Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue, I'll cry. ;p
Summary: Rory ponders an author's motives for things she cannot fathom.
Author's Note: This is for my beloved fan, Rory Forrester. I'm so sorry if I hurt your Narco feelings by posting some Trory, honey. I know that everyone might not understand how I can love two couples at the same time. Ultimately, I have to admit, that my heart follows both. In this fic, I try to explain myself. Not sure how good a job I did. But I hope you can forgive me, and continue to read my stories. I will work on my Narco stories next, just for you.
Another Note: Also for anybody who is following any of my stories. Thank you for being a fan.
Lorelai walked into Rory's room. "Do you think these baggy pants are too baggy?"
Rory sighed. "This is crap!"
"Does that mean you're jealous of my pants?"
Rory barely glanced her way. "What? Oh. They're fine."
"Do they make me look fat?"
"Well. Just checking. So what are you working on, hun?" She walked up behind her daughter who was seated at her desk in front of her laptop, staring at... something.
"There's this author. I read her work. I'm totally into her stories about a certain couple, and I just learned that she also writes stories about a rival couple. Isn't that nuts?"
Lorelai looked at her. "Seriously, this is the most boring conversation we've ever had."
Rory forgot about her troubles for a moment to argue, "I disagree. Our exchange about scented or unscented tampons in the store the other day speaks for itself."
"Ah, and its reputation precedes it."
"Exactly." Rory sighed, turning back to the computer. "I mean, it's like the 'Dawson's Creek' syndrome. Dawson and Joey or Pacey and Joey? Choose one and stick with it, or risk dodging many rocks!"
"You could never hit somebody with a rock. Have you witnessed your aim?"
"This one time," Rory said, again disagreeing, "I tossed a contaminated M&M into a trash can from like five feet away, and I totally scored that goal."
"Contaminated?" Lorelai furrowed her brow.
"I had dropped it onto the floor."
"So? Use the five second rule. Blow it off and stick it back in your mouth."
"This from the woman who never vacuums."
"This from the woman who's watched 'Dawson's Creek'."
Rory almost laughed, but quickly turned back to her laptop screen. "I'm so upset!" she insisted. "I feel so betrayed. I always read stories by this author, one of the few to write about my favorite couple. And here she is cheating on me, pairing the girl with a different guy. You can't be passionate about two different couples, you just can't!"
Lorelai pondered this for a moment. "Well, think about it. I mean, you've had more than one boyfriend. And you were totally into each of those relationships as it came along. You loved each of those boys as if they would be your last, and yet they weren't. Now here you are, savvy and single, reading instead of living."
"It's called living vicariously."
"Of course, you're right, I'm wrong, I just don't subscribe to your theory." She could see by Rory's slumped shoulders that she was clearly genuinely upset. "It's okay to have faith in more than one relationship for someone. Both relationships can be beautiful, in their own time, in their own way. Her usual couple may be the winner in the end, but it's okay to occasionally glance up from your focus and dabble in the idea of something different being beautiful, too. Just because this author writes about a couple that you don't understand, it doesn't mean she's abandoning your couple or negating their worth to each other."
Rory looked at her mother oddly. "Who are you and what have you done with my mom?"
"I am Dawson. Don't you recognize me? Oh wait, let me see if I can expand my forehead..."
"Aha! You've watched that show, too!"
"I have watched promos. Take a chill pill. Everybody knows what Dawson looks like."
Rory was gazing so sadly at her computer screen. "I want her to write more of my couple. I told her this. I don't know if she'll listen."
"She will if she knows what's good for her," said Lorelai, tapping her head with her pointer finger. "'Cause those with no more feedback from Rory? Doomed to wonder where she went."
"Oh I know, I give the best feedback. I am the most loyal fan."
"Behold: she who changes purses every three weeks. Loyal fan, all right."
"That merely demonstrates that I am loyal to purses in general, not particular ones."
"You need to look up what loyalty is."
"You need to vacuum!"
"It's no fun using the five second rule if you don't have to blow dirt off your food."
Rory wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I cannot believe we are related."
"Believe it. Although I have to admit, there are so many of my attributes that you just didn't pick up on yourself."
"Attributes." Rory chuckled. "Right. Like your glass shattering singing voice."
"It makes for quite a church service."
"I don't think you should sing in public."
"Don't you have some feedback to write, some disgusting bad couple to read?"
Rory waved Lorelai away. "Shoo! I have work to do."
"Fine, but remember what I said," insisted Lorelai as she slowly stepped backwards toward Rory's open bedroom door. She upped her vocal chords a notch, making them squeaky and girly before saying, "Maybe she's just loyal to couples in general, not any couple in particular."
"That was a horrible impression of me," Rory said, no longer looking her mother's way.
"I'd be careful what you say around me, missy. I might open my mouth and sing."
"Goodbye!" announced Rory, getting up to stalk towards the door and close it in her smiling mother's face with that grin wide as a Cheshire cat's.
Rory sat back down at her computer, and heaved a big sigh. She thought about what her mother had said. She thought about loyalty in general, its definition, the love that could splinter off from it. She was so hurt that an author whose work she read on a regular basis has snubbed her so, unintentionally. She almost didn't want to forgive that author for ruining a day of reading for her.
But in remembering some of this author's stories, she realized that the loyalty was present in the stories, even if not the focus factor in all of the stories. Rory sighed. Perhaps she could forgive, even if she couldn't forget.
She squirmed around in her seat, getting comfortable, and held her fingertips poised over the keyboard. And as she set them onto the keys, she began an email to this author.
Please don't forget about my couple... They're my favorite. You can write others, but please don't stray too far..."