Ack, I'm combining the prompts for Friday, Saturday, and today to give you OCEAN'S ELEVEN AU. Because that's just what the world needs. Also it is unfinished because I got bored. Everything bores me these days, so whatever.
Alex has this annoying little thing called morals and they often get in the way of, well, pretty much everything. Fortunately, Lorelai figured out a long time ago that Alex would agree to anything as long as Lorelai asks at the right time, and the right time is usually when Lorelai has her face between Alex's legs, such as right now.
"Let's rob a casino," Lorelai says, and then goes back to rubbing her nose up and down Alex's slippery little cleft. She likes this the most, more than being fucked, even. She loves hearing Alex's fluttery little murmurs as she tries to pretend she has control over the situation, loves the taste the smell the heat of Alex's cunt on her tongue, rich and salty and even a little bit clean, somehow, as if Alex is such a saint that having sex with her would absolve Lorelai of all sin.
Alex doesn't reply --- Lorelai isn't even sure she heard --- just groans and arches back and within minutes Lorelai's got her squirming on Lorelai's fingers. Alex likes it rough, something Lorelai is more than happy to comply with, even if the next morning Alex will be too sore to sit down properly and stare daggers at Lorelai like it wasn't her own idea to begin with.
When it's all over though, when Alex finishes falling apart and Lorelai is stroking her back and side and cooing at her, Alex turns to her and says, incredulously, "Rob a casino? Are you insane?"
"No, just ambitious. C'mon, it'll be fun." And then, because Alex does not believe in fun, "It'll be a test of our abilities! How good we are at our jobs!"
"I hate our job," Alex says sullenly.
"But you love tests," Lorelai says.
Alex sighs because she does love tests, and Lorelai calls Cragen the next morning with the good news.
They fly business class and over some sad, flat state in the midwest Lorelai gets into a conversation with the woman next to her about peanuts being served on airlines and how that could lead to a million lawsuits when people start dropping dead from anaphylactic shock.
The woman is a personal injury lawyer and is looking most forward to it. "In fact, I'm going to meet a client to talk about a possible offer to settle. What about you? Are you going for business or pleasure?"
"Huh?" Lorelai stopped listening fifteen minutes ago and is debating whether or not she should slip a sedative into the woman's Red Bull. "Oh, us. We're just heading to Vegas to try our luck."
Cragen's waiting for them at the hotel, along with an assortment of characters that look like rejects from a Wes Anderson movie. Lorelai doesn't judge, not out loud anyway; she's perfectly aware that she would've looked the same had Alex not insisted that they dress properly --- and properly, in Alex, means pantsuits from Brooks Brothers. Alex may hate what she does for a living but she respects the people involved, or so she says. Lorelai doesn't know what she means, she just knows that those buttons are a hassle when things get hot and heavy and sometimes Alex would break off a kiss to order Lorelai not to wrinkle her shirt.
Cragen greets them with a firm handshake. "Nice to see you again, ladies. How was your flight?"
"Delta sucks," Lorelai says.
Cragen smiles a little. He looks like someone's grandfather, not some criminal mastermind con artist head of thieves, which definitely works in his favor. "I'll make sure that never happens again. In the mean time, I would like to introduce you to your fellow partners on this expedition."
There are nine others, including Cragen himself. Fin and Munch they've met on an earlier job, one involving explosives, tear gas, and two angry koalas from the Taronga Zoo in Sydney, Australia. Novak is a novice, as is Huang, some acrobat on loan from the Chinese government. Cassidy and Jeffries are arriving on a later flight along with Stabler, that cocky son of a bitch who broke out of maximum security prison and then broke in again just for kicks.
And then there's Liv.
Just Liv, no last name, as if she's some international supermodel or something, which she might as well be in their little tight-knit circle of con artists. Rumor has it that she was infiltrating the CIA during the months she went off the rador, but rumors are just rumors, and you never know for sure.
What Lorelai does know is, Liv, no-last-name, con artist celebrity, five foot nine and at least a C cup, just so happens to be Alex's ex, which is going to make things interesting.
"And we meet again," Liv says to Alex as soon as Cragen finishes with his introductions.
Lorelai watches as Alex flinches and she thinks, yes, things are going be real interesting.