“Room service was a fantastic idea, Rory,” Lorelai comments around a mouthful of eggs, Italian toast, and bacon.

“I’ve been known to have those here and there,” Rory answers with a grin after chowing down on her final bites of hash browns. “I figured we almost never order in on vacations, so we might as well do it here, especially since it’ll be great.”

Lorelai nods as she takes another gulp of hot coffee. “This isn’t my usual greasy diner fare, but it sure hits the spot.”

They plan out their morning and afternoon after breakfast: a trip downtown to sightsee and check out the iconic Quincy Market, a stop for dinner on the way back to the hotel to get changed, then off to the casino at the nearby Encore Boston Harbor.

Rory lingers a little in the shower to lather herself up with cookie butter lotion and shave her legs, and her mom takes about twenty minutes herself.

“Thought you said you wanted to leave here by ten?” Rory gently chirps her when they’re catching a hotel down to the lobby at 10:15.

“Thought you said you’d take a quick shower?” Lorelai sasses her back.

“Touche,” Rory concedes on the walk out to the curbside valet to pick up their rental car.

The weather’s nice enough that they can visit the Boston Public Garden, but time and again, Rory and Lorelai discover their eyes drifting from the sights to each other, catching one another wearing matching smirks and breaking out in laughter at one point.

“If you can’t stop checking me out right now,” Rory murmurs under the hum of foot traffic in the park, “just wait til you see what I picked out for later.”

“Can’t wait, darling.”

Even with their mutual excitement for the night, they enjoy their day out sightseeing and making up backstories for the numerous tourists that are out and about, and having a variety of food options at the Quincy Market–Mediterranean for Rory and Thai for Lorelai–suits their palates perfectly.

The buzz of what’s to come starts building in the car on the drive back to the hotel, though, as Rory cannot help but rest her left hand on her mother’s right leg for most of the trip. And if she digs her nails into the meat of her upper thigh once or twice at a couple of hard stops, she can blame it on the Masshole drivers around them.

They distribute the bathroom to get ready, primping in front of the mirror, touching up their makeup, and they’re nearly done when Lorelai frowns.

“What’s up, mom?” Rory asks, glancing at her sideways.

“I’m not sure what shade of lipstick to wear.” She holds a classic red, bold pink, and dark plum up to the mirror in turn, trying to visualize how they’ll go with her outfit.

“Pop your dress on and I can help you pick?” Rory offers.

“Smartie,” Lorelai compliments her, giving her a light kiss on the cheek and a healthy slap on the butt before she goes to get it from the closet.

“Want me to get yours out, too?” she calls as she’s stripping her top off, and Rory nods, answers, “Yes, please,” before shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of how comfortable she and her mom are with each other in every state of undress.

“Leaving it on the bed,” Lorelai announces, dropping it there and strutting back into the bathroom with a little extra swing to her hips, and the sight distracts Rory from her own lipstick application.

“Whoa,” she breathes, her gaze pulled entirely away from the mirror.

Her mom’s rocking a metallic silver dress with spaghetti straps, and its low-cut top half tiptoes along the tightrope between sexy and slutty. It ends just below her knees, and a pair of matching silver, open-toed heels complete the look.

Lorelai juts her hip out at her daughter’s staring and asks, in the low, husky tone Rory’s come to adore recently, “Does this dress have your approval, Rory? Or would you prefer I wear something a little less revealing?”

“No,” she answers. “I want to show you off. Have you as my arm candy.”

“Sounds like a plan. You have always loved your sweets,” Lorelai comments dryly.

“Just took after you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lorelai murmurs, punctuating her sentence with a smack of a kiss.

“And by the way,” Rory says while she exits the bathroom to get her dress on, “go with the dark purple lipstick. It’ll really pop.”

Lorelai groans, “God, you’re brilliant and a sex machine,” after she’s finished touching up her lipstick, and Rory laughs at the compliment, kisses her again, and repeats, “Just took after you.”

“Damn straight,” Lorelai grins, then digs into her purse and pulls out a not insignificant roll of tens, fives, and singles, wrapped tightly with a rubber band. “Ready to buy your first legal drink and burn through this?”

“Yep!” Rory frowns for a second. “Even if that looks suspiciously like drug money.”

“Hey, when else am I gonna have a reason to carry cash like this? Once it’s gone, we’re done, we come back here, and we keep celebrating your birthday.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Alrighty, then.” Lorelai locks their hotel room door, then asks, “Ready to visit the land of overpriced booze, slot machines, and desperate singles?”

Rory nods in approval. “Let’s do it!”

_____

“Pretty swanky,” Rory comments with a low whistle as they enter the casino’s open and airy main floor. It has high, vaulted ceilings, red glass chandeliers, and surprisingly understated pop music playing. “But not quite snooty. I like it.”

“Me, too. There’s just enough seediness to keep it from being stuffy,” Lorelai appraises before turning to her daughter. “Where do you wanna start, sweetheart?”

“I’m good with starting on the slots here,” she answers. “Right after I order a drink.”

The two of them beeline for the bar and it’s buzzing with patrons, but Rory and Lorelai deploy charming smiles and a touch of flirty eye contact with the bartender to earn priority treatment.

Rory studies the menu of drink options, snorts at a couple of the lamer themed ones–Aces Wild, really?–and decides, “I’ll have an Old Fashioned, please.”

“Plus a gin and tonic for me,” Lorelai cuts in.

“Sure thing. I’ll just need to see your IDs,” the barkeep answers suavely, and Lorelai blushes a pleased tinge of pink at being included in her request.

“Happy birthday,” the bartender tells Rory after examining her license. “This one’s on the house.”

“Thanks!”

Rory lifts the drink towards her in appreciation, then takes a sip and, with a pleased hum, goes back for her second.

Lorelai gives a nod of approval after trying her own drink, casually tosses a ten and a five down on the bar.

“Great mixing on mine, too. Keep the change.”

The bartender–Brittany, Rory hears someone else call her name–beams at them. “Appreciate it. Feel free to come back if you need anything else.”

They turn back to appraise the games on the first floor, and the heat of plenty of guys staring at both of them makes the hairs on the back of Rory’s neck stand up. Makes her heart drop into her stomach.

“Let ’em stare,” she thinks. “They can look. They can ogle my mom all they want. But only I get to touch.”