SUMMARY:  Post-ep for Say Something.  She'd been oblivious to him for years, and then she'd fallen for him, hard, and now she'd screwed things up beyond repair.  And he was *still* the kind of man who would come over unsolicited and fix her lock.

DISCLAIMER:  These characters belong to ASP.

THANKS: Em Meredith, for the quick and dirty beta. :)

Lorelai awkwardly propped the phone against her shoulder and struggled to pull her hair up into a ponytail without dropping the receiver into the sink.  "So Paris is dating your editor?"

To be clear, she didn't particularly care one way or another about Paris's romantic life (it was hard to work up enthusiasm for much of anything, these days), but sharing gossip and good stories was a Gilmore family tradition, and Lorelai was trying her best to hold up her end of the bargain.  She would've preferred to crawl back under her covers for another day or twenty, but she felt a responsibility to make an effort for Rory's sake.

Rory was obviously worried that her mother was really cracking up this time, as she'd called nearly every hour to relay an amusing story or to clue Lorelai in on which episode of Green Acres would be airing at midnight.

Rory snorted.  "Well, dating might be overstating things a little."

"I see," Lorelai answered, distracted.  "Hang on."  She moved the phone away from her ear, because she thought she'd heard the door, and the door would mean pizza, and she'd recovered enough to have some sort of appetite.  Probably the fact that she'd ordered a plain, small pizza said something disturbing about her state of mind, but Lorelai was still cultivating that numb, quasi-zen state, so she decided not to focus on that.

Another knock.  "Oooh," she told Rory as she headed down the stairs, fumbling to shove the strand of hair she'd missed entirely into her lopsided ponytail, "the pizza's here.  Ten bucks he put pepperoni on the damn thing again.  Hang on, babe."  Lorelai wrenched the door open, "There better not be -- Luke!"  She stopped short, one hand on the door, the other holding the phone near her shoulder, shivering in the sudden onslaught of cold air from the wintry night.

Luke stood stiffly on her porch, looking so comforting and so familiar and so Luke as he gave her a shrug and said, "I wanted to fix the door."

"You--"  Lorelai shook her head.  "What?"  Because her chest was oddly tight and she was having a little bit of trouble breathing, never mind figuring out why Luke was on her doorstep.  He couldn't possibly be there for any or all of the reasons she wanted him there.

Luke held up Bert, and her brief flare of hope died a sudden, painful death.  "Your lock," he explained, "the one that I broke.  I brought you a new one."

The lock he'd broken on that hellish night, when she'd picked up the phone and abused the hold she'd always known she had over him.  Lorelai flushed just remembering how pathetic she'd sounded on his machine, and the way he'd looked at her when she'd admitted she'd broken into his apartment to retrieve the tape.  

He must be so glad to be rid of me and my crazy ways, she thought bitterly, but all of her anger was reserved for herself.

And now he was here and she was in sweats and she looked awful, which shouldn't matter because he'd seen her at her lowest, but somehow it did matter, because she never wanted him to feel sorry for her.  Not for this.  She'd screwed up, as always, and he'd been an innocent bystander, and what was that tinny noise--?  Rory.  Right.  

Breaking out of her temporary paralysis, Lorelai waved Luke in and brought the phone to her ear.  "Hey, Rory?" she said, trailing Luke into the living room.

"Luke's there?" Rory asked.

"Yes.  Let me call you back."

"He's there to fix things, Mom," Rory said, sounding pleased, and Lorelai almost laughed because -- Bert the Toolbox.  So, yeah, with the fixing, but just not metaphorically.  Not the things that Lorelai wanted fixed.

"Later, kid."  She tossed the phone down and turned to Luke, who stood uncertainly near the couch.  "You don't have to do this.  I can call a locksmith."

Shifting, Luke indicated the door with his thumb, and Lorelai's attention focused on his fingerless gloves, on those hands.  He had great hands, kind and gentle and -- And she couldn't do that right now.  Luke tilted his head a little and said, "I can -- if you don't want--"

"No," she interrupted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment over this whole nightmare.  She'd been oblivious to him for years, and then she'd fallen for him, hard, and now she'd screwed things up beyond repair.  And he was still the kind of man who would come over unsolicited and fix her lock.

Her mother was wrong.  Her mother thought Luke didn't deserve someone like Lorelai, but Lorelai knew it was exactly the opposite.  "No," Lorelai said, clearing her throat.  "I just -- I don't want to inconvenience you."

"I'm the one who broke it," Luke pointed out.  Always the reasonable one.  Always able to do the right thing, despite what he must be thinking.

