Gilmores Don't Get Sick (F) - (5 Parts)

[wannablessedbe]

Gilmores Don’t Get Sick

By WannaBlessedBe

(Gilmore Girls Fic/F)

Summary: Well we’ve been watching a lot of Gilmore Girls in my house lately, and I’ve been continually reminded about how totally tasty Lauren Graham (aka Lorelai Gilmore) is…plus she has a couple of on-screen sneezes in S2 and 3 that are so completely cute and hot! This takes place in the past, when Luke has just opened his diner; Lorelai is 23, still a maid at the Independence Inn, and Rory is 7…Luke & Lorelai, sort of-- it just popped into my head! Kind of slow-paced to start, hope someone else besides me will enjoy

Lorelai Gilmore was miserable. And though she wasn’t going to win the “Little Miss Sunshine” award anytime soon, she generally wasn’t miserable. Sarcastic, sure; but how else is a hotel maid with a Chilton education supposed to get her kicks? Plus, she had to keep her wit sharp if she was ever going to win an argument with her entirely-too-articulate seven-year-old, whose company she sorely missed now that Rory had started Elementary School. But still, she usually got through her Rory-free hours with a decent amount of good cheer. Not today, though. Today, no amount of coffee seemed capable of putting anything resembling spring in her step. She was exhausted; each bone in her body seemed to be made of lead. Her eyes felt like they’d been weighted down with sandbags, her head was throbbing and her throat was starting to ache, especially when she swallowed, which she couldn’t seem to stop doing.

“This blows,” she whined crankily to no one as she finished changing the sheets in the most recently vacated room at the Inn. Glancing at her watch, she realized she had just 45 minutes before she had to go pick Rory up from school, and she hadn’t even finished half of her work for the day. “Shit! Get it together, Gilmore,” she grumbled, slapping herself lightly on the cheeks. “Gilmores don’t get sick. Gilmores don’t…” she broke off and coughed into her sleeve. “Ugh…*sniffle.*” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

“Lorelai, is that you in there?” Maya, the manager, walked into the room through the half-open door. “Goodness, child, you look a fright. What are you doing here?”

“My job,” Lorelai replied crankily, reaching for a set of fresh towels from the cart.

“Well, stop it. Go home and get in bed this instant! And don’t come back for at least a few days,” Maya said brusquely, which finally got Lorelai to crack a weak smile.

“Well, if you say so…” The thought of a nap was unbelievably appealing, she couldn’t deny that. But first she had to go get Rory. Considering she could barely lift her feet off the floor, now seemed like a good time to start the walk to Stars Hollow Elementary.

The sight of her daughter’s gap-toothed grin across the schoolyard boosted Lorelai’s spirits considerably as the end-of-school explosion spilled out the doors of the elementary school, and she stood for a moment marveling at the taller-every-day child who bounded toward her, all elbows and knees, a living testament that it had been seven years since she’d left her parents’ house, and her old life, far behind her.

“Mommy, Mommy, look what I made today!” Rory gushed, running up to Lorelai with a large, clumsily congealing bundle of bits of wood. “It’s a cookie rack. It’s for putting things on when they’re hot from the oven. Like cookies!” Rory beamed, her blue-eyed enthusiasm deflating slightly when she finally looked up at dulled expression in the matching blue eyes above her. “Don’t you like it, Mommy?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s awesome!” Lorelai managed a weak grin, holding up the awkward cookie rack with one hand, and squeezing her little girl against her side with the other. “I’m sorry I spaced out on you there, hon…I’m just a little tired today. Let’s go home, okay?”

“’Kay,” Rory shrugged. “Bye, Lane!” she hollered, waving; across the courtyard, seven-year-old Lane waved back, grinning sheepishly behind her glasses as her mother dragged her home without a backwards glance.

“You know, Rory, I think this cookie rack is just way, way too nice for cookies,” Lorelai began musingly as she inspected the wooden creation more closely. “I mean, for a rack this special, we should really consider some more serious baked goods. Scones, perhaps? Or crumpets? You know how particular those British people are about the manner of cooling their baked goods receive.” Rory laughed.

“Yeah, right,” the child giggled. “Like you’re ever actually going to bake something. I just wanted you to put it in the kitchen. You know, like for decoration.” Lorelai snickered at her daughter’s hasty comeback, combined with her deceptively innocent, freckle-faced grin.

“Okay, Squirt. One point for you.” Lorelai grinned, having been distracted for several minutes from her general feeling of crappiness. Then her nose twitched, and all the breath in her chest seemed to well up as if on command. “Hihshoo!!” She sneezed, away from the hand holding Rory’s and into the opposite elbow.

“Bless you, Mommy,” Rory said very officiously, they way young children do when they’ve been recently introduced to a social convention.

“Thank you, baby,” the young woman sniffed, wiping her nose hastily on her sleeve with a frown of irritation.

“Are you catching the sniffles, Mommy?”

“No sweetie, Mommy’s fine. Let’s just go home.”

“You look sick,” Rory continued stubbornly. “Your face is all white.”

“Well I’m not. Gilmores don’t get sick, you know. Your grandparents have never been sick a day in their lives.”

“I get sick sometimes.”

“Ah, yes, but you’ve seven. You’re like a walking germ magnet. Lick any playground equipment today?”

“You’re sooooo funny,” the precocious seven-year-old rolled her eyes as she glanced over at her mother. “And you still look sick.”

“I’m fine, Rory.”

“Your voice sounds all scratchy.”

“Well that’s because, I, uh, had to yell at Michel all day to stop harassing the new Harpist in the lobby. You know he never listens until you reach a pitch that only dogs can hear.”

“And your nose is running,” Rory added, folding her arms with a childish air of superiority. Lorelai groaned and swiped the damp underside of her nose with a not-so-quiet sniff.

“That’s because I’m allergic to annoyingly continuous observation.” The little girl laughed, not even blinking at the three big words in a row as she continued to tug her mother homewards. “Jeez, what’s the rush, jelly bean? Are you late for your afternoon soaps or…ahh…ah-ktchu!” Lorelai pulled her hand from her small daughter’s grasp and turned away as her shoulders jerked forward, shielding Rory from her unexpectedly forceful sneeze.

“Bless you, Mommy,” Rory said patiently, hitching up her backpack on her shoulders.

“Thadks…*sniffle.*”

“Mommy?”

“*Sniff*…yeah, jelly bead?”

“I think we should go home now.”

“Yeah…*sniff*…be, too.”

Luke was just setting up a fresh batch of coffee in the diner when the phone rang behind the counter; he picked it up and continued scooping the grounds out with his other hand.

“Luke’s Diner.”

“Hi, Luke,” said the small voice on the other end.

