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GG Fic: The Ever-Growing Itch 2/4

A/N: Thanks to those who read the first part! Here's the second and we'll see how Rory's plan is developing. More warnings for sexual discussion in abundance from nearly every party involved. This chapter is sort of build up, so just trust me when I say this all has a point, eventually.  Other notes in part one.



It took a week.

A long, painful week.

And Dean certainly didn't help matters. All that time he spent just standing there looking amazing and the way he smiled and the way his hair curled out at the end and the way his arms seemed to want to pop out from under the t-shirt he wore while checking in with Rory after his morning run...

No, that certainly did not help matters.

Nor did the fact that a project called Get Rory Laid meant inevitably that Rory was still not quite getting laid, which, really, was very not cool in any way, shape, or form. Especially since it made her sort of feel like a sex-crazed idiot, or maybe just sex-crazed, or maybe just an idiot, but there was not much to be done for it, except, well, get laid, and seeing as she was striving for monogamous relationship, that made the point of the project all the more relevant.

However, there was progress being made. They'd checked Dean's work schedule and found their prime night. Saturday night. He was free in the evening and the store didn't open until noon the next day and Rory knew for a fact that they didn't need to inventory this week.

So the night, that was set, but that wasn't the only thing she had crossed off her meticulously made list. Her mother was discreetly getting Luke to gather the necessary ingredients. Rory would have had Luke cook, but the idea of him being even more complicit in this activity sort of squicked her out, and she figured part of the appeal of a home-cooked meal would be that Rory cooked it herself, at home.

A bit daunting, perhaps, though her cooking skills had marginally expanded. Logan had enjoyed cooking from time to time and had made time in the kitchen fun, though her culinary skills had never really moved beyond chopping vegetables and making salads.

Which was rather fortuitous, really, as Dean did like a mean salad.

However, Dean would require more than a salad. A salad was a lighthearted sort of snacky meal. A casual meeting between friends.

It was not a sensual food, and, yes, she needed a sensual food.

Which was why Luke had offered up a recipe for a pot roast, the kind with the little potato dumplings and carrots and peas cooked right with it. Apparently, it required a little known cooking device called a crock pot and a full day.

The time seemed like a bit of a crock to her (ha!) but the plus side was that Dean probably knew that a pot roast took all day to cook and therefore would be more awed by her feat in preparing it.

Plus, with a full day, Luke could check in briefly to make sure that it was ruminating or crocking or whatever it did sufficiently.

Beyond that and her mad salad skills, Rory had planned some kind of strange fruit concoction for a side dish because fruit was good and fruit was very, very sensual. She needed something with peaches, lots of peaches, and a cherry or two--

"Wow, you look like you're having a nice thought," her mom said, breaking her thought. "You know you're supposed to get off on the part after dinner, not cooking it."

Rory scowled up at her mother, writing down peaches on her list of ingredients. "Surely you know by now not to jest."

"Surely you know by now that I can never help myself," her mother said, skirting around the kitchen table and reaching for the coffee pot. She poured herself a cup.

"Sometimes I think that I really need my own place."

"And miss out on my witty repartee?" her mother said, turning around to face her. "I doubt it!"

"Shouldn't you be at work or something?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"I own the place."

"So do I."

Rory scowled again. "I was thinking about adding fruit."

"You're throwing in everything else."

"Fruit is good, though."

"You're sort of speaking blasphemy, but you're not in your right mind, so I'll forgive you."

"Do you think Luke will know a recipe for peaches?"

Her mother's eyebrow raised. "Peaches?"

"Dean likes peaches."

Her mother chuckled. "Do I dare?"

"Prufrock, I am not."

"Probably for the best."

"So peaches?"

"I'll ask Sookie," her mother said, taking a sip.

"We need to involve another person?" Rory asked. "I'm trying to keep this to a minimum."

"Desperate times," her mother said. "She's more fruity than Luke is."

Rory groaned, dropping her head. "I am pathetic."

Her mother made a sympathetic sound. "Aw, hon," she said. "It happens to the best of us."

Rory looked up miserably. "It's happened to you?"

"Yeah, you know, there were those long years of my life called your childhood."

Rory considered that. "Children aren't worth it."

"Well, just remember that on Saturday night."


"Just saying!" her mother said. "That happens to the best of us, too."

"I'm desperate, but you've lectured me enough on this topic. It's not a mistake I plan on committing, if only for your sanity."

"You get desperate enough..."

Rory made a face. "I don't need the details."

"Did you decide on music yet?"

"I swiped a bunch of his old CDs from his bedroom and downloaded a few of his favorites."

