Author: Summer
Title: Drain the Glass
Rating: PG-13, for now
Chapter Title: Halloween
Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…
Chapter Summary: Amelie's sick and it's Halloween.
Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)
Author's Note: To Betty. Just don't screw up again.
Feedback is always appreciated. Well, you know the deal. I won't hold back updates, but I love reviews.
Amelie didn't remember ever feeling this miserable. She reached her hand out to find the tissues, patting around, not wanting to take her eyes off the television. She found them and smiled at the slight victory, blowing her nose.
She was cuddled up on Allison's couch, still in her pajamas and a robe. When she'd awoken that morning, her nose had felt stuffy but she'd hoped the feeling would disappear after a warm shower. Since the shower her cold had come on full force, her nose completely blocked up and a pounding headache, which fortunately she'd been able to lessen with Advil.
Sliver of Moonlight was on Lifetime. She couldn't believe she'd sunken to a level where she sat around and indulged in a Lifetime movie, although she had to admit it was pretty interesting.
"Ames."
Amelie turned at Allison's voice, much to loud for her to deal with right now. "What?" she asked groggily.
"I have to go out. I have a dinner meeting with my new boss, so I don't know what time I'll be back. I should be back by 6, which is when Max is coming by. But just in case I'm not, could you tell him that I'd be home soon?"
Amelie glanced at her robe. "You want me to entertain your crush?"
"He's not a crush, Ames," Allison scolded, brushing imaginary dust from her sweater. "Do I look okay?"
"For the boss or for Max?"
"Both."
"Yeah, sure," Amelie answered noncommittally, turning back to the television.
Allison rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."
Amelie listened as Allison left, tucking herself back into the corner of the couch.
There was a reason Rory hadn't been one to play with her dolls' hair when she was little. She stared at Emilie's expertly done twist, unsure what to do.
"Hon, if you can tell me what part's falling apart, I might be able to fix it quicker."
Emilie's hand reached up as she patted the back of her head. "Right in here, Rory."
"Thanks." Rory took one of the bobby pins she'd been holding between her teeth and inserted it into Emilie's hair. "Your costume is beautiful, Emilie."
"Thank you." Emilie glanced down at her medieval styled pink gown with its puffy skirt.
What Rory's gaze was stuck on was the tiara. She'd wanted one like it when she was little, but her mom hadn't had enough money. And of course, the one Rory had wanted wasn't real either.
Emilie's tiara was made from a delicate array of pearls and diamonds, sitting proudly on the crown of her blonde head.
Her shoes matched it, of course, and Rory was sure she'd never seen such an expensive Halloween costume.
"Where's Normandy?" Emilie asked, breaking through Rory's thoughts.
"She's still upstairs changing."
"Oh. You'll love Normandy's costume."
"You've seen it?" Normandy hadn't let Rory see the costume, so she was a bit surprised that Emilie had seen it.
"Well, no. But Normandy always makes her own costumes. And they're always pretty."
"What's the girl's name who's upstairs with Normandy again?"
"Anna." Emilie wrinkled her nose. "I don't like her."
"Why not?"
"She's too serious."
In comparison to Normandy? Rory winced. It was depressing to see eight year olds as serious as Normandy and Anna.
The knocking wouldn't go away. Amelie groaned, turning over to glance at the clock. Quarter past six. Must be Max.
"Argh," she whimpered, sitting up and slipping her slippers on. "Coming," she called weakly, sneezing right after.
The knocking continued. She scurried over to the door, wanting the knocking to stop. "One second," she said, unlocking the deadbolt and swinging the door open.
"Amelie, right?" Max frowned. "You look like hell."
Amelie frowned. "And you have a way with words." Glancing down at her slippers, she admitted there was no way around it. "Come in," she said, stepping to the side.
"Are you okay?" Max asked, stepping inside.
Amelie looked in the hallway mirror. Her skin was flushed with a fever, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her nose was red. "Do I look okay?"
"My mom taught me never to answer that question," Max said, holding his hands up in defeat.
Amelie laughed in spite of herself. "Allison said she'd be home soon."
"That's good. You go sit back down." Max bit his lip. "Do you want anything? I make some mean chicken noodle soup."
"From the package?"
"No. I can't believe you assumed that!" Max smiled. "From the can. The can's way better."
Amelie smiled, relaxing back onto the couch. Maybe Max wasn't so bad… at least not in comparison to some of Allison's exes.
"Let me find you something a little whiter. You know, like one of those long hospital johnnies."
"I'm fine, Normandy," Anna said, leaning against Normandy's bed. "I told you. It's not that big of a deal anyway."
"Maybe not to you. But Ethan loves trick-or-treating and it's just one day out of the year, Anna."
"Fine. So who am I going as?"
"Samara. From The Ring."
"Okay." Anna glanced down at her black slacks and matching turtleneck. "Find me something to wear."
Normandy nodded. "Yeah. One minute." Normandy wiped a yellow powder across her skin, making it appear sallow. "Let me finish the makeup first."
"Am I late?" Tristan asked, rushing through the front door.
"No. They're still here. Emilie went upstairs to find her wand, and Normandy and Anna are almost ready."
"Anna's here?" Tristan paused, setting his briefcase down on the floor. "Ech."
"She's nine years old. Why does everyone have that response?" Rory asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"She's too serious." Tristan shrugged. "I've never known any other nine year old to remind me of death so much."
"What?"
