forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit
Feb. 11th, 2007 10:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wizened_cynicThis time, it's really not my fault. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hostile_driver provided the bare-bones. I just fleshed it out to make it into diabetes-inducing pancreas-destroying baaaaaaabyfic. Seriously. I can't help it if you people keep baiting me.
I might need a goddamn tag for this series, which should not even BE babyfic yet, because it's really pre-babyfic and it's supposed to deal with their weird issues of commitment and political ambition and desire for "the whole package" and shit like that they talk about on TWOP.
Many, many moons after the gummi bear fic.
Catherine is possibly the smallest, pinkest thing Alex has ever laid her eyes on, and this is even before Lorelai's gotten her hands on her. She has tufts of thick, dark hair and no eyebrows and eyes as blue as struck matches, and Alex thinks there has to be a clause she could overturn to allow babies in the courtroom, because she's not sure if she could ever set Catherine down.
Lorelai laughs at her. Lorelai mocks her openly, and Alex can't even retort because loud noises will wake Catherine, and Alex definitely cannot resort to means of physical violence, because that would require setting Catherine down, which Alex is not prepared to do for the rest of her life or until Catherine soils her first diaper.
Which, coincidentally, is twenty-eight minutes and fifteen seconds later.
"I'll start interviewing nannies tomorrow," Alex says as Lorelai begins the arduous process of diaper-changing. Alex isn't going to lie --- she's not much of a hands-on person when it comes to babies, and she prefers to keep it that way. In truth she hadn't been prepared to love Catherine so much, so quickly; she'd spent most of Abigail's pregnancy sorting out the legal arrangements and going through medical records and driving up to Cornell to hunt down the birthfather.
Lorelai finishes putting the fresh diaper on Catherine and props the baby on her shoulder. Turning Catherine's head away, she makes an obscene gesture with her finger and informs Alex in a murderous whisper, "Oh, no. No. Like hell you are."
They've been through this. You'd think once now that they actually have the baby, they'd find something new to fight about.
"You said we would do this together, Claire," Lorelai says sweetly as she rubs circles on Catherine's back. "I said, 'Let's have a baby!' and you said, 'Okay,' not, 'We'll get the baby and then let someone else raise it!' So I bullied you for six months before you finally agreed to do it. But still. We can't just shuffle her off to Mary Poppins. Have you seen that freaky umbrella? It'll give her a complex."
"I was raised by my nanny," Alex says, "and I turned out perfectly fine."
"I was raised by my nanny," Lorelai says, "and I got pregnant at sixteen."
Alex needs a moment to think of a rebuttal, but Lorelai's on a roll. "She doesn't even know us yet. How is she going to get to know you, if you're always passing her off to someone else so you can be all Erin Brockovich-like?"
"Hey!" Alex snaps, offended.
"Elle Woods-like."
"How is that better?"
"She's blonde, and, uh, she was in that movie about Johnny Cash."
Lorelai places Catherine back in Alex's arms before Alex can say anything else, which is a completely cheap move on her part because Catherine yawns, her little tongue poking out, and she studies Alex with wide, wet eyes, and Alex thinks, I cannot let this little girl grow up to be a defense attorney.
"I gotta go," she mumbles, and lays Catherine down in her crib. Alex cringes at the thought of leaving Jim Steele in charge of her bureau, but Lorelai has made it perfectly clear that if Alex doesn't show up for her shift of parenting, Lorelai will not hesitate to recruit troops and bring democracy to the DA's office.
Which is why a week later, it's four in the fucking A.M. and Lorelai is slumped over the kitchen table, comatose, while Alex is sitting in the rocking chair, attempting to coax Catherine to sleep and practicing her summation for the Morewood case, all at the same time.
Yes, she could read Catherine a story, but in the past ten days of Catherine's short life, she has already been educated in the feeding habits of a very hungry caterpillar, as well as the detrimental effects of giving a mouse a cookie, which, frankly, interested nobody, least of all Catherine herself.
At least Alex is getting some work done. And it's educational, really.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Alex murmurs as Catherine settles in the crook of her arm, her little hands flailing. At first she observes Alex with a look of abject horror, but it dissolves into one of bemusement as Alex informs the hypothetical jury of their duty to find Keith Morewood guilty on all three counts of assault, kidnapping, and unlawful imprisonment.
Alex has scarcely gotten to the part where she points out she has proven Morewood's guilty beyond reasonable doubt, when her rhetoric combined with the soothing motion of the rocking chair sends Catherine nodding off, tiny lashes fluttering as her eyes slide shut.
When Alex wakes up, it's getting light outside, and her arm is numb from the weight of Catherine's body. She can hear Lorelai snoring in the kitchen. There's a damp patch of drool on her shirt where Catherine's cheek is pressed against her, and Alex has to pinch herself to make sure she's not dreaming, because this is nothing like she had ever imagined for herself, and she wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.
