Gilmore girls: Christmas Magic
Title: Christmas Magic
Pairing: Luke/Lorelai; ensemble
Rating: G
Spoilers: Bon Voyage
Summary: How is Christmas for the Gilmores seven years ahead?
Written for louisemcgregor, as a (very late) Christmas gift.
Christmas Magic
Snow was falling gently outside, enveloping everything in a beautiful white cold blanket. There was no one on the streets, for it was too early for anyone to be up.
If you were any other inhabitant of Stars Hollow, you’d probably be tucked in your blankets, having nice dreams. But in case you were Luke Danes, you’d be up trying to silently cook Christmas breakfast for you family. He quietly put out the pans and eggs, sliced the bacon and turned the french toasts so it wouldn’t burn, the delicious smell coming out of them making Luke smile. Anytime now.
Paul Anka was the first one to come into the kitchen. He popped his little happy face into the kitchen, tongue out, sniffing around. He wouldn’t dare doing it any different when Luke was there because, as much as he was fond with his master, he knew that he wouldn’t cut him as much slack as Lorelai would. Timidly he waited for Luke to notice him being there.
“Come on, boy. I have some slices of bacon for you.”
He handed the dog two or three slices, which he took greedily and, leaving the kitchen in a hurry, when back to his mistress’ bedroom, in a futile attempt to wake her up.
Luke continued his task, carefully pouring eggs onto a plate and boiled water into the coffee machine when he heard a soft noise of someone opening the locker and pushing the door open. It cracked slightly and the sound of heels clicking the wooden floor, the familiar steps rustling and stomping into the semi-darkness of the living room made him chuckle lightly. A female’s voice cursed and then new rustling sounds of wrapped packages being carefully arranged under the tree, followed by the sound of Paul Anka barking.
“Shh! Paul Anka, its me! You crazy dog, stop making so much noise!”
The sound of eager paws clicking against the floor and heavy breathing as the dog ran around the living room, happy to see the visitor, gave it away.
“Hey, Rory!” Luke said from the kitchen.
A second later Rory rushed into the kicthen, unwrapping her scarf and throwing her coat aside, face flushed and hair slightly messy smiling at the sight of Luke.
“Hey, Luke, I’m sorry I’m late! It was impossible to get into a plane earlier, work has been crazy!”
“I know, don’t worry about me. But he was up until late at night waiting for you.”
“Poor Harry! Where is he?”
“Still sleeping in his bedroom.”
Luke took a good look at Rory, her hair was now much shorter than usual and bangs-free, in a very modern haircut that made him think of Anne Hattaway for some reason. Her blue eyes shone and she didn’t look tired, although he knew that she’s just been out of a plane from France and she was probably feeling exhausted. All this an effort to see Harry opening up the presents and he knew it. This sole fact made him appreciate and love Rory even more than he already did, love her just as much as his own children.
She walked around the kitchen, looking at the pictures on the fridge; there was a bunch of Harry with Luke and many drawings made by him, always featuring his sister, huge blue dots on the drawings’ face to represent her eyes. Rory smiled, looking closely to a picture taken last month, of Lorelai and Harry feeding ducks at a pond, a slightly scared GG next to them. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of her younger sister, so grown up and poised, blonde hair carefully braided and thrown over her shoulders; Harry smile was oddly familiar to her and the coloring of his cheeks, as reddish as her own. He was a beautiful little boy, looking so much like Rory at the same age but a smile so much like Luke’s that it amazed her. How could children look so much like their parents? Or siblings?
“Harry is so beautiful!”
“He is, isn’t he?” Luke sat down at the table, handing a mug to Rory so they could have coffee together. “Last week we went fishing and he caught his first trout. He brought it home and him and your mother put it in the tub, treating it like a pet for two days.”
Rory chuckled, familiar with this story.
“Where’s mom?”
“Still asleep with Harry. Why don’t you go upstairs and wake them up? They would love it.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
She jumped out of the chair and headed, as silently as her boots would allow her, up the stairs. The house was basically the same, except that Lorelai’s ‘room of mess’ was turned into a little boy’s room, all blue and full of rockets, toys scattered everywhere. He wasn’t in his room but snuck up in his parents’ bedroom, just like Rory herself used to do when she was a little girl. On weekends, she remembered it clearly, she would wake up and carefully slide into Lorelai’s bed, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, just like she had seen people doing in the movies. At that time she didn’t know that those people would be couples and why exaclty they would do that, but the idea of people doing it to the ones they loved stuck in her mind.
