarrassment.
"I want to," she responded.
He tried to relax. It did feel good. He looked at the way the light caught in her hair.
"You've been a very good sport tonight, Luke," she went on softly then, still focusing on his foot. "I know how you hate big and fancy anything. I'm so sorry this whole thing spiraled into a..."
"Royal wedding?" he supplied with a smile.
She looked up, "Yeah, that's kind of what happened alright, tiara and all," she agreed with a snort. "And now this thing with Rory..." she added, eyes downcast again.
"I'm not even going to pretend to understand what's going on there," he told her.
She nodded at that.
He placed his hand gently on her cheek then, so that she might stop what she was doing and look up at him.
"I'm here with you and that's all that matters," he told her, looking into her eyes.
"Oh Luke," she breathed and wrapped her arms around his neck, "you are so good."
He pulled her up between his legs then and leaned in to kiss her, softly at first and then more hungrily...
Then, perhaps because of the scotch or the champagne or who-cared-what really, things escalated quickly.
Breathing became panting, touching became stroking, kissing became devouring.
Then, before either knew, his hands slid down from her waist to cup and squeeze her buttocks through her thin dress; whilst hers pulled out the front tail of his shirt to work up underneath to his chest so she could graze her nails lightly over his nipples. He responded immediately and pulled her tighter against his groin.
She smiled knowingly into his lips and ground her hips deliberately up against him.
When their moaning became audible, they pulled away from one another, foreheads together, breathing hard.
"I know a place where we could go," she whispered.
He nodded. "But what about the guests?"
"To hell with them."
"What about Rory?"
"She's a big girl."
"Is this how we want this to happen?" he asked, straining against his need to consider things.
"Yes!" she said and grabbed his hand to go.
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III.
They'd absconded to the attic of the Inn.
Luke blinked and looked about the enormous darkened room. The lights from the party below glowed through the windows. Lorelai still held his hand and was leading him to a corner where extra mattresses were stacked. He watched her rummage around in a box, apparently find what she was looking for, then turn and hand him one end of a fitted sheet.
He looked at her a moment and swallowed. She looked back. Just as aroused. Just as sure.
Then they wordlessly began to tuck the corners of the sheet around the mattress. And when they were finished, they stood again, looking at one another.
Luke cleared his throat. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper.
She nodded.
Luke looked down at the freshly made 'bed' and then back up at her in a little amusement.
"This isn't a little too 'adolescent' for you?"
She shook her head in the negative and spoke for the first time. "No. It' doesn't matter where, Luke. It's just..."
"Time?" he asked, his brow cocked.
She nodded again.
Then Luke thought of something. "I don't have a...--"
"It's alright. I'm on the...--"
"Oh."
And then they both smiled, which seemed to make it easier...
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Rory had left the apple orchard now, had hit the champagne fountain unobserved, and escaped to the front porch of the Inn to be alone and drink
She rocked herself slowly in a big wooden rocker now and sipped away.
Naturally, a loud sigh had to follow that.
"Now what could you possibly have to sigh about?" she heard.
She turned and blinked then to see one of the bellboy-valet-general-helping guys standing there in the standard blue Dragonfly shirt. She racked her memory a moment: Sam?
"It's Sam," he said with a smile, as if reading her mind.
"Oh, I know," she tossed off (doubting that she was very convincing.) Oh, what the hell. "Sorry, Sam," she went on, "Bad night."
He nodded and, uninvited (she noted in some annoyance,) sat in the empty rocker next to hers.
"This is quite an event," he began conversationally. "Must have set your family back a fortune."
She shrugged indifferently, "I guess."
"You're the one who goes to Yale, right?"
"Yeah."
"Wow, lucky. I'd kill to go there, but apparently even brilliant Chinese guys can't get scholarships these days."
"Well, sorry," she said grumpily.
"Yeah, I can tell," he laughed.
"Look, Sam," she snapped, "I am having a bad night. I'm sorry you can't go to Yale, but I'm really not up to patting you on the back about it right now."
"Not your type, huh?" he returned.
"What? What does that mean?" she demanded.
"Nothing."
"No, you meant something; So, what was it?"
"Nothing. Just saw Dean here earlier, that's all," he shrugged.
"That is none of your business!" she barked, the tears burning forth again.
They paused a moment.
"So... What? Do you love that guy?" he asked blandly.
"That's none of your business," she repeated in a fluster, and then, "No. I mean, I don't know!. I mean, it's none of your business!"
"No, it's not," he agreed softly. "I'm sorry for whatever's going on, Rory. You look sad, so sorry about that."
"Well... thank you," she managed.
They sat quietly then, rocking for a moment.