"Because I inconvenienced you, as usual," Lorelai countered, "and you were worried about me.  I shouldn't have called you, and I shouldn't have taken advantage of your kindness all those years, and I should have told you--"  She broke off, swallowing all the words she wanted to say to him.  Because she wanted to apologize and explain and fix things, and he didn't.  It was as simple as that.

Luke's gaze sharpened, and his voice was strangely tense when he asked, "Told me what?"

Lorelai swallowed and forced herself to smile, forced herself to sell a different truth.  "That I appreciated every single thing you ever did for me, and every single time you were there when I needed you."

I miss that.

She wanted him to know how much she missed him, how much she craved his presence in her life, but she wouldn't do that to him, wouldn't put him in the awkward position of having to comfort the woman he'd left.  He was the kind of man who'd do it, too, with no regard for his own feelings.

"Lorelai--"

"No."  She waved him off with a wobbly smile.  "I just -- I can get a locksmith.  Really."

Luke sighed, his gaze sliding away from her, focusing on something beyond her left shoulder.  "I'm here already."

Her eyes stung with tears -- he was there, yes, and so the practical thing would be to let him fix the stupid lock, and never mind the part where he was in her house but she couldn't touch him and it was killing her.

I'm not that girl, she told herself.  Not that girl.  Straightening her spine, Lorelai moved past Luke -- careful not to get too close, though his achingly familiar scent still reached her -- and into the kitchen.  "If you don't mind fixing it, then thank you."

She could hear him behind her, his measured steps.  "It's really no problem," he answered, his voice rough the way it was when he was feeling too much to put it into words.  "I'll feel better knowing you're safe."

Safe, but not well.

Lorelai moved to the counter and stopped, leaning back, her arms curled around her midsection.  "I should've called someone," she mused, staring at the obviously broken lock in her door.  Not that Stars Hollow was exactly a hotbed for crime, but still.  "That was so stupid of me.  I just wasn't--"  God, could she get through a sentence without whimpering about how much his defection had devastated her?  Lorelai glanced down at the toolbox in his hands.  "I just didn't think," she finished quietly.

After placing Bert on the kitchen table, Luke unpacked a few tools -- the only one Lorelai could identify was the screwdriver -- and then picked up a lock, still in its plastic sleeve from the hardware store.  She watched him work without comment, watched him rip open the packaging and remove the new lock.

"Oh," Lorelai said, straightening up.  "Luke, what do I owe you?"  Because he was out, and she wasn't even sure they were friends after the way it ended, and she wouldn't take advantage of his kindness.  Not anymore.

He froze, holding the deadbolt in one hand, and turned that liquid blue gaze her way.  For an unending moment, he watched her, studied her, and Lorelai just stared back, wondering what he was looking for, what test she was failing this time.

"Nothing," he said finally, his gaze sliding away from hers again, which was never a good sign.  She wanted to press, to pepper him with questions -- How much did it cost? Why won't you let me pay you back?  Why did you leave me? -- but she'd learned the hard way at Doose's that pressing Luke was exactly what he didn't want.

The brass lock glinted dully in his palm.  "This shouldn't take too long, but it might get cold in here while I'm working on the door."

Carefully, Lorelai regulated her breathing, made herself count to three as she inhaled through her nose, forcing herself to calm down.  "Can I get you anything?" Lorelai offered.  "I have your--"  Her throat closed up, and when Luke looked over at her, she shook her head, her lips pressed together.

Luke straightened quickly, taking two steps, his hand reaching for her, "Lorelai--"

"No," she managed, sidestepping him.  She held a warning hand out in front of her.  "No.  I just...  I still have your tea, if you want any."  She smiled at him, genuine amusement mixed in with all of the pain.  "You know I'll never drink it."

He looked torn, his hands limp by his sides, his brow furrowed.  "Sure," he answered eventually.  "Tea would be great."

Nodding, Lorelai turned away, fumbling through the cabinet in search of his earl gray.  Focusing on the task at hand, she was able to bring her rampaging emotions under control.  Her hands shook as she filled the small teapot she'd bought for him, but she lit the burner and then retrieved a heavy ceramic mug.  She placed it on the counter with a dull thud and dropped the teabag in, glancing over at Luke while she waited for the water to boil.

He was kneeling on the floor, the door partially open as he unfastened the damaged lock and eased it out.  The scene was so familiar -- Luke fixing something on her fixer-upper house -- that for a moment she could forget that anything had changed.  For a moment, they were friends; he kept her in coffee and she kept him in witty conversation.  But even considering how badly it had ended, she wouldn't give up the memories of how great it had been between them once they'd gotten on the same page.  

