A/N: Chapter 5 is underway. I would like to thank you all for your positive reviews. I also loved the constructive criticism. I realized I used a lot of the original lines from the show last chapter, but I did it on purpose. I felt the conversation between Jess and Rory at the end was a key turning point in their relationship, and I felt that Amy Sherman-Palladino did it better than I ever could. I'm also glad you liked the can-of-worms that I opened between Jess and Paris. That conflict will reappear very soon. I promise! Anyway, the plot for this chapter comes from A-Tisket, A-Tasket, but the content is very different. You'll see.
Disclaimer: We've already covered this. Oh, Milo . . .
On with the story . . .
She had the stealth of an alley cat creeping into his room. It was almost completely silent. Her pink, fuzzy slippers, matching her favorite I Love Lucy pajamas of course, made little noise on the wooden floors. She stood at the foot of his bed and smiled; her baby boy was growing up. Somehow, during the night, his comforter had been hurled haphazardly, revealing his bare chest, abdomen, and the elastic waistband of his plaid boxers. Lorelai then curled up on the bed beside him. Her weight caused the bed to creak and his eyelids to flutter.
"Mom?" He said, his voice still masked with sleep.
" Rise and Shine! Momma needs her coffee!" Lorelai exclaimed, oddly perky for such an early hour, especially on a Saturday.
He leaned over to get a glimpse of the digital alarm clock that sat on his night stand. When he saw that the bright, red numbers read 8:32 A.M., he huffed loudly with disgust, curled back into a ball, and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Go away!" He demanded, never being a morning person.
Frustrated from her lack of caffeine, she uncovered his head. "Get up! We have to go to Luke's. I need coffee and hashbrowns."
"You need to be committed! Now, go back to bed." Jess pleaded, running a hand through his mussed, dark hair.
"Please! Pretty Please! I'll let you pick the movie tonight. Oh, we can watch Say Anything again! John Cusack and that boom box? Never gets old. Or we could watch a comedy . . . Fast Times At Ridgemont High! Let's add Almost Famous and make it a Cameron Crowe night!" She rambled, quite successfully. She knew if she chattered on that he would eventually grow annoyed and get up.
"Fine! You win! " He exclaimed, groggy and irritated by his mother's early-morning antics. "I'm up!"
"Jeez! Boys are crabby!" Lorelai opined, pulling herself up from the bed.
"Especially when they have their demented mothers come into their rooms at the crack of dawn yammering about greasy, fried potatoes and Peter Gabriel." He replied, stretching to pop his back and neck to remove the tightness caused by sleeping in the fetal position.
She glared, unamused. " You know, I have every right to go Mommy, Dearest on your ass, right?"
He rolled his eyes. "Right. You, Lucy, Ethel, and what army?"
Lorelai gawked. "I'll have you know that these are perfectly respectable PJ's."
"As opposed to your silk, leopard printed or Strawberry Shortcake ones?"
She huffed. "You're mean!"
"Cry me a river. Go get dressed so we can go to Luke's."
"You mean I can't wear Lucy and Ethel to the Diner?" She gasped, melodramatically.
He, once again, rolled his eyes as Lorelai sauntered out of his room. He then got out of bed to dress for the day
"Isn't it a beautiful morning?" Lorelai mused for the citizens of Stars Hollow, as she and Jess made their way to the counter at Luke's Diner.
"Marsha Brady eat her heart out!" Rory, who was minding the Diner while Luke was on an errand-run, dead panned, pouring their coffee.
Jess intervened. "She's just happy because today is the annual basket auction, and Luke actually agreed to bid on her basket this year."
Rory raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me, What?"
"The basket auction. Every year the women of Stars Hollow make picnic baskets, which are auctioned off to the men. Whoever gets the highest bid eats lunch with whoever made the lunch in the basket. It's neat!" Lorelai explained.
Rory had never looked more skeptical. "So," she glared at Lorelai, "you're like Elizabeth Bennett searching for Mr. Darcy, but still, at the end of the afternoon, he's still a cocky bastard, and you're still single?"
Jess smirked at his mother. "She speaks the truth."
She growled playfully. "Demon child!"
He chuckled, turning his attention back to Rory. "Anyway, are you going to prepare a basket?"