“Hey, short stuff. You and your mom coming in for your regular Tuesday night patty melts and cherry pie?”

“Well, um…yeah…I was sort of wondering…” The little girl’s voice trailed off uncertainly, and Luke, usually gruff and impatient, waited for her to finish her sentence.

“You were wondering…?” He prompted eventually.

“If you could, um, deliver it? I can pay you extra. My piggybank is full of quarters from last summer when Lane and me had our lemonade stand. I was saving them for Christmas presents, but you can have them if you want.” Luke did not have a delivery service. In the six months that he’d been open for business, no one in the tiny town of Stars Hollow had ever suggested that they’d be more inclined to give him their business if they didn’t have to leave the house.

“Hold on to your lemonade money, short stuff. I’ll have your melts over in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks. But change Mommy’s to mashed potatoes, okay?”

“Instead of the french fries, you mean?”

“Instead of all of it. Just mashed potatoes. That’s the only thing she’ll eat when she’s sick.”

“Your mom’s sick?” Luke frowned. He couldn’t remember ever having seen Lorelai so much as sniffle in the six years since she’d come to Stars Hollow.

“Yup. She tried to pretend she wasn’t, but hello, obvious!”

“What was obvious?” Luke probed anxiously.

“Well, she was coughing and sneezing all the way home, and her nose was all runny, and then she fell asleep on the couch.”

“She’s been asleep all afternoon?”

“Yup.”

“What are you doing, all by yourself?”

“Reading The Wind in the Willows again. It’s the best book I ever read, even better than Narnia.”

“And your Mom’s still sleeping?”

“Yup.”

“That’s why you’re looking for a delivery guy, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Does her head feel hot?” He heard Rory put down the phone and waited impatiently for a few moments.

“Yup.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. How about if I add a slice of meatloaf and some broccoli to those mashed potatoes?”

“You know she won’t eat that, Luke. She wouldn’t even eat that if she was healthy.”

“Okay, fine. Chicken soup?” There was a silence as Rory contemplated this offer.

“O-kayyy…” she said slowly, with all the authority a seven-year-old can muster. “But it better be the good kind, with stars. No chunks. Or noodles too big for the spoon.”

“Got it, chief. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

When Rory answered the doorbell fifteen minutes later, she was still holding her copy of The Wind in the Willows. “Hi Luke,” she beamed. “You got french fries in there?”

“All yours,” he smirked, surrendering the first bag. He heard Rory scampering off to the kitchen with her prize as he crossed the living room to where Lorelai lay sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world with her mouth wide open, long brown hair splayed messily across the pillows. She was, as Rory had noted, very pale. He grinned affectionately at her, and sighed. “Not Wonder Woman after all, huh?” He said quietly.

“Huh?” The sleeping girl on the couch stirred, and Luke mentally kicked himself for disturbing her. She coughed, and rubbed her eyes with a groan. “Rory, baby, don’t get too close to Mommy tonight. I don’t want you to catch…huhhh…” Her back arched a little as her voice trailed off, and though he didn’t mean to, Luke found himself quietly observing the way her head tilted back, with a little shudder, two fingers flying up under her nose as if to push the sneeze back inside.

“Heshii! Hehh…ehshoo!” The arched back snapped forward, relaxed momentarily, then jerked again, sending a cascade of soft brown curls bobbing around her face with each sneeze. “Ugh, I’m dizzy,” she grumbled despondently.

“Gezundheit,” Luke mumbled gruffly, sitting down on the end of the couch with a sheepish glance at the bewildered blue eyes gazing blankly back at him. Lorelai blinked, sniffled, and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you some mashed potatoes.” Even as he was saying it, he cringed. Potatoes? That’s all he could think to say? No wonder he was no closer to asking her out on a date than he had been the day she’d arrived in Stars Hollow.

“Oh,” Lorelai nodded absently, rubbing her nose on her sleeve again with another loud sniffle. Luke reached into the takeout bag, and produced a clean napkin.

“It’s no Puffs Plus, but it’ll do the job.”

“Thadks.” Lorelai took the offered diner napkin, blew her nose, and winced. “Wow, we shoulda been taping that for the next time the circus comes to town and needs an elephant.”

“Ahh, you don’t sound that bad,” Luke said hastily, faltering under her patented Gilmore stare, the same one she gave him whenever he suggested to her in the diner that she might consider a side order of carrots or spinach instead of french fries. The look that, if it could talk, would say puh-leeze.

“Puh-leeze,” Lorelai rolled her eyes.

“Okay, you sound like the brass section of the Stars Hollow High Marching Band.”

“Now there’s the Luke we all know and love.”

“Honesty is a virtue,” he shrugged laconically, attempting not to smile when she said his name and the word love in the same sentence.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you know I was sick?”

“Rory called 1-800-delivery-express.”

“Ah,” Lorelai nodded, with the first hint of an actual smile. “I guess I should be glad she didn’t take the car.”

“You’ve got some chicken soup in there, too. I wanted to sneak in a vegetable, but Rory was very firm.”

“Good girl.” The blue eyes, though a little glassy, twinkled merrily at the mention of her daughter. Luke winked at her, and began unpacking the food.

“Good burger today, Luke,” the smallest Gilmore announced as she trailed back into the room and attempted to sit beside her mother on the couch.

“Ah! Don’t even think about it. You sit over there, on the germ-free side of the room.”

“Mommy!” Rory threw the patented Gilmore puh-leeze stare back across the couch.

“Oh…all right. But try not to breathe the same air,” Lorelai grumbled as Rory curled up happily at her side, with her head in her mother’s lap.

“I’ll just keep my head down here by your stinky feet. No germs could ever survive it.” Lorelai hit Rory with a pillow, and the little girl giggled happily.

“Well,” Luke cleared his throat, feeling suddenly awkward. “As long as I’m here, is there anything I can get for you?” When it came to Lorelai, Luke generally tended toward his fallback role of helpful-guy whenever he felt uncertain. Which was often.

“Doh, thadks,” Lorelai sniffed. Then she picked up a fresh napkin from the rapidly dwindling pile, hastily unfolded it, and brought it up to cover her nose and mouth just as her bright blue eyes squeezed shut, with a tremulous “Heh-ishoo!”

“Tissues would be good,” Rory piped up, holding another napkin out to her mom.

“Ahd chocolate…hachshoo! …*Sniff*…chocolate ice creab,” Lorelai whined, blinking up at him with big, very tired blue eyes.

“Got it,” Luke nodded curtly. “I’ll just run out to Doose’s Market, and, uh, be right back.” He gave them both an awkward wave, and saw himself out.

“I bet he gets us a treat,” Rory said confidently, burrowing back into the blanket at Lorelai’s side.

“I doh, I just asked hib to.”

