it's a.j.'s party. cry if you want to.

[wizened_cynic]

Happy birthday, A.J.! I've never felt so much affection for a fictional toddler as I feel about you. Technically, you're my age, but in my head you're always about two. Also, you're cooler than Rory. And have better hair. Don't grow up to sleep with married ex-boyfriends or steal boats.

Fuck, I realize most of you will have no idea what this fic is about because I left out a whole chunk of explanation. Whatever. The prequel is in my memories and tags, and what you have to know is that Alex got pregnant by Elliot when she was 16. Lorelai is someone Alex meets in the hospital and she helps Alex raise A.J., basically. Except because they are Alex and Lorelai, they act like selfish emo brats and are generally horrible to each other. The rest you should be able to figure out.

Title from a poem by Gregory Di Prinzio.



because she could see the cage in the window


The key to a successful party is to have an open bar.

"For the three-year-olds?" Casey asks, and Lorelai waits a moment to see if she's being sarcastic.

She's not.

"For us," Lorelai clarifies, and Fin says, "God knows, we'll need it," and Munch says, "I never had a birthday party when I was a kid. Everyone else on the block did, but not me. My parents said it built character."

They don't get it. None of them do, especially not Alex, who wanted to blow the whole thing off and just have cake at home and open presents. The birthday where you turn three is like a sweet sixteen party for the preschool set. Throwing a big elaborate shindig to celebrate, Lorelai doesn't know, being potty trained or something is a custom. A tradition, if you will. A good old American tradition.

"We're throwing a Viking party," Alex points out.

"That's because tea parties are lame," Lorelai counters. "Forcing little kids to dress up and pour tea and use the cutlery from outside in is a cruel and unusual way to celebrate a birthday."

"I thought it was inside out," says Casey.

"It's outside in," says Fin.

"And you would know," says Munch.

Alex puts up her hand and motions for them to be quiet. She has an economics exam in two days, which is why Lorelai has been in charge of the party planning. It's working out for the best because Lorelai is an expert at throwing parties. It is one of those skills she picked up at Vassar.

"Do whatever you want, Lorelai," Alex says. "Just keep it simple. Something small and manageable."

An open bar is small and manageable.

"I know where you can get a cheap keg," Fin offers.

"And get balloons," Lorelai says. "It ain't no party without balloons."


*


It took a week of twisting and turning in bed before Lorelai sucked it up and flew back to New York. She told herself that it was for A.J. It wasn't for herself or for Alex. She could still be mad at Alex -- she was still mad as shit at Alex -- and Alex could be mad at her, but they could work together to make sure A.J. had a good birthday.

She called first to gauge how mad Alex was. If she was still mad. Lorelai had sent a postcard to A.J. when she first arrived in California, and Alex had written back, enclosing a short note saying thanks for the postcard and three of A.J.'s finger-paintings.

Munch answered. Lorelai was either relieved or disappointed. "Got sick of the beaches?" he asked, and Lorelai laughed. "No one gets sick of the beaches," she told him, even though it was a lie. She didn't used to think people could get sick of the ocean and the sand and the palm trees and Bohemian lifestyle of southern California, but she did.

California was depressing in the winter, when the chill from the ocean rattled your teeth and you had wet sand in your shoes all day and there was no snow, never any snow. It isn't winter without snow. There was rain sometimes, which was not the same, because rain was ugly and the people there didn't have any idea what to do with it and usually freaked the fuck out whenever it drizzled.

"I'm back," she informed Munch. "I missed the smell of urine and the high chance of being mugged by crack dealers."

"We're glad to have you. When are you stopping by? Does Alex know?"

Lorelai could feel her heart banging against her chest, as if it were trying to break out of her ribcage like some belligerent inmate in a cell at Sing Sing. "She doesn't know yet. It's a surprise! For A.J.," she adds.

"Ah, Junior." Lorelai could hear his voice soften with affection. "She's turning the big three on Saturday."

"That's why I'm here." Lorelai drew in a breath and asked, "Is Alex still working at Luke's?"

"Course she is. Why wouldn't she be?"

Because Lorelai had sex with Luke to get back at Alex for some stupid thing Alex had said, and then she stomped all over Luke's heart and some people never recover from that, and seeing Alex everyday would remind Luke of the horrible thing Lorelai did and eventually he wouldn't be able to take it anymore and he'd fire Alex.

At least that was the scenario Lorelai had constructed in her head for the past eight months.