The shrill whistle of the tea started Lorelai, and she turned her attention back to his tea.  She poured the steaming water into the mug and half-turned, "Oh, Luke, I'm sorry -- I don't have any milk in the house."

Luke glanced over at her and shrugged.  "That's okay.  I can drink it black."

"I know, but you like it with a little bit of milk, and I didn't think to have Rory get any when she went for supplies and I can't even make tea--"  She broke off, shaking her head with a rueful grin.  "Sorry."

"It's fine, Lorelai," he answered, his steady gaze fixed on his work.  He pushed the new lock into position and carefully screwed it in.  The winter wind was whipping into her kitchen, giving Lorelai a chill.  Luke had kept his beaten up jacket and his fingerless gloves on, and he seemed completely oblivious to the weather.

When he was finished, he stood and closed the door, pulling the keys out of his pocket and handing them over.  "Throw out the old keys," he said.

She nodded and accepted the keys in exchange for the mug of tea.  "Thanks," she murmured, fingering the warm metal in her hand, trying not to think about the fact that he had a copy of the old key, but he wouldn't want a copy of this one.  He was such a good man.  She'd never had "good man" very high on her list of priorities, which might actually explain why all of her relationships turned to shit.  But this time around, with Luke, she'd felt that inexplicable it, that quiet certainty that this man was exactly what she needed.

How could she have waited until he was walking away to declare herself all in?  How could she have accepted Luke's own declaration without reciprocating?  How could she have been so stupid as to lie to Luke about Christopher?  

How could something so harmless have spiraled out of control so quickly?

The answer to that question was, of course, Emily Gilmore.  Lorelai still couldn't think about her mother without feeling a deep, burning rage.

"Luke," she began quietly, her gaze still fixed on the golden keys in her hand, "I know I shouldn't bring this up again, and I know this doesn't change anything, and it might not even mean anything to you--"

"Lorelai--"

"No, please," she said, stealing a glance at his face.  "Just let me say this.  Regardless of the outcome, even if we'd..." she stumbled a little, "worked things out, what my mother did was unacceptable."  Her voice hardened.  "Unforgivable.  I know you didn't believe me, but I haven't spoken to her and I won't.  Not because she managed to wreck such a good thing, but because--"  Lorelai swallowed, struggling for control, determined to finish.  "But because you are such a good man, and no one should ever, ever treat you with such disrespect.  Ever."

"Lorelai," Luke said, leaning his hip against the counter.  He placed the mug down, his gaze fixating on his toolbox instead of her.  He always did that when he was uncomfortable, always looked away, and Lorelai wondered if he was cursing himself for coming over here to fix her stupid lock, because of course she had to run off at the mouth and bring up all the things he no doubt never wanted to hear about again.

Still, she waited, not letting herself start to hope, but he didn't say anything more.  His expression was pained, and she knew she'd already said too much.  But she'd never really been good with the self-control, and she found herself saying more, "I know I'm a selfish person.  I always have been, and in some ways, when Rory was born, I needed to be to get by.  But please understand that my mother--"

Lorelai broke off, tears clogging her throat again.  Luke took a step closer, his warm, heavy palm landing on her shoulder, comforting her as always.  "My mother," she continued, "has hurt me again and again over the years, and I never ended our relationship because of how she makes me feel.  I did it because of you, because you deserve better than pettiness from the mother of the screwed up woman you were dating."

Sighing, Luke edged closer, his hand sliding down her spine, pulling her closer.  She resisted for a moment, then gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.  Inhaling deeply, Lorelai savored this artificial closeness.  Looking back, she should've paid more attention at the reception.  She should've cherished the way he humored her and danced with her and held her close.  At the time, she couldn't imagine anything could torpedo them so quickly.

"You're not screwed up," Luke muttered, and Lorelai laughed into his shoulder, because she could name a dozen screwed up things she'd done this week, without even thinking about it.  But he'd never seemed to see her flaws.  His fingers tightened on her lower back, pulling her snug against him.  "You're not," he repeated.  "You're crazy, but you're not screwed up."

She didn't know how he could possibly make her smile in the middle of such a painful conversation, but he did it.  She pulled back slightly and looked at him.  "You realize that makes no sense, right?"

"It makes perfect sense," Luke answered defensively, and his eyes were so blue and so kind and so mesmerizing up close.  He was finally looking at her again.  "You do crazy things like breaking into my diner to paint it, or sleeping with the zucchini--"

"Technically," Lorelai noted, a smile tugging at her lips, "I slept with Michel, Sookie, Jackson, and the zucchini."

