A/N: Hey guys! This is more of a filler chapter than anything – next up is some more Lorelai fun and some confrontation time! woot! Enjoy and don't forget to review :) :)

Chapter Nine:

Remember when playing Pretend with your friends was the most fun you ever had?

Like when you'd get to be the fairy princess locked in the tower, plotting against the evil sorcerer who put you there…

Or when you'd get to be on safari hunting the wild and ferocious gnomes in Babette's Jungle…

Or when you'd get to be Dorothy Parker and kill yourself in overtly dramatical ways…

Rory frowned.

Maybe I was a weird kid.

Maybe I just didn't play the games right.

She looked around the dinner table at her companions.

Maybe I was just used to playing Pretend on my own

…but it looks like we're all playing now.

Take a step back. The scene is familiar. The sturdy wood of Lane and Dave's dinner table is once more laden with gourmet goodies and fine wine. Not so sturdy is the very ground it rests upon, the foundations of the lives of those surrounding it. The lives, the lies, the veiled eyes, the games of pretend; all rife with danger. A danger that could detonate itself with the smallest slip-up. The new guy is perfect. A poster-boy pediatrician with a gentle nature and a gentle heart. What people don't know won't hurt them. Right? Lane gave Pete a picture of a soft-looking, beautiful, young woman and promised him a delicious home-cooked meal, what single man in his right mind would refuse? Lane didn't mention to him that the girl in question was a high-powered, prickly, divorcee. Pretending used to just be a game from our past. Somehow its worked its way into the games of our present. Pretending Rory is an ideal date, pretending she is the ideal host, pretending she has the perfect marriage… it was all pretend. But she figured he was best left in the dark. What she doesn't realize is that she's not the only one there pretending. What she doesn't realize is that she's right there in the dark with him.

"More wine?" Lane beamed at Pete, "It's cheap, nasty, and from Napa!"

She proffered the bottle at the man opposite her, her smiled faltering as Dave drawled, "Yes, that's it, Dear, get the guest drunk on cheap, nasty wine. That'll make him think we're super classy!"

"'Cause you don't already sound 'super' sophisticated as it is?" Rory teased, raising an eyebrow at him from across the table.

Dave stuck his tongue out at her and tossed a breadstick in her direction.

"It's delicious," Pete intoned quietly to Lane, hoping to ease the embarrassed rouge from her face, "but I really don't drink that much."

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, an awkward silence fell upon the table as the others eyed up their drained glasses.

"So! Petey! We've barely heard a word out of you all night!" Dave exclaimed, sitting up quickly and leaning earnestly towards him. "We're all dying to hear more. Tell us about yourself – family? friends? fornications?"

Rory snorted.

Lane kicked her husband under the table.

Pete demurred and turned to Rory.

"My stories of friends and family pale in comparison to tales of your home, Rory. Stars Hollow does sound magical," he smiled and took hold of her hand, "I'd love to see it sometime."

Startled by his show of affection, she stammered, "w-we have a great web site…"

Pete burst into laughter, "you are so witty! 'We have a great web site,' that's golden! You media-types always were the comedy in the group!"

A strangled giggling sound came from Lane, "that's our Gilmore – laugh-a-minute Lorelai, we called her!" She stood up and started collecting plates from the table, "Rory, could you help me with the dishes?"

Pete stood up immediately, "Oh, Lane, don't worry, I'll help!"

"No!" She sqwaked, then coughed, "I mean… no, us girls'll do just fine! Come on, Rory."

Like a petulant child, Rory clumped the plates together and lumbered after Lane into the Kitchen.

The diminuative brunette rounded on her as soon as she was in the door,

"We have a great web site?" she hissed, "are you completely socially retarded?"

Affronted, Rory dumped the plates in the sink, "I'm sorry, but I was a little thrown by his sickly sweet come-on! It was either say something stupid or get myself an insulin shot!"

The two glared at eachother before Lane sighed heavily and pulled some chocolate ice-cream out of the freezer.

"Rore," she said, sadly shaking her head, "he's a nice guy. He's fabulous to look at. He has a good job. He doesn't have any sort of psychological or sexually transmitted disease. And he likes you. Why is that so weird for you?"

She pulled a chair up to the kitchen counter and began eating straight from the tub.

Rory hesitated a moment, before grabbing a spoon and joining her. "I don't know… He seems too perfect. I guess I'm just afraid he'll drop a chainsaw on me in a stair-well or something."

Lane cackled, "to be fair, Christian Bale does have a great butt in that scene."

"Oh, so I can be American Psycho-d but you'd be ok with it because Pete has a nice ass?"

"Absolutely."

They both started giggling.

"Seriously, Rory, if you're not interesting in dating someone as great as Pete, who are you going to date? You can't hide in the closet forever."

"Maybe I should turn gay!" Rory laughed.

"That's not what I meant, I –"

"Lane, I know," she sighed, "things are just really complicated in my head right now."

Lane furrowed her brow and looked her friend over, "Complicated? How? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Unable to stop herself, Rory blushed, "No."

Dropping her spoon, Lane jumped up and down In her seat, "There is! Oh my God, Rory, are you seeing someone?"

"No!" Rory shook her head, adamantly.

"Oh my God, oh my God! Does your mother know? Is he cute? Is the sex any good?"

"I'm not –"

"Oh that means it is! Tell me everything!" Lane rested her elbows on the counter and propped up her chin, eagerly awaiting details.

Rory shook her head, speechless.

"Ladies, are we indulging in our cliché's a little early in the evening?" A voice echoed across the kitchen as Dave appeared in the doorway.

Rory pounced on her chance to change the subject, "Surely you didn't think ice-cream and gossiping is limited to any specific time of day?"

"No, I know you eat frozen dessert for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and assorted snacks throughout the day," he smirked, "its our poor dairy-deprived guest I'm concerned about!"

Lane flew out of her seat, taking the ice cream out of her comerade's hands, "Oh, poor Pete, I better take this tub out. Rore, can you get some bowls?"

Rory sighed dramatically and made after her with the crockery, giggling, "I feel like her slave tonight: 'CinderRory, get the plates! CinderRory, get the bowls!'"

Dave swooped in close, caught her elbow and whispered in her ear, "I'll make you my slave later."

He nipped her ear softly and slid an arm around her,

"Dave," she gasped, her breath hitching up inside her throat.

Swallowing and taking a deep breath, she gave him a warning look, "we need to talk."

"I know," he said somberly, pulling her in gently and breathing in the smell of her hair.

"RORY!" Lane's voice bounced off the walls in the hallway, "Hurry up, the ice-cream will melt!"

He sighed and dropped his hand from her waist, letting her go. She walked past him and into the dining room, her fake smile plastered back onto her face.

Take a step back. The game is afoot, dear friends. Rory is once more accepting dinner-dates, pretending she is still looking for a lover. Dave is still accommodating his wife, pretending she hasn't already found a lover. Lane is clueless of the illicit dealings happening right under her nose, pretending that she herself is dutiful and blameless. What will happen with these lives? We can not know. Lane played with fire, and her husband has now caught the flame. But these fires… they will burn. These lies… they weave a tangled web. And someone is going to get caught. Someone is going to get strangled. Someone is going to get burned. And when they do, which of these liars will finally see the truth?

a/n: hope you liked it - more to come soon!