Not Good Enough - Gilmore Girls, Gen, G
Title: Not Good Enough
Author: Piratelf
Rating: G
Fandom: Gilmore Girls (GG)
Genre: Gen AU
Disclaimer: I do not own the Gilmore Girls, Luke Danes, Dean Forester, Beefaroni, Twinkies or Portuguese baseball. Basically, I own nothing.
Beta: Nadnewraid
Xposted to: gg_fic and deanfest_2007
Author's Notes: This is like a coda to "Sadie, Sadie" but in my AU Taken In 'Verse where Dean is living with Luke. See Taken In.
Summary: Dean tells Luke about Dinner with Richard and Emily. Luke is not happy.
Luke heard Dean’s key in the door and glanced at the clock. Nine eighteen. On a Friday night? He grabbed the remote and lowered the volume on the TV. “Hey, how’d it go?”
Dean closed the door and clicked the dead bolt into place. “Not good.”
“Why? What’d you do?”
“Uh, let’s see, I didn’t get all As, I didn’t decide what college I’m going to, or what I want to do in life, ummmm . . . oh yeah and I forgot to hold myself to the high standards of the Gilmore family, whatever those are.”
“What?” Luke stood up and followed Dean into his room.
“It was just a bad night.” Dean took off his shirt and threw it on his bed.
“Hang that up, it’ll wrinkle,” Luke said.
Dean shrugged, wearily kicking off his shoes and digging in his drawer for a
T-shirt.
Luke frowned, picked up the shirt and put it on a hanger. “So, the grandparents didn’t like you, huh?”
“The grandmother didn’t actually want to let me into her house, and the grandfather thinks I will hold his immensely gifted, highly intelligent, Ivy League granddaughter back.” Dean shucked his pants for a pair of shorts. Luke continued hanging up his ‘good’ outfit. “Is there any pie left? I’m starving.”
“They didn’t feed you?”
“Rory told her grandmother that her favorite meal was Beefaroni. So, get this, her grandmother had her cook make it - from scratch.”
“You went to the rich grandparent’s house and they fed you Beefaroni?”
“Made with something that ‘wasn’t beef’. Scary.” Dean wandered over to the kitchen and pulled half of a cherry pie from the fridge. He grabbed a fork and sat down at the little kitchen table.
“Why would she ask for Beefaroni?”
“Guess she probably gets steak and lobster all the time over there.”
“Maybe it was supposed to be a joke.”
“Maybe. She asked for Twinkies for dessert. We didn’t get to those though.”
Luke poured a glass of milk and set it down beside the pie. “Left early, huh?”
“Rory got all upset.”
Luke took a fork and attacked the pie from the other side. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you upset?”
Dean shrugged.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know, Luke.”
“How do you not know if you’re upset?”
Dean stared at the pie, worked one cherry out with his fork and ate it. Made designs in the crust with the tines.
Luke watched him for a minute. “Drink your milk.”
Dean obediently took a drink, and then went back to his pie crust artwork.
Luke waited.
“It’s sort of weird . . . I don’t think I’ve ever been put down by an adult before. . . especially not, you know, in front of . . . well, people and everything.” He took another bite of pie. “He wouldn’t even shake my hand.”
“He wouldn’t shake your hand?!” Luke repeated, surprise giving way to anger.
Dean shook his head. “Nope, and I was just standing there, like an idiot, with my hand out, and he walks right past me. Like I wasn’t even there anymore.”
“What did Lorelai say?”
“She said, ‘Yeah, we all have drinks.’”
“What?”
“When he walked past me he said, ‘Do we all have drinks?’, and she said, ‘Yeah, we all have drinks.’”
“But what did she say about not shaking your hand?”
“Nothing. I think maybe we were pretending it didn’t happen or something. Or maybe it was just because I did it wrong. Because he walked into the room, and Rory introduced us, and I just sat there, and said ‘hi’. And then I realized that I should get up and go over and everything, but it’s just - I was really nervous, and - see I’d already said something stupid to her grandmother - well even before that, she was like, NOT happy to see me standing there at her door. Which I sort of wish Rory’d said something to her, because when she asked me to go, I even SAID, that her grandmother last met me when I was picking her up to take her to the dance and then, you know, we fell asleep, and she already didn’t really like me. But RORY said that she was all over that by now. But obviously Rory hadn’t even told her that I was coming, so it was just totally awkward. Why did she do that to me? I mean, was she just setting me up?”