"Or," he continued, ignoring her interruption, "breaking into my apartment to steal the tape to my answering machine."

Her amusement fled.  She tried to pull away, but his hands moved, sliding up and down on her spine, soothing her and keeping her close.  Stiffly, she remained in the circle of his arms.  "Luke, I'm sorry--"

"Don't keep apologizing for what we both screwed up," Luke interrupted, obviously frustrated.  "Listen, your mother butt in to something that wasn't her business, and Rory's father is a real--"  He stopped, frowning, and then shrugged, "Well, it's not my place to call him names."

"Why not?" Lorelai muttered.  "I call him names all the time."

"And you shouldn't have lied to me about seeing Christopher--"

There it was.  "I know," she answered flatly.  "I--"

"Could you be quiet for ten seconds?" Luke wondered, his tone exasperated.  "You're not making this easy."

Lorelai stilled, her fingers tightening on fistfuls of his jacket.  Making what easy?  She nodded, releasing her grip on his collar with one hand to mimic zipping her mouth shut and tucking the key in his pocket.

Luke fought a grin at her actions, but his amusement faded fast.  "I shouldn't have walked away like I did," he admitted after a moment, shifting awkwardly.  "I said I was all in, and then I walked away when none of this is really your fault."

"That's sweet," Lorelai admitted, "but you're wrong.  It is my fault.  You don't have the crazy family members--"

"First of all:  TJ.  Second, I didn't walk away because of your mother, Lorelai."

I walked away because of you.  She could hear the words before he said them, and flinched in anticipation.  She tried to pull away, tried to distance herself from him and from what he was getting ready to say, but he held fast.

"I walked away," Luke said quietly, "because I was--"  He stopped, groaning a little in frustration.  "I--"

Lorelai dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, unable to look at him when he said whatever he was having such trouble saying.  She could tell from his reluctance that it would hurt, and she knew she deserved it, but that didn't mean she had to see the expression on his face when he broke the jagged remnants of her heart.  Luke's hands settled on her shoulders and pulled her away, holding her at arms' length, and she steeled herself to meet his gaze.

"It's been years for me, Lorelai," he said finally.  "Years.  I didn't really pine for you, but I've felt it for years, and I told you that on our first date -- or at least I thought I did--"

"You did," she said, nodding until her vision blurred.  God, she'd really hurt him without even realizing it, which was just so embarrassingly typical of her.

"And I knew you were enjoying this..." he shrugged, "thing we were doing, and that I was good enough for right now, but I wasn't sure of you, and all of that stuff with Christopher and your mother -- it hit me hard."

Lorelai ignored the tears on her cheeks, because she wouldn't make this about her.  "I know, and I'm so sorry, Luke."

"I don't understand why you weren't all in until I was walking away," he said finally, and there it was, the brutal truth, towering there between them like an impenetrable wall.

Reaching up, Lorelai cupped his cheeks with her hands, feeling his stubble scratch along her palms.  "I was all in before that, Luke," she told him, remorse suffusing her voice.  She wondered bitterly what would've happened if she'd just told him this months ago, but it was too late for what ifs.  "This whole time, I was all in, but I was too scared to say it."

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head, just a little.  "Scared?" he echoed.  "Of what?"

She shrugged, struggling to put her feelings into words.  "I'm no good at this, Luke.  I'm good at the falling in love part, but the relationship part is what trips me up.  I can do ten crazy things before breakfast, but I don't know how to make you happy enough to stay with me."  She smiled, tearfully, and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.  "So I'm sorry," she finished, and tried to pull away.

But Luke didn't let go.  Instead, he tugged her up against his chest and leaned in.  She was expecting a bittersweet goodbye, but he kissed her with passion and desperation and before she knew it, she was sitting on her kitchen countertop with Luke leaning between her thighs, their hands grasping at each other.

Then Luke pulled away, dropping his forehead to her shoulder, placing his hands on her thighs as he breathed heavily.  "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't apologize," she murmured, dragging her fingers across his shoulderblades until he shuddered.

He lifted his head and pinned her with that piercing gaze.  "Lorelai, those ten crazy things you do before breakfast?  That's what makes me happy enough to stay.  You make me happy."

Lorelai couldn't move, couldn't breathe, just stared at him, uncomprehending.  "Luke?"  Because he couldn't mean what it sounded like he meant.  He couldn't possibly want to try this again, not after the way she'd hurt him.  Lorelai loved movies and TV shows and books, but she knew the difference between reality and fiction, and her life was never like a movie.  (Except maybe for the wicked stepmother, who, in Lorelai's case, was just a wicked mother.)