(This is what Claire Catherine Gilmore will eventually look like. Right now she's just a blob.)
hostile_driver provided the bare-bones. I just fleshed it out to make it into diabetes-inducing pancreas-destroying baaaaaaabyfic. Seriously. I can't help it if you people keep baiting me. I might need a goddamn tag for this series, which should not even BE babyfic yet, because it's really pre-babyfic and it's supposed to deal with their weird issues of commitment and political ambition and desire for "the whole package" and shit like that they talk about on TWOP.
Many, many moons after the gummi bear fic.
Catherine is possibly the smallest, pinkest thing Alex has ever laid her eyes on, and this is even before Lorelai's gotten her hands on her. She has tufts of thick, dark hair and no eyebrows and eyes as blue as struck matches, and Alex thinks there has to be a clause she could overturn to allow babies in the courtroom, because she's not sure if she could ever set Catherine down.
Lorelai laughs at her. Lorelai mocks her openly, and Alex can't even retort because loud noises will wake Catherine, and Alex definitely cannot resort to means of physical violence, because that would require setting Catherine down, which Alex is not prepared to do for the rest of her life or until Catherine soils her first diaper.
Which, coincidentally, is twenty-eight minutes and fifteen seconds later.
"I'll start interviewing nannies tomorrow," Alex says as Lorelai begins the arduous process of diaper-changing. Alex isn't going to lie --- she's not much of a hands-on person when it comes to babies, and she prefers to keep it that way. In truth she hadn't been prepared to love Catherine so much, so quickly; she'd spent most of Abigail's pregnancy sorting out the legal arrangements and going through medical records and driving up to Cornell to hunt down the birthfather.
Lorelai finishes putting the fresh diaper on Catherine and props the baby on her shoulder. Turning Catherine's head away, she makes an obscene gesture with her finger and informs Alex in a murderous whisper, "Oh, no. No. Like hell you are."
They've been through this. You'd think once now that they actually have the baby, they'd find something new to fight about.
"You said we would do this together, Claire," Lorelai says sweetly as she rubs circles on Catherine's back. "I said, 'Let's have a baby!' and you said, 'Okay,' not, 'We'll get the baby and then let someone else raise it!' So I bullied you for six months before you finally agreed to do it. But still. We can't just shuffle her off to Mary Poppins. Have you seen that freaky umbrella? It'll give her a complex."
"I was raised by my nanny," Alex says, "and I turned out perfectly fine."
"I was raised by my nanny," Lorelai says, "and I got pregnant at sixteen."
Alex needs a moment to think of a rebuttal, but Lorelai's on a roll. "She doesn't even know us yet. How is she going to get to know you, if you're always passing her off to someone else so you can be all Erin Brockovich-like?"
"Hey!" Alex snaps, offended.
"Elle Woods-like."
"How is that better?"
"She's blonde, and, uh, she was in that movie about Johnny Cash."
Lorelai places Catherine back in Alex's arms before Alex can say anything else, which is a completely cheap move on her part because Catherine yawns, her little tongue poking out, and she studies Alex with wide, wet eyes, and Alex thinks, I cannot let this little girl grow up to be a defense attorney.
"I gotta go," she mumbles, and lays Catherine down in her crib. Alex cringes at the thought of leaving Jim Steele in charge of her bureau, but Lorelai has made it perfectly clear that if Alex doesn't show up for her shift of parenting, Lorelai will not hesitate to recruit troops and bring democracy to the DA's office.
Which is why a week later, it's four in the fucking A.M. and Lorelai is slumped over the kitchen table, comatose, while Alex is sitting in the rocking chair, attempting to coax Catherine to sleep and practicing her summation for the Morewood case, all at the same time.
Yes, she could read Catherine a story, but in the past ten days of Catherine's short life, she has already been educated in the feeding habits of a very hungry caterpillar, as well as the detrimental effects of giving a mouse a cookie, which, frankly, interested nobody, least of all Catherine herself.
At least Alex is getting some work done. And it's educational, really.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Alex murmurs as Catherine settles in the crook of her arm, her little hands flailing. At first she observes Alex with a look of abject horror, but it dissolves into one of bemusement as Alex informs the hypothetical jury of their duty to find Keith Morewood guilty on all three counts of assault, kidnapping, and unlawful imprisonment.
Alex has scarcely gotten to the part where she points out she has proven Morewood's guilty beyond reasonable doubt, when her rhetoric combined with the soothing motion of the rocking chair sends Catherine nodding off, tiny lashes fluttering as her eyes slide shut.
When Alex wakes up, it's getting light outside, and her arm is numb from the weight of Catherine's body. She can hear Lorelai snoring in the kitchen. There's a damp patch of drool on her shirt where Catherine's cheek is pressed against her, and Alex has to pinch herself to make sure she's not dreaming, because this is nothing like she had ever imagined for herself, and she wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.
(This is what Claire Catherine Gilmore will eventually look like. Right now she's just a blob.)