"Is he still into that generic pop rock?"

"Well, there is some Matchbox 20."

Her mother made a face that time. "Unfortunate."

"At least I can say that he's not crazy."

"Well, that's more than a little unwell."

"He also has a surprising number of hair bands."

"Well I always respect a good hair band."

"Then I picked a few that are surefire sex songs."

"Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye?"

"And several selected hits from Barry White."

Her mother grinned. "Now you're talking."

"And you bought the candles?"

"I bought out the joint," her mother confirmed. "Even bought out the ones Taylor had in storage, which, I think he may think I'm getting involved in witchcraft, and so if it starts crossing his fingers at you, don't worry, that's totally to be expected."

"Of course."

"I love how that doesn't phase you."

"It may after I'm able to think without the paralyzing weight of my libido."

"Wow, you make it hard to refrain sometimes."


"Only for you," her mother said. "And only until Saturday."

"That's all I ask."

"You could still talk to him," her mother said. "Might make this so much easier."

"And miss all this planning?"

Her mother sighed, smiling a little. "There could be a reason, you know."

"Like what? He accidentally became a eunuch?"

"Wow, that's a bit sadistic to even mention."

Rory's shoulders sagged. "I just need him."

Her mother smiled again, resolved this time. "Less than a week, kid," she said. "You can do it."

Rory just hoped it was true.


It was Friday when Rory realized she didn't have anything to wear.

Which, yes, was rather cliche and all. The stereotypical girl having the stereotypical girl moment, looking forlornly at the open closet doors, all the hangers full of clothes, lots and lots of clothes, but nothing that worked.

Though, truthfully, it wasn't her closet that was the problem. The blue dress was perfect. It had been one she had picked out for the wedding of one of Logan's childhood friends. Well, friend was a bit of an exaggeration; the two had been rivals at best and had politely hated each other most of the time. It had been of the utmost importance to Logan to show just how much better off he was, and while Rory might have objected to the objectification of it all, she'd seen the pictures of the fiance: a little blonde girl with a sickeningly sweet smile and teeth that looked like they'd been sandblasted white.

And when Rory had learned that she had actually been a runner-up for Miss Connecticut, well, Rory had had no qualms about finding the perfect dress to rock her body and show the world that real beauty was a low-cut, sling back dress and a Yale education.

She'd never gotten to wear it, though. Logan had gone and proposed and the whole thing had fallen through, and after all these years, she could only be somewhat sad about that, but still very, very glad she had the dress and that her mediocre income and blessedly fast metabolism had kept her trim enough to fit it.

So she had the dress...but she didn't really want Dean to see the dress.

And her bras and underwear? Painfully outdated. Painfully white cotton. Her most colorful bra was decorated with clouds for goodness sakes, though after so many times in the wash they looked sort of like marshmallows, and she didn't want Dean to have to contemplate what was on her bra while she was trying to seduce him into taking the damn thing off.

She could ask her mother, whom she was sure had a decent assort of lingerie or at least some kind of playful undergarments, but no matter how close mothers and daughters could be, sharing underwear was a little gross, and at this point, Rory wasn't sure she wanted to know what her mother wore when she was feeling frisky with Luke. After all, that would require some kind of mental image of her mother getting frisky with Luke, which was more than Rory's poor, sex-deprived brain could handle at the moment.

So, it was time to shop.

Which was good. She liked shopping. More than that, she needed the distraction while she pined wildly as she moped about. The paper could handle a day without her--she hadn't been much use there lately, anyway, since she kept seeing sexual innuendo in Miss Patty's latest interview. Which, to be fair, there was, and in excess, but that still didn't mean she should be wallowing in it.

So, shopping. Apt distraction, necessary step in project Get Rory Laid.

But who should she go with? She could not be trusted on her own, not when the merest suggestion of anything provocative made her start salivating and sometimes thrust her into sordid daydreams that resulted in long periods of staring at nothing.

Her mother was working--which, she did have to do from time to time, and Rory wasn't sure she could even hold up under another round of her mother's incessant good-willed but far-too-pointed banter.

Which left...

Rory frowned. Usually she shopped with her mother. If not her mother, sometimes Dean, who was very good-humored about it. But he was working and buying lingerie to impress him would not be so successful if he was there, anyway. She had shopped with her grandmother before, who surely had an open social calendar, since Rory knew the DAR didn't like to meet on Fridays, and that her busy day at the club was usually on Tuesdays. Still, she couldn't shop with her grandmother for this.

Once upon a time, she would have asked Lane, no hesitation. Lane was her best friend, after all.

