Kismet Chapter 22: Things That Start With the Letter D, a gilmore girls fanfic

22 - Things That Start With the Letter D

It was a little after ten o'clock in the morning when Marty made his way out of bed, deciding to sleep in for a change. It was a Sunday anyway, so resting was more or less a demand from up on high, and who was Marty to disobey such a command? Dressed only in his joggers and t-shirt, the architect wandered downstairs into the kitchen to grab himself a coffee and bagel as was his customary Sunday morning breakfast. When he reached the coffee machine, Marty found a pre-sliced bagel waiting on a small dish with a note from Andy pinned to it.

[Morning, sleepy head! Meeting Lexie and the guys to discuss moving new tour to March after the wedding. Coffee's ready, just hit the 'on' button. Sorry, but you gotta toast your own bagel though. Love you, baby! Yours, always. Andrea Harrison]

"Andrea Harrison, hmm?" Marty smiled, liking the way that her new name slid off his tongue. After doing what the note said, Marty took the message and was about to toss it in the drawer where they stored several of the many other little notes written to each other over their three years together, when he noticed more writing hastily scribbled on the back.

[Oh, yeah! Rory called. She gets back tonight and wants to treat us to a congrats dinner sometime this week. I'll leave the details to you, babe.]

"Huh," Marty frowned, wondering at the odd mix of relief and apprehension that this news brought him. He shook his head and decided not to dwell on it, choosing instead to read the sports section of the Tribune while eating his light breakfast. After finishing both his food and reading material, the tall architect stood up and headed into the living room in search of the rest of his paper.

Upon entering the living though, Marty was surprised to discover that Andy had left her beloved Yamaha P-200 keyboard sitting on top of the coffee table. We really need to buy that thing its own stand or something, because that coffee table is going to snap under its weight one of these days, the architect thought, then snorted in amusement at the memory of when Andy had first shown him the instrument after buying it.

"You paid how much for it?" Marty had asked in shock.

"Six hundred dollars, plus my beaten up old Toyota," the blonde announced with pride.

He frowned at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You traded a working vehicle for this?"

"Hey, these things usually cost around two grand, so I think I got a pretty good deal, mister," she defended. "Besides, that Toyota was on its last legs and I can always catch rides with you to wherever I need to go now that we're dating."

"If you say so," he shrugged before taking hold of the item in question to carry the thing to his truck. "Damn, this thing is heavier than it looks!"

"You drop that and we're totally over, mister," the blonde warned with a laugh.

"My back is really feeling the love here, Andrea," he complained, lugging the purchase into the tiny 'backseat' area of his Ford Ranger with moderate difficulty.

Returning from his reverie with a wistful sigh, Marty sat down on the couch in front of the keyboard and began to absently hit random keys. He was mildly surprised to find the instrument still on before playing a smattering of something classical that he couldn't remember the name of, smirking at how easily his fingers recalled the lessons that his old piano teacher, Miss Baumgardner, had installed in him back in high school.

He glanced up at the ceiling, his thoughts wandering no place in particular until for some reason Marty remembered the almost broken expression on Rory's face before she left to visit her family, and also remembered feeling guilty because somehow the architect knew he'd been responible for it. He took a deep breath, then placed his fingers on the keys again and began to play the first song that sprang to mind.

'A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.'

'I don't wanna waste the weekend,
If you don't love me, pretend.
A few more hours, then it's time to go.
And as my train rolls down the East coast,
I wonder how you keep warm.
It's too late to cry, too broken to move on.'

'Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep.
Don't take what you don't need, from me.'

'Just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.'

'Misplaced trust and old friends,
Never counting the regrets,
By the grace of God, I do not rest at all.
And New England as the leaves change;
The last excuse that I'll claim,
I was a boy who loved a woman like a little girl.'

'Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep,
Don't take what you don't need, from me.'

'It's just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my...'

'Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no,
Heaven doesn't seem far away.
Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no,
Heaven doesn't seem far away...'

'Aoooh...
Aoooh...'

"That's a rather curious and melancholic choice for someone in your position," Dan remarked, surprising his younger brother. "And for some reason, I can't help but wonder if a certain blue eyed reporter is behind this little display."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Marty denied rather defensively, not liking how close to the mark the older Harrison brother had hit. "And shouldn't you be on your way to the airport by now, you ass-hat?"

"Oh, I was, but halfway there I realized that I'd forgotten something," Dan shrugged, walking over to the recliner to sit down. "But let's get to that later. What I'm wondering right now is why you stopped playing, because you were always so damned good at it."

"Dad," said Marty in a hostile tone.

"Oh, right, he always said you were wasting your time with the piano, didn't he?" Dan nodded, leaning back in the armchair. "I can't believe you listened to the bastard, especially when it turns out that he's not even your real dad and all."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me of that bit of information," Marty grumbled, narrowing his eyes.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," his brother said, arms raised in surrender. "It's not my fault Mom screwed around on Dad with Uncle Jerry, though I can't really blame her. Dad's a dick."

"Yeah, I suppose," Marty conceded, not really able to argue with that fact.

"Anyhow, before I head back to good ol' California, I wanted to give you this," Dan said, reaching into his jacket to produce a vanilla colored envelope. He held it up to a now standing Marty, who took it with a skeptical expression on his face. "It's a little engagement present from your loving big brother."

"Should I be worried?" Marty joked.

"Yes, but not about the gift," Dan retorted, smirking up at him.

He frowned back, a little annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Marty, Marty, Marty," his older brother sighed, rising from his seat while shaking his head as if in bewilderment. "For someone with an Ivy League education, you can be awfully thick sometimes, you know that?"

"You can leave now," the younger of the two muttered, not liking where this conversation was heading.

"Alright, fine," Dan said with his arms up in capitulation, moving towards the door. "See you at your wedding, Lil Bro."

Finally, I'm rid of him! Marty thought in relief, releasing a breath that he didn't even realize he'd been holding.

"Speaking of which," Dan said, popping his head around the corner to startle Marty with his sudden reappearance. "Are you sure you're marrying the right girl?"

"Get the hell out of here!" Marty snapped, finally having enough of his brother's crap. He chased Dan until he reached the door, stopping there to watch the older Harrison boy hastily enter a cab and drive away. He slapped his hand against the doorframe, angry at letting Dan get under his skin like always, and tried to forget his sibling's parting words.

Of course, I'm marrying the right girl, Marty insisted to himself while re-entering the townhouse, slamming the door shut with far more force than necessary. Why the hell would he ask me that?

Special thanks goes to Iscah McKrae, who helped me decide on the song (Ron Pope's 'A Drop In the Ocean') when I couldn't make up my mind. Thanks, girl, you rock it hardcore style! Like, with a rake and a jar of mayonaisse! That's how hardcore you rock!

Anyhow, reviews are appreciated. Thanks.