The room was semi-dark when she opened the door but she could distinguish the two figures lying on the bed. Lorelai had her back to the door, facing Harry, who was also facing his mom.
Rory approached the bed, leaning against Harry and tickling his belly. He squirmed and giggled.
“Wake up, Sleepy Head!”
Harry squirmed more, opening his eyes and turning to his sister.
“Rory!” he said out loud “Rory’s here, she’s here!”
He jumped up on the bed and against her so fast she couldn’t believe it. Rory wrapped her arms around him, while he juggled up and down, making the bed move and, obviously, waking up Lorelai.
“If you didn’t bring coffee, after all this noise, you won’t have a place to stay anymore!”
“Love you too, mom! Merry Christmas, guys!”
“Merry Christmas, Rory! Mommy, mommy, wake up! Let’s open the presents!”
Lorelai groaned, sitting on the bed and looking at them two, who were already heading to the door.
As they left the room, the door hanging ajar, she threw herself onto the bed, lying again. It was so early and so cold she didn’t feel like getting up just yet. Instead, she concentrated on the sounds coming up from downstairs, Harry’s laughter and Rory’s voice talking to him. Fastly, the faint smell of fresh coffee and french toast reached her and she finally decided to to just give up.
Rory was sitting on the couch, mugs of coffee and plates in front of her at the coffee table, while she watched Harry fumble with his presents, eagerly wanting to open them up. Luke was near the fireplace, lighting up the fire, crouched in front of it.
Lorelai smiled, watching her family from the top of the staircase, her eyes moving from the energetic little boy to the beautiful woman wearing expensive boots, legs neatly crossed and perfect hair in front of him. She looked serious, compromised, radiant. As much as she missed her little girl, with chubby cheeks and nose deep-buried in books, memorizing lines and quotes, she loved that beautiful career woman, who wore Prada and Chanel. The woman who would let her little brother hug her with sticky fingers, even though her Gucci coat costed a small fortune but she treasured his embrace anyway. The same woman who snuck silently home, early in the morning, even though she’d have to leave late in the evening to be back to work.
Lorelai descended fastly the stairs to sit with them.
“Mom, let’s open the presents now?”
“I don’t know... maybe we should wait for Santa...”
“But he already came here, mom! And he brought Rory, did you see that?”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, I took a ride in his sleigh.”
Harry looked at Luke, frowning. He shook his head.
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“Hey, Bub, why don’t you start with this big one, huh?” Lorelai said, handing him a big package.
The little boy took is happily and started ripping it open, talking something to his dad, while Lorelai moved closer to Rory.
“So, how’s everything with Jared, hon?”
“On and off, you know... I think we’re more off than on, actually.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too. He’s a nice guy, but maybe not the right guy for me. I’m still dwelling on the proposal to go to Paris for good, in fact.”
“Really? What’s it exactly?”
“I’d be editor in chief of the online edition of a magazine there. The sallary is good, but I don’t trust my french that much.”
“Nonsense, your french is perfect. You should go.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Rory smiled. She would miss being around her family, but that was too much of a oportunity to miss.
“Ok, so Paris that is.”
“Paris that is.” Lorelai repeated.
She looked at her daughter, smiling, and then to Harry, eagerly opening his presents and giving his sisters’ hers. They looked adorable together, in her renewed living room.
Luke has finally finished battling with the fireplace and sat next to her, handing her a mug of coffee, which she gladily took. The morining was cold, with the snow falling softly outside and it was so early that her eyes still stang from not having enough hours of sleep.
Paul Anka, as usual, was lying on his armcair, looking so lazy and comfortable that it made her want to take a picture of him.
And she sighed, happy. Yes, I guess now she could say she had the whole package. And a beautiful one, for that matter.
END
A/N: Harry was inspired in a student of mine, Guilherme, the most adorable little boy I know. He and Harry would be the same age, 5.