But Lane had three kids. She probably had her own sexual problems to figure out.

Still, Lane's shifts at the diner weren't every day, and Mrs. Kim was a reliable and steadfast babysitter. So maybe Lane was an option, and maybe even a good option. After all, Lane had had her own sexual escapades a few years ago, and since she and Zack were still she-and-Zack even after three kids, then, really, maybe Lane was sort of the ideal person to go with.

Resolved, Rory pulled out her phone, flopping on her bed with a sigh as she dialed Lane's number.

Someone answered on the third ring, harsh and out of breath. "What?"

Rory raised her eyebrows. "Hi, um, Zack?"

"Yeah, it's Zack," he replied, sounding somewhat annoyed this time.

"I was just wondering if Lane was around."

"Yeah, she's around," Zack said shortly.

Rory waited for more. When it was clear nothing more was forthcoming, she followed up. "Can I talk to her? It's Rory."

"She's, uh, kind of busy right now," Zack said.

"The kids?" Rory asked.

"No, the kids are at their grandmother's."

"Oh," Rory said. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be on tour?"

"We're playing a gig in Baltimore tomorrow night, so we've got a quick layover in town. A really quick layover, but I thought it might be nice to, you know, see the kids."

"Who are at their grandmother's," Rory said awkwardly.

"And, you know," Zack said. "See Lane."

"Yeah, that must be nice," Rory said. "I hear the tour is going well. And the record sales are up. Which is pretty impressive, I think. How is Brian handling the road?"

"Uh, he's, you know, taken to naming all the microphone stands so he feels like he has friends," Zack said.

Rory had to smile. "Yeah, I can see him doing that. And how's Gil?"

Zack sighed. "Gil's fine," he said. "And you know, I really don't have much time here, you know? I have to head out here in a few hours and we have to pick up the kids in twenty minutes and I haven't seen Lane in weeks, and I was sort of hoping we could spend some time. Just me and Lane, you know?"

Rory was nodding along good and proper when she understood the nuance. "Oh," she said. "Oh."

"Yeah," Zack said.

Rory and her impeccable timing had managed to infringe on a married couple's one shot in three weeks to spend some time together. With so little time, Rory couldn't help but think that they had more on their agenda than sipping coffee and reminiscing.

In fact, they were probably trying to do the deed right then. For all she knew, Zack was naked talking on the phone with her while Lane was lounging in lingerie back in the bedroom.

Which was not an image she needed. It had taken her a few weeks to forget the thought of Lane and Zack consummating their relationship in a misguided attempt on the beach in Mexico, so the thought of Zack standing in the kitchen buck naked and breathless while Rory made small talk?

Too much. Way too much.

"I'll call back later," she offered.

"Thanks, Rory," Zack said. "Really."

"It's nothing," she said.

"But it really is. You have no idea."

She hung up before she could hear any more, mostly because she was pretty sure she did have an idea, a really good idea, and therein was the problem.


"I can't believe Zack told you to call back," Lane said later, shaking her head.

Rory flipped through the bras on the rack and shrugged. "It sounded important."

"Well, it was important," Lane said as she pulled out a lacy pink bra. She made a face and held it up for Rory. "Who would wear this? All that lace means its hand wash only and it looks like it'd itch."

"I think it's supposed to help set the mood," Rory said, picking a red one off the rack. It was encrusted with rhinestones. "And trust me, considering the mess I'm in, I would never begrudge someone else."

Lane shook her head. "I can't believe that after everything, Dean's the one who's holding out," she said. "And when you've got three kids, you don't need to set the mood. You just need three minutes and a clean place to get it done."

Rory made a face. If such simple tactics would have worked, she would have been successful by now. And really, though this wasn't their first or second or third or whatever time, it was sort of like their first time. Their first time back together when it was all okay and they loved each other and all that good stuff. I had to be special. And pretty damn compelling if Dean's sudden interest in chastity was any indication. "Yes, well, I was thinking of setting the scene a bit more enticingly for Dean."

Lane nodded noncommittally. "The blessed days of being new and in love," she said. Then her brow furrowed. "I sound old, don't I? I'm getting old."

Rory had to laugh. Lane was still young and vibrant and beautiful. Adulthood, marriage, motherhood: they suited Lane. Took her neuroses and provided them a structured outlet. "No, I think you're just getting wiser."

Lane stopped, her mouth dropping open. "No, I think I'm actually getting old," she said. "I mean, for one thing, none of these would even come close to supporting me now. Breastfeeding is murder on your boobs. It's, like, ridiculous. Now I have to wear a C just so they don't flop all over the place."