Rory glared at him like he had lost all touch with reality. "You're not serious? Only to have my PB&J's bid on by Kirk or some pimple-faced, trombone geek in the marching band? Fat chance!"
He grinned. "Hey, Dana said Chuck Presby has a thing for you; so, who knows?"
"Someone should castrate him."
Jess gulped. " I am a guy. You do realize that, right?"
She just rolled her eyes at his insecurity.
Luke Danes jumped at the sound of a crash that seemed to be coming from the Diner. He rushed downstairs and into the kitchen. Luke then raised his eyebrows at the sight before him.
"Sorry," She told him, slightly embarrassed, " Dropped my spatula."
He peered at the contents of the frying pan. "You're frying bacon?"
"Maybe."
He sighed. She was going back to being vague and monosyllabic.
"For what?"
"Well, Al brought in a pig to slaughter earlier, and I thought, 'What the hell?'" she replied, never losing her sarcasm.
"Smartass. Why are you frying bacon? There isn't anyone here. Everyone is preparing for the auction. There is no reason for you . . ."
Luke glanced over at the counter. There sat a medium-sized basket. Inside was a stainless thermos, a container of sour cream and onion Pringles, a box of Cheese Nips, as well as a box of Malimars. Soon, he realized, there would be two bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. He then had an epiphany — these were all Jess' favorites.
"Oh, No!!" Luke exclaimed. He mentally kicked himself for not seeing this before now.
"You can't tell me what to do." She stated, forever having problems with authority.
"The only reason why you want to participate in this ridiculous, little town tradition is because you have this girly crush on Jess!"
She snarled. "You're insane!"
"I don't think I am."
"Even if I did, which I don't, it's none of your friggen business so stay the hell out of it!"
Luke let out his infamous grunt and walked out of the kitchen.
"Next up for bidding is this lovely," Taylor Doose announced, holding up a basket with a large, pink bow, " Looks like there's homemade chocolate-chip cookies and a quiche inside. We'll start the bidding at five dollars. Do I have five dollars?"
"Who would eat quiche?" Lorelai whispered to her son. Both were standing amongst the crowd in the square.
"Apparently Dana." He muttered back, smiling at his girlfriend who winked at him, signifying that this was her basket.
"Who's got five dollars?" Taylor asked again.
"Five dollars!" Kirk yelled from the crowd.
"Five dollars! I've got five dollars! Who has ten dollars?"
"Ten dollars!" Jess cried, no matter how much he despised quiche.
"Fifteen dollars!" Kirk challenged.
"Twenty dollars."
"Thirty!"
"Forty!"
"I've got forty dollars! Who will give me forty-five?" Taylor asked once again.
"Fifty!" Kirk yelled.
This imbecile was making Jess angry. This was his girlfriend!
"Sixty!" Jess countered.
"Seventy!"
"Seventy-five!"
Jess looked in his wallet. He was out of cash.
"One-hundred dollars!" Kirk exclaimed, completely determined.
"Mom, help! I don't have any more money!"
"Have no fear!" Lorelai began digging through her purse. She first pulled out two Ones and gave them to him. "A gum wrapper," she threw it out, "a receipt from Rue 21," she threw it out, "one of those evergreen car air-freshener thingies. How did I get one of those?" She threw the tree-shaped item on the ground. "Ooh! Here's a ten and some change!" She handed him the money and continued to sort through her bag.
"One-hundred going once, going twice . . ." Taylor was about to end the bidding.
"Mom hurry!"
Lorelai gasped. "Would you look at that? My Very Berry M.A.C. lipstick! I've been looking for this for a month!"
"MOTHER!"
"SOLD to Kirk for one-hundred dollars!" Taylor hit the podium with his gavel, and the bidding was officially over.
With a huge grin on his face Kirk went to claim his prize . . .lunch with Dana. "Yea! Quiche is my favorite! I hope its as good as Mother's."
"Kirk!" Jess cried, annoyed to no end. "What the hell?"
He just looked at Jess curiously.
"That was Dana's basket! You know, Dana? Dana Forrester? My girlfriend Dana?!"
Kirk bowed his head guiltily. "I . .like quiche."
Dana then walked over to the two men. "Can we talk about this?"
"No! I won the quiche fair and square! I outbid Jess." Kirk whined.
