Title: A Momentary Truce
Rating: G
Summary: Nineteen years ago and Lorelai is just about ready to flee her parents' dominion. A momentary lapse in hostility occurs during a dinner visit from the Huntzbergers. One part.
AN: This was just an idea I had kicking around in my head and so I started writing, not sure where it would take me. Ended up being mostly from Emily's perspective. Excuse errors, haven't had it beta-ed, just wanted it out of my head.
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"Lorelai, you better be downstairs in five minutes!" Emily Gilmore called sharply from the foot of the stairs. Her request being met with silence, she stormed to the first landing. "Lorelai Gilmore, answer me right this minute!" A few seconds more passed without response and she stomped up to the second floor.
Lorelai did not look up when her mother appeared in her doorway, though Rory gurgled merrily as her stomach was lovingly nuzzled.
"Lorelai, I will not be ignored in my own house!"
The girl looked up and said calmly, "I'm not coming down."
"That is not an option, young lady," Emily retorted. Rory whimpered and Lorelai hugged her to her chest.
"Mom, there's no way I'm going through another Hartford pity party with your friends."
Emily shook her head. "This is not open to discussion. You will dress Rory appropriately, you will dress yourself appropriately and you will join us at dinner tonight!" She finished in a shout and slammed the door behind her, prompting Rory to burst into tears.
"It's ok," Lorelai cooed soothingly, "She's gone, baby." No one soothed Emily's frustrated tears on the far side of the door and the farther side of a growing gap between her and her daughter.
Half an hour later, eyes dried and makeup fixed, Emily smiled warmly as her guests were ushered into the sitting room. "Mitchum, Alice, it's lovely to see you again. And the children!" To her credit, Emily's smile barely faltered when she greeted three rather than the four she'd expected. "Whatever happened to Nathan?" she asked, not having to feign too much disappointment at his absence.
"Oh, you know," Mitchum chuckled. "Kids at that age, always out and about. I say, let them live their lives now, while they're still carefree." Nathan being of an age with Lorelai, Emily pretended not to notice his frown when his wife subtly elbowed his ribs.
"How is dear Lorelai doing, Emily?" Alice asked gently.
Emily's smile tightened imperceptibly. "Oh, very well. You should see little Rory, quite the bundle of joy, that one, her sapphires eyes watching everything." A piece of her heart ached that she had to affect an indulgent tone on the topic of her granddaughter. She would love to be genuine, but one had to always be on one's guard in their social circle. Whoever said there were daggers in men's smiles must not have had a strong enough weapon to describe those of women. "They'll be down for dinner so you can see her for yourself," she added.
Alice nodded distractedly, fixing her son's tie. He was eleven or twelve, she remembered, a sort of dull looking boy. Bradley, that was his name. And Kelsey, the girl, fourteen or so, had the youngest on her lap. Though the girl was also quite plain, the toddler—Lucas or Lance or some such—seemed to be of the same strain as the absentee son. She'd so wanted Nathan to meet Lorelai, she reflected with a sigh.
"Mitchum!" Richard boomed, entering the room and shaking hands vigorously with his friend. "How are you, old fellow? And Alice, lovely as always." He kissed her on the cheek and took in the children. "But whatever happened to Nate?" he echoed Emily's earlier question and she suppressed a wince as Alice tensed slightly.
Thankfully, at that moment the younger boy—what in the world was his name?—slid off his sister's lap and approached Emily.
"Mrs. Gilmore," he said carefully, his face scrunched in concentration. "You look very pretty tonight." Realizing he'd succeeded, he grinned widely, immensely proud of himself.
Emily couldn't help that her heart melted. She scooped him up onto her lap. "Why thank you, darling!"
"He practiced that the whole way over," Bradley nodded gravely.
"Logan has a way with words," his mother beamed across the room.
"Well then, we'll have to keep him away from your Rory, now, won't we, Richard?" Mitchum guffawed, oblivious to the frantic look that crossed his wife's face.
Emily noticed. She was suddenly unable to spend another second in that room. "Well," she said brightly, "Why don't we go see what's taking them, Logan?" She stood and, taking his tiny hand in hers, excused herself and led the boy upstairs.
It was surprising how the small, clammy hand in hers bolstered Emily's confidence. The boy was innocently looking this way and that, but every few moments he would gently try to tug his hand free. She'd recognized that glint in his eye, however, and wasn't letting go. Emily knew a born mischief-maker when she saw one. After all, she'd raised one. Or, rather, had had one attempt to raise herself.
Witnessing this little one already testing the boundaries made her feel young again. Dealing with her own daughter's complete disregard for them made her weary and mean.