Luke reached up and drew his thumb along the line of her jaw.  "All in is all in, Lorelai."

Her fingers tightened on his jacket, her thighs pressing against his hips.  "You mean...?"

"I love you," Luke said, those intense blue eyes burning into her.

And Lorelai took a moment, just a brief moment, to savor the unexpected warmth of his words.  Then she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders and smiled as she said, "I love you."  It wasn't scary and it wasn't hard and it felt a little bit like flying.

Luke's answering grin was breathtaking.  "Thank God," he muttered, yanking her off the counter and into his arms.  They swayed a little bit, entangled in each other.  

She let the tears come, and for once, they were happy tears instead of anguished tears.  Lorelai wrapped her arms around him, wanting to crawl inside of him.  "Are we really okay?" she wondered, a little dazed by the sudden turn of events.

Luke pressed a kiss to her jaw, and she leaned into it just to feel his stubble against her skin.  "We will be," he pledged.

It wasn't perfect, but it was exactly what Lorelai needed to hear.  They weren't finished.  He wasn't walking away.  He wasn't leaving her for greener, saner pastures.  Joy and relief bubbled up inside of her, and she had to laugh.  Lorelai slid her hands down his back and grabbed his ass, knowing the reaction it would get.

"Lorelai!" he yelped.

She grinned up at him, still sniffling a little, and held out her hand.  "C'mon."

Luke raised an eyebrow.  "Where are we going?"

"To bed," she answered.  Not everything was fixed, but they'd managed to start back on the right path and for now, that was good enough for her.  "Lock the door and lose that jacket."

His expression was comical, and she would've mocked him mercilessly, but they weren't quite there yet, and besides, someone was knocking on the front door.  Lorelai frowned, because who could possibly be--?  Oh.  "Pizza," she said, lifting her eyebrows.  "You hungry?"

Luke gave her a very familiar, very heated look, and Lorelai flushed.  "Okay, then.  We can eat later."  She answered the door with a grin she couldn't quite contain.  "Hey, Andrew," she greeted cheerfully.

"Evening, Lorelai," he answered, a pink bow conspicuously attached to his lapel.  "Eight dollars."

She wasn't quite sure what to say about the stupid bow, wanting more than anything to tear it off Andrew's jacket and stomp up and down on it.  Childish, sure, but it would be quite satisfying.  Before she could decide how to handle things, Luke materialized behind her, his palm landing on her shoulder as he handed over a ten.  Andrew looked shocked, babbling his thanks and handing over the pizza, before he reached up and tried to cover the pink bow with his free hand.

Lorelai reached out and snatched it off of his jacket.  She smiled sweetly.  "Have a good night, Andrew."

Andrew nodded stupidly and backed away, nearly tumbling down the stairs.  "You, too."

"Oh," Lorelai answered coyly, "We plan to enjoy it."

"Lorelai!" Luke sputtered, but he was laughing when she kicked the door shut and turned to him, fingering the silky ribbon dangling from her fingers.  It was an unwelcome reminder of all the stuff they had yet to sort out, and she wasn't quite sure how to proceed now that the outside world had intruded on their tentative reconciliation.

"Lorelai?"

She glanced up, her expression rueful.  "I hate these ribbons," she confessed.  "I hate them."

Nodding slowly, Luke agreed, "Me, too.  No one was stupid enough to wear one into the diner."  He shrugged and amended, "Except Kirk.  He was wearing lavender -- did you see that?"

She smiled, just a bit.  "Yeah.  Poor guy can't make a decision about anything."  Luke shifted a little, avoiding her gaze again.  "Luke?" she asked, trying to read his expression.  It would suck beyond the telling of it if stupid Andrew and his stupid ribbon had managed to ruin things again, just when they'd taken a couple of baby steps.  When Luke looked up, he was smirking, and she let out a relieved sigh.  "What did you do to Kirk?"

"I made the decision easy for him," Luke answered.  "Told him he could either wear a damn ribbon or he could keep living."

Startled, Lorelai laughed.  "Luke!"

"Hey, he had it coming," Luke answered.  He lifted the pizza box  and tilted his head in the general direction of the kitchen.  "Are you hungry?"  Lorelai reached for the box and promptly tossed it onto the floor.  Luke glanced down.  "That's disgusting."

"Luke," Lorelai answered, pressing herself tight against his chest.  "I don't care about pizza right now."

"Good point," he conceded, leaning down to kiss her some more.

"Let's go," Lorelai said breathlessly.  Then she took his hand and led him upstairs.

THE END

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