“Blow your nose!” Rory laughed. “I can hardly understand you.” Lorelai rolled her eyes, but took the last napkin from the table and complied, wincing a little at the rough texture of the cheap paper napkin on her poor abused nose. She was really glad Luke was out getting her tissues. And he’d probably get her the best ones they had, too. That was just Luke.

“Better?”

“Much,” Rory nodded. “And I know you told him to get ice cream, but I meant, I bet he gets us something else, for a surprise.”

“Why d’you think that?” Rory shrugged.

“Cause, you don’t feel good, and he wants to make you feel better.” Lorelai smiled at her daughter’s simple equation. “I wish I could make you feel better, Mommy.”

“Aw, baby. You just did.” She leaned over and kissed the top of Rory’s head, figuring she couldn’t catch her cold germs through her scalp.

“Is Luke gonna stay over tonight?”

“Of course not, why would you ask that?” Lorelai blinked quizzically and rubbed her nose.

“Well, because. He would if you asked him to.”

“And why would I…” having run out of paper napkins, she pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the tiresome tickle. “Kshhhew!”

“That’s why. And, bless you. You’re sick and you need someone to take care of you.”

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job so far,” Lorelai nudged her stubborn child with her elbow.

“What if you wake up, and it’s two in the morning, and you feel all achy and shivery? Would you come wake me up so I could make you tea?”

“Um, no. How bad I feel right now is nothing compared to how bad I’d feel if I gave you this monster cold. And besides, tomorrow’s a school day. You need a good night’s sleep, kiddo.”

“So…?”

“So…what?”

“Luke, Mommy! He can sleep on the couch and bring you tea. And read to you. And keep you company.”

“Honey, Luke doesn’t want to sleep on our couch. Believe me.” Rory just sighed and rolled her eyes. She may have been just seven years old, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Will you ask him?” Two sets of blue eyes challenged each other, until finally, with a sigh, Lorelai relented.

“Okay. I’ll ask…Luke to spend the night here with us.”

“Good.” Rory settled back down on the couch and closed her eyes, grinning silently, and wondering what kind of treat Luke would bring her back from the market.

Edited June 27, 2008 by Lynne

[Fantasneezer]

OMG That was great!!!!

[The Sneezster]

I'm not familiar with these characters, but I do like your story. Lovely cold.

[silentdreamer789]

I'm not familiar with these characters, but I do like your story. Lovely cold.

Ditto. Can't wait for more. I love Rory.

[wannablessedbe]

Gilmores Don’t Get Sick

Ch. 2

By WannaBlessedBe

“Goodnight, jelly bean,” Lorelai murmured, smoothing out her daughter’s comforter and tucking back a strand of hair. “Sweet dreams.”

“Kiss,” Rory pouted, holding out her pajama-clad arms.

“Aw, angel face…” Lorelai hesitated. “I really, really don’t want you to catch my cold.” She grinned a little forlornly. “How about…” in a flash, she yanked back the covers, pulled up the flannel shirt of Rory’s PJs, and kissed her bellybutton. They both giggled uncontrollably for a minute, until Lorelai sat up and straightened the covers with a sigh.

“Goodnight, Mommy.”

“Night, bug…” Lorelai drew a sharp breath, pulled a slightly crumpled tissue from her pocket, and turned her head toward Rory’s feet. “Hashhhew!”

“God bless you.”

“Thadks…*sniff.*”

“Hey, Mommy? Will you send Luke in to say goodnight, too?” Lorelai blinked in mild surprise, then paused to blow her nose.

“Oh…sure, hon.” She smiled wanly once more, and squeezed Rory’s leg through the blanket as she rose and exited her daughter’s bedroom. In the doorway she paused, took a shuddering breath, and doubled over with another tired-sounding “Ishhoo!”

“Bless you,” Luke and Rory both called from different rooms.

“Ugh,” the cranky girl grumbled, slumping down in a chair in the kitchen to blow her nose again. “Luke, Rory wants to say goodnight to…uhhhh…” She groaned in frustration, tired of sneezing; Luke watched her pull the same move as before, when she’d just woken up, pressing two fingers under her pink nostrils with her head tilted back and her eyes closed, trying to will herself not to take that extra-deep, pre-sneeze breath. It wasn’t any more helpful than it had been the first time.

“Ahh-tchsh!” *Sniff.*

“Bless you. Jesus!”

“By nabe isd’t Jesus,” Lorelai grumbled, snatching the fresh tissue Luke offered her.

“Okay, sneezy.”

“Go say goodnight to my kid!” Lorelai sniffled, leaning over to push him.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Luke jumped up, holding up his hands in surrender. Once he stood in the bedroom doorway, however, he faltered. Putting a kid to bed was something he’d never exactly done before. And even though he saw Lorelai and Rory nearly every day, he felt suddenly awkward in their presence. But there was no helping that now, as Rory lay smiling angelically up at him from her small bed, blue eyes blinking at him in a way that was just so Lorelai-ish, it was almost scary.

“Ehrm…hey, kiddo,” he grunted with a stiff grin as he sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Don’t let her watch any sad movies,” Rory said seriously. “And make sure you give her lots of tea, but only if it’s peppermint, cause she doesn’t—“

“Hey, hey, relax.” Luke cut Rory’s diatribe short, knowing that, just like her mom, she’d never stop once she got going. “I’ll take good care of your mom tonight, short stuff. That’s a promise.”

“You better.” Rory looked ready to hire a hit man if he didn’t. They both glanced at the doorway when the sound of another irrepressible sneeze echoed down the hall. “She needs some cold medicine.”

“I’ll give it to her,” Luke assured her. Rory blinked, considering; then nodded.

“Okay…thanks, Luke.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” He reached out and ruffled her hair rather awkwardly; it was all he could think to do. But Rory didn’t seem to mind, if the wide smile on her face was any indication. Then she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, and Luke turned to look at her once more before leaving the room. In that moment, though he’d never admit to a soul, he imagined what it would be like to put her to bed every night…then walk back to the living room, where Lorelai was waiting.

Dismissing the fantasy, he found a bottle of NyQuil in the kitchen cabinet, and brought it back to the living room, where he found Lorelai sitting cross-legged on the floor and looking through movies. Though she wasn’t any less beautiful to him, she certainly did look sick. Her usually rosy cheeks were bone-white, except for the dark circles under her eyes; and her nose seemed to be getting redder by the minute, unsurprising when he considered how many tissues she’d gone through in the hour or so since he’d bought them.

“What do you thidk?” She asked stuffily, holding up two viewing choices. “Pretty id Pidk, or St. Elbo’s Fire?”

“Hmm, gotta love that saint elbow,” he said dryly, mocking her sniffly voice with a barely repressed smirk.

