i liked it. ill post more in depth later, but for now, have fic while i have falafel.
Fandom: Gilmore Girls
Title: A Stacked Deck
Spoilers: Twenty-One is the Loneliest Number
Summery: In her head, Lorelai had stopped babbling after, “Your drink is disgusting.”
In her head, Lorelai had stopped babbling after, “Your drink is disgusting.”
Well, not stopped babbling, as she never actually stopped that, but babbled in a different direction.
In her head, Lorelai had returned Rory’s tentative smile and said, “So, ready to go?” And then they had run out of that horrible house, giggling, leaving behind Emily and Richard and sex talks and guests and Luke. But Luke just smiled and took a taxi home, because he knew where they were going and how important it was.
And in his truck, with Lorelai driving, Rory had talked about Yale and Logan and dreams and how she felt when she heard Paris was editor of the paper. And Lorelai had apologized for not calling the night before, but she had whispered the whole story to Paul Anka, even though he didn’t understand and it took her fifteen minutes to get him to come out from under the bed after she said splits.
In her head, Lorelai and Rory had filched two chocolate boxes on their way out the door, and were eating them and laughing as they drove.
And they didn’t have hotel reservations and they didn’t have any extra clothes, but they were going to Atlantic City and so it didn’t matter.
And it didn’t matter that Rory wasn’t in school, or that she hadn’t even bothered to call her mother about anything, or that they had barely spoken in months. It didn’t matter that Lorelai was marrying Luke, or that she had gotten a dog and was expanding the house, or that she didn’t come to Rory’s sentencing.
It didn’t matter, because this was Rory’s twenty first birthday, and they had plans.
And they were going to play Twenty One, and order martinis, and win big and buy twenty one really cheesy things, like snow globes and key chains and t-shirts. And, although they wouldn’t do the twenty one guys thing, they would stay up late in the hotel room, talking and laughing and drinking martinis and eating junk food.
And, at some point, they would fall asleep, curled up together on the bed, still dressed and smiling.
In her head, Lorelai had called on Rory’s birthday.
In her head, Rory had never dropped out of Yale.
In her head, Lorelai was in Atlantic City.
In real life, Rory was opening her presents.
In real life, Lorelai had given her a set of martini glasses, and a deck of cards.