"It's just that your life looks pretty good to me, Rory," Sam began again, "You go to Yale. Your family treats you like a princess and... Well, you're beautiful and, presumably, smart. It seems that you could do a lot better than crying over some guy who is dick enough to cheat on his tall orange wife. Maybe you should think about that."
"Excuse me? You have no right to talk to me like this. I don't even know you!" Rory stood up indignantly.
He stood as well. "No, I guess you don't. But, I do know you. I've seen you. Watched you come around here. Seen you at Luke's, and the bookstore (not that you've ever lifted your nose to notice me.) I've heard people talk about you, too—Your mom, for one. I had thought; Hey, maybe I could be her friend... or something.... Everyone seems to love her."
"What are you? Some kind of stalker?"
"No, just a guy who works for your mom, who thought you could use a friend tonight."
"Well, I don't! I need... I don't know what I need!" she snapped in some dismay, "But it sure as hell isn't some Valet Guy coming to tell me about my life!"
"Yeah, well, sorry about that," Sam narrowed his expression, "Just trying to help. But now it's pretty clear to me that you are probably too spoiled to be interested in anything from some 'Valet Guy.'"
"What?! Just what are you inferring?""
"You heard me. You know what I'm inferring," he replied. "Maybe we aren't friends. But this 'Valet Guy' is here to tell you that this town is crawling with rumors about you. So maybe you should just consider getting your shit together, for your own sake. Just some free advice: Take it or leave it," he turned to descend the porch steps.
"Well, thanks for the helpful information, but I think I'll 'leave it.'" bit Rory.
"Hmm..." Sam turned then to look her up and down, "Maybe the rich are all alike, after all" he observed after a minute.
"Hey, buddy! I am not rich!" and Rory actually stamped her foot with that.
"Whatever. You do a pretty good impression of 'rich' then."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"You know, Rory, some of us would kill for what you have... Yale, a family that worships you, all the right connections for a powerful future career—It's called privilege, sweetheart, a la Dubya. I myself work two jobs and go to state school at night, by the way."
"Well, poor you!"
"No, not poor me. I'm proud of what I'm doing. But I do have one question for you, Princess Rory..."
"Can't wait to hear it," she huffed sarcastically, then added, "And don't call me that!"
He appraised her for a moment.
"Just this: Have you ever lifted one finger to help anyone, in your life, that didn't involve some sort of self-interest?"
Rory was stunned by this.
"I-I beg your pardon?!"
Sam nodded appraisingly. "Yep, that's what I thought. Well, Princess, sorry if I hurt your feelings. Sorry I dared talk to you. We 'Valet Guys' really should learn our place. You better just hurry yourself up to bed now—Oh, and be sure to call one of the maids to check for a pea under the mattress. Wouldn't want you to get any unsightly bruises or anything!"
"That's not fair!" said Rory venomously.
"Goodnight, Princess," said Sam with a maddening wink, before walking back out to the valet station with a whistle.
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IV.
"Mrs. Gilmore, I really want to thank you for this opportunity for us to perform," said Lane sincerely.
"Well, I was happy to do it," responded Emily graciously. "I believe that Lorelai was right. There are a lot of young people here who would really enjoy your sort of music while the orchestra takes breaks."
"Well, again, it means a lot to us."
"Lane!" Rory hurried breathlessly up to her friend.
"Rory! Where have you been all evening?" demanded Emily.
"Oh, circulating," evaded Rory, her eyes downcast.
"And now, I can't find your mother or Luke," frowned Emily as she scanned the crowd.
"Rory, I'm so excited!" said Lane, turning to her friend. "You haven't seen us perform in a long time. We've gotten so much better," she enthused, and then, "Hey, are you all right?" she added then, her voice turning to concern.
Rory bit her lip, "Yeah, I'm fine. And I can't wait to hear you! Can I help you get your set on the stage?"
"Yeah, thanks, we're just waiting for the orchestra to clear now."
"Okay, 'Rory the Roadie' awaits your command," replied Rory and slipped her arm comfortingly around her friend to watch the orchestra's final number.
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It had been awhile since she'd felt a man's body move against her own.
Longer, in fact, than she cared to admit.
So this felt good. She sighed a little 'Hmmm' into Taylor's ear then, as they continued to sway to 'As Time Goes By.' And, surprisingly, the man could dance. Who would have thought?
He'd always been such a pain in the ass.
So, who would've thought?
She closed her eyes and snuggled closer then, floating on a champagne cloud...
Delightful.
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"I think I hear Lane's band," said Lorelai, as she sat up and looked out the window above the mattress. "Yeah, look at that... They are so cute."
Luke stretched a little, and looked at Lorelai's gleaming body in the dim light, as she leaned against the window sill.