“I cad’t help id!” she whined petulantly. “I’b sick. So?” she shook the two movies impatiently. Glancing between her two selections, Luke felt unsure whether Rory would classify either of them as sufficiently not-sad enough for a sick and emotional Lorelai.

“Ok, I choose this,” he said, holding out the bottle and spoon. “Then we can get to a movie.”

“Uh-uh,” she sniffed, shaking her head. “That stuff tastes terrible.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Thed you take id,” Lorelai scowled, her frown dissolving almost immediately into a familiar, ticklish expression, eyebrows knitting together as she pulled a fresh Kleenex from the box in her lap. “Ahh…atchshew!” *Snrf.*

“Oh, for pete’s sake!” Luke snapped. “You look like an extra from ‘Outbreak,’ you can’t stop sneezing for five minutes, just quit being such a baby and take the damn cold medicine!” Lorelai stared up at Luke with an expression of mild shock, one hand still holding the tissue up to her nose. “And you’re not watching any sad movies, either.”

“Oh…kay…” Lorelai said slowly, holding out her hands for the highly-contested bottle of NyQuil. “Just so log as you doh you’ll hab to carry be to bed odce I take this.”

“I can live with that,” Luke muttered, staring so hard at the floor that he missed the grin that broke over Lorelai’s face.

[The Sneezster]

So nice! How come I don't get cute guys automatically staying the night when I get a cold?

Oh yeah, it's 'cause I don't live in a sneezefic. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to enjoy this instead. When Part III gets posted, I'll be sure to read it right away.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Hey, AWESOME! I mean, I SO love GG, and this is just so cute, and sick!Lorelai's adorable (even though I have such a THING for the idea of Luke sneezing). Thanks so much! *goes off to read the next part*

Abyssinia,

Me

[wannablessedbe]

...Thanks for reviewing, yay! Here's ch. 3 for the enjoyment of all

Gilmores Don’t Get Sick

Chapter 3

By WannaBlessedBe

Disclaimer: The Gilmore Girls are so totally not mine.

“I can’t get comfy,” Lorelai whined, shifting around moodily on the couch with a thick comforter wrapped around her shoulders. “My bones are sore.” She folded her arms and pouted, with her sad blue eyes and her protruding lower lip, which never failed to motivate Luke to come to her aid.

“Okay, c’mere. Lie down,” he said gruffly, like it was an order; but the gentle, inviting way he patted his leg wasn’t very commanding—more like an invitation. Too tired to argue anymore, Lorelai gratefully slumped down on the couch, laying her head on Luke’s thigh, and curling her legs up under the covers with a shiver. Reaching down to smooth a lock of hair back from her face, Luke noticed that the girl lying across him was wet through with sweat.

“Jeez. You’re really feverish, Lor. Maybe I should go make up an ice pack.” Luke shifted as if to rise from the couch.

“Noooo,” Lorelai whined, wrapping both arms around his leg to keep him in place as her pillow. “Don’t you dare move, I just got comfy.”

“But we need to get you cooled down, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid,” Lorelai grumbled petulantly. “I have a kid.”

“Ahh, you’re barely old enough to buy beer,” Luke snorted, ruffling her damp hair. “And I’m pretty sure your maturity street cred goes out the window when you get sick and refuse to take care of yourself.”

“Hey, I took the nasty red stuff, didn’t I?” Lorelai whined again, holding on to Luke’s leg even tighter. “That alone should catapult me to…” With his hand on the back of her neck, he felt her shudder and tense, and remembered that the tissues were on the far arm of the couch, now out of her reach.

“Ah…ahh…ahh-tchew!” *snrf*.

“Bless you,” he said wryly, unable to be annoyed with her for sneezing all over his jeans.

“Oh…oops,” Lorelai mumbled, cupping one hand over her face. “I’b sorry.”

“Forget it,” Luke said dismissively, reaching over her to retrieve the box of tissues, and planting them squarely in front of her. She snatched one, and immediately sneezed again into it.

“Ahh-tchsh!...*sniff*…uh…thadks, Luke.”

“Just call me the human handkerchief,” he joked, rubbing her back lightly through the soft fabric of her pajama top. Lorelai chuckled weakly, and relaxed her grip on his leg, going totally limp against him. Though he’d been set on getting up for ice a moment ago, this new strategy of dead weight was far more effective than her death-grip on his leg had been; he found that he simply couldn’t bring himself to disturb her when she’d finally gotten comfortable and relaxed. On him.

Reasoning that the cold medicine she’d just taken would help bring her fever down the same as the ice pack would’ve, he settled in and turned his attention back to the movie, figuring he could always get up later if it seemed like it wasn’t getting better. The solid warmth of Lorelai’s head on his leg was marvelous, and he found himself lightly running his fingers through her damp hair. Her small sigh of contentment made him feel like he’d just won a 50k marathon.

“Feels good…dod’t stop,” she mumbled sleepily. And totally unnecessarily, because Luke had absolutely no intention of stopping. When the end credits finally rolled on the movie, Luke blinked and realized that he hadn’t heard Lorelai sneeze in almost an hour.

“Hey, I guess that stuff finally kicked in, huh?” he asked, leaning over her face to find her soundly asleep on his leg. Her lips were slightly parted, warming a small spot on his jeans with her breath. “Well, can’t say you didn’t warn me,” he murmured, and, carefully as he could, wormed out from under her head and scooped her up in his arms.

“Huh…what time is it?” she mumbled softly, arms going around his neck automatically.

“Bedtime,” Luke said quietly, easily climbing the stairs with Lorelai’s slight weight cradled against his chest.

“Gotta take Rory to school…late…” Her voice was softer than Luke had ever heard it before, 98% asleep and no more than 2% awake, and it was unbelievably endearing.

“Rory’s asleep, too, Lor. It’s nighttime. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead as he laid her on her bed, noticing that her skin was still soaked in a fine sheen of sweat. “Poor kid.” He stroked her cheek, then turned to leave; but once again her hand wormed into his and held him there.

“Stay,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he assured her. “I’m just getting some ice for your head.”

“’Kay,” she mumbled, though whether she was actually releasing him or merely falling back to sleep, Luke wasn’t sure. He tiptoed back downstairs, and without really thinking about it he poked his head into Rory’s room, checking for—what? He didn’t know, but some impulse instructed him that checking on the sleeping child was something he ought to do, if he wanted to take care of Lorelai properly. Rory was splayed out on her bed, fast asleep, and Luke was relieved to hear her clear breathing, free of any signs of sickness or distress. In the kitchen, he gathered all the supplies he could think to help get Lorelai through the night—ice pack, some water, the Kleenex he’d almost left behind on the couch, and a bottle of Vicks vapo-rub that he found in the cabinet next to where he’d found the NyQuil. It couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes before he was back upstairs, but he found a very different scene than the one he’d left. Lorelai was awake, curled into a ball, and crying quietly into her pillow.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” He asked anxiously, dropping all his supplies on her bedside table and climbing onto the bed beside her, immediately reaching out to soothe her. Her back, when he laid his hand on it, was shivering and radiating waves of heat.