Tristan sighed. "Anna's mom died when she was five. Ever since, she acts like death follows her around. Quoting Emily Dickinson and stuff. It's creepy." Tristan shook his head. "I don't want Normandy hanging out with her."
"They're best friends."
"Yeah, I know." Tristan sighed. "Oh well. I told them I'd take them out at seven. Do you want to come?"
Rory paused. "Sure…"
"This is good," Amelie said, taking a spoonful of the soup into her mouth.
Max smiled, leaning back on the couch. "I told you it would be." He glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"
Amelie shrugged, switching it off with the remote. "I'm not sure. I fell asleep."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I should've been up by now anyway."
Max paused. "Why don't you trust me with Allison?"
"She doesn't exactly have a good track record when picking a boyfriend. They're always after one thing."
"…Sex?"
Amelie laughed. "No. I can't believe you just-" She shook her head. "Money."
"You have money?" Max' expression was completely blank.
Amelie nodded. "Rousseau P-"
"Publications. Oh my God. That's you Rousseau?"
Amelie nodded.
"They- you publish my textbooks."
"You're still in school?" Amelie asked.
"No. I'm a sixth grade teacher. I just- wow. I did not know that."
Amelie laughed, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "Well, I guess now you see why I don't always trust Allison's judgment in guys."
Max nodded, glancing at Amelie's left hand. "And that's one hell of a ring. Who are you marrying? Bill Gates? This just gets better and better."
"No." Amelie smiled, looking at her engagement ring. "Tristan DuGrey."
"Come on, come on, lets go," Tristan said, pushing the kids out the door. "You want to leave before all the candy's gone, right?"
"Yeah!" Emilie cheered, grabbing Tristan's hand.
Rory smiled as she watched Tristan tug Emilie to his side and Emilie shriek with glee as Tristan picked her up and spun her around.
"Tristan," Emilie said, laughing, "Stop! You're going to rip my dress!"
"And you make such a beautiful princess," Tristan responded, setting her back on the ground.
Anna glanced at them, an eyebrow raised. "Can we stop with the childish gab and get this over with?"
Tristan glanced at Rory, as if to prove his point. "Sure, Anna. Where are we meeting Ethan and Scott?"
"At Ethan's house."
Tristan laughed, glancing down the street. "That's easy enough."
"I'm so sorry. She should've been home by now." Amelie glanced at the clock then at Max.
"It's not your fault. And she probably just got tied up. It's not a big deal."
"If you want to leave, I can just tell her-"
"No, it's okay. Let me make you some more of my prize-winning soup and you can tell me embarrassing stories about your sister."
Amelie laughed. "Prize-winning?"
"Well, that's what my mother used to call it." Max shrugged. "Are you up for it?"
"Sure." Amelie leaned back on the couch, glancing at Max. "You're different."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Max asked, a slight smile playing on the corner of his lip.
"It's good. I approve. Of you. For Allison." Amelie shook her head. "I don't make much sense when I'm not feeling well."
Max laughed. "We've all been there."
"You guys look… awesome." Ethan shook his head, looking from Normandy to Anna to Emilie. "I need Normandy's help with my costume next year."
Normandy scrutinized Ethan's pirate costume, tilting her head to the side. "You should've used eyeliner."
"I should've- what?" Ethan narrowed his eyes. "I'm not gonna use any girly makeup, Normandy. I'm not some fag."
"Hey!" Mrs. Calhoun came to the door, enveloped in a huge robe, arms crossed over her chest. "We don't use words like that, Ethan."
"Whatever, Mom." Ethan rolled his eyes, embarrassed. "Where's Scott? I wanna leave."
"He's in the bathroom, Ethan. Apologize to the girls." Mrs. Calhoun noticed Tristan and Rory and smiled. "Hi Tristan. And you must be…"
"I'm Rory. It's nice to meet you." Rory held out her hand, which Mrs. Calhoun shook friendlily, glancing at Tristan.
"A friend or yours? Where's Amelie, anyway?"
"Rory's the girls' nanny. Amelie's visiting her sisters. She'll be home next week." Tristan gave Mrs. Calhoun a hug, surprising Rory with his warmth.
"Well tell Amelie I said hi. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Rory." Mrs. Calhoun paused as Scott ran through the doorway. "Well, it looks like you guys are going to have your hands full. Thanks for taking the kids. I don't think I'd be much fun this year."
"What did Ethan's mother mean when she said she wouldn't be much fun?" Rory asked later as she and Tristan stood at the end of a driveway, watching the kids run up to a house.
"Huh?"
"What did Mrs. Calhoun mean? Is she sick?"
Tristan laughed. "No. She's pregnant. Very pregnant, actually. Seven and a half months."
"I didn't notice."
"Huh." Tristan was quiet for a moment as the kids ran on to a nearby house. "Must've been the robe."
"Yeah, I guess so." Rory paused. "Well, where's his father then?"
"Ethan's father died. On Easter, actually. It hasn't been an easy year for the Calhouns."
"Geez. That must've been what Normandy was talking about. She said they were trick-or-treating so Ethan would be happy."
"Probably. It's his dad's birthday. Or it would be."
"And the hits just keep coming." Rory paused, remembering what Tristan had told her about Anna's mother. "Does Normandy have any… normal friends?"
Tristan laughed. "With two parents? Scott does."
"Did that sound bad?"
"Um, yeah." Tristan glanced at Rory. "You do that a lot."
"I do what?"
"Put your foot in your mouth." Tristan smiled. "It's a good thing you're beautiful."