Rory made a face. "That's really not an image I needed."

"Oh, sorry," Lane said. She picked out a yellow bra that was well padded. "A little extra padded might still be nice for your pre-baby self."

Rory took the bra, but couldn't bring herself to look at it. The idea of a baby was not exactly something that parsed in her sex-starved mind "I wasn't positive there was going to be a post-baby self," she said, trying not to envision a little crying thing latched to her chest. "I just want to have sex."

"Oh, yes, don't we all," Lane said, with a knowing nod of her head. "That's how it starts, anyway."

Again, not so pleasing to think about and really quite distracting. Committing to Dean did not mean she was ready to commit to harboring his sperm so they could bond with her eggs. "Um, I asked you out here to help me prepare, not to scare me off," Rory reminded her friend.

"Ack! I'm sorry!" Lane said. She shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "So, let's talk about you. And Dean. And you and Dean." She paused, thoughtful. "You really have no idea why he's not into it?"

Rory gave a longsuffering sigh, her painfully lonely sex drive bringing her back to the point. "None," she affirmed miserably. "He just...avoids it."

Lane frowned, picking up a thong with a look of disdain. "What makes you think lingerie will do the trick?"

Rory picked up the discarded thong, giving it a more thorough look. She had never been the one for racy undergarments, though Logan had invested in some on her behalf. He had said that it made things exciting. She had taken his word for it, but maybe it had been sage advice. If it worked, she would have to thank Logan, though that could be kind of awkward. "I'm more hoping that once he sees me in it, he won't be able to say no."

Lane nodded, a bit impressed. "Rory Gilmore, scheming seductress."

"Pamela, I am not."

"The one Proverbs warned against," Lane said with a satisfied look.

"Exactly," Rory said. "So I need something foolproof."

Lane quirked an eyebrow. "Foolproof, huh?"

"Dean is playing quite hard to get," Rory said. "Resisting even after makeout sessions."

Lane whistled a low breath. "Men that with much fortitude are hard to come by. Especially since it's not like you two haven't done the deed already."

"I know!" Rory said, and that was the thing. He had no reason to be nervous and it wasn't like he had to protect her integrity, so the entire idea that he was waiting was just so perplexing. Frustrating, perplexing, but not insurmountable. "So I figure I just have to woo him a bit better."

"Oh, wooing," Lane said, with a new excitement. "I love wooing!"

Rory's smile was triumphant. She picked up a green bra and held it against a green pair of boy shorts. "So, what do you think? Woo-ful enough?"

Lane thought for a moment, but shook her head. "Rory, if you're serious in your wooing seduction, then we've got to get away from this stuff."

Rory frowned, rather pleased with her pairing abilities. The greens matched nicely. "But it's cute."

"Cute?" Lane asked. "You don't want cute. You need to think bigger. You need to think about Dean being so completely floored that he doesn't remember how to say no."

That was the general idea. Her interest was more than somewhat piqued. "So how do we do that?"

Lane took a deep breath. "You're going to have to trust me," she said. "The world of what men really want is not always a pleasant place."

For the first time, Rory felt tentative. But her libido was crying out. She nodded, resolved. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Lane asked.

Rory nodded again. "Take me there."

Lane drew a deep breath. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."


Lane did warn her.

It wasn't enough.

"You're kidding, right?" Rory asked incredulously. "I don't even know what to do with that."

Lane did not lower the garment. Her face twisted in something resembling disdain, but her best friend bravely went forward with her explanation. "You wear it over your underwear. A thong works best."

Rory eyed it critically. "What are these for?" she asked, pointing to four long straps dangling from the bottom.

Lane rolled her eyes. "Are you sure you've been in an adult relationship before?"

Rory scowled. "Logan was a bit more high brow in his tastes." The kinkiest it had gotten was when they had role played a scene from Amadeus. Rory hadn't so much enjoyed the corset, but Logan had giggled just like in the movie, so it all evened out.

Lane laughed. "Trust me, high brow, low brow, no brow, there's no guy who can resist this stuff. We just have to get some silk stockings and a teddy and we'll be all set."

"Silk stockings? Really?" Rory asked. It was possible that she had underestimated the lengths she would have to go for this.

Funny thing, though. It wasn't going to stop her. Nothing was going to stop her. A pair of silk stockings for Dean? A small sacrifice for the greater good of her sanity and sexual well-being.

"What do you think the strings attach to?"

Rory looked it a minute longer before the visual came to her. "Oh," she said, remembering the one time she'd perused a wayward copy of a Victoria's Secret catalog. For all the things her mother had taught her, somehow the portion related to racy lingerie had been skipped. Perhaps in lieu of obscure 80s movies or 70s hippie bans. But all that Yale education, and she was still good for a simple deduction. "Oh."

