you have just entered a new world for the very first time. cue twilight zone…no wait…outer limits…music this world, friends, is my world. a world full of ridiculously long author's notes which ramble for so long that once you're done reading them all, you'll realize you drifted off somewhere between the 3rd and 7th lines. somewhere in between these numerous author's note, there will be some actual fan fic, which will repel, disgust, and/or make you want to stick a 'kick me' sign on my back…which would NOT be funny, since I have asthma. fingers crossed there are some of you who might actually tolerate my fan fic enough to read several chapters before showering 3 or 4 times. I know, I have great expectations. but hey, a girl can dream, right?
little known fact: you may have already subconsciously been introduced to my wit and cleverness before, as I used to review fics as Oy-wITh-thE-POodLes-aLReDy! and cAndYmAN, but the candyman one was like once when I had a momentary lapse of sanity. those lapses are happening more and more often, come to think of it…
also, did you know butt models make 10,000 dollars a day? of course you did.
I haven't written fan fiction before PERSAY…but im not a stranger here at good old fanfiction DOT net. i've been reading fan fic here… a lurker, if you will…since, what, about October of 04? and of course, the cast of Gilmore Girls comes to me so often in my dreams without my even asking them to and make their own little fan fics in my head. weird, I know, but hey, you can't control what those crazy kids do, eh?
so…the fic. it's a LL, Javajunkie, whatever floats YOUR boat. (a/n within a/n: whenever I say that, I feel like I should say dirty afterwards) you'll come to expect nothing else from me. I'm a Luke and Lorelai… 'shipper' if you will, but the term 'shipper' really irritates me. It's just so…shipper?
and it's a what if type fic because I just adore those. The theme here is the dance marathon…The Shoot Gilmore, Don't They? And what would happen if luke danced with lorelai? Yeah. We all know.
anyway. here you go.
DISCLAIMER! WOO: so ok…I have a confession. Gilmore Girls is NOT mine. I know! Shocking. I did NOT want you to find out this way, and I am SO sorry. But you'll work through the pain. You're a strong person. (Some lines mine, some not mine. You figure out the ratio.)
Ok so really, now, here's the fic…
Chapter One: Fingers Crossed for Footloose
Rory sighed. "Okay. I'll tell you what. I was supposed to work on the Franklin this weekend with Paris."
Lorelai leaped up from her seat, clinging to her daughter. "But?"
"I will ask her if we can reschedule," said Rory deliberately. "If she says yes, then I will dance with you."
"…I was wondering if there was anyway we could move this Saturday's Franklin thing to next Saturday."
Paris placed her pen down slowly and looked at Rory. "Next Saturday? You want me to move the most important Franklin meeting of our Chilton careers to next week, depleting us of precious work hours, to go some hoedown?"
"Well…it's not exactly a…"
"Rory, this is not just some thing you can take lightly and just dismiss at a drop a hat, like Tiffany's birthday party or a town shindig. This is the real world of journalism. It's rough and it's hardcore, and with this kind of behavior, I'm not sure if you're ready for this. I mean, god, Rory! We have a schedule! You want me to uproot our schedule so you can go swing dancing with your mother? Who are you, Susie Q?"
Rory raised her eyebrows. 'I'm guessing yesterday didn't turn as planned?"
Without lifting her head, Paris mumbled, "Don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about Jamie. Tall, goes to Princeton, took you out to coffee yesterday? Ringing any bells?"
"Look, Rory, just because I denied approval for your suggestion, it doesn't mean that anything else is wrong."
Just then the bell rang. Perfect timing, as always.
"Are we done here? Good. See you on Saturday, Rory." Paris made a quick exit from the room followed by Madeline and Louise.
Rory bounced into the kitchen, following the sound of her mother's voice.
"…So I was thinking that for our dresses we could go for a kind of retro, look-at-me, I-can-still-be-hot-while-wearing-50-year-old clothing scenario. Thoughts?"
"I can't do it."
Lorelai lifted her head. "What? Aw, honey, you said…"
"I know, but Paris was in a deadly bulldog kind of a mood, and when I asked her she practically bit my head off."
"Here's to hoping she doesn't have rabies." She handed Rory a soda, which she quickly gulped back. "But seriously, where am I going to find a dance partner on such short notice? What do I do know?"
"Pray that the cast of Footloose decides to visit town," suggested Rory. "Come on, let's go to Luke's. The friendly vibe there is perfect for trouble shooting."
"Plus, there's that whole COFFEE thing."
Cue jingling bells. Lorelai and Rory stumbled into Luke's diner and slouched onto the counter. Lorelai heaved a sigh, her head on her hand. A similar sigh escaped from Rory next to her. Luke came up to them, eyebrows raised as he poured the coffee. "What's with you two?"
Lorelai looked over at Rory. "I'm not sure what's her problem, but mine is my severe lack of a dancing partner."
"You kiddin' me? This crazy thing is tomorrow. Where are you gonna find a partner now?"
"Note the heavy sighing and depressed face."
"Ah. Right," Luke acknowledges. He turned to Rory. "And you, what's your story?"
Rory rolled her eyes. "Mom was so depressed walking over here. She started talking about how this whole no-dance-partner leads to something… which leads to some other things which ultimately lead to eternal unhappiness and then death. I'm not sure how her vague reasoning worked, but some how she got me all down too. Unconscious solidarity at work, I guess."
"My powers mystify even me at times," shrugged Lorelai, smiling up at Luke.
"Everything about you mystifies me, Lorelai," grumbled Luke, stepping away to clear up some other table. Lorelai grabbed hold of his arm. "Whoa- wa- wait. Slow down, Skippy. I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition for me? Interesting. Unless you're going to ask me if I'll dance with you, in which case the proposition would be extremely dull and pointless."
"Come on, Luke, just hear me out here…"
"Lorelai, I will not dance with you! I have never participated in one on these insane town idiocy conventions and I am not about to start now."
Rory piped in with a quick "Well, there was that one time you bought Mom her basket because of all the creepy ghost-busting, snorkeling men Miss Patty set her up with. And the rummage sale, where you not only donated clothes but put up a sign in your window."
"Not helping the cause over here, Rory," added Luke.
"Luke, pleeaaaase. I need you! You know I wouldn't ask you this unless it was completely necessary. And it is."
"You need to dance? What, is that, like, a genetic mutation for you or something? The need to dance for 24 hours straight?"
"Luke. You know you are going to give in sooner or later, and it will be easier on both of us if you make it sooner." She gripped his arm tighter and stared at him. "Final please?"
Luke looked away and let out a trademark deep breath. "I'm not wearing a fruity outfit."
"Absolutely not! More than fair!" cried Lorelai, leaning over to Rory and squealing in delight.
"And I'm not doing any crazy dance moves."
"Right, keep your patented Luke Danes break dancing for another occasion." She and Rory giggled, grabbing their purses. "Here, look, I'll even pay you extra today. See!"
"Wow, a nickel. Must be my lucky day," said Luke dryly.
"I will see you at my house at 5:30 sharp tomorrow morning!" crowed Lorelai as the girls strode out the door. Lorelai paused. "And you know…a fruity outfit might look…"
"Alright, going, going." She flashed him one more huge grin as she disappeared through the diner doors.
Thoughts? Remember, your reviews will either make me or break me.