Title: a many-splendored thing
Pairing: Luke/Lorelai
Word Count: 531
Summary: Lorelai discusses the repercussions of watching Moulin Rouge before bed. Luke gets to listen.
Author's Note: I am on this insane Gilmore Girls kick lately, and my soul keeps on exploding with love for Luke and Lor, and this is the inevitable result of that. One day, I will attempt to write a fic with them that actually has narration, rather than just dialogue. This one was intended to be, but damn it, they talk too fast. Can I really be expected to get a word in edgewise?

--

"—and you know, there's a part of me that's glad this happened—"

"That makes one of us."

"—because secretly, I've always wondered: what are the consequences of watching Moulin Rouge before you go to bed? Surely you can't get off scot-free, with all the sparkles and the midgets in top hats and Tinkerbelle and Kylie Minogue's improbable love child fluttering around. I mean, something's gotta come back to haunt you, right? And then, last night, my suspicions were confirmed. Taylor."

"Oh brother."

"In a corset."

"Yikes."

"With a feather boa."

"Lorelai—"

"Gettin' his Christina Aguilera on in the worst of all possible ways."

"Y'know what, feel free to stop talking anytime."

"Although I'm not sure there's a best way for a man of somewhat advanced age to get his Christina Aguilera on."

"There is nothing good about this conversation."

"Hey! I am only telling you this so that you can understand why I wasn't able to keep a straight face through the town meeting."

"If I had known this was your explanation, I woulda been okay with not understanding."

"Aren't you supposed to be supporting me through the traumatizing event my own subconscious inflicted upon me? Hmph. Some boyfriend you are, mister."

"I'll make you a deal – I make you coffee when we get back, you never talk about this again."

"Ooh, deal! It's not like I ever want to talk about it again, by the way. There were garters at work. Did I mention the garters? Eesh."

"You are severely deranged."

"Oh, Tish, I love it when you speak French."

"Huh?"

"Addams Family, hi."

"Yeah, I got that part. What I don't get is why you're saying it right now."

"See, that was me being ironic, because by saying 'Tish, I love it when you speak French,' it was really more like, 'I hate it when you bust out all your synonyms for crazy and apply them to me.' Which you should have been able to figure out from the sarcasm oozing all over the place. Not to mention that the whole French tie-in was entirely relevant, on account of the fact that I was just talking about Taylor gyrating along to that immortal question! Good ol' 'voulez-vous coucher avec moi'—"

"Okay. No coffee for you."

"I – but – what?? No! That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair, sister."

"Sister?"

"You know what I mean. Hey – come on – why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing, I'm just seriously reevaluating your relationship with Liz right now."

"Lorelai—"

"And you get mad at me for telling you that dream-Taylor can can do the cancan! Because buddy, I'm not sure whether that's even in the same ballpark of disturbing as your Flowers in the Danes family Attic revelation."

"What do I have to do to shut you up right now?"

"I'm kind of on a roll here, so it's probably gonna take a pretty heavy-duty gag or – hell, why go halfway? – knocking me unconscious altogether."

"I was thinking maybe I'd just kiss you."

"You know, Mr. Danes, I have the sneaking suspicion that might work, too."

"Yeah, I thought it might."

"I like the way you think."