But it didn't happen, and that was good. That was good. Maybe Alex wouldn't be angry after all. As long as Lorelai stayed away from Luke, she would be fine. They would all be fine.


*


Alex was working overtime at the temp agency when Lorelai showed up at the apartment. It was probably better this way, because Lorelai had a chance to have A.J. all to herself.

"Lorelai!" A.J. shouted, hurling herself headlong into Lorelai's arms at breakneck speed. Within seconds Lorelai had her arms full of warm, wriggly toddler. She breathed in that sweet little-girl smell and happiness struck her like a blow to the face.

"You're so big, A.J. Cabot," Lorelai exclaimed as she inspected her baby. Her baby. Despite what Alex said and how big A.J. had grown --- she'd lost all traces of infancy and was a real kid now, pigtails bouncing, fingers and hands deft as monkeys --- A.J. was her baby.

"I three!" A.J. held out three fingers proudly.

"Not yet, big shot." Lorelai hugged her again and covered her head with kisses until A.J. started to squirm away, crying, "Out! Out!" A.J. changed her mind once Lorelai brought out the gifts she'd collected over the last year, to make up for Christmas and Easter and every other bank holiday in between. Fin and Munch weren't too impressed by their puka shell necklaces, but Casey seemed pleased with her bobble-head doll, and A.J. was thrilled with the mini bags of peanuts with DELTA stamped on the foil.

"You shouldn't spoil her," a voice came from the doorway.

Lorelai looked up and Alex was there, hand braced against the door frame. Her expression betrayed nothing.

It wasn't until much later, after A.J. had been put to bed and Fin left to do whatever he did in the bowels of the night, that Lorelai prepared to take the couch and Alex touched her arm, stopping her.

"Are we cool?" Lorelai asked, but Alex didn't answer, and Lorelai didn't push her luck further.



*


A.J. is obsessed with Vikings.

"Why does she even know what Vikings are?" Lorelai asks.

Fin snorts and looks pointedly at Munch, who says, "I read Hagar the Horrible to her sometimes. She thinks it's funny."

"And the beer hat," Fin prompts.

Munch rolls his eyes. "A long time ago, in my youth, I entered a drinking contest at some bar and won a Viking helmet. You know, with the horns. Junior's taken a liking to it."

"She wears it to school and scares the other children," Fin says. "Munch encourages it."

"I wore a yarmulke to school until seventh grade and it never hurt me," Munch retorts, and they bicker their way out the door.

Lorelai had asked Alex earlier if she was planning to do anything special for A.J.'s birthday, and to her horror, Alex said no. After urging Alex to reconsider, since this was her daughter's most important birthday, at least until A.J. was five, Alex thought it would be nice to have a tea party. With frilly dresses and dainty china.

"That's not a party," Lorelai said. "A party is cake! And balloons! And lots of food and games and a chance to have fun, maybe even get dirty in the process."

"A tea party is fun, and I don't see why anyone has to get dirty in the process."

"Alex, we're talking about three-year-olds here. They get dirty simply by breathing."

In the end, Alex relents and Lorelai makes up a guest list and designs party invitations using construction paper and lots and lots of glitter. "I don't think the Vikings had glitter," Alex says, supervising their artwork, and Lorelai says, "We're going for fun here. Not historical accuracy."

By Friday, six children from A.J.'s preschool class have R.S.V.P.ed, and a couple of the neighborhood kids are coming with their parents, after they are promised mojitos and an afternoon of conversing with other adults while their children beat each other's brains out with foam noodles.

"Do we need a clown?" Munch asks.

"You are the clown," Fin answers.

"I hate clowns," says Casey. "How about a magician?"

"We don't need any of that," Lorelai says. She snaps her fingers. "We need fast, easy, doable! We'll mix some soap bubbles for the kids to blow, borrow a few playground toys from the community center, and then at the end we'll teach the kids to loot and pillage and maybe build a longboat and start a bonfire."

Impressed, Alex asks, "How do you know so much about the Vikings?"

"I went to the library," Lorelai answers, and tries not to wince when Alex gets that look in her eyes again, the one that says Lorelai, you are so smart if you want to be. Why do you waste your life like that?" After twenty years of perfecting her role as a failure, Lorelai is used to that look, but it always stings a little bit more when it comes from Alex.

The night before the party, they stay up to assemble the goodie bags, sipping cherry Cokes and eating rainbow Chips Ahoy. Lorelai is about to take another one of the leftover suckers when Alex tells her to hold it. "We need to make another one. Jess is coming."