They stopped in front of Lorelai's door, plastered with stickers and decals, much to Emily's chagrin. Logan's face lit up, and he said excitedly, "Can I knock? Please, Mrs. Gilmore?"
"Certainly," she smiled. She had to hand it to him—the boy gave it his all. Unfortunately, his tiny fists weren't having much of an impact on the heavy oak, pun unintended. He tried again, and she saw his brow furrow in frustration. "Here, Logan, I'll do it," she offered.
"No!" he pouted. Shrugging, Emily let him have his way. She was in no rush to enter the room, just as she saw no reason to hurry back to Alice Huntzberger's sympathetic gazes. Just when she thought he was going to give up, he took a step back, and with a determined expression, kicked the door with all his might. Choking on her laughter, Emily barely had her mirth under control when Lorelai whipped the door open.
"What's wrong with you!" She snapped, oblivious to the child at her feet.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Emily responded breezily, secretly delighted that the blame was not hers this time.
"Mom, I told you, I'm not—"
"Are you a princess?" Logan's hushed voice floated up, his eyes wide. Both Gilmores, primed for another world class argument, were speechless. At the same time, they both took in her oversized sweater, replete with food and formula stains, and ripped jeans. Their eyes met and neither could hold back a grin.
Lorelai knelt in front of him, smiling. "Why do you ask that? Are you a prince, here to rescue me?"
He shook his head slowly, still awed. "Oh, no. I'm too little."
"Little?" Lorelai exclaimed, feigning shock. "No, no. You're the perfect size."
"Uh-uh," he shook his head vigorously this time. "Maybe Bradley, or," his face lit up, "Nathan!"
"Nathan, huh?" Lorelai shot her mom a wry grin, which Emily met innocently. Returning her attention to her young suitor, she pinched his cheek gently. "It's ok," she whispered conspiratorially. "I'm not actually a princess." Standing, she shrugged. "I'm just an ordinary, if exceptionally witty, girl."
The child looked positively crestfallen. "But... but you're so beautiful!"
Usually Emily would have made some teasing remark about how she herself was only "pretty", but she was entranced by the scene before her and the way Lorelai's face lit up.
"Come here, you rascal," her daughter scooped him up for a hug. Emily couldn't hide a smile at the stain potential Alice would have to deal with. "How old are you?"
He leaned back so they were face to face and said solemnly, "Three."
Lorelai glanced at her mother, eyes twinkling. "We'll have to keep this one away from Rory, huh?"
Emily found it easy to resist the urge to correct her unrefined speech given that this was the most relaxed Lorelai had been around her in months, if not years. "So your father and his have just determined. Of course, knowing them, they've probably already outlined a pre-nuptial agreement," she added dryly.
A panicked look entered Lorelai's eyes. Emily forestalled the coming argument by raising her hand. "Calm down. We know she's your daughter. You remind us of that fact constantly," she finished wearily. She was in no mood to fight.
With a last, careful glance at Emily, Lorelai carried Logan over to where Rory lay on the ground, quietly watching them. "Guess there's no harm for now," she commented, and deposited the boy on the floor. "Logan, this is my daughter, Rory."
The children were still for a few moments, examining each other. "Is she real?" Logan finally asked.
Lorelai ruffled his hair. "She sure is, kiddo."
He paused another moment. "She looks like one of Kelsey's dolls," he observed, before tripping off to examine the rest of Lorelai's room.
Emily crossed the room to sit on the bed beside her daughter. They watched Rory for a few minutes, until Lorelai broke the silence. "I'm not coming down, Mom. I—I can't do it."
Staring at her hands, folded delicately on her lap, Emily took a moment to reply. "It's alright, Lorelai."
Her daughter started, shocked. "Seriously?"
"If I could stay up here, I would, too."
"Then stay! They'll be fine without you. We'll hang up here, order pizza..." she trailed off as her mother stood and smiled down at her.
"No, Lorelai. I have to go. But," she took a breath, recalling Mitchum's words. "You're still young. You should be carefree while you can," she said softly.
Another moment of silence, again broken by Lorelai as Emily knelt to kiss Rory. "I'm... I'm sorry, Mom," she whispered.
Emily looked up sharply from her granddaughter. "Don't ever apologize for this, Lorelai. Rory is a blessing to us all, and we wouldn't have it any other way."
Surprised, Lorelai could only stare as Emily made her way to the door. "Logan!" she called, and the boy ducked out of the closet, radiating innocence. Emily tsked. "Come here, little charmer." He ran to her and grabbed her hand. Turning back, she shared another rare smile with her daughter. "Goodnight, Lorelai."
"Goodnight, Mom."
"'Night, Princess!" Logan called out as the door closed behind them. Rolling her eyes, Emily led him back downstairs, and into the fray.