“Luke,” she whimpered, looking up at him with misery etched into her blue eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, babe. I’m right here, I’m gonna take care of you and help you feel better, okay? Promise.”

“Thought you left,” she sniffled, curling up tighter against his side. “Couldn’t remember…all spinney…” she groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead, and Luke reached out, gently pushed her hand aside, and felt her forehead with the back of his own hand.

“You’re burning up,” he sighed, reaching for the ice pack. “C’mon, lie on your back, okay? Then we can get this on you…” he tried to help her roll onto her back, but she twisted and bent over with a series of deep coughs.

“This…totally…blows,” she croaked, slightly more awake now, but with the glassy-eyed fever glaze still firmly in place.

“Shh, I gotcha,” Luke said quietly, helping her lean back, and pressing the cold pack to her forehead.

“Whoa, that feels good,” Lorelai mumbled hoarsely, reaching out and laying one of her own hands limply on top of Luke’s on her forehead. “Now the room is spinning, but my head is staying still.” She blinked, and cracked a weak smile. “Just like I’m at my own personal rave…without the crappy techno music…” Luke chuckled, and Lorelai coughed again. “Ouch,” she whimpered.

“Oh, here, I found something that might help with that cough,” Luke offered awkwardly, reaching across her again for the jar of goopy vapo-rub and holding it out to her. She blinked at it with a puzzled expression, like it had just jumped out of a spaceship and danced the cha-cha in front of her.

“That’s for Rory,” She said weakly. “Helped her sleep…that time…”

“Well Rory doesn’t need it right now. You do.” He unscrewed it, and put it in her hand.

“Uh…okay…” she fumbled for a moment with the buttons on her pajama top. “Will you do it for me, please?”

“Oh…” Luke’s face turned bright red, a situation which, normally, would earn him endless teasing comments from the snappy-comeback queen beside him on the bed. But she had no quip at the ready, and Luke reminded himself that she wasn’t trying to tease him right now. She might not even remember this tomorrow, anyway.

“Um, sure…yeah, of course.” He carefully undid the top three buttons on her top, which was more than enough to expose her collarbone and the soft, smooth skin between her breasts. He was extremely careful not to push the fabric covering her chest too far aside, but he couldn’t pretend that the view he now had wasn’t spectacular.

“See anything ya like?” She murmured, a sluggish, heavy-eyed version of her usual smirk fighting to appear on her face.

“What’s not to like?” He bantered back, keeping his eyes on hers while he smoothed a layer of the minty-smelling goop across her skin. “These Hello Kitty pajamas are pretty damn stylish, if you ask me.” Lorelai giggled almost drunkenly, and blinked up at him with a drowsy grin.

“You’ll be here in the morning, won’t you, Luke?” He thought about his usual schedule—up at 5am, setting up in the diner by 5:30—and made a mental note to call Cesar as soon as Lorelai was asleep.

“Yeah, of course I’ll be here.”

The next time Lorelai opened her eyes, there was sunlight streaming through her windows. Her eyes burned with tiredness when she blinked, soon joined by her throat when she swallowed. Whimpering, she pulled a pillow into her arms and hugged it tight, summoning all her willpower to force herself up and out of bed. Rory, school, she repeated in her head ten times, finally pushing herself to her feet.

“Ugh,” she groaned, when the room spun lazily around her. “Get it together, Gilmore. Rory, school…Rory…*snrf*…” she glanced down in search of a tissue to wipe her nose, and her eyes fell on a note beside her pillow in her daughter’s neat block letters, covered in Snoopy stickers and with three different colors of sparkling ink. Picking it up, she sat down again with a weak grin.

Dear Mommy:

Good morning! I hope you feel a little better today. But even if you do, you’re not going to work, so get back in bed. Luke and me took your temperature in your ear when you were sleeping, and it’s 101, so today is an ice cream and movie day for you. You can watch Desperately Seeking Susan and Dirty Dancing without me, but please wait till I get home for Fame and Flashdance, ok? Luke will take super-good care of you till I get out of school. I love you THIS much!!!!

Love, Rory

She had drawn a picture of freakishly long arms under the words, “I love you this much,” plus arrows to the edge of the page, with “x 1,000,000” scrawled underneath. Lorelai studied the note for a few extra moments, smiling widely. Then she remembered that she needed a Kleenex. Luke appeared in her doorway before she’d even finished blowing her nose.

“Hey, thought I heard some signs of life,” he joked, a dishtowel over one arm and a poorly suppressed grin on his usually stony face.

“Yup, alive and…ahh-tschhew!” The tissue in her hands flew back up to her face.

“And ready for another day of sneezing your head off?” He asked dryly. She glared evilly at him from behind her soggy Kleenex.

“You’re dot supposed to…bake…fud of…ahh…” she groped for a fresh tissue from the box beside her, unable to keep her eyes from fluttering closed. “Ahh…atschhew!” Her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she brought her hands up to cover her sneeze, having failed to grab a tissue in time. Luke hastily crossed the room and picked up the box of Kleenex, and deposited them in her lap.

“Bless you,” he said gently, sitting down beside her on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered grumpily. “Keep it up, pal. Pretty sood, I wod’ have ady blessigs left for the rest of by life…huhh…hehshoo! *Sniff.*”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I think you’ve probably only sneezed your way through, say, a new car and retirement at 30 so far.”

“So I still have a chadce ad gettig back stage ad David Bowie, huh?” She blew her nose, then cracked a small grin.

“A slim chance.”

“Ha! You dod’t…” she sniffled, pulled out a fresh tissue, and blew her nose again. “Whoa, that’s better…you don’t know the Gilmore girls in action, do you?” She said to him with a glimmer of her usually feisty grin. “We never, ever miss a slim chance.”

“So I’ve noticed.” They smiled shyly at each other.

“Hey Luke?”

“Yeah?” Lorelai glanced uncertainly down at her rather exposed cleavage.

“Why is my shirt half-open? You didn’t let Kirk in to make one of his movies while I was sleeping the drugged sleep of the NyQuil, didja?”

“What? No! Of course not,” Luke stammered, hastily standing up again and shifting his weight nervously form one foot to the other. Lorelai raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued. “It was just, ah, you were coughing, and I found…you said…” he pointed to the jar on the bedside table. “You asked me to put it on for you…remember?” Lorelai looked from Luke, to her bedside table, and felt her cheeks flush, counting on her fever to cover it.