He took in the arch of her back and the gentle uplifting of her breasts. Fuller, he noted, than he'd allowed himself to notice before.
Then he couldn't resist, he stretched his hand up to stroke down her silky back.
She turned her head and looked at him in some amusement.
"Feeling neglected?" she asked.
"Of all the things I've felt in the past hour, neglected has not been one of them," he assured her with a smirk.
She sat back from the window on her heels at that and bit her lip a little.
"So..." she began hesitantly, "Okay?"
"You mean us?" he asked.
She nodded.
"More than okay. I'd say wonderful, even."
She smiled an amazingly bright smile then which, even now, flipped his stomach right over.
"It's just that first times together aren't always..." she began.
He nodded and pulled her down over him like a blanket.
"You and I are perfect," he whispered into her hair.
She shivered a little thrill at that and cuddled in more comfortably against his chest.
They breathed quietly together for a moment.
"I love you," she whispered softly.
He caught his breath and swallowed.
"I love you too," he returned without hesitation.
And here it is, she thought. After years and years. Here it is: The future, coming together, meeting perfectly, like a paper high school cootie catcher—all the pieces meeting in the middle. Huh. 'Who woulda thunk it?' She felt more than a little giddy in light of it all: An Inn, a grown daughter at Yale, someone to love and be with and now, possibly, a future too. All the pieces touching and fitting as they should. She knew this now, in this moment, and without a doubt. And what a moment it was, she sighed in contentment.
For his part, Luke had moved on to planning as he rubbed his open palm up and down Lorelai's skin, an action he was quickly becoming addicted to, as it never ceased to give him a tingle. Let's see... They'd live at her house, that was a no-brainer. The apartment was nothing compared to this, to what waking up with her would be. He'd bring his father's Mission clock. Lorelai loved that piece. Closet space would be an issue. He'd been in her room often enough to know that, but if they expanded down the hall to that little junk room she had, he could open up the closet and the bathroom at once. That wouldn't be much trouble. The bathroom wiring had needed re-doing for sometime now. And that outlet near the tub had always concerned him...
"What'cha' thinking about?" she interrupted his thoughts playfully.
"Hmm... Wouldn't you like to know?" he returned.
"I don't know. Would I? Was it dirty?" she asked.
He only snorted in reply.
Lorelai sat up again and looked out the window once more, "Sit up, Luke! Look, there's Rory. She's dancing with Michel!" she laughed. "She must be feeling better."
Luke did as he was told and looked down at the writhing antics of the drunken guests below.
"Hey, Lane's band isn't half bad," he commented.
Lorelai smiled at him then returned her gaze to looking out over the crowd.
"Oh! My! God!" she suddenly intoned.
"What?!"
"Look!" she screeched and pointed to the center of the mob at one couple who were stubbornly still clinging to each other in semblance of a slow dance, despite the current upbeat tempo.
"Ah, Geez! I cannot look at Patty and Taylor slow dancing while we are... naked, Lorelai," Luke reddened.
"D-d-did he just grope her ass?!" asked Lorelai in horror.
"What?!" Luke turned away from the window instantly, "Lorelai, do not make me look at them!"
"Okay," said Lorelai, her voice now deadly calm, "Then I probably shouldn't tell you what Patty just did in response."
"That's right! No, you should not!' he agreed, his eyes squeezed shut.
Lorelai was silent for a moment then, unable to tear her eyes away.
"You're gonna tell me anyway, aren't you?" he finally asked, girding up for it.
"She just licked his ear," was her response.
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V.
Michel looked out over the crowd and reflected on the evening.
On the plus side: French champagne, caviar, fine music.
On the negative: Too many of the Stars' Hollow riffraff, Lorelai always insisted on.
On the positive: Two excellent leads on antique medical implements from the Hartford contingent.
On the negative: Various sexual antics by Stars' Hollow riffraff.
On the plus: At least two pounds of leftover Steak Tartar for PawPaw and ChinChin.
On the minus: Kirk making out with Lulu.
On the plus: One word---Truffles!
Minus: Patty making out with Taylor on the dance floor, no less.
Plus: Lorelai had disappeared and was not taunting him.
Minus: Lorelai had disappeared and was not helping him.
On the plus again: Mr and Mrs. Gilmore were setting a lovely example by waltzing when the orchestra returned.—At last! A return to civility.
Negative: Apparently Stars' Hollowians can also waltz.
Plus: Lane's band not too terrible, after a great deal of champagne.
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"Mom! Dad!" she called as she approached them, Luke in tow.
"Lorelai Victoria Gilmore, where have you been?" demanded Emily.
"W-well, we, um, circulated, and just now hit the champagne fountain."
