One Less Mistake
Summary: What if Lorelai hadn't gotten pregnant until she was 20? What if she had agreed to marry Christopher when she did? AU.
Pairings: Rory/Dean, Lor/Chris
Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB
AN: I made Jess not be a jerk, so Logan's not going to be a jerk either. I don't like either of them at all, but I love Luke, and he's kind of a jerk in this, so how I actually feel about the characters isn't exactly how I'm portraying them (except for Dean and Rory), at least not in this story.
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"Remember, on our first anniversary, when we decided that we'd have a party after one of our parents died?" Lorelai laughed as she took another sip from the tequila bottle.
"Yes, god, yes!" Chris agreed, "I could never actually do that."
"Neither could I."
"We were awful."
"Were? We still are. Hey, let's think up one of your Dad's negative traits for each letter of the alphabet."
"Seems a little mean."
"We've already exceeded the limit of our pity for the guy. We drank the first half of the bottle that way."
"Okay, A, he was absent."
"Ooh, B, he was a bully."
"C, he was cold."
"D. Dreary."
"E. Evil."
"F. Freedom-inhibiting."
"G. Umm, gross."
"H. Hangover-inducing."
"So true. I, igloo-ish."
"You could've said icy."
"But where's the fun in that?"
"J. Jarring."
"K. Kuwait-y."
"L. Laryngitis."
"Laryngitis is not a trait!"
"Neither is Kuwait-y."
"Mmmmoving on to 'M.' Measely."
"Measly?"
"No, measle-y, like the measles."
"N. Nameless."
"O, 'orrible, like in 'My Fair Lady.'"
"P. Preeny."
"Q. Quack doctor, 'cause he couldn't do anything."
"R. Rear end of a donkey."
"S. Sleep-inducing."
"You stole my inducing, and I'm taking it back with, drumroll please, trainwreck-inducing for T."
"U, for unkindly."
"V, he vacillates."
"No he didn't."
"Well, maybe he did."
"He's your father. You should know how set in his ways he is."
"V, he doesn't vacillate enough."
"Much better. I feel mean."
"I feel mean, too."
"Why are we doing this?" Chris looked at her incredulously.
"It was your idea."
"Well, you know me better than to listen to every stupid, mean idea I have!"
"You're very persuasive."
"I did no persuading!"
"So?"
"How can I be persuasive if I did no persuading?"
"You have a persuasive face."
"Well, what's my face asking you to do right now?"
"I don't know, tell me," he said, choking. He knew exactly what she wanted. She moved closer, and he could feel her breath on his face.
"You don't really need me to do that, do you?" she asked, and he shook his head. He suddenly felt dizzy. Even as intoxicated as he was, he knew exactly what he was doing. He leaned over and kissed her.
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Rory drove through the streets, looking for a café that was open for Christmas. "It's hopeless," Topher moaned, "they'll all be closed."
"I know. But what are our options?"
"Hotel? Go visit your boyfriend?"
"Hotel, maybe, but we can't visit Dean. He's with Luke, and it would just be weird to tell Luke that we had to get out of the house so that his girlfriend could be alone with the man she's in love with and a bottle of tequila."
"Are they still dating?"
"I hope not, because if I know one thing about Mom and Dad, it's that they can't be in the same room alone without sleeping together, especially if alcohol is involved."
"Sure they can."
"Name a time."
"I can't think of one off the top of my head, but I'm sure that there must have been at least one time...maybe."
"Point is, we can't go to Dean, because that's just weird."
"Hotel at nine o'clock," Topher said helpfully, pointing.
"Look at the clock. It's after midnight," Rory tapped the little clock in her car.
"No, like they always say in spy movies. Straight ahead is twelve o'clock."
"There's no hotel at nine o'clock."
"There was when I said that. It's closer to seven now. And look, there's one at two o'clock."
"Okay, 007, let's go check it out."