“Oh…I did?” She quickly re-buttoned her top.

“You were really out of it,” he shrugged awkwardly.

“Oh…yeah, um…sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Luke assured her. After only a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and squeezed her pajama-clad leg. “I’m just glad I was here.” They were both blushing now. Then a shrill buzzing noise came from the direction of the kitchen.

“What the freakin’ hell was that?” Lorelai asked, looking bewildered.

“That’s your oven-timer, Lorelai.”

“My…*snrf*…my oven timer? We don’t use the oven timer. We don’t even use the oven…do you think it’s mad at me? Do you think it’s finally gone on the attack? Should I barricade the living room and secure the pots and pans so they can’t defect?”

“I made brownies,” Luke said dryly, trying not to look too pleased with himself when her eyes lit up with their trademark million-watt sparkle. “But you have to wait at least fifteen minutes before they’ll be cool enough to cut,” he warned her.

“Sure, cause if you don’t wait the proper amount of time before cutting hot brownies…*snrf*…there could be…*sniff*…major carnage...” Her eyebrows were knitting together again, one hand going for the tissues while the other went up to her face, two fingers as usual rubbing the pink underside of her nose, and failing to suppress the sharp breath that generally preceded another whiplash-inducing Lorelai sneeze.

“Huhh…” She shivered. “Ishhoo!” Her head and shoulders snapped forward over her crossed legs, rocking her slightly forward on the bed. “Whoa…” She sat back and pressed a hand to her forehead to steady herself, the other hand still pressing a tissue under her nose. “By owd private roller-coaster…*snrf.*”

“Bless you,” Luke patted her back clumsily.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Cad I please…*sniffle*…have a browdie?”

“Coming right up,” Luke winked.

[The Sneezster]

I'm melting! Melting!

I am really, really loving this chapter.

[tFM!]

You. Are. Awesome. At. Writing.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

*holds out hands, Oliver Twist-style*

Please, ma'am, may I have some more?

Abyssinia,

Me

[Lynne]

Merged at the author's request

[wannablessedbe]

Thank you reviewers! Keep it comin'. Here's a short chapter that I almost held off on posting...but why make you suffer?

Gilmores Don’t Get Sick

Chapter 4

By WannaBlessedBe

Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls do not belong to me! More’s the pity.

“Lorelai? Lor, wake up.”

“Uh-huh…I’m awake.”

“Are you really? Or are you gonna fall back to sleep?”

“I’m awake, dammit.” Lorelai rubbed her tired eyes and blinked up at Luke in confusion. “What’s wrong?” She glanced automatically around the living room as she asked this, disoriented and vaguely anxious. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and it took her a minute to remember why she was there, lying on the couch, in the middle of the day.

“Nothing, it’s just—Cesar called, something about Taylor and a construction crew, and suddenly the diner’s so packed we’re running out of food, and—“

“Luke, stop.” Surprisingly, he did, looking down into her still pale face with an incredibly guilty expression. “Go back to work, okay? I’ll be fine here.”

“Are you sure? Is there anyone else who can pick up Rory from school?”

“Please, just go. You’ve been so incredibly nice to me, last night and today…it would hardly make me feel better for your diner to go out of business because of me and my cold. Go, okay? I’ll be fine.” She coughed, not exactly strengthening her argument, but they both knew that he really did have to get back to work.

“Okay, well…call when you want dinner, okay? I’ll bring it by later.”

“’Kay,” Lorelai grinned sheepishly. “Thanks, Luke.” They smiled awkwardly at each other, and Luke shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out. Lorelai glanced at the clock, and realized with a jolt that she needed to go pick Rory up in a few minutes. With a sigh of resignation, she disentangled herself from the blankets and stood, shivering. The room spun for a moment, and she closed her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby,” she grumbled to herself, wiping her nose on her sleeve with a moody sniffle. “You just have a cold. You’re not dying. …Ahh-tchsh!” …*Sniff.*

When she finally rounded the corner to Rory’s school, she saw her daughter already standing by the gate, waiting. When she looked up and saw her mother coming towards her, a frown crinkled her seven-year-old forehead.

“Mommy, what are you doing here? You should be home, in bed. Where’s Luke?”

“Luke had to go back to work, babe. Burgers can’t flip themselves forever, you know.” Lorelai grinned weakly, and pulled her hooded sweatshirt tighter around her, trying not to shiver.

“But you shouldn’t be up. You look awful.” Rory reached up and grabbed a handful of Lorelai’s sleeve, pulling her down so she could feel her cheek. “And you’ve still got a fever.”

“Hon, please don’t worry so much. Yeah, I’m not feeling great right now, but I can certainly walk half a mile to come get you. Okay? No more drama, please.” Rory was still frowning.

“I could’ve walked home by myself. I’m big enough.”

“Rory, baby—“

“You don’t think I can navigate half a mile on my own?” Rory challenged, raising one eyebrow to match her mom’s.

“I think you’re the only first-grader in this town who can not only navigate her own way home from school, but also use the word ‘navigate’ in a sentence without being quizzed.” She smirked and cocked her head, making Rory’s frown slide into a reluctant grin. “But honey, we’ve never talked about you walking home alone before; and if we do, it’s going to be because you want to, not because you think you have to. And it’s going to be planned. Okay?”

“…Okay,” Rory agreed, flinging herself around her mother’s waist and hugging her tight. “Want to see the story Lane me wrote for you today?”

“Aw, angel face, you wrote me a story?”

“Uh-huh,” Rory beamed. “Hey, Lane!” she shouted, waving her arms across the courtyard. “C’mere!” Seven-year-old Lane looked up from where she sat waiting for her own mother, and bounded toward them.

“Hi, Lorelai! I’m sorry you’re sick.” Without invitation, she flung herself on her best friend’s mom and hugged her tight, too. Then she turned to Rory and asked, “Did you show her?”

“Not yet, I was waiting for you.” With a flourish, she pulled the bundle of pages from her backpack. The front page read, in Rory’s neat letters, “Princess Lorelai Saves the Go-Go’s from the Evil Sorcerer.” Underneath was a picture of a castle, with smiling, dancing, rock n’roll stick figures labeled “Princess Lorelai,” “Belinda,” “Jane,” and “Charlotte.” They each had an instrument, except for “Princess” Lorelai, who wore a red cape and boots, and brandished a sword against a scowling man with a long, grey beard and a magician’s pointed hat.

“Aw, you guys…” A huge grin emerged on Lorelai’s face. “This is…” she broke off, turned away and coughed. “This is awesome,” she finished, beaming at the two grinning little girls.