“Rory wouldn’t do that, Dean.”
“No.” Dean sighed. “No, I know. She apologized. And she was really upset at her grandfather. But still, you’d think she’d at least tell them she was bringing me, don’t you? Just so that it wouldn’t be this horrible surprise?”
“Maybe she just didn’t think of it.”
“I guess not.” Dean finished the milk. “Does it make me a total loser to not know what I want to do, yet?”
“No, it does NOT. You’re only seventeen, you have lots of time to figure that stuff out.”
“Rory’s only seventeen. And she knows where she’s going to college, and what she wants to be.”
“Rory’s special.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what her grandfather said. Rory’s special. Which I told him, I know. And I know that I’m not, but I never said I was. I mean, it’s not like I was asking to marry her, she just brought me to dinner. I wasn’t trying to make any kind of statement about how I’m good enough for Rory, so where does he get off announcing to everyone that I’m NOT good enough for Rory?”
“Hey! You ARE good enough for Rory. You are a great kid. Don’t ever say that you’re not good enough for anything. That’s crap, Dean! And I don’t want to hear it coming out of your mouth.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, you know, I don’t really wanna talk about this anymore.”
“Okay, sure.” Luke picked up the empty pie pan and glass and deposited them in the sink. “So, you wanna watch reruns or Portuguese baseball on ESPN?”
“Actually, I feel like I’m getting a headache. I think I’m just gonna listen to some music then go to sleep.”
“Okay, buddy. See ya in the morning, then.”
“Yeah, g’night.”
Luke washed the dishes then lay down on the couch and tried to watch Portuguese baseball for a while. But he couldn’t stop picturing what had happened to Dean, and it kept gnawing at him. What right does anyone, let alone some pompous billionaire, have to make a seventeen year old kid feel like a failure because he hasn’t plotted out his entire future? God, when he was seventeen, Luke is pretty sure he thought he was going to be a pitcher for the Yankees, or possibly a gynecologist. But definitely not the owner of diner in his father’s converted hardware store. And besides all of that, the important thing is how Dean treats Rory. That he’s a good kid, he takes care of her, he’s a good driver, he doesn’t make her sit home alone on a Friday night. What else can you ask of a boyfriend?
After about an hour of this, he dialed Lorelai’s number, but hung up before it started to ring. What would he say? Your father’s an ass? He was pretty sure she already knew that. My kid’s good enough for your kid? He was pretty sure she already knew that too. Even before Dean was ‘his’ kid. In fact, he wouldn’t doubt that, had they been home the night of the fire, Dean would probably be living with them now. And wouldn’t THAT have made Friday night dinners fun?
Luke got up from the couch and snagged a beer from the fridge. He felt irritated and defensive and it made him restless. He knocked on Dean’s door but didn’t get an answer. Assuming he’d fallen asleep, Luke eased the door open to click off the light he saw shining underneath the door.
Dean wasn’t asleep. He was sitting on the floor in the corner, headphones on and music so loud Luke could hear it from the doorway. He didn’t know if Dean could hear it or not though, because sometimes, when you cry, the blood rushes in your ears and you wouldn’t hear a building fall down next to you. And despite the lack of noise, Dean was definitely crying. He had his head buried in his arms which were resting on his knees and his entire body was shaking. But all Luke could hear was a ragged breath every twelve seconds or so. He was halfway into the room when he realized that if Dean was trying that hard to keep from being heard, he might not want Luke’s comfort just then. So he quietly left and shut the door behind him.
He finished his beer in two gulps. He thought about walking over to Lorelai’s to see what she had to say about the fact that he had sent a perfectly happy, slightly nervous, kid off with her to go to dinner and got a starving basket case back. But he knew that he was way too close to pissed off and getting a little far from sober, so it probably wasn’t a great idea to be talking to anyone right now. But he’d see her tomorrow, and there’d be some discussion then.
He stood in front of his refrigerator and thought about grabbing another beer. But the first one hadn’t taken the edge off of his restlessness so another one wasn’t likely to do anything helpful either. He got a glass of water and stared at Portuguese baseball for about fifteen minutes. Finally he clicked off the TV and decided now would be as good a time as any to go down to the diner and clean the undersides of all the tables and the legs of all the chairs. And think about what he’d say to Lorelai in the morning.
