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Boy Oh Boy Bands!: The Precise Science of Poster-Picking (Richard/Emily)

Title: Boy Oh Boy Bands!: The Precise Science of Poster-Picking
Pairing: Richard/Emily
Word Count: 1,640
Rating: G
Summary: In the early days of Friday Night Dinnerdom, Emily and Richard try to determine which boy band will earn them the most cool grandparent street cred with Rory. Bless their hearts for trying. Really, really hard.
Author's Note: Bwahaha, this was ridiculous amounts of fun. Thank you, smercy, for the glorious prompt. Oh GilmoreRents! ♥ Also, because visual references are important: ha ha ha ha. I distinctly remember my cousin having this poster. My ... dude cousin. And he didn't even turn out gay! 'N Sync, you had powers, man.


+

“Oh, good, you’re not busy.”

“Not busy?? Emily, I happen to be awaiting a very important phone call from China—”

“Never mind that. You’ll call them back.”

“I most certainly will not call them back! This is a very urgent issue that needs immediate attention—”

“Yes, yes, yes, and I’m sure it’s very interesting, but right now, Richard, you are going to listen to me.”

Really, Emily—”

“Here. Look at this.”

“Good God. What is that?”

“It’s a poster.”

“I can see that it’s a poster, Emily. What I’d like to know is: who in the world are those ruffians on it?”

“The Backstreet Boys.”

“Emily. Why on earth. Is this more urgent. Than my call from China.”

“Rory.”

“Well, now, I can’t quite believe that Rory would have any interest in these fellows. Especially that one. Look at the state of his hair! And – are those tattoos?”

These are the members of a very popular boy band. Young girls love them. Rory is a young girl. Therefore, it’s of interest to her, and, as her grandparents, it ought to be of interest to us.”

“Ah, I see. Is this about making up the bedroom for Rory?”

“Yes it is.”

“Oh, Emily, I’m hardly the one to consult on interior decoration.”

“Well, I know that. But I’d like to sort out this issue as soon as possible, and you and I both know that if I call Lorelai about the matter, the conversation will degenerate into mocking and incomprehensible monkey chatter within the first two minutes. It’s honestly a wonder that she seems to have flourished in that town of hers rather than being run out with pitchforks. No. This concerns our granddaughter’s ability to feel at home in our house, Richard, and so we will come to a conclusion about the wall décor together.”

“Couldn’t you just hang up a picture of a fluffy kitten or two? It would be infinitely less alarming. Even one of those hairless cats.”

“You want to put hairless cats on our granddaughter’s wall??”

“I was joking, Emily.”

“Well, don’t! This is a serious subject. Now – what do you think of this one? And this one?”

“Good heavens! You got three posters of these miscreants??”

“No. These are different miscreants. Richard, do pay attention, will you? This is ‘N Sync – you see, it sounds like ‘in synch,’ but for some bizarre reason they leave out the I altogether and start it with an N; I suppose they think they’re being clever – and this here is 98 Degrees. I have no insight whatsoever into that charming name selection.”

“Why in God’s name are five grown man standing shirtless in a swimming pool together? That picture is absurd!”

“Says the man who spends hours on end saunaing at the club with grown men.”

“Discussing current events in a relaxing, steam-filled environment is a far cry from – from having homoerotic pool parties! Good God, it’s like ancient Greece!”

“Yes, yes. And I’m sure you’re all very masculine over at the club. Now, tell me. The Backstreet Boys, ‘N Sync, or 98 Degrees?”

“Please stop saying the names.”

“What else can I do? That’s what their names are! It’s not as though I personally christened each band either, Richard, so you can quit looking at me like that.”

“My dear, I fear I may look at you like this for a very long time. My face seems to have frozen this way.”

“Ha ha, you’re terribly droll. Now help me.

“Don’t shake the posters like that. I feel as if those rapscallions are going to jump out and attack. They look like the sort to start knife fights.”

I’m going to start a knife fight if you don’t stop teasing and help me this instant, Richard Gilmore.”

“Nonsense, Emily. That would require walking all the way to the kitchen.”

“Not necessarily. Now, where is that letter opener of yours—?”

“Now who’s being droll?”

“Well, aren’t we a pair.”

“Always, my dear. You know, I’m not certain I want to encourage Rory’s interest in these young men. Why does she find them so fascinating in the first place? Their musical stylings?”