"Kirk, you can keep the quiche. Jess and I will eat something else. Just let us eat lunch together." Dana haggled.
"Dana, that's breaking tradition!"
She glared at him. "What are you talking about, Jess?"
"You have to eat lunch with whomever the highest bidder is. Those are the rules. Dana, we can't break the rules!"
"Jess, you actually want me to eat lunch with Kirk!" She was growing exasperated.
"No, but there's nothing we can do about it."
She sighed feeling completely defenseless, knowing that arguing with him was pointless.
"Fine!" She firmly grabbed Kirk by the arm. "Let's go have lunch Kirk!"
She marched off with a firm grip on Kirk, who was staring at Jess like a sad puppy hoping that he would save him. Jess just walked off towards his mother.
"I'm sorry, kiddo." Lorelai empathized.
"It's okay. I hate quiche." He muttered. Then, he glanced sideways and something caught his eye. Or someone. He saw Rory crossing the street from the Diner to join the crowd in the square. He laughed inwardly. Earlier that day, when he asked her about coming to the auction, her words were "Not a snowball's chance in hell, Gilmore." He then turned to Taylor who was bringing out the next basket. The bidding was going to start at five dollars.
"Five dollars." A voice called from the crowd.
He turned and looked at Rory again, who saw him and smirked. He raised his eyebrows and she smiled. It was her basket.
"Five dollars! Do I have ten dollars?"
He was about to speak up when he heard a familiar voice perk up.
"Twenty dollars!" It was Chuck Presby. He hated Chuck Presby.
"Well," Taylor chuckled, "I have twenty dollars. Will someone give me twenty-five?"
He wasn't sure why, whether he was trying to compete with Chuck or what, but in a flare of rage, Jess spoke completely irrationally. "Eighty-seven dollars and . . .thirty-one . . .two . . .three . . . thirty-three cents. Eighty-seven dollars and thirty-three cents!" It was all the money he had on him. His mother spun her head around like he had lost his mind, so did Rory, so did the entire town.
"That's quite an interesting bid! I have eighty-seven dollars and thirty-three cents going once . . .twice . . .sold to Jess for eighty-seven dollars and thirty-three cents."
"You didn't have to do that." Rory told him, meeting Jess when he got her basket from Taylor.
"That's okay. I wanted to. Chuck Presby is an asshole." He replied bluntly.
She chuckled. "That's true. I admire your brutal honesty."
"Thanks. Let's go eat. You know how much I love Cheese Nips and Malimars."
"Yes, I do." She laughed as the two walked towards there favorite spot, the bridge, with the whole town watching them as they left.
"Come on! You've gotta pick!" He insisted.
"Nope. Impossible. That's like picking your favorite movie or favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry's."
He smirked. "Scarface and Cherry Garcia."
"'Well, say 'ello to my lit'le friend.'" She quoted in her best Pacino accent.
"Please! Favorite song? You've got to have a favorite song!"
"I told you it's too hard to pick, but if I must, it's a tie between Ziggy Stardust, Guns of Brixton, and Stairway to Heaven."
"Bowie, The Clash, and Zeppelin? From a girl? You are my new best friend!"
"I like what I like. That's including Sex Pistols, Johnny Cash, and Smashing Pumpkins."
"Cool on the Pistols. Cash is an icon, but Billy Corgan? What were you thinking?"
"That he's a song-writing genius. You just can't see the obvious."
"Obvious that he whines too damn much! More so than an indie record."
She grimaced."Not to sound like a Valley girl, but emo? Gag me with a spoon!"
"Just because you can't appreciate Death Cab, the Thrills, and Sno Patrol doesn't mean that their music isn't worth giving a try."
"Whatever. You can just go on and listen to your Dashboard Confessional. Emo, please. The only thing that bothers me more is all that Joan Baez, Dave Clark Five sixties folk shit. All they had to say was let's stop the war in Vietnam with flowers and loving everybody and holding hands!" She exclaimed, grabbing his hand for effect.
When she realized what she had done, they looked at each other, two sets of eyes dilated, neither of them wanting to let go.
Well? What did you think? I hope you liked it. I've been so happy with the great response. I would love it if you would all continue. In other words, R/R. Peace and love — moi.