Sequel The Next Day
Author: Piratelf
Rating: G
Fandom: Gilmore Girls (GG)
Genre: Gen AU
Disclaimer: I do not own the Gilmore Girls, Luke Danes, Dean Forester, Beefaroni, Twinkies or Portuguese baseball. Basically, I own nothing.
Beta: Nadnewraid
Xposted to: gg_fic and deanfest_2007
Author's Notes: This is like a coda to "Sadie, Sadie" but in my AU Taken In 'Verse where Dean is living with Luke. See Taken In.
Summary: Dean tells Luke about Dinner with Richard and Emily. Luke is not happy.
Luke heard Dean’s key in the door and glanced at the clock. Nine eighteen. On a Friday night? He grabbed the remote and lowered the volume on the TV. “Hey, how’d it go?”
Dean closed the door and clicked the dead bolt into place. “Not good.”
“Why? What’d you do?”
“Uh, let’s see, I didn’t get all As, I didn’t decide what college I’m going to, or what I want to do in life, ummmm . . . oh yeah and I forgot to hold myself to the high standards of the Gilmore family, whatever those are.”
“What?” Luke stood up and followed Dean into his room.
“It was just a bad night.” Dean took off his shirt and threw it on his bed.
“Hang that up, it’ll wrinkle,” Luke said.
Dean shrugged, wearily kicking off his shoes and digging in his drawer for a
T-shirt.
Luke frowned, picked up the shirt and put it on a hanger. “So, the grandparents didn’t like you, huh?”
“The grandmother didn’t actually want to let me into her house, and the grandfather thinks I will hold his immensely gifted, highly intelligent, Ivy League granddaughter back.” Dean shucked his pants for a pair of shorts. Luke continued hanging up his ‘good’ outfit. “Is there any pie left? I’m starving.”
“They didn’t feed you?”
“Rory told her grandmother that her favorite meal was Beefaroni. So, get this, her grandmother had her cook make it - from scratch.”
“You went to the rich grandparent’s house and they fed you Beefaroni?”
“Made with something that ‘wasn’t beef’. Scary.” Dean wandered over to the kitchen and pulled half of a cherry pie from the fridge. He grabbed a fork and sat down at the little kitchen table.
“Why would she ask for Beefaroni?”
“Guess she probably gets steak and lobster all the time over there.”
“Maybe it was supposed to be a joke.”
“Maybe. She asked for Twinkies for dessert. We didn’t get to those though.”
Luke poured a glass of milk and set it down beside the pie. “Left early, huh?”
“Rory got all upset.”
Luke took a fork and attacked the pie from the other side. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you upset?”
Dean shrugged.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know, Luke.”
“How do you not know if you’re upset?”
Dean stared at the pie, worked one cherry out with his fork and ate it. Made designs in the crust with the tines.
Luke watched him for a minute. “Drink your milk.”
Dean obediently took a drink, and then went back to his pie crust artwork.
Luke waited.
“It’s sort of weird . . . I don’t think I’ve ever been put down by an adult before. . . especially not, you know, in front of . . . well, people and everything.” He took another bite of pie. “He wouldn’t even shake my hand.”
“He wouldn’t shake your hand?!” Luke repeated, surprise giving way to anger.
Dean shook his head. “Nope, and I was just standing there, like an idiot, with my hand out, and he walks right past me. Like I wasn’t even there anymore.”
“What did Lorelai say?”
“She said, ‘Yeah, we all have drinks.’”
“What?”
“When he walked past me he said, ‘Do we all have drinks?’, and she said, ‘Yeah, we all have drinks.’”
“But what did she say about not shaking your hand?”
“Nothing. I think maybe we were pretending it didn’t happen or something. Or maybe it was just because I did it wrong. Because he walked into the room, and Rory introduced us, and I just sat there, and said ‘hi’. And then I realized that I should get up and go over and everything, but it’s just - I was really nervous, and - see I’d already said something stupid to her grandmother - well even before that, she was like, NOT happy to see me standing there at her door. Which I sort of wish Rory’d said something to her, because when she asked me to go, I even SAID, that her grandmother last met me when I was picking her up to take her to the dance and then, you know, we fell asleep, and she already didn’t really like me. But RORY said that she was all over that by now. But obviously Rory hadn’t even told her that I was coming, so it was just totally awkward. Why did she do that to me? I mean, was she just setting me up?”