“Really?” Lane gushed. “We thought it might be too silly.”

“No way, it’s…*snrf*…it’s the best story I ever…huh-tchhew!” Lorelai turned away from the kids, and sneezed into her hands.

“Bless you!” Lane and Rory chorused.

“Uhh…*snrf*…thadks,” Lorelai sniffed, suddenly realizing how stupid she’d been not to bring any Kleenex, and settling for wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Poor Mommy,” Rory cooed, wrapping her arm around Lorelai’s waist and squeezing her tight. “Come on, we need to get you home, missy. No more funny business!”

“Okay, Mom,” Lorelai chuckled weakly.

“Lane!” All three of them whipped around at the sound of the angry voice behind them. “What are you doing? You were supposed to wait for me by the steps.” Mrs. Kim was marching toward them, stony-faced, and Rory and Lane both reflexively hid themselves behind Lorelai’s body.

“Uh…hi, Mama,” Lane said sheepishly, peeking out form behind Lorelai’s sweatshirt. “Rory and me were just showing her mom the story we wrote.”

“Well, come, now! We are late for afternoon psalms.” Mrs. Kim reached for Lane’s hand; Rory waved goodbye to her best friend; and Lorelai sneezed again, turning her head and shoulders away and stifling a wet-sounding “Ahh-tchsh!” in her hands.

“Bless you, Mommy,” Rory said kindly, while Mrs. Kim jumped like she’d been poked with a cattle prod, her iron grip on her daughter’s hand pulling Lane away, too.

“What is wrong with you?” Mrs. Kim demanded, pulling Lane behind her. “You bring contagious germs to a school? You should not do this!”

“Jeez, I turned away, didn’t I?” Lorelai rolled her eyes at Mrs. Kim, a bit more of her youthful sullenness coming out than was strictly necessary, and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Your daughter should not be in school!” Mrs. Kim exclaimed shrilly.

“Rory’s not sick,” Lorelai said impatiently. “Thanks for your concern, though.”

“She is carrier! She brings your germs everywhere she goes!”

“Look…” Lorelai began to say, then broke off with a shiver, and turned away again. “Atchshhew!” Before Rory and Lane had time to bless her again, she doubled over and started to cough.

“You see, you should not be here!” Mrs. Kim scolded, shaking her finger in an oblivious Lorelai’s direction while the younger woman coughed uncontrollably.

“Hey!” Rory growled, pushing herself between her mom and Mrs. Kim. “Leave my mom alone! She can’t help it she’s sick. You think she wants to be here? She has to come and get me because there’s no one else!”

“Rory…relax,” Lorelai croaked, squeezing her daughter’s shoulder when she finally caught her breath. “C’mon, let’s just go home.” With a parting scowl for Mrs. Kim, Rory turned away and wrapped her arm around Lorelai’s waist.

“…You can lean on me if you want, Mommy,” she offered, after a moment’s silence.

“I know, baby,” Lorelai smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

[Mr Sneezy]

I never watched The Gilmore Girls, but this is a great series here.

Who is Mrs Kim and why do I think she should get her comeuppance?

[Lynne]

Mrs. Kim is Lane's mom, and doesn't approve of Lorelai - she runs an antique store in town and she is very strict with her daughter.

[tFM!]

Rory is so cute! I love this chapter. Will there be a Chapter 5???

[Fantasneezer]

I can't wait to read more of these! Great job!

[ilovesneezing]

I've just started waching GG thanks to this fic

totally sweet hun

[wannablessedbe]

...Thanks for the reviews, keep 'em coming! And thanks especially to the person who said they started watching Gilmore Girls because of my story! That's pretty awesome. If you haven't already, be sure to check out my inspiration for this fic: http://savefile.com/files/31524

Gilmores Don’t Get Sick

Chapter 5

By WannaBlessedBe

Disclaimer: The Gilmore Girls are not mine; I only take them out to play with once in a while

“Okay, we’ve got ice cream, pop tarts, more cold medicine for you, and orange juice. Do we need anything else?”

“Um, orange juice?” Lorelai blinked bemusedly at her daughter.

“Um, yeah,” Rory replied, raising one eyebrow to match her mom’s. “You can’t just eat ice cream and pop tarts when you’re sick, Mommy. You need some vitamins. So, it’s either this, or I switch the brown-sugar-cinnamon for a pound of spinach.” She shook the box of pop tarts threateningly. Lorelai’s mouth dropped open in outrage.

“You would take away Mommy’s favorite food in the whole world, in this, my hour of need? Oh, what have I done to deserve this cruelty from my own flesh and blood!”

“If you want the tarts, you have to get the juice, too.”

“But Rory,” Lorelai whined, “I hate orange juice. It tastes like battery acid. The only kind that’s any good is the fancy, fresh-squeezed kind, and that’s way too expensive for us.”

“Not today.” Rory wiggled her eyebrows, and walked back to the refrigerated section where the juices were lined up, and switched the one she held for the one that cost three times as much.

“Hon, we don’t—“

“No worries, Mommy. I got this.” Rory winked, and Lorelai just stood there looking confused.

“You…tchshh!” Lorelai pinched her nose, hard, trying not to sneeze on the entire town’s produce. “…You ‘got this?’” she finished quizzically, with a sniffle.

“Bless you! Yeah, I got this.” Rory grinned and shook her backpack. A loud, metallic clanking sound came from inside.

“What’s that?” Lorelai frowned.

“My piggy bank.”

“Hon, no. I won’t let you spend all your lemonade money on me, forget it. That’s…*sniff*…your hard-earned money, babycakes.” Lorelai wrinkled her nose and rubbed it with the back of her knuckles, her frown deepening.

“Yeah, it is my money, so I get to decide how to spend it. And I say, fancy orange juice.” Rory folded her arms with a look of stubborn determination, both eyebrows raised in defiant challenge. Lorelai groaned.

“Rory, baby, please. I’m too tired to argue with you right now.”

“Good, then don’t.”

“Rory…” Lorelai broke off and coughed into her sleeve, then swiped the back of her arm across her damp forehead. “Jesus, it’s hot in here…I’m taking off my coat.”

“Mom, you should be home right now. You’re all sweaty and sniffly and your face is even whiter than it was this morning and every time you cough, you sound like you’re drowning. Please, just stop arguing with me so we can get out of here and back to our nice, comfy couch, okay?” Rory’s expression was shifting from stubborn to concerned, and working its way to anxious.

“Okay, jelly bean…if that’s what you really want.”

“It is.”

“And I…*snrf*…I still get my pop tarts?”

“You still get your pop tarts,” Rory agreed happily, her smile sliding into a frown when Lorelai shivered and coughed again. “Okay, enough monkey business. Let’s get you home now.”