Maybe it was a good thing Lorelai hadn't gotten that sucker, because it would've dropped out of her mouth and that would've been a waste of perfectly good candy. "Jess is coming? Luke's Jess?"

"Of course he's coming."

"He wasn't invited."

"I invited him. I work with Luke and I've mentioned this party once or twice in conversation. It would be awkward not to invite his nephew."

"A.J. hates Jess. I hate Jess. I am probably going to hell for hating a three-year-old, but that kid is serious trouble. He's out of control and his mother doesn't do a thing about it."

"A.J. doesn't have to like Jess," Alex says. "She's going to learn later in life that there are many occasions where you're stuck with people you don't like, and the only thing you can do is deal. You might want to take a remedial course on that lesson yourself, Lorelai."

Lorelai rips the plastic off the sucker and shoves it into her mouth. "Is Luke going to be there?"

"Probably. He might bring some treats over." Alex studies Lorelai warily. "Is that going to be awkward?"

"What? No, of course not. Why would it be awkward?"

"You had sex with the man and then you ran off for a year."

"How's that different from you and Elliot?" Lorelai asks, as she sucks on the candy some more. It's sour and powdery and chafes her tongue.

"I didn't put my friend's job in jeopardy by sleeping with Elliot," Alex says, and Lorelai hurls a handful of gumballs at her. Alex is probably just joking, but still. It's hard to face where Lorelai really stands in terms of things with Alex. "Lorelai, I'm serious. I don't want it to be weird. It's A.J.'s birthday, and I want her to have a good one."

"I love A.J. like she's my own daughter," Lorelai wants to say.

But instead she just nods and promises it won't be weird.



*


Lorelai is surprised when the alarm starts bleating madly at five in the morning. She'd set it herself, of course, but who knew technology was so reliable?

Alex groans, smacks her hand down on the snooze button, and rolls over and goes back to sleep. Lorelai turns to A.J.'s hot, limp body and cuddles her closer. "Morning, sweetheart," she whispers, stroking the round curve of A.J.'s cheek.

"Lorelai?" A.J. murmurs.

"Hey. Happy birthday!"

"I three," A.J. says sleepily.

"Yes. Yes, you are," and Lorelai kisses her until A.J. opens both eyes and regards Lorelai as though she were crazy. "You're three! You're getting so big, baby, it breaks my heart. You need to take up smoking."

"I don't want smoking," A.J. says and kisses Lorelai back, open-mouthed.

"How about drinking? That ought to stunt your growth."

"I drink milk," A.J. says.

"Do you drink beer, A.J.?"

"I don't like beer," A.J. says, screwing up her face to make her point. Lorelai sits up and gathers A.J. into her lap, and A.J. adheres to her like a limpet, curling her fingers around Lorelai's earring and snuggling her face against Lorelai's collarbone. She purrs like a radiator on a damp, chilly day, and for once Lorelai feels as if the world is on her side.

She drops another few kisses on A.J.'s fine, feathery hair and asks, "Do you want to hear how you got your name?" A.J. nods into her shirt and Lorelai begins. "On this same day, many moons ago . . . "


*


The first guests arrive a little after one, and by two o'clock the party is in full force. Ten preschoolers chase each other around the cement courtyard, their parents shouting from time to time for them to be careful and avoid cracking their heads open.

Casey blows up balloons and Fin attempts to twist them into shapes. He gets frustrated when a kid asks for something fancy --- anything that isn't a snake constitutes as fancy -- and the kid bursts into tears when Fin raises his voice.

"Aw, man, not the waterworks," he says helplessly as the boy weeps louder.

"Give it to me. Let the professionals handle it." Munch takes the balloon away from Fin, who says, "Let's see you make a goddamn ostrich. What the hell you want a goddamn ostrich for, kid?"

No one throws up or require emergency medical attention, which, in Lorelai's book, is a great success. Jess is here, with his mother and Luke, who brought ice, but Lorelai hasn't had to talk to either of them yet. Or even establish eye contact.

Alex is in the back, keeping the kids fed and the parents happy. Lorelai approaches with a plastic cup full of something red and sweet and sparkling, and offers her a sip. "No thanks," Alex says. "I'd rather not be wasted at my daughter's birthday party."

"I'm not wasted!"

Lorelai isn't even remotely buzzed. She's drinking fruit punch, for fuck's sake. She tells Alex to go to hell and then walks over to where A.J. is having some trouble blowing soap bubbles with a star-shaped want.