“Rory wouldn’t do that, Dean.”
“No.” Dean sighed. “No, I know. She apologized. And she was really upset at her grandfather. But still, you’d think she’d at least tell them she was bringing me, don’t you? Just so that it wouldn’t be this horrible surprise?”
“Maybe she just didn’t think of it.”
“I guess not.” Dean finished the milk. “Does it make me a total loser to not know what I want to do, yet?”
“No, it does NOT. You’re only seventeen, you have lots of time to figure that stuff out.”
“Rory’s only seventeen. And she knows where she’s going to college, and what she wants to be.”
“Rory’s special.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what her grandfather said. Rory’s special. Which I told him, I know. And I know that I’m not, but I never said I was. I mean, it’s not like I was asking to marry her, she just brought me to dinner. I wasn’t trying to make any kind of statement about how I’m good enough for Rory, so where does he get off announcing to everyone that I’m NOT good enough for Rory?”
“Hey! You ARE good enough for Rory. You are a great kid. Don’t ever say that you’re not good enough for anything. That’s crap, Dean! And I don’t want to hear it coming out of your mouth.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, you know, I don’t really wanna talk about this anymore.”
“Okay, sure.” Luke picked up the empty pie pan and glass and deposited them in the sink. “So, you wanna watch reruns or Portuguese baseball on ESPN?”
“Actually, I feel like I’m getting a headache. I think I’m just gonna listen to some music then go to sleep.”
“Okay, buddy. See ya in the morning, then.”
“Yeah, g’night.”
Luke washed the dishes then lay down on the couch and tried to watch Portuguese baseball for a while. But he couldn’t stop picturing what had happened to Dean, and it kept gnawing at him. What right does anyone, let alone some pompous billionaire, have to make a seventeen year old kid feel like a failure because he hasn’t plotted out his entire future? God, when he was seventeen, Luke is pretty sure he thought he was going to be a pitcher for the Yankees, or possibly a gynecologist. But definitely not the owner of diner in his father’s converted hardware store. And besides all of that, the important thing is how Dean treats Rory. That he’s a good kid, he takes care of her, he’s a good driver, he doesn’t make her sit home alone on a Friday night. What else can you ask of a boyfriend?
After about an hour of this, he dialed Lorelai’s number, but hung up before it started to ring. What would he say? Your father’s an ass? He was pretty sure she already knew that. My kid’s good enough for your kid? He was pretty sure she already knew that too. Even before Dean was ‘his’ kid. In fact, he wouldn’t doubt that, had they been home the night of the fire, Dean would probably be living with them now. And wouldn’t THAT have made Friday night dinners fun?
Luke got up from the couch and snagged a beer from the fridge. He felt irritated and defensive and it made him restless. He knocked on Dean’s door but didn’t get an answer. Assuming he’d fallen asleep, Luke eased the door open to click off the light he saw shining underneath the door.
Dean wasn’t asleep. He was sitting on the floor in the corner, headphones on and music so loud Luke could hear it from the doorway. He didn’t know if Dean could hear it or not though, because sometimes, when you cry, the blood rushes in your ears and you wouldn’t hear a building fall down next to you. And despite the lack of noise, Dean was definitely crying. He had his head buried in his arms which were resting on his knees and his entire body was shaking. But all Luke could hear was a ragged breath every twelve seconds or so. He was halfway into the room when he realized that if Dean was trying that hard to keep from being heard, he might not want Luke’s comfort just then. So he quietly left and shut the door behind him.
He finished his beer in two gulps. He thought about walking over to Lorelai’s to see what she had to say about the fact that he had sent a perfectly happy, slightly nervous, kid off with her to go to dinner and got a starving basket case back. But he knew that he was way too close to pissed off and getting a little far from sober, so it probably wasn’t a great idea to be talking to anyone right now. But he’d see her tomorrow, and there’d be some discussion then.
He stood in front of his refrigerator and thought about grabbing another beer. But the first one hadn’t taken the edge off of his restlessness so another one wasn’t likely to do anything helpful either. He got a glass of water and stared at Portuguese baseball for about fifteen minutes. Finally he clicked off the TV and decided now would be as good a time as any to go down to the diner and clean the undersides of all the tables and the legs of all the chairs. And think about what he’d say to Lorelai in the morning.
Sequel The Next Day