Pairing: Luke/Lorelai; ensemble
Rating: G
Spoilers: Bon Voyage
Summary: How is Christmas for the Gilmores seven years ahead?
Written for louisemcgregor, as a (very late) Christmas gift.
Christmas Magic
Snow was falling gently outside, enveloping everything in a beautiful white cold blanket. There was no one on the streets, for it was too early for anyone to be up.
If you were any other inhabitant of Stars Hollow, you’d probably be tucked in your blankets, having nice dreams. But in case you were Luke Danes, you’d be up trying to silently cook Christmas breakfast for you family. He quietly put out the pans and eggs, sliced the bacon and turned the french toasts so it wouldn’t burn, the delicious smell coming out of them making Luke smile. Anytime now.
Paul Anka was the first one to come into the kitchen. He popped his little happy face into the kitchen, tongue out, sniffing around. He wouldn’t dare doing it any different when Luke was there because, as much as he was fond with his master, he knew that he wouldn’t cut him as much slack as Lorelai would. Timidly he waited for Luke to notice him being there.
“Come on, boy. I have some slices of bacon for you.”
He handed the dog two or three slices, which he took greedily and, leaving the kitchen in a hurry, when back to his mistress’ bedroom, in a futile attempt to wake her up.
Luke continued his task, carefully pouring eggs onto a plate and boiled water into the coffee machine when he heard a soft noise of someone opening the locker and pushing the door open. It cracked slightly and the sound of heels clicking the wooden floor, the familiar steps rustling and stomping into the semi-darkness of the living room made him chuckle lightly. A female’s voice cursed and then new rustling sounds of wrapped packages being carefully arranged under the tree, followed by the sound of Paul Anka barking.
“Shh! Paul Anka, its me! You crazy dog, stop making so much noise!”
The sound of eager paws clicking against the floor and heavy breathing as the dog ran around the living room, happy to see the visitor, gave it away.
“Hey, Rory!” Luke said from the kitchen.
A second later Rory rushed into the kicthen, unwrapping her scarf and throwing her coat aside, face flushed and hair slightly messy smiling at the sight of Luke.
“Hey, Luke, I’m sorry I’m late! It was impossible to get into a plane earlier, work has been crazy!”
“I know, don’t worry about me. But he was up until late at night waiting for you.”
“Poor Harry! Where is he?”
“Still sleeping in his bedroom.”
Luke took a good look at Rory, her hair was now much shorter than usual and bangs-free, in a very modern haircut that made him think of Anne Hattaway for some reason. Her blue eyes shone and she didn’t look tired, although he knew that she’s just been out of a plane from France and she was probably feeling exhausted. All this an effort to see Harry opening up the presents and he knew it. This sole fact made him appreciate and love Rory even more than he already did, love her just as much as his own children.
She walked around the kitchen, looking at the pictures on the fridge; there was a bunch of Harry with Luke and many drawings made by him, always featuring his sister, huge blue dots on the drawings’ face to represent her eyes. Rory smiled, looking closely to a picture taken last month, of Lorelai and Harry feeding ducks at a pond, a slightly scared GG next to them. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of her younger sister, so grown up and poised, blonde hair carefully braided and thrown over her shoulders; Harry smile was oddly familiar to her and the coloring of his cheeks, as reddish as her own. He was a beautiful little boy, looking so much like Rory at the same age but a smile so much like Luke’s that it amazed her. How could children look so much like their parents? Or siblings?
“Harry is so beautiful!”
“He is, isn’t he?” Luke sat down at the table, handing a mug to Rory so they could have coffee together. “Last week we went fishing and he caught his first trout. He brought it home and him and your mother put it in the tub, treating it like a pet for two days.”
Rory chuckled, familiar with this story.
“Where’s mom?”
“Still asleep with Harry. Why don’t you go upstairs and wake them up? They would love it.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
She jumped out of the chair and headed, as silently as her boots would allow her, up the stairs. The house was basically the same, except that Lorelai’s ‘room of mess’ was turned into a little boy’s room, all blue and full of rockets, toys scattered everywhere. He wasn’t in his room but snuck up in his parents’ bedroom, just like Rory herself used to do when she was a little girl. On weekends, she remembered it clearly, she would wake up and carefully slide into Lorelai’s bed, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, just like she had seen people doing in the movies. At that time she didn’t know that those people would be couples and why exaclty they would do that, but the idea of people doing it to the ones they loved stuck in her mind.
