White Wedding (1/?)
Title: White Wedding
Pairing: Literati, JJ
Summary: Vignettes of Luke and Lorelai's wedding. Lots of Jess and Lorelai interaction. Part i: "Wait a minute. Why are you giving me advice? You hate show tunes." Lots of Literati, obviously a little Java Junkie.
We'll see where this goes :)
i
The Dragonfly Inn was looking its best. Each of the rooms were bedecked with flowers, most of them wild, all of them beautiful. The carpets were cleaned, the hardwood was polished, and the horses were shining. If one were to hypothetically sing a Jessica Rabbit- esque ballad while draping themselves across the grand piano, they were sure to slide off, such was the amount of varnish slicked over the top. A long-fingered pianist perched on the adjoining piano stool, creating little tinkling sounds that made everyone feel wealthier. The silverware was doing the work of ten laser pointers, and the glassware could be set into gold rings and sold as diamonds. In the foyer, guests were beginning to mingle. Those guests who were accustomed to functions with tinkly music were sipping on wine and making polite chit-chat. Those who were less used to such restraint were begging the pianist to play some show tunes, won't you gorgeous, and boisterously discussing how inevitable this evening was, regardless of what they might have said this time two years ago.
By the stairs, set apart from the crowd, stood the bride-to-be. She was looking both lost and worried. Clasping her hands together, she sighed sadly. "This is a disaster!"
"I don't think it's officially deemed a disaster until Kirk starts stripping."
She closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to remove the source of irritation by sheer power of thought. "Shut up, Jess."
"Now is that a nice way to talk to your only nephew-to-be?" he smirked, and took a sip of his beer.
Lorelai shuddered slightly. "Don't depress me more."
"I really don't see why you're so unhappy. You're getting married tomorrow; nobody has yet to stab someone at your rehearsal dinner, unlike Liz's second marriage; and everywhere I go people are yakking about how flushed with happiness you look. And you look like you've reached your wedding dress weight goal."
He gave her a look-over as she shot him an affronted look and crossed her arms over her stomach.
"I think that's the most you've ever said at once," she muttered. "How long ago did you get here?"
"About twenty minutes."
"Did you talk to Luke?"
"Yes."
"And your mother?"
"Yep."
"What about my mother?"
"She asked me if my shirt was from Barney's, if that counts. I don't think she remembers me."
"You'd be dead by now. So there's no-one else you could go bother?"
"Not with causing a real disaster."
Lorelai shot him a satisfied look. "Rory's not here yet."
"I was talking about starting an argument between Jackson and TJ over the merits of buying organic vegetables at local Ren Faires versus growing your own. It'll be like the bachelor party all over again."
Lorelai wrinkled her nose. "I almost believe you. Luke wouldn't tell me anything."
"As God is my witness," Jess vowed. "Jackson won, but it was a hollow victory. Luke, your father and I drank scotch until Luke threw up, and then Richard pulled out the cigars and classic records. Very Casablanca. I'm surprised Luke is up and walking today."
"He foolishly declined to drink this morning," she shook her head in disappointment at said man, making awkward conversation with Miss Patty, who was doing a lot of winking and nudging.
"I heard you had a stripper," Jess prompted.
"Hugh Jwan," Lorelai grinned wickedly. "He's over there."
He followed her gaze across the room to a blond, orange-skinned man wearing a suit and bowtie with no shirt underneath. His skin was weirdly shiny, like he had slicked baby oil over his face and chest, and his teeth could be seen from across the room.
"He's actually very wise," Lorelai said. She grinned wickedly. "Rory's doing an interview on him. Plus, it's driving my mother insane. It's the only real revenge I have on her for this." She spread her arms out and swept them around.
"For what?"
"For this disaster of a rehearsal dinner. She's completely taken it over!"
Jess looked around skeptically. "She has?"
"Hello! Everything screams Emily Gilmore."
"Maybe you're just turning into your mother," he said innocently, and took a cheeky gulp of his beer.
Lorelai was rendered momentarily speechless. "That's a horrible thing to say, you little punk!"
"Harsh words," Jess smirked. "Well, what heinous crimes has she committed?"
"The piano dude!" Lorelai pointed. "The champagne! The…" She floundered for a moment, before picking herself up. "The whole hoity-toity atmosphere."
"The bitch!" Jess said with mock disgust. "Paying for hundred-year old wine and music."
"Stop mocking me," Lorelai grumbled. "You wouldn't understand."
"It's true; my parents are my role models."
She looked sideways at him. "Did you sneak that beer in here?"
Jess smiled magnanimously. "I have my ways."
"Did you talk to my mother with a bottle of Bavaria in your hand?"
"Yes."
"And she didn't notice?"
"It's my sparkling personality."
"Or your designer shirt."
He looked down at the plain white shirt, one button open at the collar. "This cost me ten bucks for two at Costco."
Lorelai tried really hard not to smile, but the corners of her lips twitched a little. She always preferred people who shopped in bulk, browsed in thrift stores and made their own clothes.
She looked around the room and sighed sadly. "Can I have some of your beer?"
"Oh quit pouting," Jess snapped. "If you hate your party so much then change it. Change the music or the food or whatever. I know everything was your doing. And the beer is in the refrigerator in the kitchen."
"Is it too late to fire the pianist?"
"If it is you can at least try and remove the stick from his ass."
"Look at Babette," Lorelai said wistfully. "She's chomping at the bit."
Suddenly, she spun on her heel and shot Jess a suspicious look. "Wait a minute. Why are you giving me advice? You hate show tunes."
"Everyone hates show tunes, "Jess argued. "Especially when Patty pulls out her inner Shirley Bassey. It's six of one and half a dozen of the other, really, but at least if everyone loosens up I can stop making small talk and get drunk."
She examined his face for several minutes, while he stared blandly back and sipped the end of his beer. Finally, she clasped her hands together. "How much will it cost to get scare the piano dude away despite the inevitable offers of large sums of money from my parents to get him to finish the night."
Jess rolled up his sleeves. "Consider it a wedding present."