Drinking in Philly

Rory Gilmore was drunk.

It didn't happen often. As much as her Mother had extolled the virtues of alcohol as a social lubricant, Rory had always been too responsible to really give in to it. Even when she'd been dating Logan Huntzberger, who could be hooked up to alcohol on an IV drip and still want a scotch, she'd rarely joined him. Correction – she couldn't join him, because someone had to be the designated driver. And that had been fine with Rory, for the most part. She liked to be in control.

She wasn't in control right now.

The world was spinning, very bright, very colourful. For some reason she thought it should be pretty, but actually, it was just making her nauseous. Her mind tried to analyse the situation. Why am I nauseous? It was just a few drinks. She tried to focus her gaze on the glass in front of her. Just one glass...or maybe there were two there. Hard to tell with the beer goggles on. But either way that's not enough to make me drunk! Even Miss Patty's Founder's Day punch isn't that potent.

But she hadn't been drinking anything as innocuous as Founder's Day punch and as the bartender approached and cleared the one glass in front of her, she realised that maybe she hadn't just had one or two drinks. She tried to glare at the bartender, angry with him for not cutting her off earlier. He didn't notice. She sighed heavily and turned herself slowly on her stool, trying to focus her vision enough to find the bar's exit.

Great! I have to get home. Visions of the Stars Hollow gazebo swam in her mind and she could picture her mom's jeep. It'd be nice to curl up in the back seat right now. Her legs hit the floor of the bar and she was pleased to find herself still upright. Gotta get to the jeep. But she had scarcely staggered more than three feet, her hands clutching at a table, before she realised that the jeep wasn't here. She wasn't in Stars Hollow. Where was she? Suddenly confused she collapsed back down into a seat at the table. Homeless. Was she homeless? No I'm not homeless. I just don't have a home. I have a ho-ho. No that's silly. A home…a holiday home? No! A hotel. I have a hotel. But what's it called? Not the Dragonfly. That's an Inn. But I live in an Inn! The world spun again as she dropped her head to the table, still confused.

'It's a nice table, huh?'

A voice broke into her consciousness, distracting her from her thoughts. She raised her head slowly to see a man's face grinning back at her. At least she thought it was a man. It could just as easily have been a monkey.

'Monkeys don't talk,' she corrected herself aloud.

The face looked surprised, but apparently wasn't too bothered about logic to be confused. 'That's true. Even in the circus, I've never seen a monkey talk.'

Rory was confused though. 'What?'

The face got back on topic. 'You sat at my table.'

Rory straightened up, looking around her as if astonished. 'Oh! I'm sorry. It's just that, I don't know where I live.'

'Well I'm pretty certain you don't live here. Not that I'm bothered. It's not like it's really my table. I just use it to drink at.'

Rory fought really hard to act sober and carry on a conversation. 'It's a nice table. Why are you drinking?'

'I'm not anymore. I'm waiting for my legs to start working again so I can go home.'

'Oh,' Rory nodded. 'I don't know where my home is.'

Yeah, you said that.' The face apparently wasn't quite as drunk as Rory. 'You look familiar. Do I know you?'

Rory started to shake her head, but instantly regretted it. 'No. I don't live here.'

The face smirked, though Rory was unaware. 'Yeah, I think that's been established.' He started to stand, slowly, his hands resting on the edge of the table to support his weight. 'Hey! Look at this! I'm functional!' He took a cautious step forward. 'I'm walking!'

Rory didn't look impressed. 'I've been doing that for years. My problem, is that I don't-'

'Know where you live. I know.' The face rolled his eyes. 'Well, hey, if you can walk and I can walk and I have a home, why don't you come with me?'

Rory blinked, trying to process the idea. She didn't have anywhere else to go.

'Come on! I don't live far away. And hey, you're hot, I'm…quite hot. It's a great idea.'

This was why Rory didn't like getting drunk. Drunken people did stupid, crazy things. They forgot who they were. They forgot where they lived. Anything could happen to them. They were vulnerable and all too susceptible to suggestion. They went home with strangers. They had bad, awkward, drunken sex and woke up feeling like crap.

But this night, Rory Gilmore was drunk.

She wrapped her arm around the man with the face as they supported each other to the door.

'Where do you live then?'

'Just around the block, above a book store.'

A/N: 'Surprise!' 'No, not really,' you think. 'Ha!' I scoff. 'Just you wait!'

Just to clarify - this world is exactly the same as the world we knew on the show. Everything that happened there, happened here. That might make some of this seem a bit strange, but if you stick around, the next chapter should clear things up for you. Please review! This is the first proper story format story I've posted, so I'm a tad nervous.