A/N: sorry about the first chapter how the breaks were weird. When I wrote it, I put in stars to indicate where the story switched story lines. I just realized that it showed up all jumpy and confusing. I apologize. Thanks so much for sticking with my story. I'll try a new way to indicate story switching.

Oh-and if you're thinking that Lorelai is rather out of character, I've done that on purpose. She'll snap into her "normal" (aka tv) self. Right now she's just being the Lorelai that comes from living in high society her whole life. She's just a little stifled right now.

And this is a bit of a trory. There will be some trory action (don't I always come through) but I'm not making any guarantees as to how this turns out.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Gilmore girls. If I did, the season finale wouldn't be this week.

Chapter Two: The Coffee Blues

Lorelai woke up with a pounding headache. The champagne once again had left her with its unlovable side effects. She needed coffee. Coffee always made things look brighter.

She rolled out of bed and found herself staring straight through the open door into Chris' room. His sleeping form was visible and his bear leg was hanging over the mattress. Lorelai crossed the room and shut the door, closing out the memories of their nocturnal activities. For the millionth time she wondered at their marriage. They slept together only when the intoxication of parties made them forget the awkwardness that shrouded their marriage. And Lorelai never stayed in his bed. She also never remembered to close the door between their rooms.

Lorelai hastily pulled on her dressing gown. She didn't feel like waiting for her maid to bring up the coffee. A little walk would clear her head anyway. She walked down the back staircase that led straight to the kitchen. It provided assurance that she wouldn't run into her mother. Emily refused to take a walk down the servant corridors but she had no problem terrifying the servants themselves. She believed it was her duty as 'Mistress of the Manor.'

The kitchen was warm and cozy against the chilly spring morning. Sookie smiled at Lorelai and pulled out the best chair.

"Morning Lorelai," she said, crossing the kitchen to get a teacup and saucer. She passed by the fine china and selected a thick, plain cup that was intended for the servant's use. Sookie was well aware of the fact that Lorelai was clumsy in the morning. And because Emily gave her hell when a fine cup broke, Sookie served her younger mistress with the cheap china.

"There are some fresh muffins," Sookie said as she set the cup down in front of Lorelai.

"Just coffee Sookie," Lorelai answered, her head resting in her hands.

"I'm afraid Mistress Emily drank the last of it," Sookie responded, bringing the dough she was kneading over to the table where her friend sat.

"There's no more?" Lorelai replied, whining a bit.

"We're brewing more. Do you want tea instead?"

"Tea? Are you crazy? Tea is for British people."

"Come on Lorelai, tea is just as strong as coffee."

"You're only saying that because you're named after tea."

"I am not!" Sookie said, her bubbly voice provoking Lorelai into better spirits.

"Yes you are. You know the song."

"What song?"

"I used to sing it to Rory when she was little and we played tea party."

"What song?" Sookie insisted.

"Polly put the kettle on

Polly put the kettle on

Polly put the kettle on

We'll all have tea."

Sookie laughed at Lorelai's singing. "My name's not Polly."

"I'm not done yet, let me finish.

Sookie take the kettle off

Sookie take the kettle off

Sookie take the kettle off

They've all gone home."

She stopped kneading the dough and sat back against the chair. "Well that's depressing."

"What is?" Lorelai asked. Her head was back down in her arms.

"Well, I only clean up after people. Why couldn't my mother have named me Polly, I mean, Polly gets to make people happy and serve them tea. I only get to wash the empty tea pot."

"It's just a song Sookie," Lorelai responded.

"It just shows how people don't like names that start with letters in the second half of the alphabet."

"What?"

"S is in the second half of the alphabet. There's a prejudice."

"So is P."

"What's P?"

"For Polly."

"What?"

"Are you sure there's no coffee?" Lorelai asked, once again lifting her head.

"Oh, sorry." Sookie stood up and carried the dough to the counter. "LUKE!" she bellowed.

Lorelai winced and rubbed her head.

There was a large crash and the sound of muffled profanity drifted from the adjoining room. "WHAT?"

"IS THERE ANY COFFEE?" Sookie yelled back.

"Sookie…" Lorelai moaned.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Coffee?" Luke answered, poking his head around the door. He found what he was searching for and smiled at the mass of chocolate hair laying on the table. He sobered his face before anyone noticed. "Lorelai, its almost twelve in the afternoon. You really should stop drinking coffee all day."

"It's my house, dammit," she answered unenthusiastically.

Luke was unfazed by her unladylike cursing. "No, Lorelai, this is your mother's house. She agrees with me."

Lorelai's head shot up again. She tried to glare at Luke, but as always, failed. His rough features always softened her anger. He was right. Even though she lived there she exercised little influence over her mother's will. She did not however, have the same problem with Luke.

"Luke," she answered calmly. "Now you know that if you don't give me coffee I'll be very mean all day. I'll be mean to Emily-"

"You're always mean to Emily."

"I'll be mean to Rory-"

"You're never mean to Rory."

"I'll be mean to Christopher-"

Lorelai stopped herself, and Luke didn't reply. The stared at each other for a moment. She had crossed the unwritten boundary that characterized their relationship.

"You would never be mean to Rory," Luke continued. The moment had passed, and as always, they would pretend Chris had never been mentioned. When it was just them in the kitchen, Christopher did not exist. The idea or Christopher reminded both of them how inappropriate it was that Lorelai was sitting downstairs, bantering with the servants, and dressed only in her dressing gown no less.

"Even if there was no more coffee left in the world, you wouldn't be mad at Rory."

"Are you going to test me on that one?"

Luke gave out an exaggerated sigh. "One cup. But you can't have your mother finding out or you'll be conducting interviews for a new chef."

"What would I do without your chicken?"

"You'd eat some other guys chicken."

"No, no I couldn't. It would be sacrilegious. I would never eat again."

"My chicken's not that good."

"Yes Luke. Your chicken is that good. I would die without it. It would be like-"

Luke's eye caught the clock. He needed to take the rolls out of the oven. "Yes, you would die," he answered sarcastically. " So please, only one cup."

He poured her the desired cup of coffee and watched as she savored the first sip.

"You know what would be better than coffee?" she asked.

"There's something even better than coffee?"

"Ummhmm," she nodded, sniffing the coffee. "Coffee and a muffin."

"I knew you would want the muffin!" Sookie cried from the pantry. She hustled out and plopped a fat muffin in front of Lorelai.

Luke went back into his kitchen, but left the door open a crack so that he could hear her voice. His day was perfect.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

It was Christmas day and Rory was dressed in a beautiful silk gown. Tristan thought she looked like an angel. They found themselves under the mistletoe and shared a sweet kiss. His ring sparkled on her finger and happiness flooded through Rory. The ring was the best Christmas gift she had ever received.

"Rory," Emily said, a little sternly.

Rory looked up in surprise at her Grandmother.

"What were you daydreaming about darling?" Emily asked. "I can't blame you though. That ring is enough to make anyone forget what they were doing."

Rory glanced back at her ring and nodded.

"Logan does know fine diamonds, doesn't he?"

"Yes Grandma. It's a beautiful ring. I am sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was wondering if you had given any thought to the color of the bridesmaid dresses. I was thinking that since the wedding will be next Christmas that dark blue would be lovely. Red is a good Christmas color, but is too inappropriate for a wedding. Deep blue would look lovely against the white of your gown, and does so remind me of winter. What do you think?"

"Blue is a lovely color," Rory answered. But she wasn't imagining the blue dresses on her friends; she was remembering the deep blue of Tristan's eyes.