“Maybe. I bought albums by each. I suspect she has her own copies, but just in case, I thought it would be nice to have them around the house. That way, she won’t have to lug her CD collection along with her. I thought we’d give them all a listen later, and that way on Friday, we’ll have something to discuss with her at dinner. Show her that just because we’re her grandparents doesn’t mean we’re inaccessible. That, in fact, we care very much about her interests.”

“Oh, Emily—”

“But mostly, I suspect it’s just a matter of finding them good-looking. I suppose she must have a crush on at least one of them.”

“Well now! The last thing I want to hear about is Rory having crushes on unsuitable men.”

“Then when they start coming by the house to court her, you’ll just have to frighten them away.”

“Very funny.”

“Wear your most intimidating bowtie. That one looks as if he wouldn’t even know what a bowtie was.”

“Please. That one looks as if his mind threatens to short-circuit every time he endeavors to contemplate pants. Aha! Look – a smile.”

“Oh, nonsense.”

“Dare I try for a laugh?”

“Oh, Richard, stop. Just because I find these boys’ obvious mental deficiency amusing doesn’t mean that we aren’t going to take this seriously. Now, back to 98 Degrees. From what I’ve heard, these two are brothers. I think that might be a point of interest. You remember how Lorelai always used to go on about those Baldwin people—”

“Emily.”

“But this Backstreet one does have the floppy golden hair. Apparently the girls go just wild over that—”

“Emily.”

“Still, I feel like this one takes away from the credibility of the whole group. Look at that ridiculous facial hair! He’s like an evil count. With a goatee like that, I expect he must accost maidens and tie them to train tracks in his spare time.”

“Just the type of boy we want for our Rory.”

“Oh, shush.”

“Emily.”

“Why in the world do you keep saying my name like that?”

“Rory is a wonderful girl. She is very warm and very bright, and I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that she seems quite happy to be getting to know us.”

“Well, yes, now.”

“And I don’t see any reason why we ought to expect that to change.”

“Oh, of course it will change. You don’t think Lorelai sits through every one of those dinners in absolute agony, hating every sentence we say, silently stewing about how we’re so wealthy and shallow and ridiculous, just dying to get out at long last so she can spend the whole car ride home poisoning that child’s mind with her opinions of us?”

“Emily, I don’t precisely think—”

“Well, I do. I know that girl, Richard Gilmore, and I can tell just how much she hates being forced back into our lives like this.”

“Emily. I don’t think Rory is the only one who’s been enjoying our new Friday night tradition.”

“Oh, please.”

“There was that rather lively bit where she psychoanalyzed the roast potatoes last week. Do you really think her spirits would have been that high if she’d been silently cursing our names at the time?”

“With all the caffeine she imbibes, it’s not exactly a stretch to imagine she’d have a freakish gift for multitasking.”

“Emily.”

“… I would very much prefer this wasn’t temporary. Now that she’s back in our lives again on a regular basis, I would like it to stay that way. Stability seems most beneficial to all of us. I want to show her that Rory’s life will be better with us in it.”

“So do I.”

“And I’d like Rory to want us at her high school graduation, and her college graduation, and her wedding.”

“As would I, Emily. As would I. Especially if it’s one of these hoodlums she’s marrying, in which case I will stand up during the ceremony and voice my objections most heartily. Ah! Look. A laugh at last.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I do try.”

“I want her to love us.”

“She will.”

“Will she?”

“Who knows? Perhaps she even does already.”

“I hope so.”

“And if it helps the matter forward any, I plan to give her one of my first edition Forsters at dinner next week.”

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

And she’ll have these three groups of bewitching gentlemen at her beck and call.”

“Oh, no, not all three. We don’t want the whole room to turn into an insipid shrine to featherbrained teenage stupidity. We’ll pick one, and have it framed, and that will be that.”

“So just one?”

“Just one.”

“Might I request that the shirtless swimming pool bunch be taken out of the running?”

“Yes, darling, I suppose so.”

“Good.”

“Perhaps you’d like to keep that one. Hang it up in the steam room at the club.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Or – well, heavens, why stop there? You and four of your most fetching friends could pose for your very own version. I can see it now. A glorious homage. Although if you’re planning to include Nigel Weston, you may have to cut it down to three of your most fetching friends. He’s not exactly dainty these days, is he?”

“You are a wicked, wicked woman.”

“Oh, don’t even try to pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

“Emily, I wouldn’t dare.”


Tags: fanfiction, fic: gilmore girls, gilmore girls
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