Too tired to argue anymore, Lorelai quietly followed her seven-year-old to the cash register, then home from Doose’s Market, collapsing gratefully on the couch.

“Oh, my beautiful couch,” she yawned, kicking off her shoes and curling up against the cushions with a sigh. “Rory!”

“What is it, Mommy?” Rory came bounding in from the kitchen, where she’d just deposited their shopping bags, with the same vaguely anxious look she’d worn since leaving the market.

“Come cuddle with me, baby. I need some love.” Lorelai was pouting, rubbing her eyes and looking utterly wretched. Rory was happy to oblige, ignoring all her mom’s anti-cootie-germ-radius rules from earlier.

“Hehh…hehtchshh!” Lorelai didn’t bother raising her head off the pillow, pulling the long cuff of her sweatshirt up over her hand to cover her sneeze, as she still didn’t have any Kleenex.

“Bless you,” Rory said sweetly, handing the tissues to her and attempting to crawl into her lap.

“Wait, no! Germs,” Lorelai groaned, shrinking back into the corner of the couch. “I already slimed this pillow…*snrf*…you could be…ahhh…ahh-tchshh!...*snrf*…you could be next.” She wiped her nose grumpily on the fresh tissue Rory handed her.

“You need some more of this cold medicine,” Rory frowned, producing the new bottle.

“You had that in your pocket?” Lorelai chuckled weakly. “You’re funny.”

“Yup, I’m getting the official class clown certificate and plaque next week,” Rory deadpanned, cracking open the bottle and neatly pouring it out into the little plastic cup. “And you’re sneezing a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sneeze this much in my whole life!”

“Yeah, well, thad’s cause I haved’t had a cold sidce before you were bord,” Lorelai sniffled, and took the medicine cup from Rory, eyeing it disdainfully. “I guess by pact with the devil fidally rad oudt.” She grimaced, and downed the bright orange liquid. “Gahhh.” She stuck out her tongue, sniffled, and blew her nose. “Ice cream now, please?”

“Coming right up,” Rory chirped, bouncing off the couch and into the kitchen, and returning in record time with two heaping bowls of ice cream. She handed one to Lorelai, and tried to sit beside her.

“Rory, no, sit on the ottoman,” Lorelai begged, pulling away again and flattening herself against the arm of the couch.

“You know what? You need to chill, Mom.” Lorelai stopped trying to lean backwards over the couch arm, and stared quizzically at her daughter.

“I need to chill?” She laughed, and rubbed her forehead with one hand. “Wow, either the cold medicine just kicked in, or you are really funny today.”

“It’s funny that I’m trying to take care of you? Because I think it’s funny that you’re such a bad patient.”

“I am not!” Lorelai cried indignantly, crossing her arms and looking ready to sulk. “I’m just trying to protect you from getting sick, too. That’s the mom’s job!”

“Okay, in general, yes. But you always said that we take care of each other, right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“And you’ve never stayed away from me when I was sick.”

“…Well, no, but…” Lorelai broke off coughing before Rory could interrupt again.

“And,” Rory continued with her hands on her hips, “If it was me coughing like that, we’d already be at the doctor’s office. You know it’s true, don’t even try to deny it. So basically, what you’re saying is, we don’t have to take care of you as good as we take care of me.”

“Aw, jeez…ready for your cross-examination, counselor?” Lorelai joked weakly, when she’d caught her breath. “Okay, hon, I hear you. But I think you’re overreacting a little, too. I know I sound bad now, but I’ll be better in a few days, you’ll see. And if I’m not, then I promise we’ll go see a doctor. Okay?” Rory frowned.

“And no more sitting on opposite sides of the room?” They stared each other down for a moment; then Lorelai sighed, gave a tired smile, and opened her arms. Rory grinned back and happily jumped into them, hugging her mom and kissing her cheek. “You are very hot,” the smaller Gilmore frowned when she pulled away. “I’m getting the ice pack.”

“But I’m still eating my ice cream,” Lorelai whined, pointing to the half-melted bowl.

“Yeah, you’ll be done with it by the time I get back,” Rory winked.

“Hmm…*sniff*…true…”

When Rory came back, she was juggling both the ice pack and a tall glass of juice with a pink and purple crazy straw poking out; then she ran back and made a second trip, dragging an extra blanket across the living room and throwing it over the couch, then crawling under to pop out the top next to her mom.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Lorelai observed, a little sedately, as Rory settled in and hit “play” on the remote.

“I’m just doing what you do,” Rory shrugged. Then she pulled out one of the squishy throw pillows, and put it in her lap. “Come on, lie down,” she said gently, “And put your head here. Then I can hold that ice on your forehead.”

“Well…I guess the pillow makes a pretty good cootie barrier,” Lorelai agreed grudgingly; when she lay down and Rory pressed the cold pack on her head, she sighed in exhausted relief. “Correction…you’re very, very good at this.”

“Only the best for Princess Lorelai,” Rory said happily, running her free hand through the long brown hair trailing across her legs.

“…If you’re trying to dope me up so you can ask for a pony,” Lorelai mumbled sleepily, “Bear in mind that I probably won’t remember…*snrf*…tomorrow…”

“Oh, Muffin will be all moved in and grazing in the backyard by then,” Rory bantered lightly, glancing down with a small smirk of triumph at the nearly-closed eyes below her. Unfortunately, Lorelai’s rapid descent into dreamland was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, surprisingly strong “Ishhoo!”

“Whoa, bless you.” Rory handed her mom a tissue.

“Okay…this pillow is defidately gettig by cold dow,” Lorelai sniffled, patting the edge of the pillow in question consolingly as she wiped her nose. “Sorry, little buddy…hehh-tchshhew!” She curled her legs up tighter under the blankets, starting to shiver.

“Poor Mommy, you’re so sick. Want me to sing to you?”

“Thad’s okay, baby…*sniff*…thadks, though.” Rory leaned over and kissed her ear.

“Just relax and watch the movie, okay? Don’t worry about anything.”

“I’b dot,” Lorelai assured her, with a yawn. “…Dot worried…aboud adythig.”

[ilovesneezing]

Awww this just keeps getting cuter and cuter. I have been watching a lot of GG recently...definitely because of this and I must say you capture their witty banter rather perfectly.

Please keep it coming!

[reggie1]

What a cute story - I can totally picture it fitting in with the show! Gilmore Girls is one of my favorites.

[zakandsara]

These are really good. I'm not really a big fan of the Gilmore Girls, but this definitely helped!!!

[tFM!]

Awesomeness! You seriously write the most amazing sneezefics ever.

[Fantasneezer]

I cannot stress how much I love these stories! More to come, I hope?!

[Heather]

This is one of my favorite stories!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE keep it up!!!!!!