Lane nodded with a patient smile. To think there'd been a time when Lane had been the naive novice and Rory had been the expert. "Now you're starting to get it."

Rory picked up the piece, sorting through the pile of underwear. "So, do you and Zack, you know, still do this stuff?"

Lane's snort of laughter was short. Then she swallowed it back. "You're serious," she said. She paused for a moment, thinking. "Well. Zack and I have always sort of have had a weird thing when it came to sex."

Rory remembered the awkward conversation about Lane's honeymoon. Awkward for Lane on that beach in Mexico. Awkward for Rory talking about it in the town gazebo. Awkward all the way around, especially since Lane had gotten pregnant from her first time and Rory liked sex and she liked babies in the abstract, but sex leading to babies was a bit more than she wanted to think about.

"And then we had the twins so quickly that it was sort of like, so much for that!" she said.

"So it never got better?" Rory asked, suddenly wondering why she hadn't been a better friend to know that. She should know that. That was what best friends did.

Though, in terms of sharing sex stories, Rory wouldn't have had much to bring to that conversation in recent years anyway, so maybe it was for the best that they'd let this topic lapse for so long. She didn't need to be reminded of how pathetic she was when she already felt it aching deep within her with every move she made.

"Oh, no," Lane said quickly. "It got better. I mean, hello, it couldn't get worse."

Rory laughed, almost relieved. Because the thought of her friend being sexually frustrated for years on end not only made her hurt with empathy, but made her feel like a horrible friend for not being there to support her. In the end, she wasn't sure what would have been worse. That they'd been in the same sexless plight or that Rory had failed as a best friend.

"We hit our stride when I was done breastfeeding the twins," she said. "Suddenly, my body was mine again and I realize how much of me I hadn't experienced. And, trust me, after you squeeze two babies out, things are much looser down there. It got much better."

Conveniently overlooking the idea of breastfeeding, Rory had to smile. She wasn't so starved that she couldn't appreciate Lane's success. "See, I told you it wasn't all bad."

"Oh and you were right," Lane agreed with a real fervor. "Really right. We did all sorts of crazy things whenever we got the chance. I mean there's a lot of stuff for a creative couple out there. Zack got really into positions."

Positions. That was...graphic. Though Zack did seem quite limber and Lane really could have been a gymnast and she really did not need to be thinking about this. "Well, I'm not sure I need that many details," Rory said, though perhaps some ideas would be nice. She and Logan had tried some things, but that really did seem like a long time ago.

A really long time ago.

She so needed to get laid.

Lane shrugged, holding a bra up. "But then after awhile you sort of realize that it's not about the clothes and it's not about the setting."

Rory frowned a bit, holding up a piece of lingerie to the rest of her ensemble. "Then what is it about?"

Lane smiled fondly. "Just me and him," she said. "The two of us, being together. I mean, okay, I know it's cheesy, but it makes the two become one stuff make sense."

It was enough to make Rory stop. To stop and really look and listen and think. The two of them, being together. Lane and Zack. Her mother and Luke. Her grandparents. Couples that worked, no need for jockeying for position or working for an advantage. Just love, and all that entailed.

Just her and Dean, being together. Two become one.

She'd never thought of it like that, but now that she did, she couldn't deny how much it appealed to her. The thought of spending her life with Dean, with wearing his ring around her finger, waking up with him morning after morning for the rest of her life.

"I'm boring you," Lane said. "I'm sorry. Sheesh. My one opportunity to be a real person and I screw it up by talking about my family!"

"No, no," Rory said quickly, because Lane was missing the point. "It's just...really nice to hear that."

Lane was looking at her, then her eyes lit up. "You really do love him, don't you?"

Rory couldn't help it. She blushed. "Yeah," she said. "Maybe in the whole two become one kind of way."

"Well," Lane said with a mischievous grin. "At least after this weekend we can say that literally."

Rory's mind shifted back to her bodily needs, and she nodded, adding a lacy piece of see-through lingerie to her growing collection. "Yes, please," she said. "And I do mean, please."

Lane just laughed. "With all this, he won't know what hit him," she assured Rory.

Rory's smile was triumphant. "Which is exactly what I'm going for."




Posted by: medusafox (medusafox)
Posted at: June 9th, 2010 11:00 am (UTC)

Is it Saturday night yet? ;0)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 10th, 2010 06:31 pm (UTC)
cute dean is annoyed

Heh. Not quite. But getting there.


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