When she looks back towards Alex, she sees her talking to a stranger, some young guy in his twenties who has showed up out of nowhere. Lorelai is pretty sure he wasn't on the guest list. She's also pretty sure Alex knows him, from the way Alex is tilting her head back and smiling as he talks to her. A minute later, Alex is laughing cloyingly and offering the guy a drink. He takes it, kissing her on the cheek.

Kissing her on the cheek.

Lorelai has to rub her eyes to make sure her vision isn't being obscured by the soap bubbles. A.J. whimpers impatiently, forcing Lorelai to take her eyes of Alex, but once she's taught A.J. to blow lightly instead of huffing and puffing and blowing down the houses of little pigs, she fixes her gaze on Alex again, who doesn't look comfortable but isn't exactly resisting the guy.

Holy shit.

Then Alex is staring at her, staring at her staring, and she backs away from the man a little. Her hand rests on the guy's shoulder the whole time. "Lorelai," she beckons, waving her hand. "Come here. And bring A.J. with you."

Alex introduces the guy as Jim. "Nice to meet you," he says, holding out his hand. He's handsome. Clear green eyes, straight white teeth. A politician's smile. A handshake that Lorelai's father would approve of. Lorelai scrutinizes him so intently that she forgets to let go of his hand.

"Sorry," she mutters, when she finally lets go and wipes it on her skirt.

"No problem," he says, and smiles wider.

Lorelai wants to punch him in the face.

A.J. has already met him, apparently. She lets him pick her up and grudgingly offers a cheek to be kissed. Her attitude towards Jim is mostly indifferent, until Jim carries her over to a huge wrapped box. "Look what I got you, A.J."

"For me?" A.J.'s eyes widen greedily as she surveys her present.

"Say thank you," Alex nudges.

"Thank you," A.J. parrots, and the three of them began tearing at the wrapping paper.Lorelai stands in the background and watches, wishing that she had a real drink instead of fruit punch. They look like a goddamn family.

Fuck. They look like a goddamn family, and she's the third wheel. Fourth. Whatever.

She discards her paper cup and heads to the table where the mojitos are being distributed. She wonders if she can go back into the apartment and get a blender and start making margaritas. Luke's sister looks like she would enjoy one. She is in a corner, hollering at Jess, who was last seen tossing soap into Dean's eyes.

Luke.

He's still there, standing in the shade, looking generally out of place. He's wearing his baseball cap again, and two beers later Lorelai is trying to remember what his stubble had felt like against her skin. She remembers his hands, big and rough. Calloused, unlike Jim's hands which are smooth, never having worked a day. She remembers his thumbs skating over her nipples and she remembers not loving him and feeling awful as they fucked, awful but necessary. She remembers the look on Alex's face when she saw them outside the diner the next morning, and how wonderful it had felt to be able to hurt her like that.

Lorelai is aware that she's probably a horrible person --- more than probably, probably --- but she's also aware she has last summer's too short sundress in the apartment, the one that reveals way too much of her chest, and she goes inside to change.

She comes out feeling like she's capable of anything. She doesn't even care when everyone crowds around the Little Tikes ride-on car that is Jim's birthday present to A.J. The kids are collectively gasping in awe, and the birthday girl herself is wearing the expression of a sixteen-year-old with a brand new license who has opened her garage door and found out her parents had bought her a Porsche.

It's okay, Lorelai tells herself. It'll be okay.



*


She's forgotten how impossible it is to start a conversation with Luke. The man has a vocabulary of twenty words. Not because he's stupid or anything. He prefers to communicate in grunts.

"Hey, Luke." Lorelai puts on her most flirtatious smile. "Having fun?"

Luke stares at her too long, and then glances at the ground. He mumbles something Lorelai doesn't catch.

"I tried to make it a Viking party," Lorelai says. It's easier once she finds a tangent to go on. "But I went to all the party shops in Manhattan, and it turns out Vikings are not a really popular theme. I mean, you'd think it'd be more popular. The Vikings were all about feasting and looting and burning, not unlike a lot of frat parties I've been to."

Luke grunts.

"So this party didn't turn out to be very Viking-like. No roasted pigs on spits, no drinking songs, no duels --- did Vikings have duels?"

"I have no idea," Luke says.

Lorelai shakes her head. "Maybe it's just cowboys who had duels. The Vikings had the helmets. With horns. And the hammer. But Alex didn't think we should let a bunch of three-year-olds run around with hammers and helmets. With horns. I don't know, I think it's nice to expose kids early to hammers and helmets with horns."