"I haven't seen you in over an hour," complained her mother.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she slurred a bit then hiccuped. "Oops!" she giggled, "Hit that fountain harder than I thought!"
"Lorelai.." began her mother.
"Emily, may I have this dance?" interrupted Luke.
Emily turned a keen eye on him then. She wasn't flustered, as he'd hoped, but she was momentarily deflected from Lorelai. That must count for something, he told himself.
"You wish to dance with me, Luke?" she asked suspiciously.
"Of course," he assured her in what he hoped was a convincing way.
Emily smiled knowingly and turned a shrewd eye back on Lorelai.
"This one's a keeper, Lorelai," she told her.
"I know, Mom."
Luke offered Emily his arm then, and they walked out on the floor.
Lorelai turned to her father then.
"Dad?" she asked.
"Yes, Lorelai?"
"May I?"
"Of course. I'd be delighted."
And they went off to dance as well.
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Lorelai was safely back in Luke's arms now, dancing.
The champagne stirring her heart as they moved.
She looked about at the other dancing couples on the floor, from her perch (cheek against Luke's shoulder) and thought about them all....
Babette and Morrie—Hysterical for the size difference alone.
Patty and Taylor, gazing deeply into each other's eyes----Disturbing.
Michel and... Lane?—Now, that was interesting.
Her parents, so caught up in one another. And though this had often left her feeling on the outside as a child, now it felt... well—right.
She went on, in mental assessment...
Kirk and Lulu: Cute.
She and Luke: Perfect.
Rory and... Sam?: Hmmm...Interesting. Now there was a great kid for her to be with.
And then a wave of champagne feelings and Luke-nearness-tingle hit her hard and she dove in to nibble at his neck.
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Epilogue
Sookie sighed as she looked out the kitchen window the next morning at the party rental people who were packing everything up and loading their truck.
She must have missed a pretty exciting end to a pretty exciting night.
Oh well, someone needed to be here to take care of things this morning.
She turned and grabbed the economy-sized aspirin bottle from the table and strode out in determination to the dining room and took in the sorry sight before her.
"Ahem," she loudly cleared her throat for attention and immediately regretted it when she saw the large group wince as one. "Sorry," she added softly. "Okay, people," she went on, "You've all had oatmeal to line your stomachs and absorb the alcohol," she ticked off on her fingers. "Coffee for the caffeine jump, and orange juice for the vitamins and your blood sugar. Now, I want you all to give me your hands—That's right, open up your hands, friends, all of you. I am coming by to give each of you two aspirins. I want you to take them both and drink the entire contents of your water glass as well."
Sookie effortlessly flipped off the child-proof aspirin cap then and began her dispensing pilgrimage around the room, stopping at each table in turn.
"Luke, Lorelai," she began, "Here you go." Lorelai groaned as she accepted her aspirin.
Sookie moved on.
"Patty, Taylor," she dropped the aspirins in their hands next. Hmmm... wonder why they won't look each other in the eye?—curious body language there.
She moved on again.
"Babette, Morrie," she handed them each an aspirin apiece. Babette was sporting dark glasses too this morning, she noted.
"Rory," she said somewhat chidingly as she doled a couple out to her. Rory kept her eyes down.
"Michel." Nothing to say to him, really.
"Kirk, Lulu..." her head on his shoulder....Awww...
"Emily? Richard??" she addressed them last.
"Thank you, Sookie," said Emily graciously, taking her aspirin. "This was very thoughtful of you."
Sookie watched the pitiful sight a moment as everyone downed their aspirins and drank their water.
"Well done, everyone," she clucked approvingly. "Well, I guess my work here is done," she added and was about to return to the muffins in the kitchen when, instead, she stopped after another thought.
"Emily?" she turned to the older woman.
"Yes, dear?" Emily lifted her head wearily. (Richard hadn't said a word to a soul all morning.)
"I just wanted to thank you, on behalf of The Dragonfly, for choosing us to host the renewing of your vows," said Sookie, knowing Lorelai was far from able to make this necessary gesture on this morning after.
Emily smiled greenly, "Well, of course... You're welcome, Sookie. You and Lorelai did a wonderful job."
"I just hope that some day Jackson and I will be blessed to have had such a long marriage," continued Sookie dreamily. "I want to renew my vows too."
"Well, it was a lovely evening," agreed Emily. "Though, I'd advise against the champagne fountain." And with that she gingerly lifted her hand to her head.
Sookie nodded in understanding.
"My dear?" she asked before Sookie could finally turn away.
"Yes?"
"Would you be so kind as to draw those curtains?" asked Emily, simultaneously shielding her eyes and indicating with a delicate gesture.
"Of course!" said Sookie and scampered over to do so.
Finis.