The room was semi-dark when she opened the door but she could distinguish the two figures lying on the bed. Lorelai had her back to the door, facing Harry, who was also facing his mom.
Rory approached the bed, leaning against Harry and tickling his belly. He squirmed and giggled.
“Wake up, Sleepy Head!”
Harry squirmed more, opening his eyes and turning to his sister.
“Rory!” he said out loud “Rory’s here, she’s here!”
He jumped up on the bed and against her so fast she couldn’t believe it. Rory wrapped her arms around him, while he juggled up and down, making the bed move and, obviously, waking up Lorelai.
“If you didn’t bring coffee, after all this noise, you won’t have a place to stay anymore!”
“Love you too, mom! Merry Christmas, guys!”
“Merry Christmas, Rory! Mommy, mommy, wake up! Let’s open the presents!”
Lorelai groaned, sitting on the bed and looking at them two, who were already heading to the door.
As they left the room, the door hanging ajar, she threw herself onto the bed, lying again. It was so early and so cold she didn’t feel like getting up just yet. Instead, she concentrated on the sounds coming up from downstairs, Harry’s laughter and Rory’s voice talking to him. Fastly, the faint smell of fresh coffee and french toast reached her and she finally decided to to just give up.
Rory was sitting on the couch, mugs of coffee and plates in front of her at the coffee table, while she watched Harry fumble with his presents, eagerly wanting to open them up. Luke was near the fireplace, lighting up the fire, crouched in front of it.
Lorelai smiled, watching her family from the top of the staircase, her eyes moving from the energetic little boy to the beautiful woman wearing expensive boots, legs neatly crossed and perfect hair in front of him. She looked serious, compromised, radiant. As much as she missed her little girl, with chubby cheeks and nose deep-buried in books, memorizing lines and quotes, she loved that beautiful career woman, who wore Prada and Chanel. The woman who would let her little brother hug her with sticky fingers, even though her Gucci coat costed a small fortune but she treasured his embrace anyway. The same woman who snuck silently home, early in the morning, even though she’d have to leave late in the evening to be back to work.
Lorelai descended fastly the stairs to sit with them.
“Mom, let’s open the presents now?”
“I don’t know... maybe we should wait for Santa...”
“But he already came here, mom! And he brought Rory, did you see that?”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, I took a ride in his sleigh.”
Harry looked at Luke, frowning. He shook his head.
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“Hey, Bub, why don’t you start with this big one, huh?” Lorelai said, handing him a big package.
The little boy took is happily and started ripping it open, talking something to his dad, while Lorelai moved closer to Rory.
“So, how’s everything with Jared, hon?”
“On and off, you know... I think we’re more off than on, actually.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too. He’s a nice guy, but maybe not the right guy for me. I’m still dwelling on the proposal to go to Paris for good, in fact.”
“Really? What’s it exactly?”
“I’d be editor in chief of the online edition of a magazine there. The sallary is good, but I don’t trust my french that much.”
“Nonsense, your french is perfect. You should go.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Rory smiled. She would miss being around her family, but that was too much of a oportunity to miss.
“Ok, so Paris that is.”
“Paris that is.” Lorelai repeated.
She looked at her daughter, smiling, and then to Harry, eagerly opening his presents and giving his sisters’ hers. They looked adorable together, in her renewed living room.
Luke has finally finished battling with the fireplace and sat next to her, handing her a mug of coffee, which she gladily took. The morining was cold, with the snow falling softly outside and it was so early that her eyes still stang from not having enough hours of sleep.
Paul Anka, as usual, was lying on his armcair, looking so lazy and comfortable that it made her want to take a picture of him.
And she sighed, happy. Yes, I guess now she could say she had the whole package. And a beautiful one, for that matter.
END
A/N: Harry was inspired in a student of mine, Guilherme, the most adorable little boy I know. He and Harry would be the same age, 5.