"Lorelai," Luke says softly, and his eyes are blue and soft and he's the first person in months to look at Lorelai that way, like they actually give a shit about her, so Lorelai places her hands on his shoulders and kisses him on the mouth.

Stubble is scratchy. She forgot that too.

She kisses him again, to get used to the scratchy, but Luke grabs her by the wrists and pulls her away. "Lorelai, you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," she insists.

"Lorelai, no. I'm not doing this again," and before Lorelai can reply she sees Alex, standing a few feet away, watching.

Lorelai feels like the worst person in the world at that moment. Not because of Alex, but because of Luke. Luke. Maybe Alex. Her parents, definitely. Her parents and her dead daughter and everybody she has ever let down, and she wishes that minute that she would just die because it seems like the only permanent way for her to stop screwing things up, but there's Alex and there's A.J. and she can't die.

Alex doesn't say anything. She slinks away moments later, and Lorelai excuses herself to go to the bathroom and wash her face.

Luke is still standing in the same spot, as if nothing has happened. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe it was only Lorelai's imagination, except she'd seen the look in Luke's eyes and she knows her imagination can't make up that much hurt.

"I'm sorry," Lorelai tells him quietly. He doesn't seem angry. He doesn't seem anything, which is the norm anyway. "About what just happened. I really am."

"I get it," he says.

"No, I really am. I am so sorry, Luke. You have no idea how sorry I am."

"You were drunk," Luke says.

It hurts even o breathe, but Lorelai manages to smile somehow. She puts her hand against Luke's cheek. "You deserve someone so much better than me," she tells him.


*


Lorelai doesn't give her present to A.J. until that night. It didn't feel right, giving it to A.J. in front of all those people, and besides, after she opened Jim's present, A.J. didn't have eyes for anything else anyway.

A.J.'s eyes begin drooping halfway through Oh the Place's You'll Go, and Lorelai slides her down onto her pillow. There's still a nip in the air at night, so Lorelai tucks a thin blanket around her. "Did you have a good birthday?" she asks.

"Very good," A.J. says. She holds out three fingers again. "I three."

"That's right, kiddo. Enjoy it while it lasts. I hear being four is really, really hard."

A.J. waves her hand, as if to indicate that she isn't worried. Lorelai kisses her three times, once for each year of her life, and then takes out her gift.

"Whassit?" A.J. asks. She reaches out to stroke the fabric in Lorelai's hands.

"It's a cape," Lorelai says. "A Viking cape. A cloak, actually, but a cape sounds cooler. Also, if you get sick of Vikings, you can use it as a Superman cape."

"I like Vikings," A.J. says with conviction, and Lorelai thinks it must be so easy when you're three and sure of what you love.

Lorelai takes A.J.'s hand and traces it over the various patches of cloth on the cape. "You see all these different pieces? Each one is cut out from the different clothes you wore when you were a baby. See this one? This one is from your ducky sleeper. Do you remember your ducky sleeper?"

"No," A.J. says.

Lorelai points to another patch. "This one is from the very first thing you ever wore, A.J. When your mommy took you home from the hospital, this is what she dressed you in. And this here, this is the jumper I made you in Home Ec class. I got an A for making it."

"Did you remember to wash it first?"

Lorelai turns around. Alex is in the doorway, drying her hair. They haven't talked about what happened at the party, and if Lorelai can help it, they won't.

"Where did you get the clothes?" Alex asks.

Lorelai folds the cape into a tidy pile and places it besides A.J.'s pillow. "Lupita let me into your house after you ran away. Your parents hadn't packed any of your stuff yet. I took whatever I could find."

"Well. That was nice of you. It's a lovely gift, Lorelai. I'm sure A.J. would love it."

Lorelai shrugs and says, "It's nothing big. Not like the car your boyfriend gave her."

Alex finishes drying her hair and leaves to put the towel in the hamper. She returns and pulls out a chair and sits down, watching Lorelai the whole time. "Jim is not my boyfriend," she begins, and Lorelai holds her hand up.

"You don't owe me any explanations."

"You're right, I don't."

It's funny how one person can suddenly suck all the oxygen out of the room.

"You can't tell me how I live my life, Lorelai," Alex carries on. "I don't tell you how to live yours."

"I wish you did," Lorelai tells her. Because she would do it. It would be stupid but at least she wouldn't be alone.

"No, you don't. You'd hate me for it," says Alex.

Lorelai says, "I hate you already."





Yeah, I don't know. Not having Rory really fucked Lorelai up. Back to regular pregnant!Claire.